Page 55 of You Are Cordially Invited

Two hours later

The doorto Reuben’s room in the orthopaedic ward opened and I startled from the mindless social media scrolling I’d used to fill in time while he was tied up in imaging. I leapt up and shoved my La-Z-Boy chair into the corner to make room for his gurney and the pair of orderlies pushing it. Michael, Will, and Leyton Robertson all followed.

It felt like a damn funeral procession.

It had taken every ounce of self-control I possessed—and most of the inside layer of my cheek—not to just head down and storm X-ray for answers about what was taking so damn long. Only Michael’s text updates had stayed my hand. The bastard took great pleasure in telling me the senior radiologist had bribed him with a free lunch to keep me off their backs for as long as possible.

That list of names was growing longer by the minute.

I stood impatiently to one side as the orderlies did their thing, crossing and uncrossing my arms, checking that they were handling him safely as they slid Reuben onto the bed while keeping his spine protected. My gaze flitted between a drowsy Reuben and the waiting medical team, trying to read their minds by sheer force of will. Their unwillingness to meet my gaze told me a lot. That and the way Reuben’s hand flopped to the side once they’d moved him and stayed there.

Dammit to hell.

As soon as I could, I was at his shoulder, tucking that hand against his side and under the sheet. The way he stared at me told me he hadn’t felt a thing. “Hey, baby.” I kissed him firmly on the mouth.

He smiled against my lips. “Hey, you.” He glanced down at his body. “Just the same. No movement yet, although I can still feel a bit.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Early days. Did they tell you what they’re looking for?”

He nodded.

I narrowed my gaze. “So, I can kill that prop now, right?”

His smile was broken by a yawn. “Sorry. Pretty tired.” His eyelids fluttered shut, then open again. “Damn concussion.”

“Don’t fight it,” I said, holding back the tears, shocked the well wasn’t dry. The mud had been mostly cleaned from his face at some point, and I guessed I had Michael or Will to thank for that. I tucked the covers under his chin and kissed his lips. “Go to sleep. We can talk later. It’ll be a long night. They’ll be waking you for recordings and to test your sensation, so sleep while you can.”

As if I’d summoned him by my words, the night nurse, Neville, a particularly waifish, handsome guy that I knew from the hospital queer community, strolled into the room to make a start on those recordings. I gave him a tight smile. “Watch those hands, Nellie.” His nickname needed no explanation.

“Good lord.” Reuben rolled his eyes.

Nellie snorted at my less than subtle counsel. “As if, Cam. Jesus, I’m not stupid. I’d prefer to be walking tomorrow, thank you very much. I saved a meal for you, by the way. It’s in the kitchen.”

Reuben fired me a pointed look.

Okay, so I might’ve fucked up. “Thanks,” I told Nellie as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Reuben’s slack arm. “I’m sorry for—”

“No, you’re not.” He laughed. “Now get out of here and see what they have to say.” His gaze shot to the hallway where the doctors were waiting for me. “I’ll take care of your guy.”

I glanced at Reuben who was struggling to stay awake. “Have they talked with you?”

He nodded. “A little. But you’ll get more from them.”

“Okay, well, I’ll go see what they have to say, and you try and get some sleep.”

“Promise you’ll wake me when you get back.”

“Okay.” I kissed him gently and his eyelids fluttered closed.

“Don’t come back without eating something,” Nellie warned me. “I promise I’ll stay until you do.”

“Thanks.” I pulled the door shut behind me and headed for the ward office. A couple of nurses charted in one corner, while at the far end, the three doctors had their heads together in serious conversation. They looked up when I came in and waved me to a seat.

It didn’t take long.

“So, basically you foundnothing?” My gaze flicked between the three of them in disbelief. I didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or disappointed. No spinal fracture was a hugely positive sign, but Reuben still couldn’t move, and they had nothing to go on.

Leyton shrugged. “Some soft tissue inflammation around a couple of the vertebrae, but no obvious spinal cord contusion—nothing to explain the level of flaccid paralysis, which is also a bit denser on his right side. There’s no fracture, stenosis, or herniated disc, and no cerebral bleed from the knock to the head. And remember, these are good signs, Cam. It’s about eliminating causes as much as finding one.”

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