Bellann Summer's Blog

 The negative: Mr. B going into heart failure. Major heart surgery. Going almost completely blind from the heart medication. So many Dr's appointments, many at one of the best hospitals in the country, only to be told there is nothing they can do. Anomalies in his blood. Small brain tumor. Now, major shoulder surgery. 

In the mean time, I had two mini-strokes. Also had foot surgery.

The positives: Mr. B's heart surgery is a success. The anomalies in his blood are at the watch stage, not to worry about at this time. The brain tumor is tiny and doing no harm. The shoulder surgery went well and he is healing. 

My mini-strokes caused no physical damage or problems. At times I do find talking (finding the correct words and putting them in the right order, work) It's getting better with time. Also, our oldest son married. We flew to Olympic National Park in Washington to watch him say his vows in the mountains. Love our new daughter-in-law. Our daughter married her love in a legal ceremony and will repeat their vows in May next to the lake at our home. Will follow with a big party. Love our new daughter-in-law. 

The doctor and I have decided to slowly stop a medication I've been taking the last couple of years. Feel so much better mentally. The stories are starting to whisper in my ear. Reese is talking about returning to the hacienda. Lets hope life keeps going toward the positive and calms down.

That's my update for my absences. Life is good. Savor every moment. Be open to seeing the smiles and butterflies.

Bellann

 Part two of my short story is out on ManLove Fantasies blog. 

Small note. I just wrote a whole lot of words aimed at someone who criticized my short story. I then erased them. I am the one who put my imagination out to the public. (and this hurts to say) They have the right to their opinion.  

 Part one of my short story is on ManLove Fantasies. I hope you enjoy it. http://manlovefantasies.blogspot.com/?zx=df0e8a1fa994dd83

 Happy July!

I have submitted a short story to ManLove Fantasies which started July 1st. According to the schedule, my story will come out July 5th. I will keep you posted. The ManLove button is to the right of this post. Stormy Glenn has a multi day excerpts of her book, Hot Mess, up right now. Enjoy.

Ice and Timmy - Granite County - has been whispering in my ear. I'm going to keep writing what they're saying until they stop. (uneditied)

“And don’t come back!”

The owner hadn’t appreciated Timmy lurking about in the doorway of his house and chased him away. The situation could have been worse if He had found him. Timmy’s intuition screamed that He was near.

Avoiding the glow from the streetlights, Timmy sprinted down the sidewalk and crossed the deserted street. To avoid He, Timmy’s only chance was to move fast enough to keep his freedom.

Timmy spun to the right, thinking the tall brick buildings of the old industrial section of town a good place to fade into the interior of the city. A place where people slept in boxes and were invisible to the public while living in plain sight. Maybe not invisible but considered less human and not worth more than a sniff of disapproval.

Pitch black bled out in front of Timmy and he hit a wall. The blow tore his breath away, stars burst in front of his eyes, and he sailed back onto the unyielding concrete.

Timmy curled up into a ball of misery, bracing himself for the agony to come.

The roar of an engine and tires scraping against asphalt grew loader until they stopped behind him. A door opened.

“Oh shit, Timmy.” Dom’s blessed voice brought Timmy to tears.

He blinked to clear his eyes and looked up. A figure stood before him, black blending in with the shadowed streets. A hood covering the person’s face.

Timmy scrambled backwards, ignoring the grit tearing up his palms, until he was pressed against someone’s legs and their hands rested on his shoulders.

“Who are you?” Domonic demanded.

Dom’s presence gave Timmy hope. Maybe He would go away. Yeah, and moose could learn to fly.

Another set of legs appeared next to Timmy. He looked up to find Bishop Clark standing next to Dom.

“Welcome to Granite City, Mr. Ice.”  Bishop stated.

The man reached up and pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt. Silver eyes reflected in the light from the truck’s open door.

Timmy froze.

* * * *

Ice nodded, acknowledging Mr. Saint’s statement while watching the cowering man before him.

The man’s fear grated on his nerves, inciting a reaction to find the person who terrorized him. A taste, Ice’s style, would show the perp the error of his ways.

The man tempted Ice to touch his smooth, caramel colored skin, trace the outline of his wide nose, and bring a sparkle to the man’s dark, dark eyes. Was his straight black hair, that reached his shoulders, as soft as it looked? Ice wanted to find out which part of the Northern reaches of the continent bespoke the man’s ethnic appearance.

Their gazes met and locked. Ice let the moment happen as it was destined by fate. He had learned long ago that fighting what was supposed to be, a folly.

If he had it in him to feel mercy or empathy, he would have let the moment pass. He would have let the man go on with his life, free of his presence. But there were reasons he was called Ice.  Destiny had spoken, and for the first time he wanted more than a brief fuck.

The bottom line. The little guy intrigued him.

 Unedited

Treble stared down at his daughter. He knew his baby girl’s stance echoed his own, arms crossed and tapping one toe. Except her bottom lip stuck out in mutiny. The ten-year-old also clutched a toy bow and soft fluffy plastic arrow bolts in one hand.

“Any lasting damage?” Treble asked. Damian tended to get a bit hyper when he had to calm some parent’s asses down after Wendy pointed out that their precious kid needed an attitude adjustment. For some reason, Damian wouldn’t let Treble near the usually bitching whiners.

Wendy’s gaze dropped down and she became interested in studying her shoes.

“Maybe a few bruises,” she mumbled.

