Spencer Cohen Series, Book Three (The Spencer Cohen Series 3) (9 page)

He was totally going to say no, but his dad and sister heckled him, and after a whole song, he finally gave in. “I can’t dance,” he mumbled as he begrudgingly stood up.

I led him back over to where I’d danced with his mother, and with perfect timing, the next song started. It was “Georgia On My Mind,” a slow, slow song, and I pulled Andrew against me. Maybe it was weird to slow dance in front of his family, but they didn’t seem to mind. When I looked over, Helen was sitting at the other end of the sofa having Allan massage her now-bare feet. “This okay?” I whispered in Andrew’s ear.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Very okay.”

He barely moved his feet, but it was lovely all the same. And when the next song started, he didn’t pull away. I pressed my lips to his temple and spoke into his ear. “Thought you didn’t like dancing?”

“Just don’t want my parents to see my little problem,” he mumbled, then rocked his hips into mine.

Oh.
I burst out laughing. Then I whispered in his ear, “That’s not a little problem.”

“Oh, would you two stop it,” Sarah cried. “You’re making me nauseously jealous.”

We broke apart with an embarrassed laugh, and Sarah shoved the tray of leftover canapés between us. “Eat. If I’m getting fat, I’m taking you both with me.”

Still smiling, I picked up some round fried ball type thing and bit into it. I only took one bite, and I knew… I knew it wasn’t going to end well. I tried to swallow and cough. My throat felt tight, too tight. I pulled at my top button. I tried to cough again.

Then everything kind of happened at once.

“Spencer?”

I tried to breathe. My lungs needed air, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. My head throbbed, dizzy with a lack of oxygen, and I remembered thinking it was funny how it didn’t hurt. And how the word anaphylaxis was really rather peculiar.

“Oh, my God, Spencer!”

“His EpiPen!” Andrew’s voice was frantic. He was panicking, and I was on my back on the floor, looking up at the ceiling and their worried faces. I still couldn’t breathe. “His coat. Get his coat!”

I was too hot, far too hot, and I had no air. Andrew’s hands were on my face, and he was talking to me. He looked so scared. I could hear the voices. His father was close, and I felt a sharp stab in my thigh.

There was no pain. Only darkness.

I knew where I was without having to open my eyes. The sounds, the smell… hospital. Someone squeezed my hand, which prompted me to look.

Andrew.

He was at my side, elbows resting on my bed, my hand firmly in both of his. Our joined hands were at his face, his eyes were closed. He looked tired and like he’d aged a decade.

“Hey.” My voice caught and my throat scratched, but he heard me.

His gaze shot to mine, and he visibly sagged with relief. “Oh, Spencer.”

“What time…?” I couldn’t even finish that sentence. “Water?”

He quickly fetched me a small cup and gently put it to my lips. The relief of the cool liquid down my throat was immediate. “Thanks.”

Andrew put the cup on the table over my feet. “It’s ten past eight,” he said, collecting my hand again. “You’ve been here since five-ish. The paramedics brought you in.”

I didn’t remember any of it.

“Mom,” Andrew called out. Almost instantly Helen, Allan, and Sarah appeared. “Can you tell them he’s awake?”

“I’ll go,” Sarah said before disappearing.

Helen walked over to my bed. She put her hand on my arm and smiled sadly. “I’m very sorry this happened. I did specify shellfish allergy. I’ll be dealing with the caterers; don’t you worry.”

A nurse came into the room—
Am I in a private room
?—and checked some machines and asked me how I was feeling. Then a doctor walked in, but when he discussed my “severe allergic reaction” and the drugs they’d given me, he spoke more to Andrew’s parents than to me.

“When was his first allergic reaction?” the doc asked them. Did the doctor think Andrew’s parents were mine as well?

Of course they wouldn’t have known when I had my first allergic reaction. “When I was three,” I answered. “That was the first time. And again when I was twelve.”

The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed. “They’re getting worse, I assume?”

I nodded, then shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, you’re very lucky your step-father was there to administer the epinephrine. Or they’d be visiting you in the basement, if you know what I mean.”

Basements in hospitals meant morgue. “Yeah.”

“We’ll keep him in overnight,” the doc said. “And I suggest he not be left alone for the next 48 hours.” He prattled on for a bit, but I was so tired and a bit confused.

When the doc left, Andrew took my hand and explained. “Mom told them you were her son, and Dad’s your step-father,” he said quietly. “They think we’re brothers.”

Helen patted my leg. “So he can stay in your room with you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” My throat scratched again, making me wince. “More water?”

