Piper rubs my back, clearly worried about me just as much as Vince.
I suck in a shaky breath. “He’s been staying with me for a couple of months. I gave him a ride home after work one day and saw him fall down the stairs. That’s when he told me he’s sick.”
Piper opens her mouth, but I continue before she can ask questions.
“I knew it wasn’t safe where he was living, so I offered him the room in my backyard. I only told the paramedics because I didn’t want them to miss anything.”
“You really won’t tell us what it is?” Piper asks.
I shake my head. “That’s Vince’s choice. Not mine.”
Declan mutters something under his breath, rubbing his neck. He sinks heavily into the chair next to me. “I’ve known something was up for a while, but Vince is a private guy. Anytime I asked, he dodged the question, and I didn’t know how hard to press.” He hesitates. “Should I have tried harder?”
I look at the floor, thinking of Vince’s trembling hands, his pallor, how hard he works to hide it all. And how utterly alone he feels through all of it.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “But he needs to know he has people in his corner.”
Declan studies me for a long moment, then nods. “I hear you,” he says softly.
Sarah returns, folding her arms over herself, surprise on her face at the large group.
“Friends of his,” I explain vaguely. “What did you find out?”
“He’s awake, but they’re taking him up for a CT. That’s all I know.”
I freeze. “CT? That sounds scary.”
“It’s standard if someone hits their head,” she adds.
The doors open again, and my brother strolls in, looking around. When he sees Sarah and I, he walks over. “Hey. Figured I’d come since Declan kicked us out.”
He pulls Sarah in for a hug. She fills him in.
Everyone shuffles around, sinking into the hard chairs while we wait. It’s another hour before a doctor comes with some answers. “Vince is doing well. We’re keeping him overnight for observation, but he’s awake and alert.”
I get to my feet. “Can we see him?”
The doctor scans the large group and smiles weakly. “I’ll take two of you back. He still needs rest.”
Declan joins me. We follow the doctor to the third floor; he gestures for us to walk through a large glass sliding door.
Vince lies propped against the angled hospital bed, pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. A thin blanket is pulled to his waist, the blue gown gaping a little at one shoulder. Clear tubes trail from the IV taped to the back of his hand, leading up to a slow-dripping bag. A pulse-ox clip glows red at his fingertip, and the soft beep of the heart monitor is steady, thank God.
I frown when I see a small steri-strip near his temple. The skin around the wound is already blooming into a bruise. But he’s awake.
Thank fuck he’s awake.
He manages a faint, apologetic smile when he sees us. “Hey.”
“Hey, you.” I can’t resist reaching for him. “How are you doing?”
“Peachy.”
I chuckle. “Liar.”
“You gave us quite a scare,” Declan says, walking around to the other side. “It’s good to see you awake.” He leans in to hug Vince gently, being mindful of the cords and tubes. Vince seems surprised by the gesture. “What happened?”
Vince lifts his other hand, gesturing at the IV taped to the back of it. “They said I’m dehydrated and I have a UTI, which is common with MS, I guess. So they’re loading me full of antibiotics and fluids.” He glances at Declan. “Guess I should’ve told you. I have multiple sclerosis.”
