'Some vacation,' the young nurse thought sadly as she moved toward the nurse's station after stowing her things in the break room. After spending a week at her small home, utterly alone, drowning herself in a mournful vigil, she had mustered up the courage to return to work. Her supervisor had understood, though none of her coworkers knew the tale. But, she appreciated the silence of her sorrows. After all, yesterday would have been his third birthday and she didn't need visitors. She was happier alone. It was safer. So, brushing the thoughts into the back of her subconscious, she reached for her ID badge filled with colorful pins that her young patients loved. Attaching it to her Disney scrubs; she brushed a few fallen strawberry blonde locks behind her pierced ears, reaching for her normal scrap of paper to take report on her patients for the shift. Working in a pediatric cardiac unit was anything but dull, but she relished in helping the sick children. Bending her tall, lithe body over the nurses' station, she shifted her dark teal eyes to the night shift nurse, plucking a pen from her pocket. "Who's the trouble maker?"
"Alana, you know you've got the golden touch when it comes to kids," the night nurse teased with a rueful smile, glancing over her notes. "His name is Baylee Littrell. He's three years old and his birthday is November 26, 2002. He has a history of ventricular septal defect. The cardiologist thought it would close on its own, but it's been increasing in size and he's developing congestive heart failure because of it. He's got a lot of swelling in his legs and his hands with some junk developing in his lungs. He has a poor appetite, the poor little thing, and becomes overexerted when he plays. He's set for surgery as soon as we can stabilize his heart with medications. Only... We couldn't manage to even get an IV in the kid, which is horrible, considering all his medications are by IV. We're hoping--"
"I got it," Alana promised with a smile, scribbling down the rest of the information she needed before tucking it into her pocket.
"His father's in with him now, attempting to calm him down," the night nurse continued, though Alana paid her no mind as she headed down the hall.
Her mind naturally flowing into a state of systematic thinking about protocol and procedures, signs and symptoms of the boy's sickness, and tasks that needed completed for the work day; she completely ignored the new resident doctors stumbling over their feet as she passed. Not that she was rude. That was hardly the case. After only a year of working at this specific hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, Alana was on a first name basis with a majority of the workers; from the nursing assistants to the chief of staff. She was devoted to her job and the services of helping others. Especially the children. So, her patient's pained cries ringing out from his private room startled her considerably. Glancing inside for a moment, she noted the large piles of IV starter kits in the trashcan, causing her to frown. They never should have done the treatment at the bedside. In Alana's mind, the bed was the child's safe haven. Procedures would be done in the treatment room. Not where he needed to feel safe and comfortable. Exhaling her consternation, Alana knocked briefly on the door before popping inside. "Baylee?"
Sniffling, the boy lifted his head from the safety of his father's chest, twisting to look at her with his large cobalt eyes. Tears staining his cheeks, he took in her scrubs, shrinking in his father's embrace. "No," he whined, looking to his father for assurance and understanding. "No needles, Daddy…"
"I don't have any needles, Baylee," Alana quickly promised, taking a step back from the bed as to not overcrowd the toddler and his father. Standing there, she took a quick assessment of the child. The heart failure was indeed in its worst stages. His hands and feet grossly swollen from the fluid unable to be pumped out by the heart, the paleness of his skin, and the use of his entire ribcage to even take the tiniest breath. He needed to have this medications started as soon as possible. Perhaps even some oxygen therapy. But, she needed to gain his trust first. "Do you need to do a strip search of me? You can check my pockets. Honest. No needles. I just wanted to talk."
"St'ip?" Baylee repeated with a small smile, settling back into his father's embrace. Pointing to her scrubs, his eyes widened slightly. "Daddy, her's gots Donald," he murmured.
"I see that," Brian Littrell approved as he felt the grip of his son's hands loosen from his t-shirt. Baylee had been near hysterics since several nurses had attempted to start an IV in his body. His arms were filled with bruises almost as much as his beautiful dark blue eyes were filled with tears. Brian had been furious at the lack of care to his son, raising holy Hell with the supervising nurse as well as the director of the hospital. After all, he had his heart surgery in this very hospital and gave a significant donation, he didn't want to see his son tortured. That's when the supervising nurse had assured him of a wonderful nurse coming in shortly from vacation. He could only hope this was her. "There's Mickey and Goofy, too."
"So, you like Disney then?" Alana questioned with a small smile gracing her lightly glossed lips, hoping she was making headway.
