Shit. Make it stop.
When it finally subsided, he was too weak to do anything more than register the soft hand that brushed his hair from his face as another wiped his chin with a damp cloth before swabbing his mouth with something lemony and cool. Then his mask was back in position.
“There now. I see our hero is finally awake and causing trouble again.”
He managed to turn his head enough to see the tall and slender woman with long braids and an accent he couldn’t quite place on the other side of him, across from Fiona.
She seemed nice, he thought woozily. He wished he could ask her for another of those swab things.
“Is it supposed to be black?” Fiona asked, sounding shaken.
Black? What the fuck?
“It is.” The nurse nodded, but kept her attention on the now wide-eyed Wyatt. “You heard that right. There is black goo coming out of your mouth like some kind of alien movie. but it’s perfectly normal so try not to panic. There’s an emesis basin—fancy name for that bowl shaped like a kidney on the table next to your beautiful friend there—for you to spit up in if you start coughing again.”
He grimaced, glancing over at Fiona and Brenna smiled kindly, shaking her head. “No, don’t be shy about it, you need to get that out. She understands. The fire damaged your throat and lungs, so you’ll be coughing up and blowing out the results of that for a while. Just don’t force it.”
He gestured to his throat and she seemed to understand. “It hurts, I know. When you arrived, your airway was compromised and there were signs of respiratory failure, so we had to intubate to keep you breathing. It can make the throat sore on a good day, and you were not having a good day. Believe it or not, you’re doing a lot better now. In fact, I think we might be able to get some broth in you by dinnertime.”
Fiona took his hand again. “Poor Wyatt. He hates broth.”
He did. He really did.
“Well no one loves it,” Rory said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say, ‘I love chocolate. And cheesecake. Oh, but broth is my favorite.’”
Wyatt met Fiona’s sparkling eyes, wanting to smile despite his discomfort.
“True,” she agreed. “But one of the old timers who was there when Wyatt first got to the firehouse told him broth was just meat’s dirty bathwater. He said that visual ruined it for him forever.”
The nurse bent over laughing and he could hear Rory and David laughing in the background too, but all Wyatt could do was stare at Fiona in wonder. Had he told her that story? It had to have been years ago, but she remembered.
She knew everything about him, all his stories and his weaknesses, and she was still holding his hand after he’d coughed up that demon goo.
But she’d still said no the last time he asked her to marry him.
You knew she would, Wyatt. She told you, but you didn’t listen.
The nurse kept up a steady stream of conversation with him and Fiona as she took his pulse and checked readings on the machine beside him. Wyatt’s eyes widened again when she reached for the bag hanging from the bed that was, apparently, also attached to him.
He’d been wondering why he wasn’t in a rush to get to the bathroom after being knocked out for the last two days. Now he knew.
When he gave Fiona a sidelong look, wishing he could sink into the mattress, she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be such a guy, Wyatt Finn. You took care of me when I had that awful, disgusting stomach bug that was going around last year. I know you’ve never been the patient before, but you’re going to have to suffer through a few indignities just like the rest of us if you’re going to get better.”
“She’s right about that,” the nurse agreed, as if she hadn’t just measured his pee in front of everyone. “Though I can see you want to argue. I heard you were a talker. Your family is chatty, too. Which is why I brought you something that might save you from starting a conversation that will, at least for the next few days, end in terrible pain and regret.”
Wyatt paled at those words as she handed him a small whiteboard and a marker, along with a clean cloth.
“I’m Brenna, by the way.” She slid on a fresh pair of blue gloves and reached into her pocket to pull out two empty vials. “I should have said as soon as I came in, but you were distracted. Still, I always feel introductions are in order before I take any blood. It feels personal.”
“Didn’t you take blood an hour ago?” David asked before Rory shushed him.
“It’s evil, I know.” Brenna nodded. “We’ll need to monitor his blood gas levels and organ functions multiple times a day until we see improvement. That’s why they put the PICC line in, so we don’t have to stick him every time.”