Sam

The next afternoon, Cooper is prescribed some oral antibiotics and pain killers, and is finally discharged from the hospital with instructions to follow up with his own physician. An orderly wheels him to the main entrance, and I help him walk to the waiting Jeep.

Sheriff Mitchell is there to see us off. “It’s good to see you,” he says, shaking hands with Shane. “Maybe not under these circumstances, though. How’s your wife?”

Shane grins. “She’s fine. We’re expecting this summer.”

Mitchell’s eyes widen. “Wow, you’re going to be a father. Congratulations, man.” Then the sheriff shifts his attention to me and Cooper. “Stevens’ body has been recovered and will be transferred to Sweetwater.”

The sheriff shakes my hand and then Cooper’s. “I’m glad you two are all right.” Then he looks at me. “You did well out there, Sam.”

I laugh off his praise, patting Cooper’s back. “Someone’s gotta have this guy’s back.”

Cooper and I sit in the back of the Jeep, with Shane up front. Jake drives us to the small regional airport where the company helicopter and pilot are on stand-by.

It’s a quick flight back to the helipad on the roof of the McIntyre Security building downtown. Cooper refuses crutches or a wheelchair, so it’s slow going to the elevator that will take us down to the underground parking garage, where Shane has a car and driver waiting to take us home.

When we arrive at the penthouse, Beth, Lia, and Jonah are waiting for us in the foyer. Beth is in tears when she sees Cooper limp out of the elevator, grimacing with each step. After being on his feet, even for a few minutes, he’s white as a sheet, his expression pinched and drawn.

Beth walks into Cooper’s arms and loosely wraps her arms around his waist. “Don’t scare me like that,” she says.

Cooper rubs her back. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I’ll try not to get shot again.”

She laughs around her tears. “It’s not funny.” Then her expression falls. “My dad was shot,” she says, in an agonized voice. And killed. That part she doesn’t say aloud. Her father, a Chicago police officer, was killed in the line of duty when she was just an infant. Cooper is, more or less, her adopted father. “I love you,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Please don’t worry about me. I’m far too ornery to die.”

“You can say that again,” I add, trying to lighten the mood. “Now let’s get you to bed. You need to rest before you fall on your face.”

* * *

It’s a long, slow shuffle from the foyer to our suite. Cooper moves painfully slowly, gritting his teeth with every step. Shane offers to get him crutches or a wheelchair, but he insists on walking on his own power. The least he’ll do is throw his arm across my shoulder and let me help support his weight.

“I could carry you, ya know,” I say. “I’ve done it before.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says, half laughing and half groaning. “I’ll never live it down.”

I can’t help thinking back to November when I spent the better part of a week in the hospital, healing from a head injury and a broken leg. Cooper stayed by my side at the hospital, never leaving me. He was there all through my disorientation, through the seizures, through all the God-awful pain. He even brought me back here to the penthouse so he could nurse me back to health. “I guess the tables have turned, haven’t they? Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

“Yeah, but don’t get any funny ideas, pal. I can still kick your ass.”

I grin as I lean over to kiss him. “Hey, I’m the one who carried your heavy ass nearly four miles through rough terrain. I think I can take you.”

We finally hobble our way down the hallway to our suite, and I push the door open. Inside, there’s a huge vase of fresh-cut flowers with a single helium balloon attached. The balloon says Get Well.

I walk Cooper over to the bed and sit him down. Then I retrieve the card tucked inside the vase of flowers and hand it to him.

“Let me guess,” I say. “Beth?”

He nods. “She says, ‘Please don’t get shot ever again. Love, Beth.’ And there’s a smiley face and a little heart with curlicues, too.”

I sit carefully on the bed beside him. “I should check your bandages. Make sure all that walking didn’t start you bleeding again.”

He grunts noncommittally. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Ha, no chance.” I like playing nurse for him. I like the idea of taking care of him, seeing to his needs, helping him hobble to the bathroom so he can take care of business.

