Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

realized he'd left his cell at the studio. The insistent sound shrilled out again, and he caught the handset up on the sixth ring, just before it switched over into voicemail.
    "Aaron here."
    Mr. Morris's deep rumble sounded over the line. "Aaron. Are you sitting down, son?"
    Aaron's knees turned to water, causing him to drop abruptly to the floor. He meant to prop his ass on one of the hip wine-red barstools he'd picked out with Travis after the younger man moved into the warehouse, but the tone of Mr. Morris's voice sucked all the strength from his calves and thighs before he could move the small distance to do so, and he dropped where he stood.
    "Who?" Aaron's voice shook. He fought the iron band around his chest to draw in a breath. Mr. Morris's voice came to him down a long tunnel echoing with other noises.
    "Travis. He's at General, and don't you dare get on your damned bike. Taylor will be there in five minutes to get you. You wait for him. Do you hear me, Aaron? You wait for him. We should have some kind of news by the time you get here, or shortly after. You wait for Taylor, damn it."
    Aaron grunted something vaguely affirmative as soon as he recalled Mr. Morris couldn't possibly see when he nodded his head. The phone buzzed with expectant silence, and then there was a muffled "—shit—" before the dial tone cut out. Aaron sat where he was, the summer sun beating down through the skylights, the sounds of the cicadas on the damn bamboo tree in Travis's room loud in the vastness of the empty space. He sat, rocking, phone clutched against his chest. Taylor used the spare key to get in when Aaron failed to answer the door and wrestled Aaron into the old Bronco he drove with a minimum of fuss. Aaron sat where Taylor put him and clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at the other man to hurry. Taylor tried once to reassure Aaron that everything would be fine. Aaron told him to shut the fuck up, and after that neither of them spoke a single word the entire rest of the way to the hospital.
    CHAPTER 3
    The pavement closest to the doors leading into San Francisco General's ER sported a largish wet spot and smelled of piss. Aaron growled at the dude twitching, mumbling, and blocking his access to the lobby. The guy scratched at his arms, moving slowly to one side as he scoped both Taylor and Aaron out.
    "Don't even think about it, freak," Aaron growled.
    Taylor shot him a disbelieving look, waved him forward, and then stepped to the side to pull the little silver card case he always carried out of his pants pocket. He plucked a card out of the receptacle, handing it to the dude with a few murmured words. Aaron stood, waiting in a pillar of flaming anxiety. He really didn't give a shit if the guy shot or smoked up one time too many, he just wanted the fucker out of his way and Taylor to be done dispensing his little rectangles of hope so he could go find out how bad it was.
    If he killed another Morris he…shit.
    He was pretty sure his heart would just stop beating of its own volition. A familiar feminine voice raised in the hot tones of anger cut across his thoughts. It sounded like Teresa, but she should be home on bed rest.
    "Well, damn it, if I have this baby early, I'm already in a hospital, aren't I?"
    Oh, hell. That deceptively sweet and snarky alto was unmistakable. Travis's sister could cut a man at fifty paces with her wit, and—Aaron swiveled his head in the direction of her voice—from the look of things, her poor husband was getting it with both barrels.
    He strode toward them. "Jim, Teresa. What's going on?"
    Teresa spun toward him, overbalanced, and then caught her husband's arm to steady herself. Her eyes welled up with tears. She swiped furiously at them, her face hidden for a moment behind the rapid, jerky motions of her hands. Aaron's heart pounded against the inside of his chest with pain-filled thumps. He held his breath. For fuck's sake, couldn't the woman talk and cry at the same time? God knows she multitasked in every other aspect of her life.
    "Damned hormones have me all off kilter. Mom called and he's okay, Aaron, he's okay. Just shaken up and bruised. Looks like he's been in a fight, black eye and scrapes…they're keeping him for observation. Something about him losing consciousness for a little while."
    Aaron watched Teresa's mouth moving, but after the last sentence, the words simply stopped making sense. The air around him was thick with too many smells, the stench of unwashed