Page 87 of Love Everlasting

“Don’t mention it,” he said, smile wry as he nodded to where Sam lay sprawled like a scarecrow corpse in the middle of his bed. “But do stop me from slapping Pretty Boy around if he gets on my nerves, okay?”

Jack put two palms in the air. “Hey, no promises, dude, especially since there won’t be anyone holding me back.”

Chase grinned. “Could get ugly, Doc.”

Jack flashed some teeth of his own as he strolled into Sam’s room, ripping the sheet off his friend’s back. “No worries, Rev, I have a medical degree—I can patch him up after we dress him down.” He kicked Sam’s leg none too gently. “Hey, jerk—wake up!”

Nothing.

Chase ambled over to shake Sam hard. “Sam—wake up!”

Still nothing.

“I guess our boy had a little too much to drink,” Jack said with a wicked smile. “He’s probably dry, so I’d bet he’d like some water.”

A slow grin inched across Chase’s face. “Good idea,” he said, heading for the door. “You scout out his bathroom, and I’ll scrounge in the one down the hall.” He strolled to the guest bathroom and found a tumbler that he filled to the brim with water. Striding back, he faced Jack on the other side of the bed with a crooked smile before leaning forward to sniff. “Smells like he needs a shower too.”

“That’s a given.” Jack held a similar tumbler full of water over Sam’s body. “Thought about using toilet water,” he said with a dark smile, “since Ham has an unnatural aversion to dirty water from some childhood trauma, but figured I’d show him some mercy.”

“Unlike he did for Shannon.” Chase doused a sudden flare of anger just like he planned to douse his good friend. Smile hard, he leaned close to Sam’s ear, which was the only part of his head visible beneath a feather pillow. “Sam,” he whispered, “would you like some water?”

The pillow rose and fell in even rhythm, and Jack exchanged a grin with Chase before both unloaded their liquid stash like flood stage at Niagara Falls.

A low moan sounded beneath the pillow as Sam shuddered, finally stirring like a man rising from the dead. A very wet and groggy man.

Pelting the pillow off, Sam flopped on his back with a strangled sound between a gargle and a groan, black stubble peppering an open jaw. His rumpled T-shirt appeared to be stained with vomit, and his usually shiny black curls looked like they’d been combed with a Weed Eater.

Chase caught a sniff of bottle breath and wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the meticulous Dr. Love quite so disheveled before. Nor smelling worse.”

“Yeah.” A gleam lit Jack’s eyes. “I say we take a picture for the bulletin board at Memorial.”

“No way, Jack,” Chase said with compassion in his tone, “not until the man’s had a real good shower first.”

A slow grin curled Jack’s lips as he bobbled the glass. “Good idea. See you in a few.”

The second round of H2O did the trick, resurrecting Dr. Love with a curse that defiled the air, along with his breath. “What the—?” Sam opened his eyes—if slits can be considered open—and immediately sank back on the bed with a rusty groan. “Tell me I’m dreaming, please,” he said in a scratchy tone.

“Wish I could, slimeball, but the nightmare you put my sister through is real enough, Cunningham, so get up because I’m just itching to knock you back down.”

“Jack …” Chase’s warning tone did little to temper the fire in Jack’s eyes.

“No, Rev, let him,” Sam said, regret riddling his tone while he laid flat on his back. “I deserve it.”

“You’re darn right you do, Cunningham, so get up.”

Sam started to rise, and Jack took a step forward with hands knuckled tight, looking for all his prior promise of restraint as if he were ready to pop Sam the moment he stood up.

“Put the guns away, Jack,” Chase said quietly, blocking Jack’s way while Sam rolled out of bed with a groan. “We’re doing this the civilized way, remember?”

“He doesn’t deserve ‘civilized,’ Chase, not after the way he wounded my sister.”

“I don’t,” Sam said in a voice that sounded more like a croak, body swaying almost imperceptibly as he stood before them both with sorrow in red-rimmed eyes. “And I don’t deserve Shannon either,” he whispered, eyelids weighting closed as he ground the pads of his fingers to his temple. “I’m not good enough for her.”

“You got that right, Cunningham.” Jack cauterized Sam with a hard glare, his body all but twitching with the need for retaliation.

“So, do it, Jack,” Sam said quietly, his somber gaze so spidered with red it looked like a roadmap. “Bloody me, flatten me, and beat me to a pulp, because it sure can’t feel any worse than I do now.”

Chase sighed as he braced both of Jack’s shoulders. “Go make some strong coffee, will you? And I’ll be right down while Sam cleans up.”