Managed (VIP #2)(81)

Now, he sits stiff and pissed off on our bed, because, according to Brenna, Kill John and company have a strict, no-alerting-the-press-by-going-to-the-hospital-unless-you’re-truly-dying rule. One that pissed me off when my man was lying prone on the floor, but in hindsight, I can appreciate it. I know for a fact that Gabriel would have gone ballistic if he’d woken in a hospital room.

He’s so pissy now that he’s scared away the guys. Only Brenna and I remain. I’m guessing this is because Gabriel never yells at women.

There’s a light knock on the bedroom door, and Dr. Stern lets herself in. She is the band’s on-call physician. Apparently she’s been going on tour with Kill John for years. I met her once—she keeps to herself and flies to all the cities instead of using a coach.

Elegant yet down to earth, she reminds me of the Upper West Side moms who work full time but still take their kids to the Museum of Natural History on Sundays.

“How is my patient doing?”

“Annoyed.” Gabriel lifts his arm. “Would you please remove this?”

The doctor is immune to his evil glare. “When it’s finished. You mind telling me how you felt before you fainted?”

“As though I were about to faint but hoped very much it wouldn’t happen.”

“Stubborn,” I mutter under my breath.

Dr. Stern nods. “And have you felt this way before?”

A mulish expression mars Gabriel’s face. When he doesn’t speak, Brenna stands. “I’m gonna head out.”

As soon as she leaves, Dr. Stern asks him the question again.

With a sigh, he answers. “Yes.”

“How many times, Scottie?” she persists. “And for how long?”

Seconds tick by.

“Since the beginning of the tour. On and off, perhaps ten times. I didn’t count.”

“Jesus,” I blurt out, getting up from my seat and pacing to the window before rounding on him. “What the hell, Gabriel?”

He won’t meet my eyes.

Dr. Stern sighs. “I’d say you’re extremely stressed and overworked. Have you been sleeping well?”

A faint flush hits his cheeks. “Not lately.”

God, it’s my turn to blush.

“You need more than a good night’s sleep, Scottie. In fact, I’d prescribe a long vacation.”

“I’ll go on holiday when the tour is over.”

The promise does not sound very convincing.

Dr. Stern apparently feels the same. “You’re ignoring your health, which is never a good thing.”

“I have not ignored the situation,” he snaps. “Christ, I was willing to turn my life upside down to get a proper night’s sleep—”

He abruptly shuts up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”

“By asking me to room with you,” I finish for him.

His gaze slides to mine, and I see him wince. “Are you upset?” he asks.

“Why should I be? You told me from the beginning me why you wanted me there.”

He can’t hide the flinch of surprise. But he doesn’t say a word, just eyes me as if waiting for me to explode.

I laugh. “How could I be mad about that? I’m the one you needed. If I’m honest, it kind of melts me.”

He begins to smile.

“But I am pissed at you.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” he bursts out, lifting his hands in exasperation, as he turns to the doctor. “You see? Lei è completamente pazza.”

Whatever he said makes Dr. Stern chuckle.

I glare at both of them, stalking over to his bedside. “Don’t you go yammering off in Italian. I don’t care if it sounds like hot, buttered sex; I’m still pissed.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Why are you angry? I don’t understand.”

“You never told me how badly you were suffering, you stubborn ass. You let it get to this point.” I lean in until we’re nose to nose. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you faint like that ever again.”

“Trust me, Darling, I’m not planning on fainting like that ever again.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me, when you refuse to see a doctor when you’re feeling ill? You can’t control everything, you know.”

My answer is his stubborn chin lifting and his lush mouth flattening. But I see the flash of fear in his eyes before he conceals it. I’ve been so worried, I missed the signs. He’s terrified right now. I glance at Dr. Stern.

“May we have a moment?”

“Certainly.”

As soon as she leaves, I sit by Gabriel’s side and take his hand. It’s cold and clammy. “Talk to me.”

His thumb runs along my knuckles. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Do I need to do some cuddle therapy here?”

His eyes meet mine, and I see the weariness in them. He clearly thought he’d hidden his feelings well and good. It makes me smile, sadly.

“I know you, sunshine. We might as well be on a plane right now.” I squeeze his fingers. “You are not all right.”

With a sigh, he rests against the headboard. His throat moves on a swallow. “I hate doctors.”

“Dr. Stern is very nice.”