The Magic in Your Touch (2 page)

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” For the first time since the interview started, Nash gave him a genuine smile. “I said, are you sure we shouldn’t take you over to the hospital to have you checked out? Chicago’s only about a thirty minute drive from here.”

Nathan was about to decline when Amy spoke up. “I think you should go to the hospital. I’ll feel a lot better if you do. My exam was pretty thorough, but I still think you should have an MRI.”

 

Mike nodded. “I agree with Amy, dude. I’ll drive you.”

 

Mike reached for his keys, but Sheriff Nash stopped him. “My shift ended about half-an-hour ago. I can take him and get the doctor to sign a report on his injuries.”

Nathan felt himself loosing control of the situation. He hated it when people talked about him like he wasn’t even in the room. As desperately as he wanted to get to know Brandon, he wasn’t ready to spend an hour alone with him, especially when he was half-addled from a blow to the head.

“Amy already checked me out. She can fill out your report.”

 

Nathan’s stomach turned over as Amy started shaking her head. “No. I really think you should have an MRI. I can write the orders and you can take them with you.”

 

Nathan’s jaw hardened. “Fine, then. Mike can drive me.”

 

He turned around just in time to see Amy nudge Mike in the ribs. “Honey, don’t you remember that proposal you have to have ready for your client tomorrow?”

“Huh?” Another nudge to the ribs, this one harder. “Oh, you mean the proposal I was working on when the alarm company called.” He gave Nash an apologetic grin. “I’ve been offered a junior partnership at a firm in Chicago. Not a bad commute, and the pay is damn good for a guy who just passed the bar a year ago. Of course, if I don’t turn in my work on time. . .”

Brandon nodded. “Wouldn’t want that to happen. I’ll take Dr. Morris to the hospital. Don’t worry about it.” He gave Nate an apologetic smile. “Afraid you’ll have to ride in the ‘sheriff-mobile’. My car’s off having some detail work done.”

Before Nathan could protest any further, he found himself being hustled into a state-issue SUV with the sexiest man he’d seen in a long time. Not even a head injury could stop the feelings of longing when they hit.

* * *

Brandon hated evening calls. Reed was small enough that his deputy, Sam, and he could usually handle all the calls themselves without having to pull the junior deputies off their regular shifts. Unfortunately, no one told that to the eighteen wheeler that jackknifed off of Interstate Twelve just three miles outside of town. No one was hurt, thank God, but the truck had been carrying live poultry to the processing plant two towns over. Nothing like trying to dodge traffic and catch ninety angry chickens at the same time to set the tone for the night. Sam managed to stop traffic and enlist a handful of volunteers to help with the round-up, but the whole scene looked like a sketch from Saturday Night live. After being pecked for the fifth time by creatures he only wanted to see fried with gravy, Brandon had been grateful to field another call. He could still see Sam’s face when he told him he had to leave. After twenty-five years as friends and a hellish six months at the F.B.I. academy together, he knew Sam well enough to know his buddy would get even at the earliest opportunity. He only hoped the poor guy didn’t get mites from all those feathers.

Brandon stole a glance at the man slumped in the seat next to him. He had heard tales of how good looking the new doctor was, but the bits of gossip he’d heard didn’t do the guy justice. He was shorter than Brandon, maybe five-eleven, but his body was well sculpted and muscled. His chocolate eyes were red-rimmed, but still beautiful, as was his fine-featured face. His hair was dark blonde and spiky, a look which suited him. Brandon felt a familiar pull in his groin just thinking about the sexy doctor.

He never would have figured Nathan Morris as gay. Certainly the female population of Reed didn’t know he was. Of course, Brandon didn’t exactly fit the gay stereotype, either. Then again, none of the gay men he knew did. There wasn’t an effeminate one in the bunch.

The ride to Chicago was silent, but Brandon figured his passenger was in too much pain to talk, if the grimaces and grunts he was making were any indication. He wondered what the good doctor would sound like in bed. He forced himself to stop thinking about it when the bulge in his jeans started to rise.

He pulled the SUV into one of the spaces marked for police vehicles and cut the engine. He got out and was around to open Nathan’s door before he could get out by himself. Brandon took Nate’s elbow and helped him to the ground.

Nathan’s voice, low and rough, made Brandon want to jump him right there in the parking lot. “Thanks, Sheriff, but I can go in by myself.”

