Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

bodies, vomit and shit fighting for preeminence with the sharp bite of antiseptics and industrial-strength floor cleanser. He pushed past an arguing couple to drop heavily into an empty seat. Bending forward, he rested his hands on the tops of his boots and pressed his face into his knees. The room felt empty of air. No matter how hard he tried, his lungs wouldn't expand enough. He wondered dizzily if passing out would get him into the back where he could find Travis.
    "Aaron? Dammit Jim, just help me down."
    A heartfelt groan and some very inventive cursing happened, and then Teresa was kneeling on the dirty floor in front of him, her hands cradling his face.
    "Oh, baby, no. It's not like Timothy."
    Aaron realized he was rocking back and forth, whispering Timothy and Travis's names over and over. He gasped for air, one hand clutching at his throat. The black spots in his vision got bigger and closer together.
    "Jim, you'd better go get someone. I think he's having a panic attack. I'll be fine, Taylor's right outside trying to save another junkie, and—just go. It's sweet, but we don't have time right now."
    Jim's practical work shoes retreated into the distance. Teresa turned her face back toward his. She was still a little teary looking, and smudges of mascara ringed her eyes.
    "Listen here, Mr. Pooh-bear, you are not going to lose your pal Piglet today. Do you hear me? Christopher Robin is counting on you to take care of him. It's a commitment."
    Her hands slipped from his face to his shoulders, shaking him lightly. Aaron gazed at her, slack-jawed. He and Timothy played that game a thousand times when they were kids, but no one else had known.
    "How?"
    Teresa smiled. "I was a nosy little sister. How else?"
    Jim's shoes came back, and a brisk little woman rolled a blood pressure machine up next to Aaron. He shook with an all-over body shudder like he was coming out of the water trying to free his skin and hair of excess water.
    "I—I'm fine."
    She wrapped the cuff around his arm anyway. Aaron glared at the little East Indian woman but held still. She smiled widely at him as the cuff started to inflate. "I love your band, Mr. Banks. I've been to three of your concerts now. My friends will never believe that I got to touch you."
    Teresa made a disgusted noise, somewhere between a growl and the sound of retching. The woman's light-brown skin glowed with a rosy tide of embarrassment. The machine beeped.
    "Um, your blood pressure's a little high, you heart rate is elevated, and your oxygen level is a little low. I'm going to go get some oxygen and a wheelchair and we'll get you right in to see someone, okay?"
    Aaron looked around at all the people waiting in the crowded room. He caught Teresa's eye and shook his head minutely. Jim stepped forward.
    "I'll keep an eye on him, ma'am, and if he starts to get worse again well bring him right to the triage window, okay?"
    The star-struck nurse hesitated for a moment. Aaron cleared his throat. Gesturing with one hand, he indicated the rest of the waiting room. "I—I just couldn't jump in front of all these people. They've been here much longer, and I'm not really here to be seen. I just—"
    Teresa's voice piped up. "My brother Travis—his guitar player from Liquid Sin—just got brought here. Travis and Aaron are close, and he can't help being worried about him. Aaron's really a part of the family, and I'm afraid this is all too much like the day we lost my eldest brother Timothy to an allergic reaction."
    The woman hung on Teresa's every word. Nodding her head, she finished stowing away the cords of her blood pressure machine. "Oh, that's understandable then. Well, you just let me know if you need anything."
    Jim nodded, his dark hair sliding across one eye. "Thanks."
    Jim cast a wry smile in Aaron's direction as he eased Teresa to her feet. He dusted off the seat next to Aaron and gently pushed his wife down into it before lowering his long, lanky form into the one on the other side of her. Taylor wandered in at that point, his face pinched up in the way it always did when he focused on one of his rescue missions: lips pressed into a thin line, eyes tight where the corner of the lid met the edge of his temple. Timothy had worn the same expression more than once, when he thought no one was watching. Travis had it on his face every single time Aaron saw him packing the Harley's saddle bags.
    He sucked in a sharp breath.
    Oh.
    Oh, fuck.
    Aaron shot to his feet. Ignoring