"Chip an' Dale," Baylee informed with a slight nod. Releasing his father's t-shirt completely, he slowly sat up, wincing slightly from the exertion. "But Donald most, 'cause Daddy can talk like him--Daddy, do Donald?" he implored, leaning back against the stiff pillow.
"I'd rather not embarrass myself, Baylee," Brian chuckled, glancing up toward the stranger.
"Oh!" Alana drawled with her familiar southern accent, immediately offering her hand out toward Brian. "My name's Alana, I'll be taking care of your son today. I'm so sorry for not introducing myself earlier."
Taking her hand, Brian squeezed it gently, sitting up from his slouched position on the bed. Having spent the past two days in the hospital with his only child, he had gotten little rest in the few short hours Baylee slept. "My name's Brian. Nice to meet you--"
"George, Daddy," Baylee interrupted softly, reaching for the stuffed monkey at the foot of his hospital bed. As his father leaned forward to grasp it, he eyed Alana warily. "'Lana's got big boob--"
"Baylee!" Brian groaned in absolute horror, retracting backward to cup a hand over his son's slightly blue-tinged mouth. He immediately glanced toward Alana to gauge her reaction, hoping a palm wouldn't be coming flying into his face. "I am so sorry--"
"All the boys on this floor say the same thing. Only, they ain't so nice as Baylee here," Alana laughed good naturedly, taking the bright orange monkey into her hands. She studied the raggedy animal for a moment, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, holding it out toward the boy. "You like monkeys?"
His response muffled behind Brian's hand, Baylee nodded. Once Brian pulled his hand away, he scowled slightly before turning his attention to Alana. "Yes, ma'am… An' Nicky says big boobies are good for 'nugglin'--"
"Nicky…" Alana trailed thoughtfully, her dark teal eyes suddenly electrifying to the color of a deep Caribbean sea as she teased. "Now I know who your Daddy is! In N'Sync, right?"
Baylee's eyes widened in horror. "No, 'Lana! Backseat Boys!" he announced loudly.
"Backstreet Boys," Brian corrected with a sigh. Grateful Baylee was taking a liking to the young woman, he couldn't bring himself to scold the child further. He was in enough pain. Offering Alana a sheepish smile, he reached to adjust Baylee's blanket.
"I've seen your uncles in that band, Baylee. I think I'd take them to a backseat…" Alana playfully continued, though the joke was for his father more so than the child.
Unable to contain the first true laugh he had experienced in several weeks, Brian leaned back on the bed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "I don't think any of them would mind…"
"Howie gets carsick," Baylee informed, his fair brows furrowing with thought. "AJ always falls asleep, an' Nicky's too big to get in the backseat, his head gets in the way--"
"Then I guess I just have to take you?" Alana suggested, glancing toward Brian with a soft grin before reaching out to ruffle Baylee's platinum curls. "I have the most awesome Jeep Wrangler Unlimited, Baylee. We'll go cruising up into the mountains and just have us a grand old time--"
"I can't go nowhere," Baylee interrupted with a pout, though his eyes had lit up hopefully at her suggestion. Smoothing his swollen hands over his Spongebob Squarepants pajama top, he shook his head gently. "I too t'ick…"
"Well… That's why I'm here… So I can make sure that you get better so you can take a ride in my fancy Jeep. But, I've got to get some things done with you first to make sure that you do get better. Do you want to go with a walk for me? We can take your Daddy and George?" Alana offered, knowing this was her best shot at getting an IV started.
"Where to?" Baylee inquired, though he slid to the edge of the bed. Reaching for her as his father took George, he smiled hopefully. "Carry me?"
"Of course I can carry you," Alana agreed, reaching to gently pull the toddler into her arms. She noted the heaviness of his body, realizing that once the extra fluid was pulled from his body, he would most definitely be lighter. Pushing that momentary thought aside, she gestured toward Brian, carrying the boy toward the treatment room. "And, we're going somewhere so I can get you feeling better."
"Daddy? 'Lana take me campin', otay?" Baylee questioned, looping his arms around Alana's neck. Resting his head on her shoulder, he closed his eyes, suddenly weary from his tirades earlier.
