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But for now, things were quiet and Ian would take a slice of quiet while he could.
Tonight Hollis was working late with Shane, so he had Snow and Lucas stopping by. He needed guinea pigs for some new dishes he was considering for the Over-the-Rhine restaurant. Of course, it also gave him a chance to deal with some of Snow’s wedding questions in person. With any luck, he and Lucas would be able to force Snow into actually picking a goddamn date. Nothing could be accomplished until that was finally done.
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Ian knew that despite all their frustrating qualities, he wouldn’t have his life any other way.
He glanced at his watch and did a quick calculation in his head. There was enough time to get everything inside and put away before grabbing a quick shower. Lucas and Snow would be arriving just as he got out. The recipes he was thinking of didn’t take long at all to prepare.
Looping the bags on both shoulders, he grabbed a few more in his hands before turning toward the condo. It took some more wiggling and shifting to get the key into the lock, but he finally managed to open the back door that led into the kitchen.
Thank God no one was around to see that little grocery dance. People would think he had no common sense. Tossing the keys onto the counter, Ian freed up a finger to turn off the security system on the house.
As he stepped across the threshold, he paused at what sounded like the scrape of a shoe on the deck behind him. Ian smiled and started to turn, sure that it was Hollis surprising him, but he never saw the person behind him. Never got the chance to turn around.
Pain exploded across his head. Blinding white light flared before his eyes, and Ian could feel himself falling. Mentally he reached out to catch himself, to stop his tumble, but there was nothing to grasp on to. He was falling and he couldn’t stop it. Darkness swallowed him up and the last thing he remembered thinking was that he wasn’t alone.
Someone was in his home.Ian woke to pain and hushed voices arguing over him. The voices were growing angrier by the second, which was adding to the pain in his head. What the hell?
Lifting his hand, Ian gingerly rubbed his head. Everything was so blurry in his mind. Couldn’t remember where he was or why he hurt.
“Easy there. Go slow.”
The arguing stopped the moment he moved, and some of the pain in his head eased as he instantly recognized Snow’s soothing doctor tone. Always authoritative, but when it came to the small group of people he loved, there was a gentleness that was rarely heard.
“He needs to go to the hospital.” That was Lucas. Stern and dictatorial, but it was all a poor mask for the anger and worry that was slithering among his words.
“Are you seriously trying to tell me that I don’t know whether Ian needs to go to the hospital?” Snow snapped. He continued, his sarcasm growing heavier with each word. “I’m sorry, where the fuck are your diplomas? When the hell did you sneak in four years of residency in between your attempts to take over the world?”
“He’s got a fucking concussion. He needs to go to the hospital.” Lucas was not backing down.
“No hospital,” Ian croaked.
“See?” Snow said.
“Since when do you give a shit what the patient wants?”
Ian blinked and rubbed his eyes. He lowered his hand and looked around the room to find that he was lying on his couch with Snow sitting on the edge at his hip. Lucas was pacing back and forth along the front of the couch, lines of concern digging deep into his face.
“What happened?” Ian asked. He started to get up, but Snow placed his hand to his shoulder, holding him in place. There was worry in Snow’s blue eyes, but his expression was one of removed professionalism. He was in doctor mode. As soon as he was sure Ian was okay, he’d easily slide into angry, irrational Snow.
“Answer a few questions for me,” Snow said. He pulled out a small penlight and flashed it in Ian’s left eye and then right. “What’s your name?”
Ian sighed. He’d been through the concussion thing before with Snow. “Ian Banner.”
“What day is it?”
“Thursday. Ugh. September…twelfth, I think. I have no idea the date.” Everything was starting to come in clearer the longer he was awake. If he had a concussion, it was pretty damn mild.
“Who’s the president?”
Ian glared at Snow, but Snow didn’t budge. “A douche-nozzle. Can’t you ask me something else?”
Snow’s lips twitched slightly as if he were fighting a smile. “When is your husband’s birthday?”
Ian didn’t hesitate. “August twenty-ninth.”
Snow looked over at Lucas, who threw up his hands. “Why are you looking at me? I don’t know his birthday! My husband’s birthday is October seventh.”
