“No. No, I’m happy to help. Honest.” His quad muscles jerked and jumped, desperate for Balta’s wicked touch.
Balta chuckled. “Oh,doce, I have been neglecting you. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’ve been tired. Busy. Worried.” Balta was exhausted and the poor back was sore.
“I have. That doesn’t mean you don’t need, Joa.” Balta patted his leg before they turned into the hospital parking lot. “You can put on a show for me tonight.”
He pulled up to the front door so Balta wouldn’t have to walk so far. “I’ll be right in, Balta.”
“Thank you.” Balta gave him a quick peck on the mouth, right there in the truck, and Joa knew he must have gaped, but the touch was so real. So sudden.
Balta climbed out of the truck. “Meet me at Sam’s room,doce.”
“Sim. I will.” At the waiting room, at any rate. He wasn’t going to be welcome at the ICU. They had rules. Many rules.
The waiting room had good coffee and comfy couches, though, and he could wait. Nap even. Hell, Gramps and Dillon would be there, Doc. Joa could sit and chat with someone else for a bit. His own company was getting old.
He parked the truck and let the seat go back while he listened to Luke Bryan on the radio groaning about some girl at spring break. Did that sort of thing really happen to real people? A constant ocean?
Maybe he was not American enough to understand.
Funny, because he was not Brazilian enough to understand so many things—so many jokes from the others. He thought he’d be stuck in the middle for the rest of his life.
Bah. Joa smiled when he saw Dillon in the waiting room. Feeling sorry for himself did no good.
“Dillon. I have candy bars. Want one?” He plopped down and held the Walmart sack open.
“Only if you have Snickers.” Dillon peered into the bag. “Oh, hallelujah.”
“Is he really awake? He’s talking?”
Dillon nodded, shook his head, then nodded once more. “He’s got the breathing tube in, but Beau says he’s awake and he can blink to answer questions and understand shit.”
“That’s good, yeah? Better than they’d feared?”
“I sure hope so.” Dillon pulled a face. “I worry about him, you know? I always told him to stop landing on his head. It wasn’t even his bull this time.”
“I don’t think he landed on his head. I think the bull landed on his head.”
“I know.” Dillon snorted. “I mean, it’s ironic, right?”
“Yeah. How are the puppies? Tired of the hotel room?” The hound dogs could be loud, and it had to be costing a fortune to keep them there.
“They’re hysterical, and I don’t mean funny.” Dillon sighed. “I hate cooping them up like we are.”
“If you want, I can take them out for a run in the snow. They don’t bite.”
“No, they don’t. I would love that. They have to be on leashes, but they like to run.”
“I’ll do it. As soon as I tell Balta. I don’t mind.” It would be good, to run, to help the dogs out. His dad was watching his pups for him. Still.
His were long-legged beasts. Not like the hounds Dillon had given Coke. Still, they were young and sweet and had the softest ears.
God, he wanted to go home so bad. If wishes were horses…
“I’m gonna go get a drink to go with the sugar,” Dillon said, and Joa thought maybe Dillon needed to walk, to go stretch.
He got his phone out and texted Eduardo, Cotton, just letting them know that Bell was awake now, then he started playing Candy Crush. He was getting to be a master at this shit. Sit and wait. Run errands. Wait.