“Here, lie back,” I tell him, pressing on his shoulders. His jeans were cut off right above the bullet wound, so I have easy access to the area. I remove his bandages and examine the sutures, looking for fresh bleeding or signs of inflammation. “Everything looks good. There’s a little bit of seepage, but it’s not blood, and your skin around the sutures is a bit pink, but I guess that’s to be expected. I think you’re okay.”

“What I really need is a shower,” he grumbles, after I apply a fresh dressing.

“No, you don’t,” I say, laughing. “Besides, you can’t shower with the dressing on your leg. You’re not supposed to get it wet. How about I give you a sponge bath in bed? That would be fun.”

He scowls at me. “Oh, hell no. I’m not a feeble old man, you know.”

I wink at him. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll pay extra attention to your dick—make sure it’s feeling the love.”

He gives me a genuine smile, the first one I’ve seen from him all day. “You ass.”

In the end, we compromise, deciding on a sponge bath in the bathtub. I help Cooper walk to the bathroom, and he climbs into the tub and sits on the built-in seat with his bandaged leg propped up on the side of the tub, out of the water. I soap him up while he rinses himself off with a hand-held sprayer. We can’t quite manage to keep his dressing completely dry, but all in all, we do a pretty decent job of it.

By the time I get him back to bed, with his leg propped up on a pillow, there’s a quiet knock on the door.

“Come in,” Cooper calls, sounding resigned to receiving more attention than he’s comfortable with.

Beth opens the door and sticks her head through the opening. “Peter Capelli is sending over dinner tonight. It should be here in about an hour. He sends his regards and says he’s glad you’re okay.”

“Good,” Cooper says. “I’m starved.”

She steps halfway into the room, eyeing both of us warily, as if she’s checking to make sure we’re both fully dressed. “Do you guys mind if I come in?”

“Of course not, honey,” Cooper says, holding out his hand to her.

She comes to him, and he pulls her onto the bed beside him.

She sits gingerly on the side of the bed, taking care not to jostle him. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” I tell her. “Cooper just had a sponge bath, and now he’s going to lie here and rest. You can keep him company.”

Cooper gives me a dirty look, as Beth smothers a laugh.

Lia and Jonah walk into the room. “Who had a sponge bath?” Lia says.

“Cooper did,” Beth says.

Lia comes to stand at the foot of the bed. “How ya doing, pops? I heard you had some drama up at the cabin.”

Jonah offers his hand to Cooper for a shake. “I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

“Thanks, Jonah,” he says, pointedly ignoring Lia’s taunt. “Yeah, we had a little drama, but Sam took care of it.”

“Way to go, red!” Lia says, offering me a fist bump.

I lean against the dresser, enjoying the family banter. Thinking back to Cooper’s upbringing and the lack of support he received from his parents, I’m grateful that he has this family, who support him and love him unconditionally. And I’m grateful to be included now as well.

Shane walks into the room. “Molly and Jamie are on their way, and the food will be here soon. Why don’t we take this party into the great room? I think we can make Cooper comfortable on the sofa. If you feel up to it?”

“Sure,” Cooper says, sitting up in bed. “It beats lying in bed like an invalid.”

I lend Cooper my shoulder again and help bear some of his weight as he shuffles toward the great room. Beth brings pillows and a blanket and makes a cozy bed for him on the sofa.

The elevator pings, and a moment later Molly and Jamie, along with Jake, walk through the foyer doors. Molly holds Jamie’s hand, effortlessly guiding him to the sofa.

“Oh, my God, I’m so glad you’re all right,” Molly says, hugging Cooper.

Jamie sits on the coffee table in front of Cooper and shakes Cooper’s hand. “Jake said this guy followed you from Sweetwater to Chicago to Harbor Springs? He was one of the guys you went to Sweetwater to confront?”

“He was. He’s dead now. All three of them are dead. I’m not going to lose any sleep over that since they killed an innocent young boy.”