"When you get better, you can do whatever you want with Alana," Brian promised whole heartedly as he entered the treatment room behind his son and nurse. He felt his body significantly tense when he looked at all the items within the room, knowing this would be considered a room of pain for most children. Everything possibly needed to inflict pain upon a youngster was in here. For a moment, Brian thought about reaching to yank Baylee from the room, but Alana's reassuring teal eyes suggested otherwise.
"Brian, can I see George for a moment?" Alana questioned as she reached into the IV cart to pull out the necessary items for her procedure.
Shifting in Alana's hold slightly, Baylee paid no mind to what was going on as he found a comfortable resting place. Yawning against her neck, he reached to toy with the stethoscope draped over her shoulder. "'Lana? You goin' to listen to George's heart?"
"Actually, I'm going to get a little tube started in George's arm so he can get medicine. I'm going to show you how I do it to him, then I'm going to do the same to you. So you can start feeling better. But, how about you listen to my heart while I'm putting the little tube into you? Is that a deal?" Alana offered, carefully placing Baylee upon the examining table and setting the stuffed monkey right next to him. Reaching for the wheeled stool, she slid up close to the bed, starting to open the packages of supplies. She then reached into the back pocket of her bright blue scrub pants, retrieving several different types of cartoon Band-Aids. "I need you to hold these for me. Okay? Till I get done with George, then you can pick which one he gets."
"George t'ick too?" Baylee questioned softly, spreading the Band-Aids in his palm. Turning slightly, he reached for the monkey's hand, holding it gently as his father did to him. "It otay, George… 'Lana no hurt us," he promised.
"Well, if you're sick, then of course George's is sick," Alana explained as she expertly inserted the IV needle into the monkey's arm, pulling the needle away to leave the catheter that would infuse medications. Tossing the needle into the red bin designated for sharp objects, she glanced toward Baylee. "Which Band-Aid does George get for being a trooper?"
"C'n he get dinosaurs an' Spongebob? He likes to watch Spongebob wit' me, an' when I'm not t'ick we pretend he's King Kong and killin' dinos," Baylee explained with a hopeful look in his cobalt eyes as he held up the two Band-Aids. "An' I gets the same when you do mine?"
"Sounds good to me," Alana approved as she took the Band-Aids, placing them upon George's orange fur. Clicking her tongue with approval, she handed George over to Baylee. "All done and he did such a good job. Can I get yours started now, too? Then I'll talk your Daddy into letting me go downstairs and get you something from the McDonalds? Like a vanilla milkshake? Now that's my favorite."
"Please, Daddy?" Seeing his father's approving nod as he sat down next to him, Baylee hugged his monkey close, looking back at Alana. "Daddy'll buy 'em? You have milkshake with me?" he questioned, not noticing when Alana gently took his arm in her hands. "An' maybe nuggets?"
"Nuggets sound pretty good to me. I didn't get a chance to get breakfast this morning. What kind of sauce do you like, Baylee? I really like the barbeque sauce, but then I also like to get the honey…" Alana trailed, keeping Baylee's mind occupied on other things as she felt around his tiny, bruised hand. She found a somewhat small vein, far better than the rest she had felt. Confident she could easily access it, she placed the tourniquet onto his upper arm and swabbed the area.
"I mix 'em," Baylee answered, glancing up when his father placed something over his head. Remembering, he reached for the end of the stethoscope, the tip of his tongue pressing between his lips as he placed it over Alana's heart. "Nicky always mixes barbecue an' honey, an' sometimes it gets on the fries… 'Lana! Your heart beating fast!"
"Of course my heart is beating fast, because I think I'm falling in love with this little boy sitting in front of me," Alana teased with a sweet smile, glancing downward briefly as she pressed the needle into his skin. Satisfied when he didn't flinch and blood began to run through the capped tubing, she hurriedly pulled the needle away, leaving the catheter. Uncapping the system briefly to flush it with saline, assuring herself that it was indeed patent, she then recapped the tubing and secured it with a see through dressing. She then took the two Band-Aids Baylee requested, placing one on the tubing in a loop to keep it secure and the other upon his wrist. Finally, completing the procedure, she placed a colorful splint on his hand and wrist to keep him from flexing his wrist and dislodging the tubing that could cause an infiltration; a painful leak of fluid into the tissues instead of the circulatory system. "All done!"
"Nuh uh! I did'n feel nothing!" Baylee argued, looking down to see the tube protruding from his hand. "'Lana? …You c'n fall in love with me if you want," he promised.