Andrew stood up and helped me drink from the cup again. Then Allan said, “We’ll give you two a minute.” He ushered Helen and Sarah out the door.

I sighed deeply with a tiredness I could feel in my bones. Andrew put his hand to my face. “I was really fucking scared, Spencer.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

“You stopped breathing, and I thought you were going to die.” He squeezed my hand and shook his head. He was fighting back tears. He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. “I love you,” he choked out.

Before I could reply, Lola burst into the room. She was a blur of colour and worry. She stopped dead when she saw me. “Spencer!”

Gabe followed her in, pale as a sheet. He sat down shakily. He looked up, and by way of explanation, said, “Lola drove.” His eye twitched. “Faster than normal.”

Lola launched herself at me, hugging what little life I had left in me. Andrew would have normally been knocked backwards, but I still had hold of his hand. I wasn’t letting it go for anyone.

“You okay?” Lola asked, patting my face and hair. “Andrew phoned me. You trying to give me a heart attack?” She turned to Andrew. “Thank you. How you doing? Thank God you were there to save him.”

Andrew blushed. “I’m not sure I did much. My dad was the one who stayed calm. I kinda lost my shit.”

“Not true,” Allan said from the doorway. “Andrew was the one who told me where the EpiPen was.”

Lola put her hands to my beard and then tried to fix my hair. “Well, you scared us all by the sound of it.”

Just then, a nurse came in and stopped. “Okay, who needs to be here?”

“We all do,” Lola answered sweetly. Her pink hair in a fancy twist, perfect makeup, and cupcake baby-doll dress didn’t fool this nurse, though.

The nurse gave a nod to me. “Mr Cohen here needs rest. Almost dying is exhausting. Visiting hours are over.” Then she spotted Gabe. “Sir? Are you okay?”

Gabe looked up at her, still sweaty and pale. He waved her off. “My wife drives like Satan on acid.”

I chuckled as did everyone else, and before Lola could argue, Sarah linked arms with her and they walked out. Gabe followed, Allan patted my leg, and Helen promised they’d be back first thing in the morning.

The nurse raised her eyebrow at Andrew, but he sat down beside me again. “I’m staying.”

I needed to say something. He’d told me he loved me before we were interrupted, and I still hadn’t said anything. But I was so tired. I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

Andrew’s thumb traced circles on the back of my hand before he lifted it and kissed where his thumb had just been. “Sleep, Spencer. I’ll be right here.”

I couldn’t seem to form words, so I squeezed his hand instead and held it as tight as my tired bones would let me. And I slept.

* * * *

I woke up when a nurse doing midnight rounds came in and checked the machine at my side. Andrew was asleep on a fold-up bed, and a warmth spread through my chest knowing he was still here.

He loved me. I knew he did. I’d heard him tell his mother before that he did. But he told
me
, he told me he loved me. It was out and couldn’t be taken back. I was certain the universe had a no-take-backs clause on those three words. Not that I wanted him to take them back. God that was the last thing I wanted.

What I wanted was for my stupid brain and my even stupider heart to know what to do with those words.

The hardest part was knowing that I loved him too. My stupid brain could admit that my traitorous heart had done something I swore to myself years ago we would never do. And that was fall in love.

Yet there he slept on a fold-up bed in my hospital room. And I was in love with him. He made me the happiest man in the world. But it was those words, those three little words. I could admit to myself that I loved Andrew, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell Andrew.

There was something absolutely terrifying in handing over your wounded heart for someone else to hold.

And those thoughts kept me awake, along with the constant beeps and noises that filled hospitals. Andrew woke up a little before six, confused and still half asleep, but as soon as he recognised where he was, his first thoughts were of me. “Hey. You feeling okay?” His voice croaked, and he scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Much better. Still tired but better.”

He stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, and he looked sleep-rumpled and gorgeous. He caught me staring and smiling. “What?”

“Nothing. Thank you for staying.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

I held my hand out to him and waited until he took it. “I’ve been awake most of the night. I almost joined you on that cot.”

He smiled and used my hand to scratch his stubbled jaw. “Don’t think ‘brothers’ are supposed to be that close.”

Oh, that’s right. “Brothers, huh?”

“Technically step brothers, but yes.”

“I would have told them it was so awfully nice of my step brother to stay the night, I just wanted to give him a cuddle in his bed.”

A nurse came in and Andrew quickly dropped my hand and stood up. He went and opened the window blinds while the nurse did her routine checks and typed into the computer. “Breakfast will be around soon,” she said on her way out.

