Page 90 of The Cowboy's Bullfighter
“Just to get a cup of that sludge and sandwich or something. Your husband is with him.” He tried a smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m grateful he’s alive. I wish you’d have come home sooner.”
He grimaced. “Me too.”
Her face softened a tiny bit. “Look, son, I’m not going to kick you when you’re down. Much. Now go on and get yousomething to eat and come back and sit. There’s a little fold-out couch thing that’s super comfy. You can have a nap.”
“That would be a kindness. Sleeping on an international flight is always weird, even in business class.”
“They’re always waking you up.” She scoffed. “Just like in this damn place.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, and so did she, and he headed off to the ground floor again. He’d seen a Starbucks and a Subway…
He was going to be settling in for a while, it looked like.
“Doc,I’m ready to go home.”
“Mmm.” The surgeon, who seemed like maybe he was half Coop’s age, pursed his lips. “I’d like your numbers up a little bit first. Give it another day or two, Mr. Adams.”
“You keep saying that.” Coop looked at Brooks, trying to appeal to him, to get him to help.
Brooks raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “What’s in it for me?”
Oh, butthead.
He scowled. “What is it you’re looking for?”
“White blood cells down, red up. You’re doing really well, but you do live out in the boonies. I just want to make sure you’re good to go.”
“I think that’s wise.” Brooks entered the fray.
“You ain’t any happier here than I am,” Coop snapped.
“Are you kidding?” Brooks grinned. “Hot and cold running salad bar,Diners, Drive-Ins and Divestwenty-four-seven? Dry shampoo because I never get a shower. I love it.”
He chuckled, glad that it wasn’t hurtin’ so bad when he did that. Still, he’d been in the damn hospital for over a week. He missed his kids, his bed, and his damn dogs. Even his folks had abandoned him to go up and help at the ranch.
At least he had Brooks. Right there with him where he belonged. And when they got sick of the TV, Brooks read to him.
“I also really want to see you up and around a few more times with therapy before you go.”
He let out a sigh, so fucking frustrated he wanted to scream. “I want to go home.”
That was it. He wanted nothing more than to go home. He wanted real food. His real bed. And he wanted to see his kids.
Hell, he’d missed Ricky’s seventeenth birthday. That was a sad thing, and the fact they were going to celebrate it when he got home didn’t help the matter.
“Give it a couple of days, Mr. Adams. It’s going to be all right.”
Coop waited until the doctor left the room, and then he looked at Brooks, pleading with his cowboy. “If you help me take the IV out, we can be downstairs in ten minutes.” They had elevators. Stairs still hurt like a bitch.
Brooks arched one eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”
His lips went tight—and he wasn’t one hundred percent sure if that was from anger or holding back his laughter. “You’re not?”
“Your momma would strip my skin off me and use it to make the kids play clothes.” Brooks didn’t seem like he was joking. “No way I’m risking that.”
“Momma’s not that scary.” This was aggravating as all get-out. “I missed spring break.”
