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“I can’t argue with you there,” Cisco conceded. “I?—”
“Here are your instructions for care once you get home.” His nurse, a no-nonsense, battle-ax, no-humor, care-giver briskly walked into his room holding a sheaf of papers out toward him. “You know the drill. Any sign of fever, puffiness, unusual redness, or wound discharge, come right back here or visit your own physician. A scrip for antibiotics has already been called in to your pharmacy of choice.” She handed the pile to him. “Please make sure you follow all these instructions.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Cisco agreed.
If she’d told him to stand on his head while reciting the Gettysburg Address, he would have readily complied. He wanted out of here, that badly.
“You’re free to go.” She turned on one soft heel to leave.
“Wait,” Cisco stopped her. He was still bare-chested except for the large white bandage across his pecs. “Do you have a scrub’s shirt I can have?” Putting on the bloody white material he’d previously shed was a definite no-go. He’d walk out half-naked if he had to.
Nurse Crotchety didn’t even turn around as she answered. “I’ll send one in.”
She marched out the door.
“How about taking her out for a little light entertainment?” Cisco prodded Welker with a grin. “She looks like she could use a bit of…loosening up.”
“No thanks. I’d rather hot-wax my balls,” Welker replied.
“I hear you.”
It took an additional ten minutes, but finally, as Cisco was about to say screw it and walk out bare-chested, an orderly arrived with a green scrub’s shirt.
“Thanks man,” Cisco said, taking it from him.
“No problem,” the guy returned before disappearing again.
Cisco sucked in a pained breath as he raised his arms to ease the material over his head.
“You need help?” Welker asked, standing up.
“No. I’ve got it,” Cisco hissed. He managed to get one arm in, then eventually and very gingerly, the other. He just wasn’t sure how he’d get the damned thing off later. “Looks like I might be sleeping in this piece of shit tonight.”
Welker grinned and shrugged. “It’s scrubs, buddy. Take scissors to it when you get home.”
Cisco chuckled. “And that, smart-ass, is why you get paid the big bucks.”
“I wish,” Welker quipped back, “but the bosses haven’t yet discovered just how awesome I am.”
Cisco laughed, as he always did when Welker boasted. But seriously, for all the man’s bluster, Welk was caring, astute, and a very good person to call friend.
Without being asked or making a big deal out of it, Welk stood close as Cisco maneuvered himself off the bed. His hand came out to stable Cisco while he got his pins steady beneath him.
“Thanks. I’m good now,” Cisco told him after half a minute, but Welker still walked close to him the entire way out of the ER, across the parking lot, and stayed by his side until Cisco was safely inside Welk’s car.
Cisco didn’t give him shit for his vigilance because…he was kind of woozy. Which was weird…
Fuck. When was the last time he’d eaten? A long freaking time ago. That had to be at least half the reason he was feeling so weak. How was a man supposed to replenish his red blood cells without calories?
“I need food,” he barked at Welker who had just gotten into the car.
Welker didn’t even blink. “Fast food or Door Dash?” he asked.
“Fast food. A couple large orders of fries and three or four burgers should do it.”
“You got it.”
Food had been consumed, the game played out as a win for the Sox, and Welker had said his goodbyes. Cisco felt so drained, it seemed like it had to be the middle of the night, but in reality, it was just before ten. Fatigued or not, his mind still wandered back to the woman who’d taken up far too much space in his brain since… Damn. Was it only this morning he’d met her? It seemed like it had been days ago, so much had happened in the meantime.