Page 41 of Nothing At All

The door swung open, and I jerked up. Grimacing, Josh held a hand aloft. “Should have knocked. Sorry.”

Vic rolled her eyes and strode to the chair, leaning down to grab Dan’s boots. “Gallagher, do you want your shirt on?”

He blinked, struggled to rest on his elbows and stared at the navy fabric dangling from her finger. A beat hung in the air. He rubbed a hand over his scalp. “Yeah.”

She passed it to me. “Help him with that while I get his boots on.”

Disconcerted, I shifted to the side as Dan heaved into a situp and swung his legs to sit on the edge of the bed. They were moving so fast.

Face set in pained lines, he held an arm out sideways while Vic knelt to fit a boot to his foot. I threaded his arm through the shirtsleeve and found myself trapped between Vic and the chair.

“I’ll get it.” Josh strode around the end of the bed, grabbed the shirt and held it so Dan could fumble his other arm in. Breathing heavily, he braced both hands on the mattress edge. Vic shoved his other boot into place and made short work of the laces.

I clenched my hands, nails curling into my palms. Unease skittered through me, like I stood in a parallel world I didn’t understand.

Josh laid a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You all right, man?”

He nodded.

Vic smirked, sympathy lighting her eyes. “You’re going to hurt for days.”

He nodded again, and Josh chuckled, camaraderie without malice.

What was wrong with them? He was hurt, and this wasn’t funny.

Dan patted his shirt pocket, stared at his empty hand, then shook his head.

Still kneeling at his feet, Vic patted both of his ankles. “You’ll be a little cloudy the next couple of days, too.”

“Been there,” Josh muttered. A huff of amusement lifted Dan’s shoulders.

The nurse returned, rattling off instructions about sleeping and resting and avoiding lights and the dressings for his nose. She held out a sheaf of papers in my direction, and I took them, staring down at Dan’s name on the top form. He reached for them, rolled them into a tube and stuck them in his shirt pocket.

She laughed. “He’s ready to get out of here. Let me get a wheelchair–”

“I can walk.” He slid off the bed, testing his knees, and I lunged to place an awkward hand on his back, aware Vic had moved to his other side and Josh reached over the bed to steady him.

“Of course you can.” The nurse shook her head, like this was an everyday occurrence and not . . . whatever this was. Maybe a little bit of a nightmare, not quite real.

He swayed, and Josh snorted, holding his shoulder while skirting the bed. “Get his other side, Ocampo.”

With an apologetic lift of her brows, Vic moved to stand next to me. Dan slung a heavy arm over her shoulder, while Josh fit his shoulder into Dan’s opposite armpit.

“A wheelchair would be easier,” the nurse said, holding the door as they maneuvered him through.

Josh snorted. “Mel let you roll him out?”

Affection lit up her face. “No.”

“All right, then.”

On the other side of the door, Dan looked back for me, frowning, a hint of drugged confusion darkening his gaze. “Lila?”

“Right here.” I stepped forward, following them through the door and down a shorter hallway to the ambulance bay, where two patrol cars waited.

“Goodnight, hon.” The nurse patted my shoulder. “Good luck.”

My shoulders rose to my ears, and I dropped them with a deliberate exhale. Good luck. Right.