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Wes spoke without even turning to look at me.
“You couldn’t afford it,” Wes retorted.
Frank winced. Ouch. There wasn’t an ounce of humor in his voice. Couldn’t afford it is right. Maybe he was tired or something. Maybe he was still angry about the coffee he brought going to waste. “Where’s Jared?” My hand flew to my mouth. Frank winced again. That was the wrong thing to say.
Wes’ back stiffened and his jaw clenched. “Went home. Probably wanted a private place to win you over.”
His words were clipped and dagger-like. This didn’t sound like the cheery and playful Wes from his past visits. I decided to ignore him. Frank had a funny look on his face. The only time I saw that look before was when I came in to check on him and he had a very visible boner during my exam. It was super common for male patients to get erections randomly during their stay, but it never stopped them from being embarrassed. And the last thing I wanted to do was to draw attention to it. Most of the time I pretend that I don’t notice. Unless you’re treating Mr. Andersen. He was eighty-years-old and fond of rubbing his balls on nurses. The only way to deal with him was to acknowledge the event. Otherwise he would back you into a corner until you did. Maybe it was the thrill. Or perhaps he was bored. I never stopped to ask.
Maybe Frank was embarrassed. Although considering Wes and Jared’s personalities, he should be used to this sort of thing. I switched my focus towards my patient, who was beaming. “How are you feeling today Frank?”
“Much better thanks to you.” He continued to smile. His eyes shone with appreciation. Frank was the perfect patient. Compliant, sweet, and easy on the eyes. Frank was also one heck of a healer. He suffered injuries that could have been catastrophic. I have seen people die from a lot less. When he first came in, the emergency room physicians were adamant that he was not going to make it through the night. However, something happened during the shift change. Frank not only survived, but he healed quickly. Nearly miraculous. Despite his rapid healing, he still needed a few weeks here. However, every day he improved. I wish every intensive care patient had such a happy story. Slowly, the color returned to his face and his hair was starting to grow in. His close buzz cut gave him the appearance of being in the military, but at least it partially hid the healing wounds. Now, he didn’t sleep all day. The brothers frequently played cards or watched bad television together. I got used to my daily chat and play routine. Why was Wes suddenly acting like I was intruding on their boy’s club?
“You’ve halved your medication and it looks like you’re going to be able to go home later in the week as long as things go well.” And bring an end to this insane flirtation love triangle that’s blossoming.
Frank flashed another dazzling smile. Over the course of his treatment, he grew friendlier. I noticed him watching me whenever I came in. Although Wes was initially friendly, the last few days he really seemed to have a bug up his ass. Enough is enough.
“Wes. Since Frank’s going to get out of here shortly, how’s about you let me know what in the world is wrong? And you don’t need to mince your words. I’ll be out of your hair shortly.”
I came around the bed to face him. “You know I can’t play favorites with you three. If you’re that jealous of Jared, why don’t you pick up the phone and call me sometime?” Frank’s face twisted into a smirk. Wes turned beet red. I turned towards Frank. “That goes for you too dear.” I added a wink for effect. With that, I spun around and went to go check on my other patients. Strolling around the hospital, I felt like a million bucks. Especially when I left the hospital at the end of the night. Although I felt it vibrating, I ignored my phone all night. We were too busy, and I wanted to savor my victorious feelings. Especially if it didn’t work. As I walked to my car, I unlocked my phone. I had three text messages. It had worked.
One from Frank. Here’s my number. Even when I leave the hospital, I better be your favorite patient.
Another from Wes. I’m not jealous. Jared’s really not right for you.
And another from Jared. So, how’s about that chance I was asking for?
Even though I knew I was going to pick up my daughters from daycare, change diapers, breastfeed, and wipe asses for the rest of the night, I climbed into my car feeling sexier and more alive than I had in months. Unfortunately, like most good things – the high was short-lived.
Chapter 12
Wes
I resigned myself to the fact that I would never have Jen. Jared swooped in and stole the girl like always. Our first day aside, she spent most of her time mothering Frank and flirting with Jared. And ignoring me. What did she see in him? He was clearly baiting her. He was good at that. Getting them on the hook so to speak. But he was never good at keeping them around. Jared loved his bedroom to operate like a revolving door. In and out. Jen was clueless. She didn’t deserve my anger, but I found myself unable to communicate my feelings appropriately. I was angry. At her? A little. And maybe a little at Jared. But I was mostly angry with myself. I lost my chance because I froze. And I gave up. Until Frank's last day in the hospital.
I couldn’t have asked for a greater opportunity to get her alone. We were hanging around Frank’s bed, playing poker like usual. Jared, being the greedy motherfucker was winning as always. Frank was barely paying attention and kept peeking at the doorway. It was extremely obvious he was in love with Jen. What do they call that syndrome? Florence Nightingale or something? Wasn’t there even a movie dedicated to that? The English Patient? Or was that about a war? It didn’t matter. He was a sucker. Even though his love was written all over his face, Frank was still coaching me on how to flirt and act around her. My brother was a lot of things, but Frank certainly was the king of martyrdom. He would do anything to keep the peace. He had this outdated idea of loyalty. Like somehow it reflected on our value. It was 2020. Nobody cared about loyalty. They cared about shallow and fast. Likes, friend requests, fast fashion. And collectively pretending like aging was necessary. It was pathetic to watch. That day, Jen came in to check on Frank, performing her usual checks and joking around with us.
“Frank I’m going to take out your IV and get you ready to get checked out okay?”
“Sweeter words were never spoken.” Frank’s face was twisted in his attempt at a movie star grin. Anyone else that saw it had another name for it. Shit-eating grin.
“You won’t think that way when you get the bill.” Jen continued her usual habit of cracking light-hearted jokes while checking his chart, medicine, and wounds. I don’t know how she kept everything straight. My focus was only on one thing at a time.
Her joke certainly had some truth to it. We paid a small fortune yearly in hospital bills. My brothers couldn’t stop getting in fights any more than they could stop being shapeshifters or bikers. It was in their DNA, permanently coded as a way of life.
Frank groaned and sat up. “We’ll do just fine. The bike shop might not be a gold mine, but it is certainly a way to pay the bills.”
Jared and I snapped our faces towards Jen. Frank just fucked up. Despite all of our conversations with Jen, we had never told her what we did. As a rule, we tried to keep a low profile. Bikers were notoriously h
ated, particularly in this town, whenever we generally stirred up enough trouble that people started to notice.
“Bike shop?” Jen inquired. Her forehead was furrowed with concern.
Jared stepped in, his voice like silk. “I run the books, Frank handles the crew, and Wes is the manual labor. We’re a perfect team. It’s quite adorable really.” At the sight of his grin, I wanted to puke. That smile was like a female magnet. Much to my surprise, Jen looked like his words burned. She wasn’t melted by his pour-on charm. If I were not so concerned about the look of betrayal, she shot us, I would have laughed out loud. She rejected Jared’s attempt to control the situation like she hadn’t even heard it.
“Bikes as in…motorcycles?” She replied hotly. Jen’s face paled and she almost looked as if she was about to lose her lunch.
“Well, we’re definitely not repairing tricycles, love.” Frank smiled, but I could tell he was nervous. We never spoke about our lifestyle, so we never considered the idea that she might be opposed to it, considering her ex-husband was a biker.
