Page 12 of But For You

“Mr. Harcourt?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I flashed him a quick grin. “That’s me.”

“Hi.” He smiled warmly as he closed in, offering me his hand. “I’m Dr. Dwyer, and⁠—”

“Jory,” Sam said as he charged back in the room, “you⁠—”

“Sam?”

It took me a moment to parse what I thought I’d heard. My doctor had called my husband by his first name, and now, said husband was standing there, looking utterly gobsmacked.

Both men—mine and the doctor—froze as they stood there, staring at each other.

What the hell?

Dr. Dwyer had been interrupted by Sam’s return, and Sam had apparently been quite startled to see the doctor when he came charging back into the room.

I kept looking between them, feeling weirder by the second.

“Kevin,” Sam finally said.

The man took a step forward, and the smile, the light that hit his eyes, the shiver that ran through his long and lean swimmer’s frame were not to be mistaken for anything other than absolute, quivering, pulse-pounding, blood-racing joy. Whoever he was, he was deliriously surprised and delighted to see Sam Kage.

I waited and realized that I had stopped breathing.

Who was this heavenly creature, this doctor who was looking at Sam like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life?

“You …” Sam sucked in a breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Jesus,” the doctor gasped and rushed forward, arms lifted, ready to reach out and grab hold, to reclaim.

Sam moved faster, meeting him and cutting him off. So, basically, with his forward momentum halted, the good doctor was brought up short, almost to a jarring, lose-your-balance stop. Sam leaned, gave him the quick guy clench, tight-tight, then pushed off and back, so Dr. Dwyer was basically left abandoned and bewildered, arms empty, looking lost.

“Nice to see you,” Sam said quickly, stepping close to the bed and taking my hand at the same time. “Jory, this is Dr. Kevin Dwyer. We met in Colombia when I was there, working that drug bust after Dom went into witness protection. He was with Doctors Without Borders at that time,” he finished explaining to me before turning back to the doctor. “What are you doing here in Chicago?”

Years ago, Sam had left me recovering in the hospital to track down a drug cartel in Colombia on a tip from his corrupt partner. We had been apart for three years, and at some point during that time, he had made the acquaintance of the good doctor.

Dr. Dwyer seriously looked like someone had punched him in the gut or run him over with a truck. It was hard to tell which better described him at that moment.

“I …” he started but stopped, and then his eyes flicked to mine. “Jory?”

I smiled at him. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Sam told me all about you.”

And yet Sam had never, not once, ever mentioned Kevin Dwyer to me.

“Did you date?” I asked the doctor because I didn’t mess around. I had to know.

“Jor—”

“No,” he cut Sam off. “We lived together for three months.”

And my world imploded.

TWO

“Speak.”