Thank you, germ gods, for sparing my friend.
Doc had been worried about Romeo developing an infection ever since he’d had to open the guy up on the sandbar. Not that Doc wasn’t used to battlefield triage. He’d done it plenty of times during his eight years in the Navy. But plenty of those times his patient had gone on to need high doses of antibiotics, because a nonsterile environment was heaven to microscopic bugs that liked nothing better than to wreak havoc on the human body.
Thankfully, Romeo had turned out to be one of the lucky few who’d experienced no complications and whose healthy body had allowed him to heal at an astonishing rate. After he finished slipping into a pair of leather flip-flops, he lifted his head and gave Doc a desperate look. “Please tell me it’s time to go.”
Doc chewed thoughtfully on his toothpick. “What? You’re tired of getting sponge-bathed by pretty nurses already?”
“More like I’m tired of having foreign objects shoved into my body by savages claiming to do no harm,” Romeo grumbled. “Plus, my nurse’s name is Andre. He looks like he could bench-press me. And his bedside manner seems to have gotten stuck in heckle mode. Which means none of my sponge bath stories will end up in Penthouse Forum.”
Doc bit the inside of his cheek. He’d met Andre.
Clearing his throat, he informed Romeo, “Well, then, sing my praises because I am the bearer of good news. We’re just waiting on your discharge paperwork to clear, and then we’re out of here. I booked us a flight with Larry at Seaplane Charters. He’s ready to go wheels up as soon as you are.”
“Aw, man. Larry?” Romeo frowned. “He smells like pot roast and flies barefoot.”
Doc shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Larry was the only one available today. As for the barefoot thing, his plane, his rules. Isn’t that what you always told me? Oh, and speaking of planes...”
Doc pulled an envelope from his back pocket. “Mia said these insurance forms for your claim on the Otter are all filled out. All you have to do is sign them and mail them.”
Romeo’s gaze turned razor sharp. “You saw Mia today?”
Doc crossed his arms. For the first four days following Romeo’s surgery, Mia hadn’t budged from his side. And she’d waved away anyone on the Deep Six crew when they’d offered to take a shift at the hospital. Then, five days ago, she’d called in reinforcements, claiming she had things to do and couldn’t be stuck keeping an eye on the nurses and doctors to make sure Romeo received the tender, loving care he deserved.
Doc had called bullshit then; he called bullshit now.
Something happened between them. Something that’s made her rabbit and kept Romeo in a piss poor mood for the last five days.
“Yeah,” he nodded, eyeing his partner closely. “We’re staying at the same hotel. I stopped by her room before coming here. Why?”
“How’d she look?”
“Same as always. Crisp and clean and pretty.” He cocked his head, considering his answer. “Maybe a little tired. Like she hasn’t gotten much sleep. Funny thing is, she asked me the same thing about you.”
A muscle started ticking in Romeo’s jaw. “What did you tell her?”
“That you’re a terrible patient, pissy and impatient, but that you’ll probably be back to fighting form any day now.” When Romeo only nodded, Doc decided the time had come to get some answers. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” He sucked on his teeth and turned his head to pin Romeo with a look from the corners of his eyes. “Or, more specifically, what did you do?”
Romeo could pull off affront better than most people. It was the dimples. They created creases in his cheeks when he let his mouth hang open. “Me? Why do you assume I did something?”
“Because you’re a guy. And life has taught me that when shit goes bad, it’s usually our fault.” He shrugged. “Blame it on the testosterone. It’s a terrible hormone. Makes us act without thinking.”
Romeo had stood from the bed when Doc informed him all they were waiting on was for his discharge paperwork to clear. Now he slumped back down on the edge of the mattress, wincing slightly when the move caused him pain.
Pain is good though, Doc thought with satisfaction. Pain means life.
“I fell in love with her is what I did,” Romeo whispered with a doleful shake of his head.
Doc lifted a brow, hating to find out that he’d been right when he worried Romeo and Mia would end up hurting each other. Not because they were a bad match. Quite the opposite. He thought they were a damn near perfect match. But they’d both spent most of their adult lives pushing people away, keeping their relationships surface-level.
And old habits are hard to break.
“I take it from your hang-dog expression that you told her and she...” He stopped and started again. “And she didn’t return the sentiment?”
Although, if she didn’t, she was lying, he thought. Because I’ve seen the way she looks at Romeo. It’s the same way Olivia looks at LT. The same way Alex looks at Mason. The same way Lily looked at me.
Lily...
Nearly nine years had passed since his wife’s death, and yet anytime he said her name, even inside the confines of his own mind, he felt a terrible pressure in his chest. As if he had been the one to take a 9mm slug to the lung.
“Nope.” Romeo shook his head. “That’s the thing. She does feel the same way.”
Doc blinked. “Then I don’t understand.”
The tick in Romeo’s jaw was apparently contagious. Another one popped up beneath his left eye. “That makes two of us. In one breath, she told me she loved me. And then in the next breath, she said she’s not worthy of me.” His frown deepened. “Or maybe she said she’s not worthy of my love? I was pretty high on pain meds, so the details are a little sketchy. And when I tried to ask her what she meant by that, she ghosted out of here so fast I’m surprised she didn’t leave skid marks on the hallway tile.”
Doc pulled on his ear, not envying Romeo his current predicament. He’d never met a woman who could be convinced to talk when she’d made up her mind to do the exact opposite. And Mia Ennis? She was closed-mouthed on a good day.
“What are you going to do?” he asked cautiously and watched Romeo’s stare go mutinous.
“For the first five minutes, I cried my heart out, thinking if she didn’t want me, then I wouldn’t force the issue. That I’d let her become nothing more than a faded memory in my heart. A sepia-toned picture in my head. A lesson in unrealized potential.”