Treble nodded toward the pile of soft squishy balls and the toy gun lying beside them. “Capital punishment is a stiff penalty.”

Wendy’s gaze narrowed as she turned and glared at her quarry. “He deserves it.”

Treble studied the gagged preadolescent tied to the only tree in the small clearing. He decided the kid had to be at least two years older than Wendy. At least she hadn’t humiliated some stupid sixteen-year-old this time. He hated when the older ones cried like a baby.

“How long has he been there?”

He needed to know how long before Damian’s radar pinged, and Treble had to send the kid on his way. The man seemed to sense when their daughter became bored with her play and her edgier mercenary tendencies rose into action. Unlike Treble, Damian wanted to keep the peace with other parents. Treble thought those ideas were a waste of time.

Wendy kicked at a small rock and mumbled, “Maybe a couple of hours.”

“What did he do?” Treble found it best to learn all the details of Wendy’s side of the story before all hell broke loose. For some reason, Damian thought Treble might influence their daughter toward rougher activities. Treble did admit to relief when Wendy decided wearing frilly dresses sucked when going down the slide. Besides, she looked good in black and camo.

Flags of red painted Wendy’s cheeks. “He’s being mean to Patty Pittsville.”

“Patty Pittsville?” Holy shit. Talk about abuse.

Wendy shrugged. “Not everyone can have a cool Dad and Papa.”

“You have to let him go.” Treble would catch up with him later and explain the error of his ways.

“Daaad.” Wendy jerked one arm toward the perpetrator. “He calls Patty fat and makes everyone laugh at her. This morning he threw her backpack into the river.”

Treble glanced at Wendy’s thick braid that reach her waist and tried to keep her corkscrew curls secured. Yep, there were a few pieces of green algae clinging to the dark strands of hair.

 “Let him go,” he told his sweet, brave, daughter. Treble’s gaze held the boy’s gaze. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Or he would after Treble had a talk with him.

Wendy turned, walked toward her quarry, feet dragging, and mumbled, “You take the fun out of everything.”

Damian left his spot in the woods and rested his hand on Trebles shoulder. Treble glanced up, noting the raised eyebrow.

“You should have stopped her from jumping into the river,” Damian stated.

Treble thought he should point out, “She had it handled.”

“The kid is six inches taller and a lot older.” Damian’s brows lowered into a frown. “You not only let her tie him up and drag him here, you should have intervened sooner than a couple of hours.”

Treble shrugged on shoulder. “What fun would that have been.”

“What am I going to do with you two?”

“Love us.” To Treble’s way of thinking, that was a pretty easy answer.

“Always.” Damian dropped kiss on Treble’s lips and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Now let’s go see how many ruffled feathers we’re going to have to calm.”

 “Patty’s backpack is in the garage,” Treble ran his hand over his husband’s tight ass. “If the kid doesn’t agree to working off his shitty attitude, we’ll tell his parents what is going on and they can replace the backpack and school tablet inside.”

The corner of Damian’s mouth twitched. “So, you’ve decided to rehabilitate another problem stray?”

“He has potential,” Treble argued. “He didn’t piss his pants in all the time Wendy whispered sweet nothings in his ear.”

“Heaven help us when she reaches her teenage years,” Damian commented.

Treble would have smiled but Damian might get the idea that Treble couldn’t wait to torture all the boys who looked twice at his sweet little girl.

 I want to thank everyone for their patience. I have tried to be upbeat about my writing but fear I've given you all false hope of me releasing a new story anytime soon. 

The world of writing is vast and yet very small. For this reason I've tried to keep quiet and let the chaos behind the scenes play out. 

2022 is a new year of potential ends and beginnings. I look forward to making some decisions that you, my readers, and I can live with. Please don't jump to any conclusions. We will have our answers in the next few months. 

I want to wish you a wonderful Happy New Year. May your happenings be joyful and everything you've dreamed. I love and appreciate every one of you.

Bellann

 It has come to my attention that pirates do their dirty work by scanning blogs. I won't go into detail and give anyone ideas.

This is why I have hesitated to post my next chapter. 

After much consideration, I will post the chapter in the next couple of weeks. I hope. After my full house is reduced to Mr. B and I and the dogs.

Thank you for your patience.

 Good Monday morning,

Last Friday morning I woke up to a cheek the size of a baseball. A trip to the dentist revealed that I have an infected wisdom tooth. He prescribed strong antibiotics. Today I see the oral surgeon. That's a good thing because my eye is half swollen shut.

Because of this newest health challenge and Mr. B's ongoing health issue, this will be my last chapter for a bit. I will be working on the next chapter, hint - Jimmy's chapter, but am not capable of giving it the greatness it deserves. So, if the next chapter is not up, Monday. Please don't rebel. I am working on it.

Chapter Six

Parker pushed Lee’s wheelchair out of the elevator and down the hall toward the intensive care unit. There were no doubts in his mind that the next few minutes would be fascinating. He wished he had popcorn and a soda while he watched the drama unfold between Lee, Morgan and Tatum. Odds said they would remain somewhat polite, but the undercurrents would be a thriller.

“I’m getting in there, no matter what,” Lee stated.

Parker smiled. “My money is on you.”

“It’s a good bet.” Lee paused before saying, “Hey, Parker.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“No Problem.”

Parker stopped the chair outside the ICU, ready to use the phone attached to the wall to announce their intentions to visit Reese. The double doors burst open, revealing Morgan and Tatum.

