Buzz (The Riley Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

Beep, beep, beep.

So it was true that when you woke up in hospital, you were attached to a heart monitor.

It was far from the first time Cam had used one. As he fidgeted with the cushioned plastic clip around his finger, the gaps between spikes on the screen narrowed.

What the
hell
was wrong with him?

“You're awake,” a nurse smiled, stepping around the curtain. He guessed he was in an emergency room.

“Yes. I... how long was I out?”

“You've only been here for a few minutes,” she assured him. “How do you feel?”

“Frozen crap,” he answered, then winced. “Pardon me.”
Can't say what I'd say on ice.

“Your heart rate is back to normal,” she told him, not fazed. “The doctors will want to do tests on you, of course.”

“Right.”

“Let me know if you need anything – the doctor will be by shortly.”

Cameron murmured, “I'm fine,” then glanced around. Nobody was there with him. “Uh, did anyone come with me?”

The nurse shook her head. “There was someone here for a few minutes, but he seems to have left.”

Of course he did.
Cameron lay back, gazing at the green curtains. “All right.” His voice was soft. He didn't want to sound defeated, but it was hard to feel any other way.

Nathan can do whatever he wants. Maybe he has something urgent to get to...

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but he wasn't passing out again. Instead, he focused on staying calm, picturing the plays they'd gone over that morning.

Damn. He'd never gotten a chance to test their new deep right wing penetration and hook. That would have been a fun move. Hopefully he'd be able to pull it off tomorrow. He'd skate tonight if he had to.

“Cam?”

It was Coach Walker's voice.

“Here, coach.” Cameron nodded as the familiar grey-haired man pushed his way around the curtain, carrying his gym bag. Thank god he'd washed it after spilling Gatorade all over it.

“How you doing, buddy?” his coach asked, his tone gruff but a little warmer than usual. “I brought your stuff and called your brother.”

Fuck. He's feeling sorry for me.

Oddly enough, even being in hospital wasn't serious to Cameron. He'd been there enough for stitches, concussion checks, a broken arm...

But having this man sound even slightly concerned?

That was fucking terrifying.

“Fine, fine,” Cameron assured him. “Thanks. I passed out in the ambulance, but I've been awake since then.”

“You never told me or the doc anything was wrong,” the coach said, and that was definitely a reprimand.

Cameron blushed and shrugged. “Sorry, coach. That was a big fuck-up, I know. I just... didn't think it was this bad. Doc thought it was too much salt. I've never just... passed out.”

“You wiped out pretty bad. That'll be a colorful lip,” Coach Walker added. “And you're definitely not fit to play the next game.”

Cam's heart sank.

Of all the punishments Coach Walker gave out, benching was among the worst. Benching him for one of the biggest playoff games against their bitter rival?

His heart monitor sped up in the background. He gritted his teeth for a moment before letting his breath out.

“Fine,” he answered with a slight nod.

Coach Walker eyed him for a moment, then sank into his chair. “You misunderstand. This isn't to punish you, kid. You're twenty-three – you're on the cusp of success. You can't fuck it up now. Push too hard, at the wrong time, and you can bench yourself for
life
. Or, worse, lose your life. Heart problems, if that's what this is, are nothing to screw around with.”

Cameron wanted to argue, wanted to jump out of the hospital bed. He wanted to do ten one-armed pushups just to prove how in-shape he was. He had to prove that he wouldn't faint again, but... he didn't know if he would.

Maybe his coach was right.

“This one game, then. Hopefully the doctor will be here soon...”

The curtain swung. A man in the stereotype of a doctor's image – older, white coat, aloof – stepped through.

“Ah, my star hockey player,” he greeted. “And you must be his coach.”

“Walker.”

They firmly shook hands.

“Dr. Lenny. And you're Cameron?”

“Yeah,” Cameron confirmed, fidgeting with the finger clip again.

Dr. Lenny pulled Cameron's paperwork out of the file for a quick glance. “There's nothing out of the ordinary on your records. Anything you want to tell me?”

“No, sir,” Cameron answered. “Except I've been dizzy whenever I get stressed for the past... well, for a while. I went to the team doctor and she told me it's probably salt. I
was
eating too much.”