"Well… Thank you, Baylee…" Alana whispered, her teal eyes darkening slightly with a secret pain that she shared with no one. Keeping the tears from spilling, she reached to brush her fingers through his platinum blonde curls. She suddenly realized who Baylee had reminded her of, which only caused a deep heartache she fought daily to hide. To kill with her adventurous lifestyle. "Hey, there's a toy room at the very end of the hallway. You want to go play there a few minutes? I want to talk to your Daddy, then I'll go get your McDonalds."
"C'n me an' George go sleep while you talk?" Baylee requested, muffling a yawn. He had slept little the night before, the constant visits from nurses and doctors the day before having stressed him so much he could barely relax. Despite his father's attempts to calm him with songs and stories. "George s'eepy…"
"That sounds even better," Alana agreed as she pulled the child into her arms when he reached for her. Rubbing his back gingerly, she motioned for Brian once more. Carrying Baylee back into his private room, she laid him on the large hospital bed, reaching to tuck the covers around him as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. "I bet he'll sleep for a long while. I'll get the medicine and connect it to his IV port as soon as possible. Getting that fluid off his body will make him feel a lot better."
"Thank you," Brian murmured, reaching to smooth his son's curls away from his forehead. Leaning close, he pressed a soft kiss to the warm skin, adjusting the blanket so George's face peeked over the edge. Stepping back, he glanced over at Alana. "…He gets upset if he wakes up and George is under the covers…"
"I'd get upset too if I woke up and my best friend was hiding from me after a good nap," Alana agreed with a nod, reaching to take the abandoned seat beside Brian who kept his quiet close to the bedside. "The Nursing Supervisor, Kathy, wants me to take over complete care of Baylee. She'd like me to work three days seven to three, then two days seven to seven. He'd be my only patient. And, I'd like to accept as long as you approve."
"That's… I think Scooper would really like that," Brian approved with a nod. Baylee had been adamant in his dislike of every other nurse that had walked through the door, and Alana seemed to have the angelic touch his son craved. Fussing with the ID bracelet on his wrist, he glanced to the flowers and balloons adorning the ledge by the window. "It'll be good for him to have someone that he can know and trust… But I don't suppose I could get you to work twenty-four hours a day…"
"Would that mean talking to the Supervisor about overtime and double time combined?" Alana mused with a thoughtful smile, though it quickly turned to a soft laugh. If she could possibly handle a twenty four hour job, she probably would have taken him up on the offer. She wanted to stay away from her home as much as possible. That's perhaps why she spent all her time running around the city and even the outskirts to participate in some of her favorite rock climbing exercises.
"Well, they probably wouldn't be able to pay you enough," Brian sighed, briefly touching his wedding band before dropping his hands to his sides. "Can you try to make sure that the nurses he gets when you're not here are tolerable, though? …That one last night was a…"
"Cheap version of a dominatrix that needs to retire? Or at least get out of the leather dress that's probably going to burst through the seams if she does one more IV hang?" Alana guessed with an angelic expression.
"That… Woman… Had the nerve to ask if I needed company," Brian snorted, still miffed from the offer. Realizing he probably should have kept that to himself, he cleared his throat. "Sorry… How about I go down and get those milkshakes and nuggets--"
"If it makes you feel better, that woman has asked if I needed company in the treatment room…" Alana offered with a teasing smirk.
"Good God," Brian breathed, his face paling at the thought. Glancing over at Alana, he raised one brow. "That would be painful, wouldn't it? What if a body part made contact with a stray needle or God knows what else?"
"Are you thinking I took her up on the offer?" Alana questioned incredulously. "Do I set off your gay-dar? 'Cause, I know I don't wear makeup or a lot of jewelry, but I didn't think I was that butch--"
"Lord, no," Brian quickly interrupted, shaking his head. "Not that I have a gay-dar, but if I did, you certainly wouldn't be setting it off. Now… Milkshakes? Nuggets?"
"How about you go take a breather? Go home, take a shower, get a quick nap in? I'll stay with him till you get back, no matter what time. If it's past three, then I'll just clock off and come back up with him. He won't ever be alone. I'll get my charting and bring it in here. And when he wakes up, I'll take him down for McDonalds. On me," Alana offered, knowing how exhausting having a child in the hospital was.