Lines marred Morgan’s forehead and bracketed the corners of his lips. “The doc’s with him.”

“Good,” Lee responded. “Then he can update me on Reese’s condition.”

“They’re giving him drugs to keep him in a coma.” Morgan shoved his fingers through his hair, leaving tuffs standing on end. “Damn, he’s messed up.”

“Move,” Lee ordered.

The two men stared at each other, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. With the tiny hairs on his arms rising, Parker looked from one to the other, trying to read what was not being said out loud.

Parker made a decision. Once Lee and Reese were healed and back at the hacienda, Parker would totally interfere in their lives as well as Morgan and Tatum. Enough was enough.

Tatum put his hand on Morgan’s back. “We’ll wait out here if you need anything.”

 Morgan moved into the hallway, making room for Parker to push Lee through the doorway. Leaving the other two behind, Parker made their way down the tiled aisle, recognizing the controlled chaos around him. Steps were brisk, but not hurried. Movements straight and to the point, not wasted.

He paused at the nurse’s station, noting that next to each of the glassed-in rooms, were smaller, individual workstations.

Behind the counter, a younger man, looked up from a stack of paperwork. Parker took in his thick black glasses, messy curls, and wrinkled blue scrubs. The identification card hanging from a rope around his neck revealed he was a registered nurse, but Parker couldn’t make out his name.

“May I help you.”

Parker strove for a pleasant, but firm tone. “We’re here to see Reese Palmer.

“Palmer-Sanchez,” Lee inserted. “I married Reese almost three years ago.”

Whoa. Parker wondered if Roman knew that piece of extraordinary news. The family was going to be pissed that they hadn’t been invited to the event. Way to widen the already great divide.

The man stood and lifted his chin enough to stare down his nose at Parker and Lee. Parker didn’t need a magnifying glass to see homophobic disdain, emphasized by the hint of the curling of his upper lip.

Parker braced himself for the crap that was about to come out of the guy’s mouth.

“Save it,” Lee cut the man off. “Point toward Reese’s room and go back to your paperwork.”

The man’s lips drew into a thin line. Parker sensed the explosion about to happen.

The wheelchair shifted and Parker used his weight to keep the chair in place as Lee stood. Just out of surgery, no doubt exhausted, with a multitude of drugs streaming through his system, Lee Sanchez still was a phenomenal looking, badass of a man. Frowning, with a jaw hardened with determination, Lee would make even the bravest human being think twice about standing in his way.

Parker decided the nurse wasn’t brave, but stupid.

“I can call security,” nurse ratchet threatened.

 Lee’s chuckle sent chills down Parker’s spine. The nurse must have finally gotten a hint that he was facing someone far stronger than he. Parker would have added stronger in character, not just body, but he wouldn’t give the nurse credit of having any character attributes.

“I can call my lawyer,” Lee retorted. “I’m sure he’s just itching to file a discrimination lawsuit against this hospital.”

A tall woman, holding an electronic tablet walked over. “Is there a problem, Ken?”

“I’m not sure,” Lee answered before the nurse could speak. “I’m here to see my husband, Reese Palmer-Sanchez. Is that a problem, Ken?”

Parker couldn’t stop the snort that left his nose. Yeah, he should have acted in a more adult manner. At least he hadn’t pointed and laughed out loud.

“No problem.”

Yeah, the pouting tone in that answer screamed there was a problem.

The woman slid her finger over her tablet and frowned. “We’ll have to change Mr. Palmer’s file to reflect his correct name, Ken. I’ll let you handle that while I show Mr. Sanchez to his husband’s room.”

As the woman rounded the corner of the counter, she smiled. “My name is Rita. I’m the supervisor of this shift. If you have any problems or concerns, feel free to contact me or one of the nurses. We believe, for the well-being of our patients, keeping the loved ones informed is one of our top priorities.

“I don’t think all of the people working under you would agree,” Parker commented, and followed Rita down the hallway made of glass, patient rooms on each side.

Rita paused at the second room from the end and rested her hand on an empty chair sitting in front of a large computer monitor.

“Again, contact our nurses or I, if you have any questions or concerns.” Rita pointed to a row of boxes sitting on a small shelf. “Please slip those on before going into the room. I’m going to ask that you wait until the doctor is finished caring for Mr. Palmer-Sanchez before you go into the room. Visiting times are fifteen minutes per hour.”

“Think old Ken is going to get an ear full,” Parker asked as the woman walked back toward the nurse’s station.

“Yep,” Lee answered.

Parker wrapped the yellow, paper smock over Lee’s sling the best he could. He knelt on one knee and slipped the paper booties over Lee’s shoes. Beside him the glass door to Reese’s room opened.

A tall, thin man, wearing green scrubs and a bright multi-colored skull cap stopped in the doorway. Behind him, back by the bed, a woman leaned over Reese, holding a long plastic wand near his mouth.

“Hello,” Lee greeted the doctor. “I’m Reese’s husband. How is he?”

Parker stood and nodded in greeting.

The man stepped forward, letting the door shut back into place. Parker watched as his gaze traveled over Lee.

“Dr. David Aggard.” The doctor shook Lee’s hand. “Is there an empty hospital bed somewhere with your name on it?”

“I’m where I’m supposed to be,” Lee stated.

The man’s lips parted into a smile that revealed flawless, bright, white teeth.

