“Yeah.” Wes didn’t sound too convinced, but he did take a bite of pizza. “My mom wears her ‘Navy Mom’ sweatshirt for good luck at the hospital. Poor thing is all threadbare now. I mean, maybe I can’t be a doctor like James is going to be, but I can do this job, right?”
“Right. And you’re damn good at it.” Still reluctant to move his arm, Dustin gave him a squeeze. “You’re making Sam proud. I bet she told you that on the phone too, am I right?”
“You’re not wrong.” Wes gave him a weak smile. “She doesn’t want me to come. Says this is all a lot of drama. But I know my folks are freaking out—we’ve tried to avoid transplant for years, and now they’re saying it’s her best option.”
“What’s wrong with her heart? I mean, you’ve mentioned it before, but I’m not sure I understand.” Dustin wanted to keep Wes talking like this. Watching him relax slowly, eat the food, made warmth uncurl in Dustin’s stomach.
“She has hypoplastic left heart syndrome—she was born with it. It means her heart has trouble squeezing enough blood through. She had her first surgery as a tiny baby, and two others as a kid. Each surgery restores function, but the only real cure is a transplant. This most recent surgery didn’t have the success they wanted to see, so the doctors at Duke convinced her and my folks to do the paperwork to get on the list for a transplant.”
“But that’s good, right? Proactive. Gives them time to come up with other options too. I’ve heard it can take a long time to get a match.”
“Yeah. And they’re in consultation with a group at Johns Hopkins too about maybe getting her into a trial for a device to help while they wait. I just wish there was more that I could do other than running the races to raise funds and just praying she pulls through.”
“She’s your sister. I’ve got no doubt that she’s a fighter,” Dustin said firmly. “And you feel free to tell the team what you’re raising money for. I bet Curly and Bacon would run with you, and they’ve got a lot of friends you can hit up for donations.”
Dustin wanted to be able to volunteer himself to run, but he’d need more of the team doing it too, so that his involvement could look like generic support and not favoritism. Fuck, but he hated this.
“That’s a good idea. I’d probably feel less helpless with a fund-raising project.” Wes polished off that slice of pizza and reached for another. “And the cookies were a good idea. My folks liked that. Maybe I can work with James, get her something to do while she’s in the hospital—they’re not sure when she’ll be able to leave.”
“Loaded tablet?” Yet again, Dustin wished he could just volunteer to do that for Wes. Wouldn’t be any hardship for him to buy it.
“I can do that. You have good suggestions.” Wes’s tentative smile made Dustin wish he could do so much more. He never thought he’d be the type to pine for going to the Apple store with his guy—
No. Not his guy. And he couldn’t afford to think like that, even for a night.
“When my brother’s fiancé had back surgery—you met him at the bar—we all got him gift cards so he could get all the apps and upgrades he wanted. He ended up reading a lot, I think. Being confined to bed would suck.”
“I know it. I’d go crazy. But Sam just takes it all in stride. Still, gift cards would work. She’s nuts about music. Wants to be a DJ or a producer someday.”
“She just needs better taste,” Dustin joked. “Feeding you all that country.”
“Says the guy who secretly likes Ariana Grande.” Wes bumped shoulders with him, leaning into Dustin’s arm more.
“I never should have confessed that,” Dustin groaned. “Any of the guys ask, I’m into the same hip-hop and rap as them.”
“What’s the LT into? German funeral dirges?” God, it was so nice to hear Wes laugh, warm and rich like maple fudge.
“I’m not telling.” Dustin squeezed Wes closer, mainly because this felt so damn right.
Pizza done, Wes reached for one of the wrapped mints that the delivery guy had tossed on top of the box. Huh. The only time Dustin ever ate one of those sickly sweet things was when he was with a woman and kissing was on the horizon.
Wait. Was kissing on the table?
He’d honestly asked Wes to come over just for conversation. Nothing else on the agenda. Except here they were sitting in a distinctly not-just-friends way. Maybe...
“You’re thinking again,” Wes accused. “You’re rather loud, you know.”
“Sorry.” Still not sure what the hell he wanted, Dustin grabbed the other candy. Maybe sometimes a mint was just a mint.