“No other dietary changes?”

“No.”

“What about drugs? Legal or illegal.”

Coach Walker looked sharply at him.

Cameron's cheeks flushed at the implications. “No,” he snapped. “I don't do anything except multivitamins. I can't afford to fail those tests.”

“All right,” the doctor nodded, making notes. “We'll need to keep you for today for testing if you want us to get to the bottom of this. I'll order the battery of tests.” He stepped out around the curtain again.

“You can't be passing out on ice again,” Coach Walker said, rising to his feet. “Take the time to get better. Even if you miss the rest of the playoffs, we don't want you sending the net flying again.”

“Shit, did I?”

“You hit the boards and then crashed into the net.”

Cameron raised his free hand to press his fingers to his lip. Not the worst he'd ever had, but he felt like he'd been thrown through the boards. Then, he touched his chest – there were cardiac monitor pads already stuck to his skin, and he winced. Those were going to be a bitch to get off.

“Yeah, you're still pretty, don't worry,” the coach snorted.

That made Cameron laugh, at least.

“Where's your – uh, where's that kid, Nathan?”

“I'm... not sure,” he admitted.

Coach Walker knew the truth. Cam had walked into the coach's office on his first day on the team, scared and shaking and sure he was about to lose his chance at pro sports. The coach had coolly told him he wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last. Then, he'd said to keep his head down until he was ready to be the poster boy.

When Nathan had shown up to practices along with the other guys' girlfriends or wives, Coach Walker had put two and two together. He'd just told Cam not to let him distract him.

Nathan did nothing
but
distract him.

He was always trying to prove himself to Nathan – that he wouldn't sleep with the rest of the team, let fame get to his head, forget about him... Nathan complained he had his head in the clouds; he tried to stay grounded by cooking every meal when he was home. Nathan said he didn't pay him enough attention; he'd learned sensual techniques to mix up his sports-focused massages.

And now, for the third time, Nathan had walked out on him.

Coach Walker smiled dryly. “Not the best time to decide he has other priorities, kid. Watch out for yourself.”

“I will.”

The coach stood up and clapped his arm. “I'll check in on you later. I gotta get back to practice.”

The arena felt a million miles away from him.

“Could you, uh, grab my phone first? I wanna make sure my brother knows I'm alive.” Jackson would be out of his mind by now, and Cameron didn't want the whole family panicking. “It's in the end pouch.”

The coach fished it over and handed it over without looking at it, then clapped his arm again. “See you, kid. Get better.”

“Will do, sir.”

Holding the phone was awkward without one finger, but he managed it one-handed.

Both his brothers and Nathan had messaged him.

Jackson's message was first:
Hey, I heard what happened. Call when you can. Haven't told Mom & Dad yet. On my way, should be there tonight.

Cameron hadn't seen Jackson since Christmas. Even if the reason wasn't the best for the visit, his big brother would look out for him in the hospital system.

Thomas's message was next:
Thinking of you, lots of love.
Simple and sweet, just like Thomas. He worked as a bank teller, which suited his reserved personality. Cam secretly wondered if he would turn out to be the third gay brother in the family. Cam was only halfway out, but everyone had guessed; Jackson had been out since high school. Thomas just... didn't talk about dating. Not before or since moving out to Halifax, the big city.

Finally, though his stomach twisted with dread, he opened Nathan's message. His heart sank, but he forced himself to keep reading through the end.

I'm done. Don't want to indulge you in drama. I've blocked and deleted your phone number and email and I'm moving out soon. I can't put up with your attention seeking anymore. Have a good life.

Cameron choked and closed his eyes, pulling the thin hospital blanket up over him a little more.

He'd always expected it, but somehow, hadn't prepared for it. Now that the moment was here, he couldn't process the mix of anger, grief, and fear.

Why fear?

His coach shouted that at Cam when he held back from a good move. The answer was all too clear.

I'm not good enough even for a guy like him.

***

Cameron was exhausted and cranky by the time the doctor walked into his tiny section of the emergency room. He was about sick of nurses giving him tests, asking about his condition, checking his heart monitor... They were nice, but they couldn't give him a prognosis.