“Why do I have the feeling that you are going to give the staff all kinds of trouble concerning the rules?”

“I have no problem with rules.” Lee shrugged one shoulder. “As long as they’re reasonable.”

The doctor’s perfect eyebrow rose. “We keep the visits to fifteen minutes per hour in the Intensive Care Unit. Our patients need to rest and heal. Once they are transferred to a regular room, visitors can stay with them longer.”

“Tell me about my husband’s condition.” Lee ignored the doctor’s warning.

“We are keeping Mr. Palmer in . . .”

“Palmer-Sanchez,” Lee interrupted.

The doctor nodded. “As I was saying. We’ve decided keeping Mr. Palmer-Sanchez in a medically induced coma will give his body the best chance to heal. During surgery we were forced to repair one lung by removing a part of the bottom portion. The damage to his body wall was extensive and wasn’t helped by the scaring from prior trauma. We are doing our best to fight the infection that is causing him to retain fluid.”

Lee looked through the glass at Reese. “How long will he have to be intubated?”

“Once he starts breathing more on his own, we’ll start turning the machine down until he’s no longer relying on it,” the doctor answered. “My concern right now is his elevated heart rate and blood pressure. I hope by giving him time, he will stabilize on his own, but if the infection isn’t contained and he continues to retain fluids, decisions will have to be made.”

“Are we talking hours or days?” Lee asked. The man’s tone stayed even but on the edge of demanding.  

Parker was impressed with the man’s control. If either of his husbands were lying in the intensive care unit, he’d have journeyed into the land of hysterical.

“The nurses will contact me if an emergency arises,” the doctor replied. “Otherwise, I’ll reevaluate his chart later today.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d say Reese’s intense hatred of hospitals is contributing to his numbers.” Lee glanced up at Parker. “Let’s get in there.”

* * * *

Lee’s patience had ended back in the last hospital, about the time he woke up from surgery. If the good doctor taking care of Reese didn’t move his ass, Lee would run over him with the wheelchair.

He knew he was being rude, but he’d promised Reese long ago, that he’d never be alone again. Coma or not, he believed Reese knew Lee wasn’t with him.

The glass door opened, and the walls fell away as Lee’s vision centered on the hospital bed and the love of his life.

His sweet, beautiful Reese, reduced to an array of tubes invading his body. The breathing tube held in place by tape covering the lower half of Reese’s face almost broke Lee’s heart. A face, puffy, skin shinny and stretched, almost unrecognizable.

One monitor showed an outline of lungs, expanding and deflating to a monotonous whooshing accompanying the rhythm. Squiggly lines crossed another monitor, reporting Reese’s vital statistics. A beeping, red, light echoing his heartbeat. A warning bell rang out and green lights began blinking. After a moment they quieted, and Lee’s sudden panic eased.

“Take me around to the other side of the bed,” Lee growled out.

After reaching the far side, Park turned the chair around, facing the foot of the bed. Lee reached out and took Reese’s poor bruised and swollen hand. Gone were the slim, tan fingers. Replaced with grotesque digits, skin tight to bursting.

“I’m here, Sunshine.” Lee’s words were a hair above a whisper. “I’m here.”

A hand squeezed Lee’s shoulder. He looked through the blur to find Parker, looking down at him, eyes bright with tears. Lee realized his own cheeks were wet.

Lee swallowed hard. Deep under that smothering fog of drugs, Reese existed. Lee vowed to find him and bring him back.

“The sun is shining today,” Lee began. “I’ll see if the nurses will push your bed closer to the window so that you can feel the sun’s heat. We have visitors. The gang from Rescue for Hire West are here. They heard about your encounter with trouble on the beach and wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Lee took note of the different plastic bags attached to the bed. He identified the one collecting Lee’s urine. He thought the color too dark. “I think once you are ready to get out of that bed, we should visit them at the hacienda.”

Lee identified another couple of bags as drains from Lee’s wounds. The gunk inside them looked nasty. Eight bags of medications and fluids hung from one metal stand. From where he sat, he couldn’t count how many bags hung from another stand. The doctors had bypassed Reese’s arm and the medications entered Reese’s body through a catheter set in next to his throat.

“I love you, Sunshine.” Lee cleared the emotions clogging his throat. “I love you.”

Lee began describing how much fun they had the last time they had driven down the coast. Each stop led to checking out the sand on each beach. Reese loved those grains of warmth under the sun, hugging the ocean.

A short time later a nurse entered the room. “Visiting time is over.”

Parker left the chair in the corner, squeezed Lee’s shoulder, and walked out.

“Sir, I sorry, but it’s time for you to leave,” the nurse told Lee.

Lee kept holding Reese’s hand. “Now, I want you to pay attention, Sunshine. You might hear raised voices, but I’m not leaving you. I see that your heart rate has evened out a bit. You keep listening to my voice. I’m here now.”

 “Sir.”

Lee winced as the volume of her voice rose. Didn’t the woman have something better to do than harass him? Vicki, he saw by her card, her name was Vicki.

“Vicki.” Lee plastered a smile on his face and tried his best to look friendly. “I think I’m going to stay a little longer and talk to Reese. He has a deep hatred of hospitals. The last time he was in one, he staggered out in a hospital grown and was lost for weeks. I’m not going to let that happen this time.”

“That’s very unlikely,” the woman argued. “He’s in a coma.”