Brian looked towards his sleeping son, his heart aching with worry. "I don't want to leave him--"
"I know you don't, but you should. His hospital stay is going to be a long haul. You're going to need as many breaks as you can get. It's exhausting having a child in the hospital. Sometimes, I think the parents are more worried than the kids. You really do need to get all the rest you possibly can. And he's not going to be alone."
"Well… Okay," Brian acquiesced after a moment, leaning to brush a kiss over Baylee's cheek. Reaching for the notepad and pen on the table by the bed, he quickly jotted down several numbers. "I won't be gone long. But here are the numbers to my cell, my parents', and my place. Just in case he needs me." Handing the paper to Alana, he plucked his wallet from the drawer, the chivalry his mother had instilled in him at a young age unwilling to let her buy food for Baylee. Holding out a card, he pushed it into her hand, ignoring her disconcerted expression. "I insist, Alana."
"A lesser woman would throw this back in your face and insist that she's wealthy enough to purchase two milkshakes and some nuggets and it wouldn't cause her to break the bank. But, I figure, with the kind of woman I am, I'll charge a Big Mac Meal on you and call it even."
Brian groaned with irritation as he flopped onto the large bed. Pressing his hands against his face, he shook his head vigorously, as though clearing the weary fog from his mind would put things as they should be. Heaving a sigh, he sat up, his hands falling to his lap. His eyes landed on the rings that had been so carelessly tossed onto the dresser, the diamonds glittering in the sunlight. The only thing she had left behind.
Looking through his home for a clue of his wife's presence, he had discovered everything of hers was gone. The clothing, the jewelry. Books, knickknacks. The expensive china given to them on their wedding day, from his mother. Nothing remained to even hint that she had once lived there, but for the rings he stared at. But he had known she would be gone, had known her threats of leaving would come to fruition when he had taken their son to the hospital. He had clung to the shred of hope that she would feel the maternal desire to be by her child's side.
Why he had thought she would suddenly acquire the need to be with their child, he would never know. He could still remember when she first found out that she was pregnant. It had been a fatal error on her part when she took antibiotics, never realizing that they hindered the action of her birth control. Brian had been thrilled, thinking she finally realized that a family would only add to the completeness of their marriage. But she had been irate; teeming with a vehement furiousness. For months she had threatened abortion, but he had struggled and prevailed through the birth of their son. Of course, in the media, she was deliriously happy with being pregnant. But behind closed doors… Brian had morphed into two complete parents as she flitted about, entertaining herself with their lavish lifestyle. Baylee had been upset at first, wanting to cling to his mother though she just cast him aside like a useless trinket. Now, at the age of three, he was ambivalent to her presence. Or lack there of.
Standing, Brian moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer that had become a junk drawer of sorts, containing a myriad of items. Sweeping the rings off the polished wood and into the drawer, he closed his eyes briefly, ignoring the dull ache in his heart as he slowly removed his own ring. Perhaps, had he been a better man… Pushing the thoughts away, he dropped his ring into the drawer, not daring to look where it landed as he slammed the drawer shut. He could not deal with the heartache of a failed marriage on top of the worries for Baylee's health. Opening his eyes, his gaze landed on the framed wedding portrait that had been placed so lovingly in the center of the dresser. Had she wanted to leave then, too? Picking up the frame, he stared at the picture, as though the frozen smiles could give him a clue. It had all been a lie from the start, he realized, angrily hurling the frame across the room, barely hearing the resulting crash.
Unable to stand the suffocating nature of the master bedroom, Brian stalked out and made sure to avoid stepping into his son's bedroom. Instead, he hustled down the stairs and toward the living room. He could always force himself to nap on the couch. What might result was a back ache, but that was the least of his problems. Collapsing on that very couch, he tossed his head back against the soft cushioning, staring at the ceiling with watery eyes. Attempting to grind the tears away with the palms of his hands, he stifled a struggling sob, realizing how fast his life was crashing amongst the rocky pits of Hell. His pseudo wife was gone in the breeze of Lexington's humidified air and his son was practically knocking on death's door, needing a corrective heart surgery which he couldn't receive till he was able to actually withstand the surgery. Struggling to reach for the phone, he dialed a familiar number that could possibly salvage the wreckage of his life.
Hey! You've reached Natalie Hayes! Unfortunately, I can't get to the phone. Bri and Leigh can be such slave drivers, y'know? But, I love my job! I really do! Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I possibly can. And, while you're listening to this, give a little prayer for Baylee.
