Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“No,” Brenna answered. “He’ll be fine now. Anyway, we’re here. Hello, Chief Finn.”
Younger stood there, tall and lean and haggard looking, as if he’d been on the same bender Rory had. “You look good, Wyatt.”
He hoped his eyebrows conveyed what a lie he knew that was.
“I’ll take him in,” he said, sharing looks with Rory and Fiona before slipping a mask over his mouth. “We won’t be long.”
He wouldn’t admit it, but he was damn glad his big brother was with him as they wheeled into Noah’s isolation room. Younger had been the one to raise them. The one they’d turned to growing up. His strong, supportive presence behind him helped Wyatt deal with seeing his brother lying on that hospital bed, tubes attached to his arms, machines beeping around him and half his body covered in some kind of bandaging.
Wyatt desperately wished he’d been paying more attention when the surgeon from this burn unit had given a talk at his firehouse. Was it four years ago? What had he said?
Shit.
“Noah?” Younger pushed him closer to the bed, but not close enough.
Infection, he reminded himself. They needed to watch out for that now.
“Noah, Wyatt is here to see you. I already told you why he can’t talk right now, but he wants you to know he’s here.”
Noah didn’t respond, so Wyatt focused on the rise and fall of his brother’s chest instead, thinking about all the times he’d let his brother down.
Being a raging dick about the baby was the first thing that came to mind. He’d almost destroyed their relationship over it. But with a little guidance and perspective, he’d gotten over himself, and things were finally back on a good footing. He’d moved back into the townhouse with Noah and little Zach. He cooked a little and helped out with chores. He’d even aced solo babysitting and memorized Zach’s favorite Disney movies to make up for his earlier mistakes.
And that was because of Fiona. Well, because of her friend, JD Green, but Fiona had introduced them.
Wyatt focused on his brother’s face, which was barely visible beneath all the bandages and tubes, and fought down the lump rising in his throat. Noah had to be okay, not just for his little boy but for him. I need you, Noah. I wish I could talk to you. I’m not sure what to do about Fiona. Do you know she’s back? I didn’t tell you she turned me down, and I usually tell you everything. I didn’t want to hear one of your lectures. But you could give it to me now, if you’d just wake up and look at me.
“I think we should let him rest now,” Younger said quietly. “Wyatt?”
He held up his hand, letting Younger know he needed more time. He stared hard at Noah, willing him to look back at him. They could get through this. They’d done everything else together, hadn’t they? They’d grown up together, lived together. Worked together.
Being a fireman had fit them both down to the bone from day one. Wyatt had always found that funny, since initially, the main attraction of the job had been giving the finger to their old man.
Police chief Solomon Finn the Elder had wanted all six of his sons to be cops like him, and he’d raised them accordingly. Strict rules. A zero-tolerance policy towards outward signs of affection or weakness. Trips to the shooting range instead of birthday parties, that sort of thing.
It was a miracle they weren’t all serial killers.
He and Noah shared a room and half a brain back then, and unlike most of their brothers, they’d enjoyed the family “team building” exercises, using them to excel athletically at school. That, along with active social lives, kept them busy through high school, but Wyatt knew it was their united front that got them out of that house relatively unscathed.
It was that same unity that helped them buck their father when it came to careers. Neither of them wanted to be cops. Sure, they both looked good in uniform, but guns got a hard pass. The idea of carrying one had never sat well with Noah, and Wyatt had shitty aim with darts and bullets. One day he’d mentioned hearing a rumor that fireman had more time off to dick around and got laid a lot more often than cops did, and as easy as that, their fate was sealed. They were fighting fires instead of criminals and paperwork. Bonding with the guys and enjoying the hell out of their lives in between episodes of daring heroics. Their charity calendar had sold out in days, and Wyatt had dined out on that long enough to drive the rest of his brothers crazy.
“Go away.”
It was weak and full of pain, so quiet Wyatt almost didn’t hear it over the sound his damn oxygen mask was making. But when he looked up and saw Younger’s apologetic look, he knew he hadn’t imagined it.