Motherfucker. He hated being reasonable. Hated it. But… “One week, and you come see me every day.”
“Every day. I promise.” Beck leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right behind the ambo in my Jeep the whole way.”
“Let’s go. I can’t believe they won’t let me ride with you, man.”
They could tuck the tubes in around Walter.
“You don’t want to sit in my Jeep for seven hours with that hip. This way you can sleep. Anyway, Walter’s got your seat.” Beck winked at him.
Doc and the nurses maneuvered him out of bed and into the wheelchair, and he realized Beck was right. Even with the one leg up, his hip was giving him hell.
Beck shooed the orderly away though, and took over, wheeling him out to the ambulance.
“You looking forward to getting back to your house?” Eventually he would wake up. Eventually he’d figure it out. He would. He was a clever motherfucker, just ask him.
“Our house. And yes. It’s spring and there’s a lot to be done. The garden, the yard, the boat. I’m looking forward to getting you back to the house too. It’s very New England, and I’ve put so much work into it. I built a big deck, new kitchen, put in a wood stove. It’s a neat place.”
“New England houses have stairs.” Doc said soberly.
“I know, Doc. I’ve got that figured out. I’ll move my office upstairs and turn that room into a bedroom. The bathroom downstairs doesn’t have a tub, but…well, I haven’t solved that yet, but I will.”
“You don’t stress it.” Sky didn’t need Beck all changing his life. “I’ll manage. You just wait. I’ll be walking next week, doing cartwheels in a month, and on a bull by finals. Go out with a bang before I announce my retirement.” No one needed to know that the idea of getting back on made him want to toss cookies.
No one said a goddamn thing to that.
“This is where I say, ‘Good ride, cowboy.’” Doc smiled at him and stuck out a hand. “You listen to those Yankee docs. Some of them know what they’re talking about.”
“Thank you. Don’t be a stranger.” Sky was not going to panic. He wasn’t the panicking type. See, he was the least panicking man alive.
“You either.” Doc caught his eyes and held them. “You’ve got this. I never doubted that, you hear me? Never doubted it once.”
He was lifted right out of his chair by a couple of burly orderlies and loaded into the ambulance.
He looked for Beck, wild-eyed, discomfort flaring into pain as they settled him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t, but he’d promised a week, and he kept his promises.
To love, honor, and cherish.
Beck climbed in after him and took his hand, squeezing hard enough that he knew Beck understood. “I’m right behind you. I’ll be there when those doors open.”
“Okay. I’ll hold you to it. I will.” And he could cowboy up with the best of them.
He wasn’t worried.
Or scared.
“Don’t worry, man. I’ll be fine.”I love you. I’m sorry.
“You will. I’m in Doc’s camp.” He got a peck on the cheek, Beck jumped out of the ambulance, and the doors closed.
Boom.
Well, shit and shinola. He sure hoped this guy back here liked King George, because if not, it was going to be a long, long ride.
9
Walter loved the house. As far as Beckett was concerned, that was a major coup.
Sky had been doing so well in rehab. Really. Thankfully the cowboy had never met a challenge he didn’t take head on. But Beckett wasn’t counting on anything. Sky could go off the rails tomorrow, call in a panic, and that would be that.