And back into uncharted waters. Dylan fumbled for a response and, when one didn’t occur, fell back into work mode.
“He’s in the best hands,” he said. “They’ll take care of him.”
That even sounded trite to him. True, but still trite.
Somerset turned around. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s fair,” Dylan admitted. He didn’t have any family, never mind a sibling. He jerked his thumb at the closed door. “I should go. I’ll… let one of the doctors know you’re here.”
“Don’t bother,” Somerset said. “I’m not going to stay long.”
Dylan opened his mouth to argue but decided against it. He’d tell someone on his way out anyhow. They could deal with Somerset to get whatever information they needed.
“I hope your brother wakes up soon.”
A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of Somerset’s mouth. “You’re probably the only one.”
OK. Dylan turned and reached for the door to let himself out. He’d just wrapped his fingers around the handle when Somerset grabbed his wrist. Dylan hadn’t even realized the other man had moved.
“Wait.”
Dylan stiffened, his shoulders tight and jaw clenched. He tried to pull his hand back, but Somerset didn’t let him. The sour taste of adrenaline rose in the back of his throat.
“Do I have a choice?” he asked.
“When you found him,” Somerset said. “Did he say anything? Did he have anything with him?”
The watch in Dylan’s pocket suddenly felt oversized and bulky instead of a fairly modest timepiece.
“No.”
He’d not planned to lie. He just did. It came out of his mouth, quick and confident. The lie was out now, though, and he didn’t take it back. He might want answers—and he was sorry for Somerset’s pain over his brother—but not enough to be part of this.
Somerset stared at him, his eyes narrowed.
Despite the situation, Dylan had to put a firm boot on his libido to keep from squirming under the attention. He made a mental note in the back of his mind that he had to get over this. It was getting sad. He’d stopped mooning over men who weren’t interested in him once he’d found out there were people who were.
“Look at him,” Dylan said. He tilted his head toward the bed. “If he’d said anything, it would have been ‘ow’.”
Somerset’s jaw tightened, the bands of muscle taut under his skin.
“I don’t like liars,” he said.
“Yeah, well,” Dylan said as he twisted his wrist in Somerset’s grip. “I don’t like being manhandled.”
Somerset looked down. He snorted and dragged Dylan closer. Close enough that Dylan could smell the wintergreen and pine cologne on his skin. Somerset leaned down until his mouth was right against Dylan’s ear.
“Now I know you’re a liar,” he growled. There was something in his voice that had never been there before. It had always been easy, surface-level, but now a dark, heated undercurrent cracked through the mask.
A shudder went down Dylan’s back, from the nape of his neck to the crack of his ass. He caught his breath, cool and minty, and then Somerset let him go. By the time Dylan pulled himself together, Somerset had turned his attention to his brother and his back to Dylan.
Take the hint, Dylan told himself, and get out.
He pulled the door open and bolted out into the hallway while he still could.
“Hey!” a nurse protested and pulled the wheelchair he was pushing back before Dylan could fall into the patient’s rug-covered lap. “Watch where you’re going!”
Dylan barked his shins on the chair’s footrest as he caught himself.
