A sad smile crosses Pete’s lips, like he understands and he doesn’t need me to voice my pain. Which is good because the lump in my throat is so thick I doubt words could pass it. I have no idea how he is standing here trying to soothe me when his best friend is fighting for his life. He is clearly made of stronger stuff than I am.
Following Pete inside, I drop into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs beside Gavin. He hands me a hoodie without saying a word. I stare at it for a moment, then remember I took my shirt off to put over Jordan. Have I been shirtless this whole time and not even realised? Scrubbing my hand down my face, I try to get a hold of myself. What must I look like to these people who I barely know?
“I’m going to grab coffee, Jelly Bean. No more running off on me, okay?” Gavin warns his husband, before planting a kiss to his lips and heading in the direction of the cafe.
Pulling the hoodie over my head, I cover myself. Pete slips his hand into mine, squeezing it tight.
“He will be okay.” Pete’s eyes meet mine in defiance, then drop down to the floor as he mutters, “He has to be.” I can tell he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is me.
This time, I squeezehishand. The next few hours are going to be harrowing for both of us. I can only imagine how Jordan’s parents must feel, stuck in the air, unable to do anything. Not thatwecan do anything either, but at least we can be close to him.
CHAPTER 25
Eric
Five hours. Five fucking hours we have been here, and the only information that they can give us is that he is still in surgery. Why is it taking so long? Is he okay? I’m going out of my mind; pacing back and forth across the waiting room is the only thing keeping me from barging past the staff and running into the operating room to check for myself. My eyes keep darting between the entrance doors—in the hope that Jordan's parents arrive to get an update—and the main hospital door that I keep seeing nurses and doctors coming out of. It’s a long shot, but if the surgeon comes out asking for Jordan’s family, maybe I can tell him we are married. I am not above lying right now.
“I’m looking for Jordan Bell’s family.” A doctor dressed head-to-toe in blue scrubs has suddenly appeared. He looks as tired and stressed as I feel.
Everybody raises to their feet, but I reach him first.
“Are any of you a relative?” The doctor raises his voice so that everyone behind me can hear him.
Pete starts to speak first. “We are the closest thing to family that he has in this state. His parents are on the way. Can you not give us anything?”
Pete’s begging falls on deaf ears as the doctor shakes his head, repeating the same policy that the nurse behind the desk has told me multiple times already.
Funny thing is that if it was any of my clients or even friends, I would be the first to tell them that there is no point in fighting this. That’s the policy, and they stick to it strictly for a reason. Not everybody can be trusted, and for all this doctor knows, it was one of us who shot him. Rational thinking goes out the window, however, when it's somebody you love being kept from you. Right now, I don’t give a fuck about the stupid policy or what he may or may not think I have done.
“He’s my partner,” I burst out, looking
the doctor in the eyes. “Can you please just tell me if he is going to make it?”
“I am sorry, Sir. I can only release medical information to the next of kin listed on his file.”
My blood starts roaring in my ears. Does this guy have no fucking heart? “I don’t want his personal fucking information, I already know it. I just want to know if my boyfriend is alive!” I hadn’t realised how loud my voice had gotten until I could feel the guys pulling me away and apologizing to the doctor on my behalf.
“You need to calm down, Eric. You’re gonna end up getting kicked out, and then what will you do?” Drew whispers.
“I don’t give a fuck, I need to kn…”
“We’re here. We’re here, where is my son?”
I turn around and find myself staring into Jordan’s mesmerizing eyes set into a heart-shaped face. His mom is so beautiful. I’ve seen pictures of both of them around Jordan’s apartment, but none of them did her justice. She looks kind, yet fierce at the same time. Just like my Lashes. All five feet of her struts up to the doctor, quickly followed by her husband, who overshadows her by at least a foot.
“Well, Doc? Where is my boy?” Jordan’s father asks, which seems to have snapped the flustered-looking doctor back to reality. I suppose it must be intimidating having this many big tattooed men crowding your space.
The doctor clears his throat and turns to address Mr and Mrs Bell. “I would prefer to have this conversation in private, but if you are okay discussing this here” — Jordan's mom nods, flicking her hand to hurry him along — “your son was admitted with a GSR to the upper torso. With no exit wound, we rushed Jordan to the OR to remove the bullet. Thankfully, it had lodged in his clavicle. If it had been further to the left, we might be having a different conversation. Your son is very lucky. We were able to remove the bullet without leaving any fragments, and have repositioned the bone for clean healing. Jordan is currently still under anesthetic, but he should be out of Recovery shortly. I’m afraid I can only let two visitors at a time in to see him when he gets to the ward. A nurse will be back to escort you as soon as that happens.” He finishes with a bow and steps back.
Slowly, I let go of the air I was holding the entire time the doctor was speaking. Couldn’t he have led with the fact Jordan was okay? My body folds over as a loud sob escapes my throat. Pure and utter relief. I feel a small delicate hand brush over my back, remaining there till my breath calms and I stand up again.
His mom takes my hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. “He’s going to be okay, Eric. How about we give you a few minutes to splash some water over your face and pull yourself together. You do not want this to be what Jordan sees as soon as he opens his eyes, do you?”
I laugh. I actually fucking laugh, and it probably sounds manic, butfuck.He’sokay.And his mom just insulted me for my own good.
“Jesus, give the guy a break, Beverly,” Jordan's father says as he steps up to his wife's side. Clearly he’s used to Beverly and Jordan’s unique version of love language. “I’ll go tell the admin that the big guy here is welcome to visit when we’re not around.”
I look up at this man I have never met before, down to his wife and back up again. I don’t think there are even words to describe how grateful I am right now. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I say hurriedly as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. I feel like a child coming down from a tantrum.
