And Call Me in the Morning (22 page)

Good
, Zane said silently. He rested on his pillow and gazed at Eli, visibly growing sleepy again. Or so Eli thought. He blinked, once and again, and for the first time the reality of where they were seemed to sink into his medicated daze. His eyes widened until Eli could see the whites, and he tried to pull away from Eli's hold on him, a firm grasp that no one could mistake for platonic.
Hospital.

“I know.” Eli didn't let go. “I've been here like this for most of the night, and guess what? I don't fucking care.”

He wasn't sure how Zane would react, but by God, for once tonight something went Eli's way. Zane blinked again, slower, and this time when the smile curved his lips, it was a pretty sight. He squeezed Eli's hand and clumsily drew his thumb over the joint of Eli's thumb.

It was what he said that almost undid Eli. Again.
Thank you.

“Don't,” Eli said. He bent to kiss Zane's cheek, then his forehead, and then again his lips. “Get better and get home.”

He didn't—couldn't—tell Zane about the free clinic. Not yet. Zane would hear that from him, but not now. He had one more thing that he needed to get out, and he would not lose this chance, not again.

He bent, put his lips to Zane's ear, and whispered. “Hey. So I'm an idiot, and it took me a while to figure it out. But I love you.”

Zane's hand tightened on Eli's to the point of pain. A tear, the kind a tired man gave way to when he had no other choice, slipped from the corner of his eye and down through the salt-and-pepper over his temple, down to his ear, where the salt trickled over Eli's lips. He couldn't see Zane's lips to read them, but he knew what Zane was saying.

Thank you.

“You're coddling me.”

“I am not.” Eli tossed the blanket he carried at Zane instead of laying it across his lap as he'd intended. Zane didn't need to know that. So he forgot himself on occasion.

Zane lifted the blanket in one hand and the mug of tea with honey Eli had fixed for him in the other and grinned at Eli in his old irrepressible way. “Absolutely. It's obvious to the untrained eye how very much you're not coddling.”

Eli turned the cup of tea he'd made himself around in counterclockwise circles. He bit his tongue twice before he gave up the effort to keep it in. “Give me this one, would you?”

“Eli.” Zane scooted forward on the couch, knocking knees with Eli, who sat on the matching leather ottoman. “I'm not going to break. So I have to take it easy for a couple of days. Don't start treating me like I'm fragile.”

“Yeah, well. You didn't see yourself loaded into that ambulance,” Eli muttered. “It's good tea. Don't let it get cold.”

Zane sighed. He bumped his head against Eli's. “Don't think I don't appreciate it. It's just…you know how I am. How I feel about being waited on hand and foot.”

Eli did know. He'd heard stories about nannies and, on one memorable occasion, a valet. How much money Zane's family had, he didn't know, but it was a hell of a comedown to be living in a midway-rent Chicago apartment and burning the candle at both ends as a hospitalist.

There was a reason why he hadn't called any of Zane's family while Zane was in the hospital. Zane might have forgiven him the strawberries, but never the family. He wondered what Zane might think of what he'd asked Keith to do…and stopped right there. No sense borrowing trouble. The online search of a random Parisienne with almost nothing to go on would turn up empty, anyway, no matter how good Keith might be.

Eli sat back, better able to discuss this if he were looking at Zane's face instead of getting a close-up view of his ear. “I'm not being paid to do this. I want to. Makes a big difference.”

“Hmm.” Zane eyed Eli, then sighed, rolled his eyes, and swigged tea. He licked a drop off his lips. “This actually is good.”

“See? I've got you.” Eli propped his elbows on his knees and balanced his mostly empty mug by the handle.

Zane drank slowly. He still spoke with a raw sort of edge, his throat sore and likely to be for a few days to come, and the honey and lemon in the tea would do him a world of good as long as he didn't bitch away the benefits. Eli kept his mouth shut so as not to encourage chattering but pressed his knee companionably to Zane's and let him get on with it.

When Zane began to toy with the mug, Eli knew the brief, comfortable silence had passed. He didn't expect what Zane asked to fill the quiet, though. “Did you ever do this for Marybeth?”

“If you're asking if I think you're a girl, then no.” Eli chuckled at the disgusted look Zane threw him. He let himself slide his caress higher up Zane's leg. “The last thing I think you are is girly. Marybeth? She joined a Polar Bear Club somewhere around my second year of residency. I don't think the woman's been sick a day in her life. No, wait.”

Zane propped himself on the couch arm and looked intrigued.

Eli needed something to do with his hands. He pushed his mug onto the coffee table with a
clunk
and slid into his newly accustomed, much more comfortable place at Zane's side on the couch. Pulling Zane's head onto his shoulder, he sighed, finally feeling at ease. “She sprained her ankle once. Wasn't long after we'd first gotten married. Laid herself up for a couple of weeks—bad sprain—and I didn't have anywhere near as much time as I would have liked to take care of her.”

“Why?”

“Rookie police officer.” Eli shrugged with one shoulder and chose to focus on finger smoothing Zane's hair away from his face. “Why do you think? I was barely home, period. She got better. I always wished I'd been more there for her.”

“You did what you could.”

“Isn't the road to hell paved with good intentions?” Eli took Zane's empty mug away from him. The twist brought him into a position where he could watch Zane face-to-face. “Not that this is what caused it, but if you smoke again, I'll finish the job and choke you myself. Understand?”

