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“Don’t mention it. Mr. Mackenzie?” He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder and waits for his eyes to open. It takes him a long time to focus, and there is a glazed, hazy look like he’s under the influence. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” It’s only the second time Nico’s spoken since I’ve gotten here, and it sends my pulse skyrocketing. He doesn’t sound fine, that’s for damn sure.
“Ready to go home?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, and his hand tightens on mine.
“And don’t come back and see me,” Dr. Lopez adds, which earns a weak smile from Nico.
When the door closes behind the doctor, I gingerly sit down on the side of the bed. If I move to the chair, he won’t be able to see me.
“Thanks for coming,” he says.
“I’m glad you gave them my number. How are you actually feeling, since you just lied to the doctor?” I earn a smile all my own for that one, and I brush my thumb over his in a silent thank you.
“Not great.”
“We’ll get you home and in your own bed and maybe that will help.”
He nods, but lapses back into silence and closes his eyes once more. He doesn’t open them again until a nurse opens the door and starts the process of sending us home. The young man looks at me and back at Nico, unhooked and sitting on the side of the bed, clearly unsure of our relationship.
“I can help you get dressed, if you need,” he says, but Nico’s already shaking his head.
“No, thank you.”
“Alright.” He looks over at me. “Wheelchair is outside the door when you’re ready.”
Alone again, I hover uncertainly near the door. Nico’s sitting up, and the minor exertion has put a hint of color in his cheeks. He looks steady enough, the way he is, but I wouldn’t trust him to dress himself. Not with the doctor’s warning about dizziness ringing in my ears. After a second, he looks at me.
“Would you mind helping me?” The resignation is clear in his tone.
Deciding that this will be less painful all around the quicker it’s done, I grab his clothes. Reaching behind him to untie the hospital gown, I hand him the long-sleeved shirt he must have come here in. He pulls it over his own head while I sort out the rest. Bending, I tug his socks on swiftly and then stand up to offer him a hand. When he rises, he sways dangerously and clenches his jaw. Once he’s got a hand on the bed and one on my shoulder, I kneel down to help him step into his jeans.
“I think I’m going to be embarrassed about this someday,” he tells me, “but right now I’m just happy to see you.”
Pulling his pants up as I stand, I fasten the button on his jeans before gently steering him back to a seated position on the bed. Stepping between his legs, I reach around his shoulder and pull him into a soft hug. He lets me, which probably says more about how shitty he feels than anything on that medical chart. We sit there for far too long, given that we’re in a public place, but I can’t bring myself to move. He doesn’t smell right, with the clean hospital scent overtaking everything, but it’shim. Warm and blessedly alive.
“Scared the shit out of me,” I tell him, and then kiss his head before stepping back. “I’ll grab the wheelchair, stay there.”
Once he’s seated in the chair, I make sure I’ve got the discharge paperwork and that nothing of Nico’s is left in theroom. He’s got more color in his face, now, but there is a slight tremor in his hands where they rest in his lap. Tugging my hoodie off, I hand it to him.
“I’ll crank the heat in the car.”
The moment we leave the room, the nurse from before appears at my side. We thread our way through the bustling Emergency Department until we reach the pharmacy and check-out area. Leaving Nico with the nurse, I take his insurance card and ID to pick up the medicine. I pay, grab Nico’s meds and head back over. A tentative smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he notices me approaching. Handing him the prescription bags and his insurance card, I wheel him toward the exit.
“I’m going to bring the car around,” I tell him, bending over to lock the wheels.
“I can walk, where’d you park?”
“Just stay here, I’ll jog over and bring the car back. Please.” Waiting for him to nod, I almost brush a hand over the back of his head until I remember that we’re in public and reign myself back in. I run, more than jog, over to my SUV and am parking illegally in front of the hospital in less than two minutes. Jogging back inside, I push the wheelchair out to the car, passing a few people clustered around the entrance. I don’t pay them any mind, intent on getting Nico into the car and back home.
Popping the passenger side door, I turn around to see him already standing. We reach for each other at the same time, me automatically putting a steadying arm around his low back, and him clutching my shoulder. He leans against me, hard; unthinkingly, I turn my head and brush the barest hint of a kiss across his temple. It’s not until he’s in the car, door closed, and I’m returning the wheelchair to the lobby that I see the cell phones.
Two guys, standing under the covered awning smoking, have their phones out and pointed at me. One of them, whenhe sees me noticing, lowers his arm and points out the obvious: “Hey, you’re Anthony Lawson, right?” His friend continues filming, phone held out obviously in front of him.
Not trusting myself to speak, I drop the wheelchair inside the front doors, spin and head back to my car. Nico was wearing my damn South Carolina hoodie, and we’re the most publicized team in the league right now.Fuck!Flinging open the driver’s side door, I heave myself in, check Nico’s seatbelt is on, and pull away as fast as I can. I don’t have to look to know those cameras remained on me that entire time. If I had to bet, I’d say they also caught me helping Nico into the car.Please let that have looked platonic.
Stopping at the exit, I send a quick text to Corwin to let him know we’re on our way to Nico’s. As promised, I crank the heat; reaching over to adjust the vents so that they’re pointed at him. He’s got his head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closed, looking exactly like he used to when we would go places. Silently, I take him home.