“It’s a known fact that people have reported being able to hear while they were in a coma,” Lee pointed out. “I’ll just sit here a while longer so that Reese knows he’s not alone.”

The woman turned and left, but her pronounced sigh told Lee she was about to bring in the big guns. Well, he had a few of his own.

Lee pulled out his cell phone and found a certain contact.

“Hello.”

Some of the tension eased at the sound of his good friend’s voice.

“Hey, Vinnie.”

“Lee, tell me you and Reese are all right,” Vinnie demanded. “I went down to the beach and found the place full of cops. They said they had to call in a chopper for Reese and an ambulance took you away. They let me take your hotdog cart. It’s in my garage.”

Once Vinnie seemed to run out of words, Lee assured his friend, “I’m a bit beat up but okay. Reese’s is in a coma.” Lee took a deep breath and proceeded to do something he vowed never to do. Take advantage of his friend’s power and money. “Vinnie, I need a favor.”

Vinnie may be in his late seventies and was considered the beach’s Casanova, wooing of women, young and old. Most of the beach’s visitors humored him, thinking Vinnie a harmless and smooth-talking old man who took over Lee’s hotdog cart once in a while.

Little did they realize they were in the presence of a prestigious and multi-millionaire, Vincent Angleo. Once Vinnie left the beach, he donned a suit and tie, becoming a powerful man who had a seat on many boards of directors. Including this hospital.

“Anything.”

Lee knew Vinnie meant that statement. The man had been a good friend to Lee for many years.

“Reese in in the intensive care unit at UCI Trauma Center,” Lee explained. “They’re trying to make me leave because of some bullshit fifteen-minute rule. We both know between Reese’s brain damage and hatred of hospitals, if I leave this won’t end well.” Lee let his gaze travel over Reese’s too still form. He wanted to crawl in bed with him but knew if he tried to stand, he’d fall into a heap on the floor. Exhaustion crept closer, trying to snare Lee in its tight grip. “Can you make a call so that I can stay with him. Otherwise, you’re going to be my one call from jail, because for me to leave Reese’s side, they’re going to have to haul me out of here in handcuffs.”

 “Consider it done, my friend,” Vinnie stated. “You take care of yourself and Reese. Tell Reese I have this hot redhead lined up to dance with at his sunset party. Tell him he has to hurry up and heal so that I don’t do something stupid and marry her.”

“Will do.” A small portion of the heavy weight on Lee’s shoulders lifted. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

“No problem.”

Lee ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He took Reese’s hand and held the precious flesh with gentle fingers.

“Vinnie says hi and to get better,” he began. “He’s dating a hot redhead and wants to bring her to one of our sunset dances.” Lee chuckled. “He’s worried he might marry her. Boy, if we had a dime for every time he starts thinking about getting serious about someone, we’d be rich.” Lee listened to the whoosh of the breathing machine. “Don’t worry, when the sun starts to go down, I’ll hum, and we can dance together in our minds. Soon you’ll get out of here and we can dance as always.” Lee blinked back the tears clouding his vision. He longed to hold his sunshine. Instead, he began talking about the weather.

Some time later, the door slid open, and Rita entered the room. “I knew you would be trouble, Mr. Sanchez.”

“I try my best to follow the rules.” Lee smiled. “Unfortunately, Vicki and I couldn’t seem to see eye to eye.”

The woman’s gaze traced over Lee. He tried to sit up straighter, but fatigue sat heavy on his limbs.

“What ever angel you have on your side has ordered a reclining chair to be brought in here.” Rita looked down her nose at him and set a bottle of water on the rollaway table near the foot of Reese’s bed. “Take your meds. If you don’t have any, I’m rolling you down to the ER myself. I won’t have you passing out on my watch.”

Lee hated to let go of Reese’s hand, but he knew when to cut his losses to gain the win. He reached into the sling and grabbed four prescription bottles. With what he hoped was a friendly grin, he leaned forward and set the bottles on the table next to the water.

Rita sighed and reached for one of the medication bottles.

* * * *

Styx Randall slung his leg over the arm of the leather double seat of the plane, sprawling further into the deep cushions. His gaze continued to follow his husband’s erratic pacing from one end of the plane to the other. He figured he’d give Flyer a few more minutes to work out some of his frustration and energy before Styx took over. Nailing Flyer to the wall with his cock came to mind.

“It’s not right,” Flyer complained. “We should be at the hospital supporting Jimmy and Reese.”

“If Isaiah wants us to stay on standby, we stay at the airport until he or Roman want us somewhere else.” Styx reached down and grabbed his bottle of water off the floor and took a quick swig to wet his always dry throat. “Honey, come here.”

Flyer changed direction and headed toward Styx. No words had to be said. Flyer curled his six-foot frame into Styx’s bigger body. Taking and trusting in Styx’s support.

Styx reached down and grabbed a handful of cashew and pumpkin seed clusters. He held them out, appeasing his husband’s constant need for sustenance.

Flyer took one and popped it into his mouth. “If we do have to go back to the hacienda and pick up Peggy and James, do you think any of the other husbands are going to want to come along?”

“All of them.”

“Who will watch the children and run Los Héroes if everyone is gone?” Flyer chewed on another cluster. “Garrett will stay, but he and Tolliver are going to need help.”

“The captain will have a plan. All we have to do is follow orders.”

Styx had seen Roman pull the proverbial rabbit out of a hat in many crazy situations. He had no doubts, the team’s leader would handle this set of extreme circumstances.