 

“Call me Brandon.”

 

“O.K., Brandon. I can do this by myself. I did my residency in a hospital a lot like this one. I know the drill and most of it is hurry up and wait.”

Brandon smiled and started walking him towards the emergency entrance, locking the doors of the SUV with the remote on his keys. “Normally, I would agree with you, but I just happen to know someone who works here. He actually owes me a favor, so I think he’ll be able to get us in and out of here a little bit faster.” While he was talking, he led Nathan past the emergency wing to a row of elevators inside the hospital proper.

“Where are we going?”

 

“Relax, Doc. We’re going up to the third floor to neurology. The guy I told you about has an office up there.”

Brandon pushed the button for the elevators. The one closest to them opened, allowing a woman and four half-grown children to get off. One of the larger boys bumped into Nathan, nearly knocking him off his feet in his already addled state. Brandon caught him to his chest, trying to ignore the arcs of electricity that went through his skin when he wrapped his arms around Nathan and pulled him to his chest. Both the woman and the boy apologized, but Brandon’s only focus was the man he held in his arms.

“Doc, are you O.K., man?”

 

“Nathan.” “Huh?”

 

“My name is Nathan, or Nate. I figure if you’re going to hold me in your arms like we’re about to do the tango, the least you can do is call me by my name.”

 

Brandon pulled back to see the grin on Nathan’s face, the first smile he’d since the moment he walked into the doctor’s office. “If you’re joking around, you must be O.K.”

 

“That’s what Amy says. Do you want to let me go now?”

 

Brandon pulled him close again. “Do you really want me too?”

“Considering we’re in the middle of a hospital lobby waiting on an elevator and being watched by dozens of people, yeah. Thanks for catching me, though.” He lowered his voice and cast his eyes down a bit. “It felt kind of nice to be held again.”

Not certain how to respond, Brandon let him go, immediately missing the warm heat from his body. He stayed close enough to catch him again, if necessary, as they boarded the elevator. Other people crowded in, making conversation difficult. The silent ride gave Brandon a chance to tamp down some of the lust he was feeling.

The third floor of Chicago General wasn’t as crowded as the lobby, so Brandon was able to lead him through the hall at a fair clip. When Nathan stumbled, he immediately apologized.

 

“Sorry, Doc. I forgot how fast I was going.”

 

Nathan grinned again, making Brandon’s own knees feel weak. “Normally I can keep up, but I think I’m just a little punch drunk.”

 

“Maybe we should have called an ambulance. Are you even supposed to be walking around?”

 

“Amy checked me over before we left. This whole hospital thing and MRI is just a precaution. I do feel guilty that you have to spend your evening here with me, though. I feel like I’m messing up your plans.”

Brandon stopped in front of a row of doors and said, “If by ‘messing up my plans’ you mean taking me away from the glamorous prospect of sharing a frozen pizza with my dog, then I can only invite you to mess up my plans more often.”

“No family? No boyfriend?”

“I have plenty of family, but I don’t live with them anymore. I figure thirty-two is a little old to be sharing a set of bunk beds with my kid brother. As for the boyfriend, I had one of those too, but he belongs to someone else now, thank God.”

Nathan said, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories.”

 

Brandon shook his head. “You didn’t. Jeff and I broke up four years ago. He subscribes to the theory that gay men are incapable of fidelity; I don’t. Seems he had a fondness for twinks that I didn’t share.” Brandon almost laughed at the shocked look on Nathan’s face. “He had an affair?”

 

“Affairs, as in plural.”

 

“That must have hurt.”

“Maybe the first time I caught him in bed with another guy. By the third time, I was glad to be rid of him. I think the only reason I stayed as long as I did was because I felt like I had made a commitment. I guess he didn’t see it that way.”

“Damn. That’s harsh.”

 

Brandon shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Come on. Let’s get you checked out.” He knocked on the door they were standing in front of.

 

The door opened immediately and Brandon was engulfed in a bracing bear hug almost as fast. “Hey, squirt. What the hell are you doing in Chicago at 7:30 on a Tuesday night?”

 

“Damn, Keith. Put me down before you snap my spine, will ya? Are you and Maria so hard up for money that you have to drum up business by causing the injuries yourself?”

