Page 4 of Heart Strain

2

Jameson

Iwish they’d let us know something about how Hendrix is doing. Anything. Holly’s barely holding it together, and I’m not much better, but I can’t meltdown. This is his brother fighting for his life. He’s my partner and it’s my job to keep him safe. It’s our job to make sure we each get home at the end of the night, and I failed him.

I push the thoughts of the night to the back of my mind. I don’t want to picture my partner lying there on the pavement with blood surrounding him, nor do I want to hear the cries of the shooter’s wife when I took her husband down. I won’t feel guilty for taking his life. He’d tried to kill both of us, and Hendrix may still die.

“Hey, James, are you okay?” Holly’s voice jerks me back from my spiraling thoughts. It had surprised me to see Holly in the waiting room, not because I didn’t think he cared about his brother or wouldn’t come, but because in the years since his brother and I started the police academy and then later became partners, I’d never seen him once. Hendrix told me how he was doing on occasion, but they didn’t visit each other often. As far as I knew, it was usually Hendrix going to see Holly. Maybe it was too painful for him to come back here since their parents died, but Drix didn’t volunteer the information and I didn’t ask.

“Yeah, sorry. The waiting is kill…” I shake my head. “Sorry,” I mutter. The last thing either of us needs to be thinking about is death right now. “I just wish we knew how he was doing, you know?”

When Holly doesn’t answer, I peek out of the corner of my eye to see him nodding absently, his eyes appear to be focusing on a spot on the floor, but I know they aren’t. His only remaining relative is in surgery with a potentially fatal gunshot wound, fighting for his life. Of course, he wants to know how his brother is, worse than me if possible.

“Man.” I get up and start pacing the small room. The anxiety rippling through me is making it impossible to sit still any longer. “Hey, Holly—” His head rears back, making me cut off from what I was about to say.

“James, look, I know you’re not trying to,” he rolls his hands in a circle, “be rude to me or anything, but while I’m out here waiting to see if my brother lives, the least you can do is not call me by that fucking nickname. I’m all grown up now. I didn’t rush home to be here for my brother to listen to someone who I’d thought was my friend back then, bully me now.”

“What?” Shaking my head vigorously, I approach his chair and hunch down beside it, grabbing one of his hands in both of mine. The tears he’s trying to hide shimmer over the tops of his beautiful eyes, making them appear to sparkle. Jesus, I really am a mess tonight. This guy’s falling apart, terrified that his brother is going to die, the brother I should’ve been protecting, and I’m thinking about how lovely he is. “Holl...Holden, I’m so sorry. I never knew you didn’t like to be called that. For as long as I can remember, that’s what everyone has called you.” Quickly, I think back trying to remember if at any time in high school he let on that being called Holly bothered him. I don’t recall him ever saying a word, but I also don’t remember the origin of the nickname. He’s just always been Holly to me.

Eyes gone wide stare back at me as he whispers, “Even Drix?”

Huh… “You know, now that you mention it, no. I’ve never heard your brother call you that once. Actually, he usually says,” and at the same time we say, “my little bro.”

His eyes dry as we chuckle together; to Drix the most important part of who Holden is may be that he’s his little brother, even though they’re twins and he can’t be older by much. I sober thinking about how much these two have already lost. Giving his hand one last squeeze, I spin around and slink back down into my chair. My thoughts spiraling again at the possibility that my inability to do my job may have cost Holden the only family member he has left.

Before my thoughts can plummet any further down, the chief and two other officers walk in. Both of the men with him are detectives, and of course, they never let me forget it. “How’s Weston?” the chief demands. Not a hello, nothing. Before I can answer, he continues, “What in the hell happened out there tonight? That should’ve been an in and out, no brainer. How in the world did you let…” At the subtle sound of me clearing my throat, the chief glances to Holl-Holden who’s regarding him through narrow eyes. Immediately, the chief is doing what he does best, playing the game.

“Oh my goodness, Holden Weston, is that you? Son, I haven’t seen you since you graduated from high school. Look at you, a grown man.” The chief reaches out both hands, while leaning down toward him, but Holden pulls his arms to his sides. He wouldn’t be able to scoot any farther back into the hospital chair if he tried. Standing back up straight and tall, as is befitting of someone of his rank, the chief pats down the front of his uniform jacket. The one he puts on if he even leaves his office for ten seconds so that everyone will know his rank and see his accommodations. “I’m so sorry that this is the reason you had to come, son. I know the staff at this hospital, fine people every one of them, and I can assure you that they’re doing the best they can for your brother.”