“Trust me, I hadn't planned on it.” Zane rested his elbow on the couch arm and his cheek in his hand. It distorted his smile but made it no less fond or well-intentioned. “See something you like?”

“You know I do.” Eli wanted to reach for Zane, to at least kiss the man, but Christ, he wasn't any too sure he could keep it to a PG-rated peck. Four days since they'd had some time purely to themselves, and while four days wasn't a remarkable dry spot and Eli wasn't a teenager anymore, there was something about Zane that drove Eli as crazy as if he were eighteen again.

“If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, then yes, please,” Zane murmured, his own gaze wandering and—Eli still wasn't used to this, though he liked it—hungry.

Eli wanted. Did he ever. But… “Not yet.”

“I'm
fine
. What do I have to do to prove it to you?”

“Start talking like Han Solo instead of Darth Vader, for a start.”

“Funny guy.” Zane folded his arms. He looked amused, tolerant. “Get it out of your system. I'll still be here when you're done.”

“Yeah, and I'm not going anywhere either.” Eli pulled Zane back to him. He had yet to hear back from Kazaran regarding the voice mail he'd deleted. And the subsequent e-mail. Thanks but no thanks. There'd been a moment when he'd wondered if the temptation was going to be a problem. Now? Not a chance in hell.

Though there was no way of knowing what was going on in Zane's head, his mood, ever mercurial, shifted abruptly to the sort of intense thought that often made Eli uncomfortable on the other end of the laser stare. “I need to tell you something.”

No good ever came of a conversation that started with those words. Eli braced himself. “I'm listening.”

Zane delivered the news face-to-face, the way the best doctors did. No punches pulled. “I'm quitting Immaculate Grace.”

No punches indeed. One-two to the gut, leaving Eli winded. “Come again?”

Zane kept going. Slow and firm. “I've had time to do some thinking. Not to get you wound up on the 'Zane is delicate right now' train of thought, but this, what happened… Life is too short to waste being miserable. I've been trying to figure out who I am, and what I want.”

He started to cough. Too much talking. Eli wanted to jump up and make some more tea, but he doubted his ability to move even if Zane had let him go. He settled for thumping Zane on the back instead. The touch eased him enough to find words. “Who you are is a doctor. One who still cares. I can't let you walk away from that.”

Possibly the wrong word to use. “Can't, my ass,” Zane scoffed. “I'm not done. I'm not leaving medicine. Just the system. I don't fit there any longer. Maybe I never did, and I didn't know before now.”

“But—” Christ, what could Eli say?
Don't leave me
? Pathetic, even if it was true. “I understand you. I just don't—”

“Eli.” Zane reined him in. “I know the free clinic is closing.”

Jesus Christ.

“You never told me. You were going to, I know, and I honestly don't blame you for not bringing it up yet. It's a hell of a thing.”

“How did you know?” Eli asked, feeling adrift, like he'd missed half the conversation.

Zane offered him a tip-tilted grin. “Because I was there.”

Ah. Now it made sense. Eli wished it didn't. Sometimes people were fully aware of their surroundings when, medically speaking, they were far, far away. He knew that. “So you heard it all, huh?”

“I did.” Zane's hand found Eli's. “I can't stay at a place where things like that happen. You say I care. I do. Probably too much. I am who I am, and I have to go where I can make a difference. That's not this hospital. Do you understand me?”

The bitch of it was that Eli did. He tried to make light of it. “It's not going to be the same in that old dump without you.”

“I know.” Zane's light caress stilled. “You're thinking so loud, and your body language is screaming, Eli. Calm down. It'll be okay.”

“You think?” Eli took a deep breath to steady himself. Helped, some. Not as much as he'd have liked. From day one, Zane had been…there. Hard to imagine him somewhere else, though truth be told, he should have seen this coming. “Where would you go? Private practice?”

“That I don't know. Maybe.” Zane rubbed his chin. “I could volunteer. Fuck knows I don't need the money.”

Eli didn't mention this, not usually, but now his edges were raw. “I would have thought you'd rather panhandle than dip into the family coffers.”

Zane jerked away from him. “Fuck you. That's not what this is about. I don't plan to sponge off anyone. It occurs to me that it'd be a kick in the pants that'd sting for years if I used some of that cash to help those who need it. Hell, I should have been doing as much all along.”

“What would you live on?”

“Look around. Do you think I've used all my salary over the years? Leather lasts forever if you take care of it. I wear plain clothes, eat plain food, live a simple life. If I'm careful, I can make my savings go for long enough to figure out what comes next.”

“And any ideas there?”

“Honestly? No. Well. Some.” Eli could tell that Zane was getting worked up, his color rising. “I could…teach, maybe. You gave me that idea. One good thing to come out of the whole Duke fiasco, right? No, don't interrupt me. I could—I could find a position at a university. Try and pound some compassion into youthful bulletheads.”

“Huh. I can see that.” So why did Eli have a feeling that wasn't the first choice in Zane's mind? He knew Zane well enough to be almost certain when he had something he wasn't letting on. “Try again.”

Zane scowled. “Cut the sick guy a break.”

“Oh, so now you're pulling that card, are you?” Eli's temper had begun to rise. He reined it in with an effort. “Fuck. How about we don't fight. Deal?”

“Bah.” Despite the scoff, Zane let Eli pull him back in. With his head at rest on Eli's shoulder, Zane let fly with his second sucker punch. “Heard anything lately about the job at Duke?”