Stifling another sob, Brian drew in a deep breath as he listened to the tone, grateful that someone was showing concern. Someone aside from his family and the hospital staff. "…Nat… It's Bri… Call me? I'm home right now, but I'll be heading to the hospital in a little bit. If you hear from Leigh--" Brian cut off, not knowing what message he wanted to give his estranged wife. "Nevermind. …Just call me, Nat, please," he choked out softly, ending the call.
Well, that had been a complete disaster, Brian decided, desperate to connect with someone for a moment. He just wanted to release his pent emotions without fear of being criticized. So, Kevin, his older cousin, was out of the question. Though he had concern for Brian's ill son, Kevin would not take lightly to the ending of a marriage that Brian had barely fought for. And AJ, well, he may be able to listen about Baylee, but would probably wish the bitch dead and him good luck on bachelorhood. Howie was a possibility, but he hadn't the heart to disturb the man again. Sighing with defeat, he dialed the second most known number in his mind.
"If this is Aaron, you're dead," a groggy voice answered after several rings. A voice so familiar and, despite the irritation, welcoming that Brian almost sobbed.
"Don't you know you should be up goofing off instead of lying around the house like an oversized pig, sleeping the day away?" Brian inquired with a sad smile, immediately reaching to rub away the tears that had rained over his face. He couldn't even begin to recall the last time he had spoke to Nick after the completion of the Never Gone Tour. Much less when he had maintained a meaningful conversation with the man while they were on tour. Other things had been far more important in his mind. Unfortunately.
"Well, Hell, I was up goofing off all night last night… Damn, B, it's nine o'clock!" Nick whined.
"Then it was the perfect time to call…" Brian trailed. "What are you up to? Wait, that was a stupid question…"
"Well, I was asleep… But now I'm laying here wondering why my best friend called me out of nowhere at the crack of dawn… What's wrong, B?"
"Best friend?" Brian paused, biting down hard on his inner cheek till he was sure he tasted the metallic flavor of blood. God, did hearing those words just make his heart wrench. What kind of best friend could just desert another for a pushy woman? Just because Leighanne had hated Nick didn't mean that Brian should have attempted to end the friendship. What had he been thinking?
"You used to be… Back before…" Nick trailed softly, obviously attempting to mask the hurt in his voice. "And to me you still are. Always will be, Frick."
"Yeah…" Brian trailed uncomfortably, hating the desolation in Nick's voice. "How are you doing?"
"Alright I guess… Just finished the show in California… But what's up, man? You sound… I don't know, like the world's coming to an end."
"I think it just ended…" Brian laughed somewhat bitterly. "…Didn't Kev tell you about Baylee?"
"I haven't talked to him in ages. Last I heard he and Kris are going at it like rabbits… Not that that's any different."
"Howie or AJ?"
"AJ's being a devoted boyfriend and Howie's buying condos in Cabo… What have I missed? Did somebody die? Damnit, I knew that reality show was a stupid idea--"
"Scooper's sick," Brian confessed in a rushed breath, knowing if he prolonged the torture the news would be strained through sobs. "He's… I got him sick… He has the same thing I had. That heart defect, y'know? He needs surgery… His is a lot bigger than mine ever was… God he's so sick…"
"No," Nick whispered, and in Brian's mind he imagined the younger man launching himself out of the bed. Immediately came the sounds of a fumble, and Brian knew he had tangled his legs in the sheets. Despite growing into a mature, if somewhat irresponsible man, Nick remained a clumsy boy at times. "Where are you? LA? Or did you bring him down here?"
"We're in Kentucky… We're at home…"
"I'm coming, okay? That is… If you want me to--"
"Of course I want you here, but--"
"Leighanne can't stand the sight of me?" Nick guessed with what Brian imagined a dark scowl.
"Nick, wait, it's nothing to do with her. And it's not that I don't want you to come. It's just. Don't you have stuff to do in Florida? LA? Where ever you are right now? We don't want to pull you away from--"
"Fuck Florida and LA. Bay's more important than anything, B."
"He keeps talking you up to this nurse we have…" Brian admitted with an amused smile, relieved that he'd have someone other than family at the hospital with him. Perhaps it was his chance to make up for his mistakes in their friendship. "It's his Nicky this, his Nicky that…"
"What can I say? I'm loveable," Nick cooed with a soft laugh. "And I'll be on the first flight out."
"Thanks, Frack, I appreciate it."
"Anytime, Frick."
