Colin nodded weakly against Stephen’s shoulder.
“I’m going to send you up to St Mary’s. They’ve got a secure heat ward and they’ll get you settled in a private room with proper monitoring. This is a health emergency, my love. The speed of the onset on its own warrants admission, never mind the rest.”
“Doctor…” Stephen’s voice was hoarse.
“He’ll be all right, Stephen. He’s going to be fine. But I want him somewhere they can put a line in if they need to, and he needs to be somewhere the door locks.” She squeezed Colin’s knee, and then stood. “Ambulance is already on its way.”
Chapter Five
Thefirst thing Colin registered was the weight of the sheet over his legs. The hospital cotton, thin and over-laundered, and tucked in far too tight at the foot of the bed. Then there was the sound of a heart monitor somewhere to his left, beeping at a sedate, untroubled pace.
He tried to move his hand and his hand moved, eventually, after a delay long enough that he wondered if he’d imagined his brain giving the instruction. It travelled about four inches across the sheet and stopped. That was all he had in him.
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling was a square of acoustic panelling and a single recessed strip of light that someone had mercifully turned down low. The curtains round the bed were that particular shade of NHS green, and beyond them, there was the muffled sound of a clanking trolley being pushed somewhere down a corridor.
He turned his head a fraction to the left, and there was his baby.
Stephen was slumped in the chair beside the bed, his long legs stretched out, one hand resting on the edge of the mattress beside Colin’s hip. He’d thrown a hospital blanket over himself at some point and it had slid down to his waist. His hair was greasy at the roots, the way it got when he’d skipped a shower for more than a day. A paper cup from the vending machine sat on the bedside table next to a half-eaten Twirl.
Colin watched him for a long moment, because he didn’t have the strength to do anything else.
Stephen’s eyes were closed, but the rest of him was holding too much tension for sleep. After a few seconds his lashes flickered apart, and then he was looking at Colin, and his whole face crumpled.
“Daddy.”
The cry came out small, wet, and entirely undignified. Stephen was leaning forward over the bed before Colin could come out with a reassurance, one hand cupping Colin’s cheek and the other gripping his shoulder through the hospital gown.
“Oh, Daddy. You’re awake! You’re back.”
“Hello, love,” Colin said, and his voice came out a rasp.
“Don’t talk yet, hang on, hang on…” Stephen was scrabbling for the paper cup on the bedside table, sliding an arm under Colin’s shoulders and lifting him just enough to get the rim of it to his lips. The water was the best thing Colin had ever drunk in his life, cold and instantly soothing to his throat. “Take small sips.” Stephen lowered him back onto the pillow once he was done with the water.
“I’ve been here.” Stephen’s thumb was stroking back and forth across Colin’s cheekbone now, and his eyes had gone bright and wet at the edges. “I’ve been here the whole time. I made them let me stay, I told them I wasn’t going anywhere. They tried to send me home on the second day but I just sat in the corridor until they gave up.”
“You should’ve gone home, love.”
“Don’t.” Stephen’s voice cracked. “Don’t, please. Just listen before you go on insisting you’re okay.”
Colin gave him a minute. He let his son hold his face and breathe in too quickly through his nose, and with the small amount of strength he had he turned his head into Stephen’s palm.
“Ryland,” Stephen said eventually, sniffing. “Ryland wasguttedabout this. He’s been in absolute bits, Daddy. They wouldn’t let him in because he’s not blood, even though I tried to explain he’s basically family at this point. The woman on the desk said it was policy, and Ryland was so polite about it, you know how he gets about sticking to policy. But I could tell he was upset.”
“I know how he gets, my love.”
“He sat in the car for three hours on the first night. Just in case you and I needed him. I told him to go home and he wouldn’t. He just sat there in the car park listening to a podcast about the lifecycle of cuttlefish. When I went down to bring him a coffee at midnight he was eating a sandwich he’d bought from the caff. It was a fucking disgusting sandwich, Daddy. The lettuce was all limp. And, oh God, Daddy, I have to warn you.” Stephen had got himself together enough to let out a watery laugh. “You know how he gets when he’s in protect-my-omegas mode. He’s going to absofuckinglutelystuffyou with food the second you come out. He’s been popping over to Waitrose every lunch hour. I don’t think he’s eaten a proper lunch in five days, he’s just been buying things for your flat.”
“What sort of things?”
“Everything. He’s filled the fridge and the freezer. He’s bought soups, three different kinds, and those stupid little ready meals that cost six quid each, all the ones with the cream sauces because he said you needed to put weight back on.”
Colin made a sound that was meant to be a laugh, but got cut off because his chest hurt when he moved it too much.
“He’s bought you a humidifier,” Stephen went on, gathering steam now, his thumb still moving across Colin’s cheekbone. “He read somewhere that hospitals dry your sinuses out and he wanted the air right for when you got home. He had a whole spreadsheet, Daddy. He showed it to me. He’s figured out the correct macro targets for you.”
“Of course he has,” Colin said.
