Page 95 of Fire & Ice

They crank the head of Tripp’s I.C.U. bed vertical so that he’s sitting, and the “superior Doctor Reading,” as Aliyah calls herself, pulls the tube free just as soon as Tripp makes it clear he’s back with them. Once it’s out, Tripp coughs and wheezes and makes a series of disgusted and irritated faces that Leander would find both amusing and adorable, if not for the current set of circumstances. His nurse swoops in to stick a nasal cannula under Tripp’s nose and around his ears, and he looks as if he likes that even less.

Leander’s chest feels tight, but his heart is full.

“Can I—” Tripp starts, but abruptly breaks off to cough, wincing and touching his fingers to his throat. Leander shifts where he’s sitting on the side of Tripp’s bed, looking around for something to offer him, but his nurse is already coming to the rescue. She holds out a cup of water, fixing the straw so that it’s easy for Tripp to take a sip.

“Slowly,” she cautions, as Tripp slurps gratefully, though it clearly hurts him almost as much to swallow. “You haven’t had solid food in a few days, we’ve been bypassing your stomach completely. You can thank your brother for pullingthattube long before you woke up.”

“I remember,” Tripp mutters hoarsely, shrugging one shoulder before accepting another sip of water and then flopping back against his pillow. “Little. Sucked.”

The fact that Tripp is alreadyjoking,as exhausted and uncomfortable as he must be, has Leander stifling a somewhat distressed laugh and covering his mouth. Hoping fervently that Tripp doesn’t notice, Leander closes his eyes and squeezes, willing the tears that are welling up behind them to disperse.

No such luck.

When Leander opens again, Tripp’s hand is on his thigh and he’s gazing back at him with warm, if tired, fondness, and he winks.

“Alright, gang,” Aliyah declares, after doing the world’s quickest physical exam in history on Tripp. She turns and sweeps her white-coat-clad arms towards the doorway in a gesture that can only mean,get the fuck out. “Tripp needs to rest.Oneof you may stay, and I’ll make that choice an easy one—Beau, come with me now and I’ll let you consult on your brother’s plan of care.”

Beau's face lights up. After giving Tripp a gentle hug and murmuring some words of encouragement in his ear, he follows his Chief out the door like a puppy. He’s hand-in-hand with Bri, who’s just gotten off her own shift, and that takes care of half the room. It’s just Leander and Tripp’s nurse now, and he’s relatively certain that direct care staff were exempt from the shooing.

Despite that, the nurse doesn’t stick around. Briefly, she has Tripp rate his pain, adjusts a few things on the various IV pumps, administers a push medication, and warns Leander not to try and keep Tripp awake.

“I’m not an idiot,” Leander mutters, sliding off the side of the bed and into his own chair, which, at this point, probably has the outline of his butt permanently imprinted on the cushion.

“No,” the nurse agrees amiably, adjusting one of Tripp’s infusions for the last time before heading for the door. “But you’ve been waiting for this since the moment y’all walked in. What he’s been through and what you’ve been through are two totally different kinds of trauma, and you both need time to recover. Just…keep your expectations low for tonight.” Before Leander can reply, she wiggles her fingers at them and slips away.

That leaves Leander alone with Tripp, but when he turns his attention back to the man, Tripp’s already fast asleep. “Low expectations,” Leander says softly. “Check.” Still, he can’t resist scooping up Tripp’s hand just to feel the warm weight of it, the lines and bumps of Tripp’s fingers interlacing with his own. Many times over the past several days, Leander has sat like this, pressing the pads of two fingers down onto Tripp’s pulse point anytime he needed tangible proof of life.

Doing so makes Tripp stir, pretty long lashes batting against his cheek as his eyelids flutter open, just halfway. “Hey,” he croaks, licking his lips, and Leander immediately holds up the water cup for Tripp to take a sip. He drinks slowly, head falling back heavily when he’s done. Tripp looks positively drained, and once again, Leander wishes that there was something he coulddo.

He’s so busy worrying about how useless he is, Leander forgets tosayanything to Tripp, who tugs at his hand, weakly but impatiently. “Sorry,” Leander tells him, when he realizes Tripp is trying to get his attention. “I just—” He stops, drops his head to where their hands are joined against the mattress, and presses his forehead to Tripp’s knuckles, swallowing a treasonous sob before it can escape.

Against his skin, Tripp’s hand turns, something it hasn’t done in days, despite Leander doing this very thingsomanytimes. Tonight, Tripp’s hand cups his jaw, tries to encourage him to sit up. When he does, Leander knows he looks awful, probably red-eyed and with tears streaming down his cheeks, but Tripp still looks at him like he’s the only person who matters in the world. The way his eyes crinkle and the corners of his lips curl up, it’s soTripp,and so fucking relieving, Leander can barely breathe.

“Come,” Tripp says huskily, spreading his arms like he wants Leander to crawl into them. He can’t—the bed is too damn small even if he wanted to, never mind all of Tripp’s wires and tubes running into and over him. Still, hell if he isn’t going totry. He’dtryto lasso the moon and drag it into bed with them if Tripp asked him to.

When all is said and done, Leander has somehow managed to wedge his hip onto the side of the bedrightnext to Tripp’s, and he curls forward, tucking his face into Tripp’s neck, careful to avoid the central line in his chest that was placed way back on Day Two. Tripp isn’t strong enough to do much more than drape his arms loosely around Leander’s waist, but he tries—nosing in Leander’s hair, humming a little and sighing with obvious happiness.

It’s—it’snoteven remotely the way Leander imagined this moment playing out. Not how he dreamed the way their first time being alone together after sharing their feelings would be. They’re worlds away from anything resembling fantasy, but Leander hasn’t a single complaint. The moment may not be ideal, but itisreal, and Tripp isalive,and right now, that’s more than enough.

Remembering Tripp’s doctor’s warning and his nurse’s reinforcement of it, Leander forces himself to pull away much sooner than he wants to—he never wants to—and when he does, Tripp’s eyelids are heavy, barely staying open.

“I’m with you all the way here,” Leander promises, squeezing both of Tripp’s hands tight between his own, but Tripp just rolls his tired eyes. His easy, flippant response has Leander huffing a laugh, even as another tear escapes.

“Dramatic,” Tripp scolds, his voice cracking in the middle of the word, but Leander gets the point.

“Alright,” he concedes, raising his hands in surrender before sinking back into his stupid chair and regarding Tripp with untempered affection. “I understand. No ‘chick-flick moments,’ right?” Tripp’s smile widens at Leander’s use of air quotes, and he tips his chin up, presumably in agreement to the sentiment expressed.

Leander grins, beyond thrilled to have his asshole friend—boyfriend?—back. He clears his throat before gruffly saying, “Go to sleep, you incorrigible bastard.”

Tripp salutes, barely getting the tips of his fingers to his temple before his eyes are closing the rest of the way, whether he wants them to or not. When Leander isverysure that he’s passed out cold, Tripp surprises him by roughly murmuring, “Love you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I love you too,” Leander replies immediately, surging out of his seat to press a kiss to Tripp’s forehead, lingering to draw a hand down his cheek, fingers catching on the oxygen tubing. “My whole life, I’ve never loved anything else.”

Even though he’s stuck in the “comfy” chair, even though he gets jolted awake every houronthe hour when a nurse comes in to check on Tripp, Leander sleeps better that night than he has inages. He dreams vividly about the day he’ll do so next to Tripp, in his own apartment, in his own bed—notin the playroom.

Even fast asleep, Leander can’t wait.

Chapter 12

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