Page 19 of Running Scared
Dean blinked slowly, not surprised but very much realizing that if Bailey had been irritated at him that morning, he was absolutely not going to be talking to Dean by the end of the day.
As long as he’s alive, Dean thought grimly, that was a chance he was willing to take.
Parachute
ALL THOSEyears of being a working student, all those years of taking a hooker bath after forty-eight hours on his feet, and Bailey could still get hypnotized by warm water, even thirty seconds of it, sluicing over his body as he tried to get rid of the blood that had seeped through his scrubs to his skin.
“Sarree says hi.”
The masculine voice, spoken casually, made him shriek, and he had to scramble not to drop the soap.
“Dean!”he squeaked.“What are you doing here?”
“Getting you out of here,” Dean replied, his voice crisping up.“You about done?”
“Let me wash my hair,” Bailey said, although he knew he’d washed his hair at least twice.It wasn’t his hair—shaggy as it might be—that was the problem here.
And Dean, damn him, knew that.“Love,” he said gently, “you’ll never get the blood out of your memory.If it’s off your skin, you’re done.”
Bailey swallowed and realized that for the first time since he’d made eye contact with the two men striding through the hospital as he fled for the shower, his hands had stopped shaking.
“Okay, then,” he said, recognizing shock now that it was passing, “hand me a—”
The hand with the towel shot through the curtained cubicle quickly enough to let Bailey know Dean had come prepared.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as he turned off the water, grabbed the towel, and began the wipe-down in the same motions.
He’d gotten his hair toweled when the curtain was ripped open and Dean was there, wrapping his arms around Bailey’s shoulders and bringing him in so hard, so close, Bailey was forced to shiver out the last of the shock.
“I’ve gotcha,” Dean said softly in his ear.“I’ve gotcha.We gotta hurry in a minute, but just remember that.I’ve gotcha.”
When was the last time anybody had said that to Bailey?Held him and told him it was all right?Unbidden his thoughts flew to Emmett’s death and how nobody was supposed to hold anybody, and he’d had to call his dad and tell him not to even try to make the funeral.
“Thanks,” he whispered gruffly.“Thank you.”
With a quick kiss to his still-wet hair, Dean stepped back and held Bailey’s elbow as Bailey stepped out of the tiny shower cubicle, and then walked him to a small satchel sitting right next to Bailey’s other scrubs.
“What’s this?”Bailey asked, completely confused.
“You’re walking out of here as a civilian,” Dean said, digging into the satchel and wincing as a white bandage wound around his wrist and forearm caught.
“I’m what?And what did you do to yourself?Who bandaged that?Where am I going?”
“I did nothing to myself,” Dean said, pulling out some of Bailey’s casual clothes.“Your cat, knowing I was in a hurry and desperate, gave me the perfect excuse to talk to your charge nurse and explain to her that I was getting you the hell out of here.”With that he produced khaki shorts and a T-shirt that featured bigfoot and read National Hide and Seek Champion on the front.
Bailey grimaced, wishing he had something classier in the way of casual wear, and then the full import of what Dean said sunk in.
“Wait a minute—what the hell did you do to my cat?”Forgetting that he was naked for a moment, he held his shirt up to his chest in a delayed attack of maidenly modesty.
“I gave him a sedative and put him in his carrier,” Dean said, staring at Bailey like it was a stupid question.“I wasn’t going to put you in hiding without letting you have Mr.Bumble.”
Dean was the one who called him Mr.Bumble—he apparently didn’t get the joke about the Abominable Snowman, and he said he and Mr.Bumble were on much too formal a footing for Dean to forget the honorific.
And Dean, in the middle of an emergency situation, had cared enough about Bailey’s feelings to remember his cat.
In the middle of everything else, Bailey was now struck with absolute remorse for his halfhearted attempt to end the relationship that morning, but this was obviously not the time to discuss it.
“That’s really nice,” Bailey mumbled.He took the briefs Dean held out and slipped them on, and then the shorts, following up with the T-shirt, the short socks, and the basic tennis shoes.When he was all dressed, he was surprised yet again when Dean produced a comb, which was the one item from his toiletry kit in his locker that he always forgot to bring.