 

Seeing Nate’s startled expression, Brandon said, “Nate, this is my brother, Keith. He’s a neurologist here. Keith, this is Nathan Morris.”

Keith put his brother down and moved closer to Nate. Using one finger, he gently tilted Nate’s head so he could better see the right side. He turned back to Brandon. “I’m assuming you didn’t do that to his head?”

“If I had, I damn sure wouldn’t have brought him to the hospital. Nate thinks he was the subject of a gay-bashing.”

 

Nate gave Brandon an icy glare. “No, he doesn’t think he was the subject of a gay-bashing; he knows he was.”

 

Keith and Brandon both fought back their grins. Keith said, “Yeah, I hate it when people talk about me like I’m not around, too. I guess you’re here for an MRI, right.”

 

Nate nodded. “Yes, but I don’t want to bump anyone else off the schedule.”

 

“I’ll check with one of the techs, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem. Tuesday nights are kind of slow, even here in Chicago. Do you have a set of orders, or do you need me to write you some?”

Nate handed him the orders and watched as Keith’s face changed. “Wait a minute. You’re a doctor?” When he nodded, Keith said, “You aren’t the same Nathan Morris who did his residency in the NICU at Atlanta General, are you?”

Brandon watched as Nathan nodded and then blushed a little bit. He turned to Keith. “You know him?”

Keith said, “Only by reputation. Dr. Morris here is a legend in the field of neurology. He pioneered a technique to help premature babies deal with the neurological symptoms of withdrawal from heroin and cocaine. Man, what are you doing all the way up here?”
Brandon could see how uncomfortable Nate seemed. Before Keith could pump him for more information, Brandon said, “Don’t you think he should at least be sitting down somewhere? I mean, you are the doctor and all, but still…”

“Shit. I’m sorry, man. I’m actually a pretty good doctor when my dumbass kid-brother isn’t distracting me. Let’s get you to radiology.”

Keith led them down the hall to the radiology lab. While the techs took Nate into the other room and prepared him for the MRI, Keith seized the opportunity to pump him for information. Brandon told him all about the gay-bashing and his doubts about the motive. Keith ignored all that and cut straight to the reason why gay-bashing would even be a possibility in the first place.

“So, Dr. Morris is gay, huh?”

 

“Don’t even think about it, Keith. Jeez, you’re almost as bad as Mom.”

 

Keith did his best to look hurt, but Brandon knew him too well to be fooled. “All I did was make a casual observation, Bran.”

“Yeah, right. Just like you made a casual observation that one of the doctors on your surgical rotation was gay and had a thing for guys in uniform? Just like the casual observation you made about how great Pastor Oakley’s son was, or how nice Mrs. Jensen’s brother-in-law seemed? The answer is no. Stop trying to fix me up.”

The tech came back into the room and started adjusting the settings for the MRI machine. Keith stepped back enough so that the guy couldn’t hear him. “You need to have that conversation with your hormones, bud. I saw the way you were looking at him.”

“No reason I can’t look, is there? But looking is all I’m going to do. For all I know, he could have a boyfriend.”

Keith shook his head. “Not the way he was looking back at you. I’d almost be willing to put money on it. Besides, if he has a man, why wasn’t he the one who brought him in? No way in hell would I let some other guy take Maria to the hospital if she was hurt.”

Before Brandon could respond, the tech turned to Keith. “Dr. Nash, the patient’s heart-rate and breathing are both elevated. I think he’s having a reaction to being inside the machine.”

 

Keith swore. “The poor guy must be claustrophobic. None of the open MRIs were free?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

Keith thought for a moment, them pulled Brandon towards the desk. “Here, talk to him.”

 

“What?”

Keith pointed to the mike mounted on the desk. “Talk into the mike and he’ll be able to hear you. It might calm him down and take his mind off being inside the machine. Hell, you’re the one with a degree in forensic psychology. Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?”
Brandon knew enough about claustrophobia to know that panic at being inside a tight, closed space could escalate in a matter of seconds to a full blown anxiety attack. Brandon put his mouth to the mike.

“Nate, can you hear me?”

 

A shallow breath came through the speaker of the control panel. “Brandon?”

 

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. You O.K.?”

 

Another shallow breath. “I’m alright. I just hate tight spaces. God, I am such a sissy. No wonder I’m a fag.”