Page 7 of Shrouded Desires
He nodded slowly. “Yep.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I hate to ask, since I know you’re here to see your friend, but…”
He reached for the pen on the counter between them. “Who do I make it out to?”
She told him, then beamed when he handed it back to her. “My brother will be so stoked. You’re his favorite player. He wants to get drafted to the NFL, but Mom says that he needs his education first.”
“Sounds like a smart woman – your mother, that is.” He shifted his weight a bit but didn’t want to be rude. “About those directions?”
“Oh, sorry!” Her hands flew to her cheeks. “If you take the elevator…” She quickly rattled off the directions.
“Thanks again.” He gave her a quick wave and headed off in a quick trot. This sometimes happened, and while he didn’t normally mind the publicity that went along with his career, right now he needed to find Lizzie.
A few minutes later he stepped into the CICU wing and scanned the waiting faces. He was surprised how many there were. But after a quick glance he didn’t see Lizzie, and figured she was probably in with Max. He was just approaching the nurse’s station when Lizzie came through a set of double doors. He made two steps towards her before she spotted him.
“Storm!” A relieved smile crossed her face as she ran up to him. “I was hoping you’d be here this morning.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “I told Rainy you’d show.”
“Of course, I did. Max is my best friend.”
She nodded, her head rubbing against his chest. “Like Rainy’s mine.” She lifted her head, then spoke softly, to not be overheard. “Master is awake and asked to talk to you when you got here.”
“I figured as much.” He gave her an awkward pat on the back. “Lead the way.”
Taking his hand, she escorted him through the double doors then down a long hallway. Briefly she stopped at the nurse’s station and added his name to the approved visitor’s list, claiming that he was Max’s adopted brother. Then she led him to a glass room with the curtain half drawn. He braced himself for the worst but was pleasantly surprised when he found Max sitting up in bed, holding a heart shaped pillow against his chest. His dark hair was a bit longer than Storm remembered it being, while there was a definite ashen look to his skin. The idiot had come too close to dying for Storm’s liking.
At the foot of his bed, a nurse scribbled notes on his chart while a white jacketed doctor listened to his lungs with a stethoscope.
“Lungs sound like crap.” The petite doctor moved back, her hand flying to her hip as she stared down his friend. “Smoker, right?”
Max looked kind of sheepish. “Yeah, doc.”
“Well, that ends now, unless you want to make this lovely young lady a widow. Got it?” Hanging the stethoscope around her neck, she glanced at Storm. “And I’m sure your….”
“Brother.” Storm supplied smoothly. “Adopted, of course.”
The doctor nodded. “Brother will kick that stubborn ass of yours if you don’t.”
“Count on it.” Storm agreed. “Told the idiot to give up those cancer sticks years ago.”
“Aw, come on. What is this “gang up on the patient” day?” Max actually had the audacity to whine.
“If that’s what it takes.” She pulled Storm to the side as Lizzie fussed over Max. “Your brother is lucky to be alive, you understand that, right? He blew two of his valves and a third was only working at fifty percent.”
“Damn.” He glanced over the doc’s shoulder to check on Max and Lizzie. Amazingly enough, Max was letting his little sub fuss over him in a way that he knew damned well he wouldn’t allow under normal circumstances. He turned his attention back towards the doctor. “So end game, what does that mean?”
She sighed. “Like I told his wife. Absolutely no stress. Plenty of rest, eating healthy and above all….” She raised her voice. “…no more damned cigarettes!”
“I hear ya, doc!” Max grumbled. “I’ll quit. Heaven help me.”
“I’ll get you some patches. They’ll help.” She looked up at Storm. “Lizzie was saying that you own half of the nightclub that Max was found at?”
If that’s what they want to call being a silent partner backing a BDSM club, yeah.But he just nodded. “Yeah. Max is the face of the club. I usually stay behind the scenes.”
“Well, for at least the next six to eight weeks you’re going to have to ‘not stay behind the scenes.’ If he goes back too quickly, the next heart attack could very well make Lizzie a widow. He needs to change his lifestyle – and stick to it.”
Fuck.
“Gotcha.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, as the doctor slipped around the curtain and disappeared. Lizzie looked up at him with a worried look on her face.
