Gabe blinked a little through the lingering fog of anesthesia. “She did? I’ll be damned.”
“You saved her life, Son. I’m sure she’s grateful.”
Gabe’s gaze swung toward the sound of his father’s voice to see him wearing the same expression as Tom. Shit. Seeing those two visibly worried about him rattled him down to his bones.
“It was Mark Monroe,” Gabe rasped. “That son of a bitch—”
“Is dead,” Tom finished, his gaze dropping. That look told Gabe everything he needed to know. Tom had taken the bastard down and had no doubt saved numerous lives, including Gabe’s. But that didn’t make it any easier on Tom. In all the years Tom had been a deputy, he’d never even had to draw his weapon. Until today. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
“Yeah,” Gabe murmured, the spike of fear he’d experienced in that moment on the steps rushing back on him and making his heart race. The tempo of the beeping monitors near his head gave him away, bringing in a fierce-looking nurse with numerous loops of crimson braids.
“Alright, now,” she said, shooing Tom out of her way. “I told you all that you needed to let him rest.” She patted Gabe on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take good care of you. You go on and get some sleep now.”
“Where’re Joe and Kyle?” Gabe asked, the room beginning to spin a little from whatever it was they were giving him for pain.
“Nurse Ratched here wouldn’t let us all come in,” Tom told him, sending the nurse an irritated glance. “They’re out in the hallway with Sadie and Abby.”
Gabe wasn’t too out of it to notice the tightness in his brother’s tone when he mentioned the women. Probably because his own wife’s name was noticeably absent. It’d been three years since Tom’s wife, Carly, had been killed in the line of duty as a DEA agent. And the murderer—a drug lord from Chicago—was serving a life sentence thanks to Tom’s tireless efforts to put the bastard away. But Gabe knew Carly’s loss still weighed heavily on his brother. Tom’s already solemn and intense personality had become doubly so since losing the woman he loved.
“Oh my goodness!”
Everyone’s attention darted to the door, where a woman with unruly, dark, bobbed hair and polka dot scrubs was standing.
“Isn’t this a busy place!” she said with a little giggle. “How’s the patient? Oh, hey, hi!”
Gabe forced himself to focus on the pixie-like face of the doctor who’d come in and was now maneuvering around to the side of the bed where Tom stood.
“Uh, hi,” Tom muttered, looking a little embarrassed by her sudden appearance.
The doctor grabbed Tom’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “It’s so good to see you again! I didn’t realize—oh, Dawson! You two are related, right?”
“Gabe’s my brother,” Tom said, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor. “Nice to see you again, Isabel.”
Was Tom actually blushing? The fuck?
Gabe was way too out of it to try to puzzle through how Tom was acquainted with his doctor—whoever the hell she was—and why her presence was enough to fluster him. But it was definitely something he planned to ask about when the fog cleared.
“Dr. Morales?” the nurse prompted.
The doctor was still shaking Tom’s hand, grinning like crazy, then suddenly seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped his hand with a little laugh. “I’d better take a look at your brother. See how my handiwork is doing. But maybe we could grab coffee later? Catch up?”
Tom ducked his head a little and glanced at the other occupants of the room. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” Then he coughed, clearing his throat, and turned his attention back to his brother. “I’ll check back on you later, Bro.”
His father patted Gabe lightly on the shoulder, his normally stoic expression cracking a bit with emotion. But the Old Man covered it well—as usual—and just gave Gabe a curt nod before turning and leaving the room.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” the nurse said, sharing a glance with Gabe.
Dr. Morales washed her hands and grabbed a couple of latex gloves from a box hanging on the wall. “I haven’t seen Tom in years, Wanda,” she said rather wistfully. “Not since the incident in the ER.” But before the doctor could explain what she was talking about, she gave Gabe a bright smile. “So, how are you feeling, Deputy Dawson?”
“Like I got shot,” Gabe drawled, sleep creeping in as the nurse moved the sheet off of his leg so that the doctor could take a look. “How ’bout you?”
As sleep dragged him under, he heard the doctor’s giggle, heard her say something in reply, but he couldn’t quite make it out and was too tired to bother trying…
* * *
It was dark when Gabe awoke for the second time. At least, it felt like he was awake, but he wasn’t quite sure. The edges of his vision were blurry and the room seemed to swim a little. His body felt light, almost like he was floating—or maybe just threatening to. For a brief, panicked moment, he wondered if he was dead, if the floating sensation was his soul drifting away. But then the dull pain in his leg made him realize he was still very much alive.
He sighed, relieved, and was letting his lids close again when he realized he was not alone in the room.