“Okay, we stay here until we hear otherwise.” Flyer picked up another nut cluster and held it between to fingers. “Want to play find the pumpkin seed?”

Styx chuckled and pulled Flyer closer for a kiss. Their lips brushed together, both in no hurry, enjoying the moment and each other.

The dark beat from a popular shark movie cut through the airplane. Styx looked down. Flyer’s hand already had slid deep inside the front pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out his phone.

Flyer engaged the call. “Hello.”

“Jimmy is out of surgery,” Roman stated. “Go get Peggy and James. Get back as fast as you can. He needs all of us right now.”

 My mom's cell phone is an old flip phone and the service providers no longer service that phone. Yesterday I spent 4+ hours picking up 2 new phones. Yes, I upgraded also. 

What a long, endless, time. Buying cellphones is worse than buy a car or house. By the time I got out of there I felt I had run a marathon.

The good news is that now I can write all day today. I hope I haven't jinxed it by writing that. 

Hope you enjoy this next chapter, Hope I finish the next chapter before next week. 

I love hearing from you and what you think of the story.

The tiny hairs on the back of Roman’s neck rose, and prickles of awareness danced between his shoulder blades. Danger stood behind him.

Roman continued to stare out the window and watched another person’s miniature segment of life playing out in the parking lot.

“This building is one of the few places where all who enter are changed,” he commented.

“I suppose,” Isaiah replied. “I never really thought about it before.”

Roman turned away from the window and looked at his friend. The lethal man’s expression gave nothing away. Roman struggled to find the words he needed to say. And failed.

“The rest of the team has arrived, Captain.” Isaiah’s gaze never wavered. “We’re here and ready.”

Bitter truth burned a hole in Roman’s belly. “Maybe I’m not ready to lead. Maybe I’ll never be ready again.” Roman glanced around the hospital hallway. “I should have known something was wrong. I failed.”

“Get off your pity pot and trot yourself down to surgery. The doctors will want to talk to you once they’ve finished.”

Roman’s body stilled. “What?”

“You’ve had your, why is this happening, moment,” Isaiah stated. “Quit treading water and be the big man.”

Roman raised one eyebrow. “Big man?”

“You’re the one we look up to.” A sneer lifted Isaiah’s lip. “Time’s up, Captain. Get your head out of your ass and be the leader this team and Jimmy need.”  

“But . . .”

“Buts are for cowards.”

Anger surged through Roman. He grabbed Isaiah’s shirt and shoved him up against the wall.

“You are one of the few people in the world, who can say something like that to me and live.” Roman jerked Isaiah’s shirt to emphasis his point.

“Welcome back, Captain.” A rare smile curved the weapons expert’s lips. “Let’s go down and see how many times Tristen’s tried to break into the operating room.”

Roman blinked and his anger disintegrated. He realized the debilitating fog that had rendered him all but useless, had cleared under Isaiah’s brand of sarcasm. His best friend knew him inside and out and had acted in the way Roman needed.

“Thanks.”

Isaiah nodded. “Anytime.”

Roman let go of Isaiah’s shirt, turned, and started down the hall toward the elevators. Urgency rose and rode him hard. He needed to be available, not hiding in the corner, for when the doctors were ready to discuss Jimmy’s condition. Reese and Lee were counting on him. He also had the members of his chosen family depending on him.

“Update,” he ordered.

 He listened as Isaiah reported the location of each member of his team. He raised an eyebrow when Isaiah admitted that he’d sent Morgan and Tatum to the ICU to keep Reese company.

Isaiah shrugged his wide shoulders. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

A quiet chuckle drew Roman’s attention.

“What do you say, Carson? Would you have sent Morgan and Tatum to look after Reese?”

“Isaiah knows what he’s doing,” Carson answered simply.

Roman had to agree. He could trust Isaiah to use good judgement in any situation. He found the idea of Morgan and Tatum assigned to support Reese intriguing but set those thoughts aside. Right now, his entire focus centered on the surgery ward.

* * * *

Cold dread haunted Tristen and turned every passing minute into a nightmare. He rubbed at the hot rush of tears streaming down his face. Hatred at the helplessness of the horrific situation threatened to take what little remained of his control. He couldn’t lose his brother.

Tristen turned toward the door and ran, only to crash into a solid wall of muscle. Arms captured him in their strong embrace and a heated breath touched his ear.

“Where are you going, my anjinho.” The smooth baritone of Santos’s voice wrapped Tristen in the solid security of home.

“I can’t…” Tristen searched to name one of a million things he couldn’t endure at this terrible moment. He gave up and looked into his husband’s dark eyes, pleading for the right answers, the right outcome. “Why? Why is this happening?”

“The doctors in this hospital specialize in emergency trauma.” Santos’s gentle fingers brushed away the long tangles of hair sticking to the moisture coating Tristen’s cheeks. “They will give us back Jimmy and Reese.”

Tristen wanted to believe Santos’s claim. His husband had always been straight with him even when a small fib would have been easier.

“How can you sound so sure?”

Santos shrugged one wide shoulder. “It is not their time yet.”

Tristen wasn’t about to question that statement. There were instances that his big Brazilian husband seemed to know stuff that Tristen wasn’t about to touch with a ten-foot pole. He’d stay in the here and now and leave the other misty planes of existence to Santos.