This new specialist, a short man with close-cropped hair and a brisk attitude, first checked his file. “Cameron Riley?” His tone was authoritative.

Cameron fought the instinct to sit up straight. “Yes, sir.”

“I've been going over your test results and all your physical records from your team doctor. Neither of us can find anything wrong with you.”

Cameron's cheeks burned as his jaw dropped.
Is he implying I made this up...?

“You obviously experienced some anomaly, but we can't identify it.”

“No...” Cameron murmured. “No, you don't understand. I can't play until this is diagnosed.”

“Ah. That's the thing.”

No.

Cameron raised his hand and eased himself into a sitting position to hear this. He couldn't think how to explain the desperate desire that pulsed, throbbed, hummed through him. He
needed
to skate more than breathing. Fuck, that was a cliché. He just needed to tell them to fix him.

There were a few moments of silence before the doctor spoke up, his voice quiet. “We'll keep you here for a few days and try to get a diagnosis for you, but you won't be out in time for your next game. I already told your coach.”

Cameron shook his head. There wasn't a lot else he could say. He didn't want to hear the doctor telling him he was useless.

“So, you don't know what this thing could do to me, when it'll happen again...?”

“Physical exertion is the only clue we have tying together the dizziness spells you reported before and this incident,” the doctor answered. “That's why we're keeping you here in a controlled environment. We'll contact your insurance regarding a private room... I'll send the nurse in to explain everything.”

Cameron had to bite back all the venom in his veins to manage a quick, “Thanks.”

What had he done to deserve this shit?

Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

Tongs weighed down one of Jackson's hands, the blowtorch heavy in the other. He stretched the steel rod, shaping the rough draft with precise hands.

Of all things to be working on, an art piece about a hockey player was an oddity, but Jackson was enjoying it. It made a great change from all the construction jobs.

His cellphone rang and he frowned. He had “do not disturb” on for all but emergency calls.

Oh, shit.

He backed away from the glowing steel, then fumbled under his leather apron and yanked off his gloves to grab his cellphone.

Coach Walker.

Who was that?

It took him a second to remember: his little brother's coach who'd led his team to a near-perfect season record last year. So far this year, it was a less perfect but grittier record – whatever that meant. Cam had given Jackson the coach's number to reach him on short notice during a game, but Jackson hadn't expected the other way around.

“Oh,
shit
,” he whispered, out loud this time. He fumbled to slide a finger across the screen. “Jackson speaking.”

“Jackson Riley, right?”

“Yep, that's me. You're Coach Walker? My little brother's coach?”

“Yes. Don't worry, your brother's fine.”

Nothing in the world would make him fucking panic more. “What happened?” he demanded.

“He fainted during practice. There's some kind of... medical issue going on with him. It's not dangerous so far as we can tell. But it's serious enough to bench him until we get a diagnosis.”

“Is he in the hospital now?”

Jackson yanked his leather apron off, shutting off the forge damper to stifle the fire. He groped for his keys with his other hand.

Toronto was a damn sight away from his small New Brunswick hometown, but he was gonna drive there if he had to.

“Yes,” the coach told him. “The doctor's told him that he's benched.”

“Jesus, I bet he didn't take that well.” Jackson double- and triple-checked the forge, then transferred his phone to the other ear to open the door to his workshop and step outside.

It was still early enough in the year to need a jacket, but only a light one. The temperature was always in the plus during the day.

“I haven't talked to him yet. He'll launch himself out of bed to explain why he can play after all.” Jackson laughed.
That
sounded like his kid brother.

Cam had always hid any perceived weakness. Once, he'd knocked out a tooth on the fence while climbing trees. He'd come into the house cool as a cucumber, hand hiding his bloody mouth, and told their mother he needed to see the dentist.

“How long has this been going on?”

“We don't know. He talked to the team doctor a couple times about dizzy spells and we thought it was a nutrition problem. Then, suddenly... Well, this is the first time fainting we know about, and I trust him to have told someone if it had happened before.”

Jackson wasn't so sure, but either way, he was going to find out what Cameron had been hiding. He just worried it had something to do with that dick boyfriend... Nathan whatshisface. He'd never liked the guy, but for some reason, Cam was stuck on him. Not that Jackson's taste in men was much better, but he pushed that thought aside.

