Page 24 of Drunk Dialing

“But I can go in and see him, right?”

The tech nodded. “Totally. He’s a little dozy, because they sedated him, gave him something for the pain. He’s hurting pretty good now that he’s awake, though, and they know that his brain, you know, is solid. No swelling, no nausea, pupils are good. That’s amazing news.”

He nodded, gave her a real smile. Okay, he could handle all was well. He could handle it to the bone.

Right now, what he needed to do was go in and hold his lover’s hand until they took him up for surgery.

Chapter Eight

In Jake’s next life, he wanted to have to figure out what all the beeping and booping was when he woke up from surgery. He totally wanted to be confused because it was so rare that he had been stitched up, knocked out, patched. He wanted to be not used to waking up in a hospital. In this next life, maybe he’d get that.

As it was, he knew exactly where he was when he woke up in recovery. He could see the big weird brace on his arm. He could hear the machines with their steady sounds. He could feel that irritating itch of the IV.

He rolled his eyes. Christ, his head hurt.

“Hey, you’re awake. How’s it going?” Jake couldn’t quite focus enough to see what the male nurse’s name was, and he really didn’t care because this wasn’t gonna be one he saw again, assuming they admitted him.

He gave the guy a half grin. “I’m ready to go home now.”

“I like to hear that. It’s going to be a little bit, not long though. I bet they make you go home tonight and check in with your regular doctors.”

Oh right. He had those…

“—Surgery was very straightforward. Everything went perfectly. You get hit by a car or something?”

“Bull.”

“Pardon me?”

Jake wanted to crack up, but it would feel like a thousand evil gnomes with jackhammers were in his shoulder. “A bull. His name was Blue Fury. I bucked off, and he threw me.”

“I do love working during the stock show and rodeo, yessir.” The guy grinned at him. “Can I get you anything? You wanna sit up a little bit? How about some water?”

“Where’s my guy? Where’s Treat?”

“They’ll have him in the waiting room. They’ll call him back as soon as we get you cleared.” He started checking vitals, never stopping his patter. “We’ve got to make sure that your vitals are good, that you can drink, that sort of thing. Then I imagine, like I said, when you can use the bathroom and walk out of here on your own—or at least get from the chair to the car—you’ll probably be released. But that’s not up to me. That’s higher up in the pay scale.”

“Mmmhmm.” His mouth was dry as dust, so he just nodded and smiled and let the guy bring him a cup with a straw. His other hand was just fine, which was good to know. He drank, just taking sips, because anesthesia would make him nauseated. He knew that, too. Ugh.

Some things he would love not to know.

He was already ready to go home.

Wherever home was.

It sucked because he was going to be useless as tits on a boar hog until his arm got healed up. Shoulders were the worst. Ankles, knees, groin even? A cowboy could do shit, work, be useful, but with the shoulder, he couldn’t pick anything up, he couldn’t move anything. And to add insult to injury, they took frickin’ months to heal.

He hadn’t wanted to go to Treat broke dick. He’d wanted—shit. He wanted to go in with a little purse money and on his own two feet.

“There you are. How’s it going?” Treat stood there, just appearing, and Jake realized he must have dozed off.

He blinked at his lover, who looked damn tired if he was honest. “You all right?”

“I’m supposed to ask you that, but it’s been long damn night, baby.”

“What time is it?”

Trent glanced at his watch, which was this solid, masculine gold thing. Nothing gaudy, nothing electronic, just a watch. “Twoish, give or take.”

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