Holden still hasn’t said a word. He blinks slowly before side-eyeing me. “Chief Caputo, Holden’s understandably tired and distraught. He dropped everything in his life and caught a flight here as soon as he got word from the hospital. I think he may be overwhelmed,” I say, trying to help Holden out in any way I can.

Chief Caputo nods with fake sincerity as he looks down on Holden without even sparing me a glance. “That’s understandable, Holden. If you need anything, you just call the precinct and ask for me or one of my boys here.” He gestures over his shoulder at the two plain-clothes detectives beside him. They both bear such a striking resemblance to the chief that there’s no doubt they’re family. While the chief’s hair has grayed, it’s still thick on his head. They both have the same striking dark chestnut hair that he bore when he was younger. All three have the same husky, muscular build. The youngest of them bordering on having the build of a bodybuilder, his arms hunching toward the front of his body. It’s the arrogance that shines through their dark brown eyes, though, that really casts light on the family resemblance.

Holden’s eyes twitch over to them as the tallest says, “Anything you need at all, Holly.” I flinch and flick a look to Holden, whose face remains stoic. “We’re here for you.” Then he looks to me. “Maybe Holly here would prefer it if you go in and sit with the other officers. I’m sure if he wants company while he waits for news of his brother, he’d prefer it b—”

For the first time since they entered the room, Holden speaks while reaching over to my chair to lay his arm across mine. “No, I want James here. He’s my brother’s partner, and the last person to see him before he was shot. My brother’s always spoken highly of him, like he’s family. You know how important that is for us.” While I fight tears at him voicing my importance to his brother, he slowly stares each one in the eye before turning his gaze on me. “I-I need him to wait here with me to see what the doctors say. We both need to hear.”

I see the chief’s lips tighten as the other detective, the bodybuilder-looking one, says, “I’m sure once you find out what happened tonight…” But he trails off when Chief Caputo swings his head in his direction, anger radiating out of his pores. My own fury churns inside me, making my blood bubble under the surface of my skin. The only thing on the chief’s mind is if Hendrix, my partner and best friend, dies, he doesn’t want the city to be sued by his only remaining relative. The brother who would be one hundred percent alone—without family.

I thought I’d heard Holden annoyed when he asked me to stop calling him Holly, but that’s nothing compared to the icy undertones in his voice when he again addresses the three men standing in front of us. “If you don’t mind, James is correct. I’d really rather not talk, nor have visitors until after my brother is out of surgery. I’ll be sure James relays the news to the department when we get word. Until then…” He trails off and casts his eyes back down to the floor.

“Of course, son. Whatever you need, just like I told you,” the chief schmoozes. Then cutting me a look, he says with mock-politeness, “Officer Fox, please make sure you go straight into the precinct to file your report as soon as we have word on Officer Weston. His brother won’t need you here making a nuisance of yourself while he’s tending to him.” Giving me a tight smile, he holds out his hand. “And since you’re staying, for formality’s sake, why don’t you give me your gun and badge. You’ll get them back after the investigation.”

“Of course, sir,” I grit out. This is humiliating, and there’s no way the chief would do this right here in a waiting room to anyone else on the force. The other occupants in the room avert their eyes as I gently lift Holden’s arm from mine, immediately missing the weight of it and how it was grounding me. Standing up, I look the chief straight in the eye as I remove both my gun and badge and hand them over. If Holden wasn’t sitting here, the smug snickers on the other two men’s faces would be audible, but they’re careful not to let the noise escape. With one last contemptuous look for me, the three of them stride from the room.

Taking a deep breath, I settle back down into the chair next to Holden. Both of us again lapse into an uneasy silence, dealing with our own thoughts. His probably being fear of losing his brother, the only relative he has left. Me, thoughts of losing my partner, the only true friend I have. The only person who loves me like a brother, as I do him. After a while, Holden lifts his head, curiosity and concern fighting for dominance on his handsome face. “James, can—”

“It’s Jameson, actually.”

He stares at me for a second, then nods and starts over, “Jameson, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” I reply immediately, grateful of his easy acceptance that I no longer go by my high school name either.

“Wasn’t that your uncle, your cousin, and your brother? Like, I know it’s been years, and I’ve forgotten names and faces through time, but… wasn’t that your family?” I’m almost shocked he remembers since I physically don’t resemble them at all, not even my brother. I’m the only one who took after my dad’s side of the family, another tidbit they never allow me to forget.

The shame that comes from being rejected by one’s own family fills me. “Yeah, yeah it was.”

Holden tilts his head at an angle, his concern obvious, and I can’t help but be amazed by a man who can be experiencing sympathy—no, I think it’s empathy—for me at such a critical time in his own life. If I’d, unbeknownst to him, been mildly infatuated with Holden as a teenager, I’m even more impressed with him as a man.

---