He unlocked the car door. “Right. Thanks. I'm gonna fly in, I think. I'll break the news to our brother and parents.”

“Thanks,” Coach Walker answered. “Appreciate it, man. I'm sure we'll see each other when you visit him.”

“Yep. Just text me the details of his hospital and stuff so I can get in when I get there,” Jackson requested.

“Of course. I'll make sure they expect you. Want me to let him know?”

“Nah, I'll surprise him,” Jackson told him. “Thanks, Coach.”

When they hung up, Jackson leaned against his car door while he searched for flights to Toronto.

***

The hospital was sterile and cold, and Jackson hated it. Getting his wisdom teeth out had been enough experience with hospitals for him. They were ugly and white and architecturally displeasing. Not that he was an architect, but he worked with enough design stuff that he thought he had a better eye than most.

Give him some steel columns and twisted chandeliers and blown glass windows any day.

He was built like his brother, broad shoulders and firm jaw and around six feet tall, but Cameron was more nimble and lithe, an athletic build. Jackson was muscle and had always been goalie in their boyhood ball hockey games. He'd been all right. Cameron had kicked everyone's ass until he talked their parents into letting him do hockey when he was seven. The rest... well, was about to be history.

God, he hoped his brother didn't have to quit. From what he understood, his agent was certain he'd get signed this season. Cam wasn't going to take it well if he had to quit now.

He knocked on the door to Cameron's room, then cracked it open and stepped inside.

His little brother was at least dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but he was lying down on a hospital bed surrounded by machinery. He was pale and stressed as hell. In this environment, Cam looked younger than his twenty-two years – no, twenty-three now. Like the last four years, Cam's birthday had been spent in constant training.

“Hey, bro.” Cameron glanced up quickly. The mix of expressions on Cameron's face made Jackson smile: confusion, then surprise and joy. It had been a couple months since they'd last seen each other just before Christmas.

Jackson strode across the room as Cameron sat up in bed, leaning in to hug him. Jackson refrained from his usual strong back-clap, but Cameron hugged him as tight as ever.

“Hey, Jackson,” Cameron answered, his voice quieter. He was alone in the room, a fact that made Jackson frown.

“Where's everyone? The coach? That boyfriend of yours, Nathan?”

Cameron's expression shifted strangely and he looked away.

Oh. Shit.
Jackson hadn't meant to pry at a recent wound. “...No.”

“Yeah, he, uh. He's gone.” The words were sour and succinct on Cameron's tongue. From his tone, Jackson knew the bastard had dumped him.

“Fuck.” Jackson sank down into the chair next to the bed. He scooted it closer and leaned in to half-hug his brother again, clapping his back this time. “Sorry, man. Just now?”

“Yeah, earlier today.”

Jackson's head spun. The last few hours in airport hell and on planes had thrown him for a loop. It hardly seemed like the same day Cam had been admitted. It was late now, past visiting hours, but he'd talked his way in. “I wish I could've been here in person sooner. The bastard was no good for you.”

A little smile cracked through Cam's stress and grief. “Tell me what you think.”

“I always do,” Jackson reminded him, grinning back at him. “I'll stay here with you 'til you're out, all right?”

Cameron's eyes widened. “You can do that? Work-wise? Oh, shit, do Mom and Dad know?”

“Yeah, and Thomas. I told them all before I left. They send their love and so on,” Jackson waved a hand. “Work's no problem. Don't worry about it, man.”

“Cool.” He was clearly trying not to let on his relief, and Jackson couldn't blame him. It had to suck to be all alone, dealing with some life-threatening mystery condition. And in
Toronto
, a soul-sucking hellhole at the best of times. Well, Jackson thought so; Cam disagreed, but never bothered to defend it too hard.

“So, it's just a waiting game? Your coach mentioned specialist test results. They got you doing all those fitness tests and heart monitors and shit?”

Cameron nodded.

Jackson stretched out his legs and breathed out, settling into the chair at Cam's bedside. “Well, we've got all day and night.”

All day and night to plan to grab Nathan by his greasy hair and chuck him out if he tried strolling back into his little brother's life yet again.