“Okay.” Tristen tried to step back and away from Santos. The man seemed to grow octopus’s arms when he chose, and Tristen remained where Santo held him.  “Since according to you, Jimmy is going to make it through this, the doctors won’t mind me checking to see how it’s going.”

“You will stay here, my querida.” Santos cupped the back of Tristen’s head and urged him to rest his cheek against the bigger man’s chest. The man’s heartbeat soothed his inner turmoil. “Jimmy’s job is to survive the surgery and yours is to wait for him.”

“Patience isn’t my forte,” Tristen complained. “I hate waiting.”

“I know, meu amor.”

The side door leading to the hallway opened. Tristen turned his head and rested his other cheek on Santos’s chest. He watched Roman entering the room with Isaiah and Carsen following. Tristen ground his teeth together. Roman reminded him of a big cat with his flexing muscles and powerful stride, that all seeing gaze scanning the room. He held back a bitter chuckle. Yep, he was ready to yank on the tiger’s tail.

“It’s good of you to finally show up,” Tristen commented.

Roman’s face could have been made of stone. “Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet.” Tristen turned in Santo’s arms and face Roman. “You should know that I talked to my mother, and she said that she had an uncle who died from an abdominal aneurysm. There were rumors in the family that her grandfather exhibited the same symptoms before his abrupt death in the barn one morning. Of course, back then they buried him without knowing why he’d died.”

The corner of Roman’s mouth tightened in response to Tristen’s information. One small reaction to a such a dreadful situation. Tristen wanted to slap him. He wanted to scream and shout. He wanted Roman to show something, anything, that he cared that Jimmy was fighting for his life.

Would he try to go after Roman? Hell no, he wasn’t a masochist, and he planned on being here for his brother, not lying in a broken heap on the floor.

Besides, if Roman took a swing at him, Santos would step in. Tristen figured that he and Santos probably wouldn’t win in a fight against the big guy, and Jimmy would be pissed that they dared to touch his precious husband.

“I’ll call Peggy and James once we know more of Jimmy’s condition,” Roman replied. “Did you contact Chip and Matt?”

Surprise quenched Tristen’s anger. He hadn’t thought to call his brothers. He supposed his mother must have, at least he hoped so. Damn, he had dropped the ball.

“I’ll go call them.” Tristen left Santos’s embrace and headed for the hallway, glad to get out from under Roman’s heavy gaze.

“Tristen.”

Roman’s voice stopped Tristen in mid-step.  

“Thanks for being here for Jimmy.”

Those pesky tears blurred Tristen’s vision. “He’s my brother. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“We both value your strength and support.”

Tristen’s lungs locked up. The big man had said what Tristen had needed to hear. The magnitude of the statement took his breath away and that inner strength Roman had talked about returned. He would wait for his brother, no matter how long it took. He would do whatever was needed to help Jimmy through this catastrophe. Tristen vowed that Jimmy would one day return to his beloved cranky self.

“Thank you,” Tristen replied, and meant it. “I’ll go make that call and be right back.”

At Roman’s nod, Tristen left the waiting room. In the hallway he pulled out his cell and searched the contact list. After finding the name he was looking for he put the call through.

“How is he?”

Tattered emotions cut off Tristen’s reply until the welcome weight of large hands rested on his shoulders. Tristen leaned back against Santos and took comfort in his rock, his very own superman.

“He’s still in surgery,” Tristen answered his big brother. “Did mom call you?”

“Yeah,” Chip replied. “Jimmy is strong, he’ll get through this.”

“I hope so.”

“Tristen.” Chip’s tone changed to take on a hint of defensiveness. “You know I’d be there if I could. We’re expecting a couple of important new foals to drop any day now and are in the middle of calving season. You know how it is.”

Chip had taken over the family ranch after their father had a massive heart attack and moved to the hacienda with their mother. Tristen had grown up working on the ranch. He’d spent many spring nights helping calves come into the world. Those messy, literally, shit-filled hours were crucial to the monetary wellbeing of the ranch. Every calf was worth potentially thousands of dollars.

Tristen may understand Chip’s point of view, but only so far. “You do have a foreman and capable ranch employees to keep things going for a little while.”

“Tristen, don’t nag,” Chip shot back. “It’s bad enough that mom thought I should jump on a plane the second she told me what was going on. You’re already there, Roman’s there. What the hell could I do. Besides, dad trusted me to keep the ranch running smoothly and profitable.”

For the space of one second, surprise froze Tristen’s mind, before it roared into overdrive. He was more than capable of reading between the lines of Chip’s excuses.

“What’s going on with the ranch?” Tristen demanded.

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

Right. Tristen wasn’t buying those tainted goods. “Spill. What happened?”

“Mary’s struggling with this pregnancy.” The exhale of a huge sigh came through the phone. “She’s accusing me of looking at other women. I keep telling her that her hormones are making her see things, but she’s threatening to pack up the kids and move back to her mother’s. I can’t afford to pay her off and keep the ranch if she divorces me.”

There were so many wrongs with that statement that Tristen didn’t know where to start. What a boogerass. Leave it to his big brother to stomp his size thirteen shit-covered boots all over a delicate situation.