Jake offers Cooper a bottle of beer. “Can you drink?”

“Hell, yes, I can,” Cooper says, reaching for the bottle. “They gave me some prescription painkillers, but I’ll pass on those. I’ll make do with over-the-counter stuff.”

The food arrives shortly later, accompanied by two uniformed caterers and Beth’s friend, Gabrielle, to supervise. The food—Italian Wedding Soup, salad, beef Bolognese, garlic bread, and a Lemon Mascarpone cake for dessert—is served at the big dining room table, but I make up plates for Cooper and myself, and I sit on the coffee table across from him while he eats in his makeshift bed.

“You holding up okay?” I ask him, when I notice him fidgeting and wincing occasionally.

“I’m hanging in there. The leg’s a little sore.”

“A little sore?” I laugh. “Dude, you were shot. I know—from personal experience—that hurts like hell. Do you want to go back to bed?”

“No. I’m all right out here for a while. It’s nice being with everyone.”

A burst of laughter from the dining room table catches our attention, and we glance over at the rest of the crowd. Jake is regaling everyone with the story of how I jumped off the Sweetwater River Bridge in practically my birthday suit.

“Oh, my God!” Lia says. “Please tell me you got that on video! It needs to go on Instagram.”

“No, it does not!” Cooper yells across the room, eliciting more laughter.

“No, sorry,” Jake says, laughing. “We didn’t get any video. But maybe you can sweet talk Sam into recreating the event. He can always jump naked into the Chicago River.”

“Oh, hell no!” Cooper says. “He’s not jumping naked off any more bridges. My poor heart can’t take it.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” I say, patting his good leg. “I won’t put you through that again.”

Jake continues entertaining his rapt audience. “So, Sam finally climbs out of the water and up to the bridge, his balls frozen solid, and—just to add insult to injury—the deputy gives him a hundred dollar fine. And that’s when we notice this sign posted on the bridge: NO JUMPING.”

More laughter, all at my expense, of course.

When Cooper’s finished with his meal, I take his plate and mine to the kitchen, then return to the sofa. He looks flushed, so I feel his forehead to make sure he’s not got a fever. He feels cool to the touch. I just think he’s exhausted. He’s due for his medication, so I bring him his pills along with a glass of water.

He’s starting to look a bit wan again. “Do you need anything?” I ask him.

“Just you.”

He sounds tired. I stand and hold out my hand. “I think you should go back to bed now. Enough socializing for today, all right?”

He nods, almost reluctantly. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Hey, guys, carry on without us,” I say. “It’s been a long day, and Cooper’s tired. We’re going to call it a night.”

The girls come over to hug him and say goodnight. Beth, Molly, and Lia. Shane comes over to lay his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. The two men eye each other solemnly.

“Yeah, don’t make a fuss,” Cooper finally says, blushing. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

It’s obvious by Shane’s expression that he’s not amused. “Fuss? If that bullet had struck a foot higher, you would have bled out then and there. So, yeah, pardon me if I fuss a bit.”

With teary eyes, Beth slips her arm around Shane’s waist, and he puts his arm around her, drawing her close.

“Yeah, all right, I’m sorry,” Cooper says. “I shouldn’t make light of it.”

The last thing I want to think about right now is what might have happened. What could have gone so horribly wrong out there in the woods. “Okay, that’s enough what-iffing. The fact is, Cooper’s alive and well, as ornery as usual, and we’re going to make sure he stays that way. For now, I’m going to put his ass in bed.”

Everyone laughs, as was my intention, as I walk Cooper out of the room and down the hallway to our suite. Once we’re inside our room, I help him walk to the bathroom.

“I can take it from here,” he says, limping into the room.

He’s obviously in a lot of pain, and he’s practically swaying on his feet from exhaustion. When he stumbles and nearly falls, just barely managing to catch himself on the bathroom counter, I step in, putting my arm around his waist. “Here, let me help you.”

