Page 23 of Drunk Dialing

“He needs it.”

He hung up, more settled now that he’d dealt with that. He’d get Jake home, and then? And then he could listen to Jake bitch about how it was snowing and how it was cold. He’d get to hear about how amazing the mountains were, and Jake could get snow tires on his truck. Chains. Jake could help those damn yaks get all settled.

Because everything was going to be okay, right? Jake was gonna be all right.

It didn’t take long before a nurse came out, called for him, and he popped up like a big jack-in-the-box, heading over. “How is he?”

“Still unconscious. He’s got a pretty messed up shoulder slash arm situation going on. As far as we can tell, the big thing at this point is he’s got to wake up. I’m going to need some information from you.”

“Absolutely.” Treat didn’t have a single problem doing that.

He did his thing—allergies, name. He didn’t know Jake’s social off of the top of his head, but he knew all the rest because he gave his address as Jake’s address and it worked.

Then finally, blessedly, she let him in to see Jake.

They had his shoulder and arm stabilized, he guessed. He was sure it was just waiting for the surgeon. That was how these sort of things worked.

But when he took Jake’s free hand and said, “Baby, it’s me. I’m here,” Jake squeezed his hand.

Treat’s heart damn near stopped. “Oh, good deal. So you are in there. You’re just hiding away. Figures. Well, come on. I need you. We got yaks; we have stuff to do. I need you to get your shit together and wake up. Now, they’re gonna have to do surgery on your shoulder. No doubt you mangled that up, but good. As soon as that’s all done, though, we’re going home.”

It was honestly the only logical thing to do.

Jake swallowed convulsively, frowned. “Water,” he croaked out.

“Nope. You know they’re fixin’ to surge on you. I can’t give you any water. I’ll ask the nurse, if you want, if I can get you ice chips.” But the rules were the rules. And the sooner he got his shoulder fixed, sooner Jake could come home.

Jake nodded slightly, his lips pressing together with a pained grimace. Shoulder shit always made the neck hurt. “Please. So dry.”

“All right, let me go check.” He stood and stuck his head out the door, catching a nurse’s eye. “He’s awake, he’s thirsty, and I told him he couldn’t have water.”

“Good job! We should have brought you in earlier. I’ll bring the doctor in ASAP, and we’ll get him some ice chips. He’s not really thirsty. He’s hooked up to an IV, but his mouth has got to be dry as hell.”

He headed back in and sat. “The doctor and the nurse are coming in. She’s going to bring ice chips.”

“Cool. What was my score?”

“What?” He didn’t follow.

Jake opened his eyes this time, and Treat loved to see it. “My score. Did I get the money for the round?”

Treat rolled his eyes so hard that they were like dice rattling in his head. “I tell you what, you are rodeo man to the core. I didn’t check. I was busy.”

“I want to make enough on a purse to at least not be broke dick when I come to you, man. I want to be enough. To be the cowboy you can be proud of.”

Treat opened his mouth to start arguing that Jake was everything he needed, but the doc rushed in and there was the nurse and they pushed him out, so he ended up just sort of standing there in the hallway, gaping like a landed fish.

That was what this was all was about?

All of this shit, all of the months of not seeing one another and aching for each other was because Jake had some kind of pride thing?

Jake was the finest son of a bitch he’d ever known, and he loved the bastard.

Well, now that he knew, he was gonna nip this in the bud. There was no way Jake was gonna be all woe is me. Life was too fucking short for that.

A tech came out, and he caught her before she could turn off. “Is he?—”

“They’re prepping him for surgery. They’ll take him up as soon as there’s a free surgery room.”

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