“Let’s see, Mary is eight months pregnant while trying to keep up with a one and a two-year-old.” Mary had three miscarriages before giving birth to little Emily, and a year later, scrappy Kingston. “I know you adore the woman, so do your part and set her up on the sofa with a pillow under her feet, a box of chocolates, and the TV remote. Strap the kids into their car seats in that big old truck of yours and ride them around the ranch for a couple of hours. Let them pet a few calves or play with the latest batch of kittens.” Tristen huffed out a breath to show his exasperation. Damn, he was the gay brother telling the straight brother how to handle a woman. Just, damn. “Back rubs are good and forget the divorce talk. She’s your gift of a lifetime. Show her how much you love her. Think decent flowers and honest words, not dandelions and platitudes.”

“Fine.”

Such a small word held so many meanings behind it. Tristen let his lips curve into a smile. His big brother would be okay.

“I’ll keep you posted on Jimmy,” he promised.

“Thanks, bro,” Chip replied. “Take care of yourself. Mom doesn’t need another son getting sick.”

“Will, do.” With that promise, Tristen ended the call.

After a moment’s search and a swipe of a finger, he was listening to the ringing of his next call.

“Hello.”

“Did mom get through to you?”

“Yeah.”

Tristen ground his teeth in frustration. After his little brother had graduated from high school, Matt had seemed to drop off the face of the earth. Most phone calls went unanswered and explanations of where he was or what he was doing were ignored. Tristen had had enough crap. His nerves were shot, and his patience had left the building.

“Fine.” There was that word again. This time Tristen had stuffed a million frustrations into those four letters. “I’ll keep you updated on how he’s doing.”

“No need. I’m almost at the hospital.”

“What!”

Tristen waited for Matt to repeat what he had said. He couldn’t have heard his brother right the first time.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood when mom called,” Matt stated. “I just drove into the parking lot.”

Tristen would never call he brother a liar, but their mother must have called Matt almost an hour ago. No way his brother happened to be in the neighborhood. In the end, it didn’t matter. Matt coming to the hospital to support Jimmy was important. Seeing his little brother for the first time in years was important.

“We’re on the third floor.” Tristen managed to choke out.

“Sounds good, see you in a few.”

Santos took the phone from Tristen’s nerveless fingers before gathering him in that warm haven Tristen would never take for granted. Tristen looked up into his handsome husband’s face.

“Matt is here.”

Santos’s fingers tangled in Tristen’s hair. “It will be good to see your brother again.”

“Yeah.” Tristen caught Santos’s hand. “We’d better get back.”

Santos dipped his head and covered Tristen’s lips with his. As always, Santos’s kiss swept him away from all troubles and enfolded him in pleasure.

* * * *

His Amorzinho melted in his arms. Santos deepened the kiss. A hospital hallway may not be the best place for such signs of intimacy, but Tristen’s needs were and would always come first. Right now, Tristen needed comfort and the sense of security that only Santos could give him.

Tristen’s fingers twisted in Santos’s shirt. Santos ended the kiss in slow increments and raised his head. Tristen’s hazel-colored eyes may be red rimmed and swollen from his tears, but to Santos they were as gorgeous as always.

“Come, Amorzinho.” Santos traced a fingertip over Tristen’s cheek. “Let’s go see if the doctors have finished with Jimmy’s surgery.”

Tristen’s lower lip trembled. “Okay.”

Santos entwined their fingers and led his husband back into the waiting room. He found Roman with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans and staring at a small monitor mounted on the wall. They had been given a card with a number assigned to Jimmy. A glance at the monitor showed Santos that Jimmy’s number was highlighted in green, indicating that Jimmy was still in surgery. Blue would mean he had been moved to the recovery unit.

Isaiah sat sprawled in a chair with Carson tucked up against his side. Rhys had arrived while they were in the hallway. He was curled up in a corner chair and quietly talking on his phone.

At the other end of the large room a small group of people, all sporting red hair, sat talking to one another in low murmurs or staring at their phones. Every few moments, one would look at the monitor mounted on the wall near them.

Santos decided to usher Tristen to the small sofa next to Rhys when Roman’s body jerked before stiffening. As one, the team stopped what they were doing and moved toward their leader. Something was wrong. Santos searched the monitor. Jimmy’s number was no longer listed.

The door to the hallway opened and they all turned. Santos kept a tight rein on his emotions even as Tristen cried out. His husband broke away and ran into the arms of a tall muscular man.

Matthew Earl. Tristen’s little brother no longer resembled the skinny uncoordinated teen who had left for a so-called college years ago. Matt had grown into a man with a strong body and a hardness in his gaze that Santos saw in the mirror every morning and in the eyes of his teammates. A glance at Roman showed their leader assessing their brother-in-law.

 Santos knew what Roman saw. Hard edges not yet smoothed out by returning to society from the depths of an endless sun and sand hell. Lighter skin surrounding a mouth and jaws where a thick beard once grew. A newly shaved head, now covered with only a quarter inch of thick dark stubble.

Santos and Roman had kept track of Matt over the years. They knew he had returned from the Middle East four weeks ago. Their contacts had indicated that Matt, with the end of his mission, so was his time working undercover for the government. Santos had no inclination to dig into the incident that had sparked all of these endings. It was enough that Matt could renew his relationships with his family and start a new chapter in his life.

The phone on the small desk near the door rang and the lady wearing a light green hospital smock answered it. She spoke a few soft words before ending the call.

“Are any family of Jimmy Earl Marshall here?” she called out.

As one they all moved in front of her with Roman front and center. The woman’s gaze traveled over them in a slow appraisal. A frown formed.

“The doctor would like to meet with family members only in the private waiting room down the hall.”

“We are his family,” Roman stated.