Hot Sauce (Suncoast Society #26)(62)

The call ended.

He snuggled her close. “See? I do listen to you.”

“I know you do.” She closed her eyes, finally able to relax. If Tilly wasn’t freaking out, she wouldn’t freak out anymore, either.





“Oh. My. God,” Gilo said as he walked into the hospital room ninety minutes later with a sandwich shop bag in his hand. “Dude. You got suspended by a helicopter. Props.”

Tilly laughed as she walked in behind him. “Don’t laugh and encourage the SAM. He’s been working on that joke since Sarasota.” She swooped in and hugged Vanessa first, then tousled Reed’s hair. “Attention whore.” But she gave him a smile Vanessa knew held more relief than it did chastisement.

And when Reed’s nurse came in to take his vitals a few minutes later, Tilly started chatting with her, friendly as can be and getting the details about Reed’s condition from her, including speaking medicalese that had Vanessa totally lost and confused. After Reed signed off on the nurse talking to Tilly, they were soon bent over the computer terminal she had on a rolling cart, Tilly scrolling through lab work and radiology reports and pictures.

When Tilly finished kibitzing with the nurse and the woman finished with Reed and left them alone again, Tilly sat down, dropping all pretenses.

“You’re lucky, dude. It sounds like your gallbladder’s fried. Don’t be surprised if your GP looks at those results and sends you straight to a surgeon for an immediate referral.”

Vanessa sat up and got a hug from Gilo, and her sandwich. “But they’re letting him go tomorrow. Isn’t that good?”

Tilly nodded. “He’s not critical. But from the looks of your blood work, and looking at those films? Unless your GP is Mr. Magoo, you’ll be having surgery this week, if not bright and early Tuesday morning.

“Dammit,” Reed said. “I have charters booked this week.”

“Lucky you, I called Keith,” Tilly said. “He’s got a friend who runs charters, and who owes him a couple of favors. He’s ready to cover for you.”

“He doesn’t even know what I charge. How can he offer to cover my charters?”

“Gratis. Well, just the price of gas. Keith rushed an outboard engine overhaul for him last tarpon season right before a tournament. Saved the guy from losing several grand in charter fees and purse money. Keith’s been waiting for the right time to call it in, and said this is a worthy cause.”

Reed looked stunned. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Keith. I’m just the facilitator.”

Gilo grinned. “Is that the polite term for ballbuster now?”

“Fuck you,” she lightly said, smiling at him. “You’re lucky you have a cute ass and Abbey loves you so much.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah, I do. Damn SAM.”

“Plus, I know you don’t have any duct tape on you.” Gilo grinned.

She flipped him off, then they both laughed.





Lyle had panicked when Vanessa’s call broke up and he couldn’t get her on the phone again right away.

Yes, he’d wanted to cut his day short, but Reed insisted he was fine and not to do that. Lyle knew arguing with his partner under the circumstances would only exacerbate Reed’s condition and make Reed feel guiltier than he obviously already did.

So the minute his last meeting of the day finished, Lyle practically ran for his car to head west on I-4.

It was well after midnight by the time he and Vanessa climbed into her bed, Carlo taking the spot on the other side of her where Reed would normally sleep. She lay with her face buried against Lyle’s chest when her tears hit.

This was something he’d been expecting ever since he’d arrived at the hospital and handed keys over to Gilo and Tilly. Nessie had actually held it together a lot longer than he’d expected her to.

He pulled her even closer, nuzzling his chin against the top of her head. “He’s going to be okay. You did good, baby girl. You took care of what had to be done, you got him help, and you got those people and yourself in safely. I’m proud of you.”

“I was so scared,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would be my fault if he died because I knew he was hurting earlier and didn’t force him to go to the hospital.”

He made her look up, into his eyes. “One more time,” he firmly said. “It’s not your fault. He thought it was indigestion. If everyone who had indigestion hit the ER, people who are really sick would die from the wait. He didn’t die, he’s not going to die, he’s going to be fine. And Tony didn’t die because you were a horrible sister or didn’t care about him. He died because he waited too long to get treatment, and his body shut down. Nothing you did or didn’t do would have changed that. If you’d tried to get him to the doctor earlier, he likely wouldn’t have gone. So stop.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t. That’s why I’m telling you to stop. Consider it an order if you need to. You are not a failure as a sister or a lover or a person. Most people today would have fallen apart. You did great. It’s okay to mourn Tony, because you need to. But quit thinking you own blame for his death, because you don’t.”