“You won’t be able to find out anything, unless he put your name on the list.”
“Then, I’ll march up to his room and break the door down.”
Bran chuckled. “You don’t even know his room number, do you?”
“No,” she admitted, sullenly. “But I have this terrible feeling something’s happened. You have to help me. If I’m wrong, I’ll never question you again. And I’ll…” What could she use as a bargaining chip with a billionaire who had everything he wanted. “I’ll come over and cook my special fried shrimp Saturday night.”
“Tempting… I do love your fried shrimp,” he teased. “But I feel bad taking this bet. He probably just forgot. Or maybe his cell phone died. There’s a dozen reasons he might not have called.”
He’s right—it’s probably all in my head. And Finn will be so ticked when he finds out I made a fuss. Yet the knot in her stomach persisted. “Chances are I’m wrong, and I’m making a big deal out of nothing. But I’ll gladly spend a couple of hours cooking shrimp, just for the peace of mind.”
“If you’re that worried, I’ll get online and check his patient portal, though I doubt it’s been updated yet.”
“Thank you! And if there’s no update, will you call the hospital?”
“Fine. I’ll keep pushing until I get confirmation everything’s okay. I have to say, I’m glad your uh… friendship has progressed to this point. Last week, Cole and I were taking bets on how long it would be before the two of you had a knock-down-drag-out.”
“If he doesn’t have a darned-good excuse for not calling me or returning my texts, that could still happen.”
Finn tried to open his eyes, but they were glued shut. Something was pressing on his face, and he thought to push it away. But he felt a hand tighten around his wrist and force his arm back to the bed.
“Leave that alone. It’s an oxygen mask.” A man spoke in quiet tones, and Finn didn’t have the strength to resist.
He knew that voice.
“Branson.” His attempt to speak with a thick dry tongue produced more of a “Brrmph.”
“Are you finally awake?” Bran asked.
“Water.” Finn’s throat felt like someone had been rubbing it with sandpaper.
“Hang on. There’s a cup here somewhere.”
First the scrape of a chair on the floor, and then shuffling noises came from somewhere near Finn’s head. Then Bran spoke again. “Here’s some water, but I can’t get it to your mouth. You’re going to have to sit up and loosen your mask a bit.”
Finn pried his eyelids open, his blurry vision gradually coming into focus. He found the bed control and tilted the head up before taking the cup from Bran’s hand. Lifting the bottom of the mask, he wedged the straw into his mouth and sipped the soothing water.
“Why are you here?” he rasped, his voice so weak Bran leaned in close. “Told you not to come.”
“You had such a high fever you were thrashing around and wouldn’t leave your oxygen mask on. We had to come and take turns holding your hands down.”
Finn knew the docs used a full oxygen mask when nasal congestion forced him to breathe through his mouth.
“Nurses can take care of me,” he replied in a hoarse whisper.
“The nurses can’t sit in here twenty-four seven, and they aren’t allowed to strap you down.”
He felt an ache in his chest that wasn’t from his lungs. Branson and Cole were true friends. They had sacrificed to sit beside him in the hospital, putting them even further behind at work.
“Thank you for this. I owe you guys, big time.”
“You don’t owe me anything. Branson’s forehead drew into stern lines. “I’ve always thought your rule was stupid. There’s no good reason for us to stay away when you’re in the hospital. This just proves it.”
“Having you here makes it feel too real.” Finn drank some more water and stretched to set the cup down on the rolling table near his head.
“I know you like to compartmentalize your life.” Bran sat back down, one hand rising to rub the scruff on his chin. “You do your therapy in the mornings and then go about your day pretending you’re just like everyone else who doesn’t have cystic fibrosis. Believe me, I understand the appeal. I wish I could do the same thing.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it. It’s worked for thirty-three years.”