Andrew made a face and quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket. He texted something, then looked at me. “You’re not eating hospital food.”

“I’m actually kinda hungry.”

“So am I, but hospital food is what they serve in gastronomical hell.”

I chuckled, which woke up my bladder. “I need to piss.”

“Oh, let me help you,” Andrew said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“You wanna hold it for me?”

He laughed. “Don’t think they’ll appreciate that.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him, getting to my feet and manoeuvring my IV pole with me. “I can get up.”

He bit his lip.

“Not that,” I said with a snort. “Well, I can get that up too, but I’d rather not have a piss-on when the doctor comes in.”

“A piss-on?”

“Like a hard-on, but just morning and a full bladder, you know how it is?” I walked over to the private bathroom door, wheeling my saline drip with me. “Can you see my arse through this gown?”

“Ah, yes.”

I wiggled my arse. “Good.” I closed the door behind me, relieved my bladder, then washed my hands and my face. Hospitals always made me feel dirty. I stood with my back to the door so Andrew would have a perfect view of my arse and reaching behind me, I opened the door. “You know, these gowns could come in handy. We should see if I can take this home.”

Only Andrew didn’t laugh. Sarah did. Really loudly. I spun around. Andrew slowly put his hands over his face, Sarah was now bent over silent-laughing, Andrew’s parents, who were holding drinks and food, were both trying
not
to laugh, and the doctor rose one eyebrow and nodded slowly before saying, “I think you can keep it.”

I’m pretty sure I was bright red from my head to my feet. My voice squeaked, “I didn’t know… God, I’m really sorry.”

“I take it you’re feeling better?” the doctor asked.

“Much.” Still not making eye contact with anyone in the room, I walked around them and sat on the bed, making sure everything was duly covered. “Can I go home, please? I’d much rather die of embarrassment there.”

A nurse breezed in, removed my IV line without so much as a word, and when she was done, the doc’s expression went from amused to serious. He gave me a lecture about severe allergies, like I didn’t know, and he gave me the nod to be discharged. “Like I said last night, I’d prefer you weren’t left alone for 48 hours. And you need to come back at the first sign of dizziness or nausea, shortness of breath, swelling.”

“I can stay with him,” Andrew said.

The doc smirked. “A nurse will be around with the paperwork. Just don’t let her catch you stealing the gown.”

“I was joking about that. I’m really very sorry,” I mumbled as fresh waves of embarrassment rolled through me.

The doctor left, and Andrew was the first to laugh. He clapped his hands together and rocked up on his toes. “Well, now that everyone’s seen your backside.” I threw the pillow at him. It was like a brick. I hoped it hurt, but he caught it easily.

“Here you go, my dear,” Helen said, handing me a white takeout cup. “Green tea. Andrew told me what to order. And there’s pastries as well.”

Allan held out the bag he was holding. “No shellfish. I asked.”

I smiled as I took a sip of my tea. It was heavenly. “Thank you. Thank you all, for everything. For the tea, for saving my life yesterday, for pretending I didn’t show you my backside. And for telling them we were related so Andrew could stay.”

Helen smiled. “Ah yes, it’s not exactly lying when it’s acting. And I can still give quite the credible performance. No one questioned me.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“After yesterday, it’s the least we could do,” Allan said.

“I don’t blame anyone,” I told them. “These things happen.” No one looked convinced at all. So I sipped my tea again and released a sigh. “This is great tea. Thank you.”

Andrew sat on the bed, took a long drink of his coffee, and looked into the bag of pastries. He pulled out one and handed it to me. Then he picked one and bit into it. “Mmm, so much better than hospital food.”

“Oh,” Sarah said. “Lola wants you to call her first thing.”

I looked at Sarah. “Can you please hand me my phone? I don’t even know where it is.”

There was a bag that was on Andrew’s fold-up bed next to my pile of clothes. I assumed it had my belongings in it but wasn’t sure. Andrew pointed to it and mumbled something with a mouthful of food. His mother chided him, and he rolled his eyes. Such a normal family. Incredibly wonderful and loving but perfectly normal.

Sarah passed me my phone and wallet, and when I checked the phone, the battery was dead. “Oh boy, she won’t be happy with me.”

Andrew held up his phone and mumbled something with a mouthful of food. Sarah rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so gross.” Then she said to me, “I’m sure I still have her number. When we’d made plans to meet you that first time, remember?” She quickly had her phone out and was thumbing through pages. “Yep, here it is. Want me to call her?”