Page 1 of Complete Me

1

Bjorn

With a disgusted grunt, I poke at the congealed mass the hospital’s trying to pass off as oatmeal. Tossing my spoon onto the tray, I shove the entire table away and stare out the window. As views go, I’ve seen worse. At least today the sky’s a bright blue, and the sunlight streaming into the room mellows the stark white of the overhead lighting. But if I were home, I could lie in my own bed, stare out at Elliott Bay, and eat something that doesn’t taste like glue. Not that I have any idea what glue tastes like. I wasn’t that kid.

The knock at my door makes me jump, and I gasp as pain shoots up my side. By the time I catch my breath, my brother, Gunnar, is peering into the room. Once he sees I’m awake, he steps the rest of the way in. “Good morning. I come bearing gifts.”

He lifts a drink carrier and a brown paper bag, and my heart soars. The heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary baked goods drifts my way, and I eagerly wave him over. “Quick, before a nurse catches you.”

Gunnar snorts and sets the drink carrier on the table, wheeling it back beside the bed. “Not happening. Jules is out there, giving everyone puppy eyes, making sure you have time to inhale some sugar and caffeine.”

“Wait, why is Jules running interference? Where’s Erik? Shouldn’t you be out there?” Worry has my heart racing. My brother Erik’s fiancé has massive anxiety issues, especially around people he doesn’t know well.

Gunnar shakes his head. “Erik had to lead a hike today, and Jules insisted on coming. But don’t worry, there are a few nurses who’ve adopted him this week, and he must feel comfortable enough with them to volunteer as a distraction.”

I’m skeptical, but Jules is an adult and can speak up for himself. Maybe he’s trying to stretch his comfort zone. In any case, I’m grateful and ready for whatever’s in that bag that smells so damned good. “Bless you and Jules.” I snatch the to-go cup from the carrier, and carefully pry open the lid, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of unburned, full roast coffee. “Mmmm. Black.”

“Just like your soul. And here. I got you a cinnamon roll.”

He digs in the paper bag and pulls out a cardboard box with a huge mound of doughy goodness inside. It’s slathered with cream cheese frosting so thick that I can barely see the pastry under it. “You are my favorite brother.”

“Maybe right now I am. But we’re all aware that you’d trade every one of us in if Jules asked.”

I shrug. “True.” That earns a chuckle and eases some of my worry. “How are you?“ My first few days in the hospital, I wasn’t too aware of things happening around me. Between the emergency surgery for the stab wound to my side and the pain meds, I was pretty out of it. But I recognized that Gunnar was missing for part of the time and what that meant.

“Okay.” He looks everywhere but at me. “Joce still won’t talk to me.”

Shit. Gunnar had been a dumbass by running, but I’d hoped he and his boyfriend would work things out quickly. “You want me to try talking to him?”

Gunnar whips his head around, wide-eyed. “No!” He takes a moment to calm himself, pulling his shoulders out of his ears. “No. Thanks though. Astrid says he needs time, so I’m giving him that.”

Dammit, he looks like a kicked puppy, and it’s killing me. My mind takes off in several directions, trying to come up with a solution for him.

“Besides, I’m the one who fucked up. This is the result.” We’re silent for a long moment before he gestures at my cinnamon roll. “You better eat that before it gets confiscated.”

“Shit, you’re right.” I grab the plastic fork and knife from the bag and attack the innocent mound of sugar. The first taste is heaven, and I moan around the massive bite. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Gunnar chuckles. “That’s what he said.”

I grin around my mouthful and shovel another bite in, washing it down with the now perfect temperature coffee. “Oh my god.” I close my eyes and savor my first taste of decent coffee in days. Sighing happily, I take another sip. “I owe you for this.” I can tell he’s about to argue, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

My sister, Astrid, pokes her head in the room. She sees Gunnar first and smiles. “Hey you. I didn’t expect you here this early on a Monday.” She steps into the room and gives him a hug before coming over to me, taking one look at my mostly demolished cinnamon roll and shaking her head. “I’d give you a hug, but I’m worried I’ll end up wearing that. Plus, I don’t want to hurt you. How’s your side?” Her eyes narrow assessingly, and I’m not sure if she’s trying to judge for herself how I’m feeling, or if she’s scanning my face for a clean spot to kiss. “Good god, Bjorn, there’s enough frosting on your face to glue us together.” She hands me a napkin then carefully kisses my forehead, bypassing the sticky spots completely. I lean into her as I brush the napkin over my mustache and beard, dislodging a few clumps of frosting. “You better hurry up and eat that. I’m assuming the reason Jules is at the desk is to run interference for you?” Gunnar and I give her our best wide-eyed innocent look which only makes her snort. “Yeah, well, I heard the doctor down the hall so you don’t have a ton of time.”

Glancing at the door, I quickly shovel the remaining pastry into my mouth, washing it down with big gulps of coffee. Barely a minute after I finish, we can hear the doctor outside my room. Astrid sweeps the napkin and flimsy cinnamon roll box into the paper bag, then shoves it into her monster-sized purse just as the door swings open. I brush my hand over my face one more time, hoping to dislodge any additional stray crumbs or globs of frosting, then relax against my pillow like I hadn’t just inhaled a year’s worth of calories.

“Morning, doc.” I flash him my most innocent grin. “Good to see you.” I’m not bullshitting either. Dr. John Morris is an incredibly handsome man in his late forties or early fifties, with wavy salt and pepper hair, and a matching, close-cropped beard and mustache. He’s around five feet ten, in decent shape, and has deep, warm brown eyes that twinkle when he smiles, like he’s doing right now.

He scans the room before his gaze lands on me, one dark eyebrow raised. “I have teenagers at home, and I know when they’ve been up to something.”

I meet his gaze. “And yet you’re so calm. You must have a lot of patients.”

It’s clear he’s fighting a grin, and Gunnar groans. “Bjorn, now isn’t the time for jokes.”

I gasp dramatically. “I beg to differ. Now is exactly the time for jokes. Humor’s the best medicine.”

Dr. Morris glances pointedly at my to-go cup. “I’m going to pretend that belongs to one of your siblings.”

Gunnar snatches the cup from the table. “Yep. Mine.”

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