“I can handle it myself,” he growls at me, giving me a glare that matches his mood. 

I’m not surprised, or offended, by his belligerent tone. I get it. He’s a tough guy—he doesn’t take well to playing the invalid. But right now, whether he likes it or not, he is an invalid, and I’m the one who’s going to take care of his grouchy ass—whether he likes it or not.

“No, you can’t,” I say, trying to tamp down my own frustration. “You need help—you need my help—unless you want me to call Shane or Jake in here.”

His eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

It’s all I can do to keep a straight face, and I’m pretty sure laughing right now wouldn’t help the situation. “Then shut up and let me help you.”

He grits his teeth and hisses at me. “I don’t need any help, damn it!”

I give him my best oh, yeah face. “Are we gonna fight about this?”

He scowls, his pale brow furrowing.

Oh, yeah, we’re gonna fight. I sweep him up into my arms and carry him to the john, setting him down outside the door to the private toilet room. There’s a hand rail in there, so I’m pretty sure he can manage by himself from here. “Don’t be such a drama queen. I’m not going to let you fall on your ass just because you’re stubborn.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulder hunching. “I’m not good at this.”

I think that’s as close to an apology as I’m going to get. “It’s okay. I am.”

He chuffs. “Smart ass.”

I help him by unsnapping his jeans, lowering the zipper and tugging the denim and his briefs down to his thighs.

“Okay, I got it,” he says, hobbling toward the toilet.

I close the door partway to give him some privacy and brush my teeth at the sink while he takes a piss. Then I tidy up my top knot and strip down to my black boxer briefs and lean against the bathroom counter, waiting.

I hear a noise, then a thump, then a moan from the toilet area. Then, finally, a voice. “Sam?”

He sounds… defeated. When I pop my head through the open doorway, I see him leaning against the wall, holding himself upright using the hand rail. His briefs are halfway up his ass, his jeans down around his knees. He’s a hot mess. “Yes?”

He peers up at me with pained eyes. “I need your help.”

I refrain from saying I told you so, and instead I pull up his briefs and help him step out of his jeans. Then I pull his arm across my shoulder and wrap an arm around his waist and help him to the sink to wash up and brush his teeth. He looks like he’s ready to keel over any second.

Once he’s done, I lift him in my arms and carry him to bed.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as I arrange the bedding over him.

“No need to thank me, babe.”

After turning off the lights, I crawl in bed beside him, facing him, and lay my arm across his abdomen. “I’m glad we’re home. In our own bed.”

He lays his arm over mine and threads our fingers together. “Yeah. Me too. Thank you—” he starts to say.

“No. There’s no need to thank me.”

“But you risked your life for me, going after Stevens like that.”

“Nobody messes with my guy.”

“You probably saved my life.”

“Oh, bullshit. Don’t be so melodramatic.” I lay my head on his shoulder and tighten my hold on him.

Shane was right, though, when he said that bullet came close—within a foot—of killing him. I shudder at the thought.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing the back of my hand. “I’m not that easy to kill, you know. I faced a lot worse in the Marines.”

I lift myself up and kiss a line along his jaw, then over to his mouth. It’s just a gentle kiss, nothing sexual.

When I settle back down beside him, he puts him arm around me.

“Somebody has a birthday coming up in a couple of weeks,” he says. “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Yeah, St. Patrick’s Day. How about some green beer?”

He laughs. “What else?”

I lean closer and place a kiss over his heart. “You. I just want you.”

He turns toward me and kisses me, giving me a long, lingering kiss that offers a bit more heat than I expected this soon. “I’m already yours, Sam. I’ve been yours for a long time.”

When he continues kissing me, a shiver runs down my spinal cord, lighting up my nerve endings and giving me the beginnings of an inconvenient and ill-timed erection. “Now you’re not playing fair,” I say against his lips. “You can’t get me all hot and bothered when you’re out of commission for the time being.”

He laughs. “Who said love is fair?”