Page 23 of Resisting You

It was a weird thing to say, Frey thought. For anything? He couldn’t possibly mean for anything. There was no chance in hell Renato wanted to hear from him if it wasn’t about this. Still, he tucked it into the pocket of his scrubs.

“I’d like to get this over with,” Frey said after a beat.

Renato nodded. “Give me an hour.”

It wasn’t perfect but would have to be good enough.

Chapter Six

Rex wasn’t in surgery yet, but he was knocked the hell out by the time Lane and Bowen arrived. He was sitting with his son when their text came in, but before he could reply, Dr. Bakshi appeared, and Frey let out a sigh of relief because he hadn’t just wanted it to be someone he knew—he needed it to be.

Ajish worked with Renato a lot, and it was obvious they were friends, but he wasn’t as big of a dickhead as Foster was, which allowed Frey to relax. He offered Frey a smile as he checked Rex’s vitals and then his IV bag.

“So. Rough day?”

Frey rolled his eyes. “Not right now.”

Ajish’s face fell. “He’s going to be fine. You know how quick these things go. And before you have a panic attack, yes, I have his medical history.”

Frey sagged back into his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “I thought we were done with all this shit.”

Ajish shook his head and walked over, squeezing Frey’s shoulder. “It’s never going to be over. Kids get hurt. And when they get older, they do stupid shit, and sometimes it’s really bad. But you know he’s in a good place. And you know that Renato is going to take care of him.”

God, he hated that man, but he also did know. Maybe he’d ease up on fucking with him for a little while as a way of saying thanks. It was probably the least he could do. “Do you want me to wake him up before you get him started?” Frey asked.

Ajish shook his head. “Better to let him sleep through it.” He froze, then ducked his head to capture Frey’s attention. “Hey. I’m going to take care of him like he was my own son, okay?”

“Do you have kids?” Frey asked.

Something flashed in his eyes, but then he shook his head. “No. I took care of my nephew for several years before he went back to his parents, so I might not get it all the way, but I do know what it’s like to love someone more than you thought you were capable.”

Frey nodded, then stood up. “I know I’m overreacting. It’s a simple break, it needs a couple pins, and he’ll be back to annoying the fuck out of our cat in a couple of days.”

“For now, let yourself panic,” Ajish told him before pulling the tray closer. Frey didn’t look at what was on it. He already knew. He’d prepped enough of them. And he knew it was safe and that Rex was going to be fine. “Do you have someone here with you?”

He remembered his phone and the text that had buzzed through. He pulled it out and saw that Lane and Bowen were waiting for him in the café. “I have my work phone on me. I’m heading down to the café to meet a couple friends. Call if anything goes weird.”

“I won’t, because it won’t,” Ajish said with a smile.

Frey turned around before he could watch the anesthesiologist drug his son, and he muttered a couple of prayers under his breath as he hurried down the corridor and out the main doors, and he followed the smell of coffee. The café was mostly empty, which let him breathe a little, and he spotted Lane and Bowen sitting in a booth at the far corner.

There were three cups of coffee on the table, and his stomach gave a lurch. Had he eaten lunch? He couldn’t even begin to remember, but the thought of food sent him spiraling. He swallowed against bile as he walked over, and he sat down next to Lane, who immediately threw an arm around him.

Bowen watched for a moment, then reached across the table and took his hand. Once upon a time, Bowen hated his guts out of fear that Frey and Lane would get together. But things had settled, and Frey was glad because he really liked the guy.

“I’m a mess,” he muttered.

Lane squeezed him tighter. “I would be too. But Rex is a strong kid, and like you said, Dr. Dickhead is really good at what he does.”

Frey let out a half-hysterical laugh. It was weird to hear him called that, even if they spent most of their Dad Drinkies nights reading out of Frey’s diary of ridiculous shit Renato said in the OR. It felt…maybe not disrespectful, but maybe playing with fire a little. He didn’t want to piss off the universe while his son was under Renato’s knife.

He leaned his elbows on the table and let his face rest against his palms. They smelled like saline and hand soap. Lane rubbed a soothing stroke up and down his spine, and Frey allowed himself to relax.

“Today has been a goddamn shitshow.”

Bowen made a comforting noise. “Yeah, I get that. Is Oz around, or…”

Frey realized he’d gotten off the phone with Lane and Bowen before shit hit the fan, and he dropped his hands to the table, groaning. “Nope. He’s at home, nursing away the trauma of the afternoon since some fuck-face nurses thought he was the one who hurt Rex and called the damn cops.”

---