“WHO WAS that?” Nash asked once Ford disappeared down the dim hallway.
Adam turned and looked at him, puzzled. “Did I not introduce you thirty-six seconds ago?”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean his name. I meant who is he? How do you know him? What’s his deal?”
“His deal?”
“Quit being an asshole. You know what I mean.”
Adam took a sip of his coffee, drawing it out, a smirk firmly in place as he swallowed. Nash waited. He could be patient. When Adam lowered his cup, Nash saw the shit-eating grin plastered to his face. Nash crossed his arms over his chest.
“Joseph Ford, trauma nurse and general pain in the ass. I’ve known him for years… met him when he was a newbie starting out, deer in headlights on his first weekend night shift in the ER. I think I laughed at him and he threatened to clock me, and we were friends from that moment, but he and Dex are best friends, so we’ve gotten closer since Dex and me got together.”
Nash processed the information before asking the next question.
“Gay?”
“Very.”
“Single?”
“I think so. Why? You interested?”
“I dunno. Just met the guy. He’s hot, though,” Nash admitted. Honestly, hot didn’t begin to cover it. At the risk of sounding like his eighty-year-old grandma, Ford was positively fetching. There was something about him, even crumpled and tired, his scrubs stained and his jaw dusted with stubble, something almost magnetic about the bright blue eyes that shone beneath a fan of lashes only a shade or two lighter than his jet-black hair. He’d only been at the coffee cart for a few minutes, but Nash couldn’t take his eyes off him.
They walked back toward the truck, and Nash glanced through the windowed door into the ER to see Ford standing behind the desk at the nurses’ station, talking to a pretty blonde in lavender scrubs. They were standing close, and she had her hand placed affectionately on his arm.
“You only think he’s single? I thought you guys were friends,” Nash asked.
“His situation is complicated. I don’t like to pry where Ford’s love life is concerned. He had a guy, apparently, but no one knows who it was. Closeted I think, not that I of all people can be one to judge. Things ended, and from what I gather, it was messy. It’s probably for the best. Between you and me, he didn’t seem all that happy when they were together.”
“Broken heart?”
“Maybe at first. He didn’t really talk much about it.”
“But he’s not with anyone now?”
“As far as I know, there hasn’t been anyone since the mystery guy. He seems to be a bit jaded about relationships.”
“So not the best time to be asking him out to dinner, then?”
“I guess it depends on how attached you are to your balls.”
“Got it.”
Adam cleared from the hospital over the radio, letting dispatch know they were free. Nash filed away the information Adam had relayed about Ford. Mining for personal details about the guy might be shameless, but it had been a while since Nash had felt a pop of attraction that strong.
The moment the ambulance’s tires hit the pavement on the street, dispatch was tagging them with another call. It was like that most nights, and Nash loved the rush that took over with each new call. It got old for a lot of guys, the constant rushing around, no breaks, the unknown of each new situation. And yeah, a lot of the calls they attended were utter bullshit. But some weren’t, and when Nash stepped in, he felt like God.
It was the most addictive feeling ever.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of lights and sirens and adrenaline. They had barely finished one call before being tagged with the next. In and out of the hospital they ran, and every time, Nash caught himself, gaze lifting over the stretcher to search the busy room for Ford.
He wanted to see him once more, just to see him. As many times as they were in and out, though, Ford must have been busy with other things. By the end of his shift, Nash was wiped, and he’d yet to see Ford again. They finished up with the last call, only overtime by half an hour, and returned to the station to finish up paperwork and restock the ambulance before heading home to crash.
WHEN NASH showed up at the station the next evening, the ambulance bay was empty. Both day crews were still out. He climbed the stairs to the main living quarters. The interior of the station looked like every other station he’d been to, with mismatched furniture that had most likely originated from someone’s basement or an ad for cheap furniture on Craigslist.
Nash said hello to Caleb as he crossed to sit on the sagging sofa to wait for Adam.
“You want some soup?” Rob, Caleb’s partner, called, popping his head out from the kitchen.
“Uh, no. Thanks, though,” Nash called back, and Caleb gave him a nod of approval. He’d known not to eat anything Rob offered before he even learned the guy’s name. Possibly the worst cook on the planet, he didn’t seem to possess any taste buds whatsoever, if the revolting creations he came up with were any indication.
“I need a fucking vacation,” Caleb complained, hoisting his feet up to thump them down on the coffee table as he leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.
“You can take me to Hawaii,” Rob yelled.
From the look on Caleb’s face, it was apparent he didn’t think that was a very good suggestion.
“If I’m going to go on a tropical getaway, I am sure as shit not taking you with me. I’m stuck looking at your ugly face enough as it is.”
Rob chuckled and Caleb grinned. Nash might be new to the station, but it was easy to see how much the guys all loved one another like family. Nash wanted to belong to that, to think of these guys as his friends, his brothers. He was still the new guy, but everyone had been incredibly nice to him so far.
Adam arrived a moment later, crossed the living room and ducked into the kitchen, and then returned with two energy drinks, one in each hand.
“Hey, Sam texted earlier, but I was at the gym. Do you need us to bring anything to your housewarming?” Caleb asked.
“No idea. You know that’s more Dex’s thing than mine. I know we don’t need Rob to bring anything.”
Rob sauntered in, holding a bowl of soup Nash could smell from across the room. He almost retched.
“I was gonna make the dip,” Rob protested.
“Yeah, no one is going to eat anything you cook. You should know that by now. You can bring the beer. Nash can bring the dip,” Caleb said.
Nash’s eyebrows shot up.
“You are coming, right?” Caleb asked him.
“I didn’t know I was invited,” Nash said.
“Don’t be a dumbass,” Adam said, rolling his eyes.
No explanation beyond that was given, and Nash felt the happiness blooming in his chest. This is what had been missing for the last seven years. Within two weeks of transferring into Station 217, without question, he’d clicked into the brotherhood he’d always hoped he’d find in the service.
He killed the stupid smile that threatened to break his face and shrugged, trying to feign the nonchalance he in no way felt. “Okay, yeah, I can bring the dip.”
“Well, that’s settled. Nash is on dip. Rob, you’re on booze, and don’t you dare cheap out this time,” Caleb said.
Rob scowled at him. “What are you bringing?”
Caleb grinned, his smile wicked. “I’m going to con my sister into making dessert for me.”
“That’s low, man. She’s not even coming and you’re going to make her cook?” Rob asked.
“She loves it. That woman is addicted to Pinterest like no one else. Any excuse to try out a recipe, she’ll jump at it.”
“Who am I to say no to a dessert from Danielle Callaghan?” Adam said.
Nash almost missed the conversation. His mind wandered from the platonic acceptance the guys at the station had offered, ambling toward the party and the knowledge Ford would be there too. Warm tingles lit his belly at the thought of seeing him again.
Marc and Anna, two members of the day crew, entered then, both looking exhausted.
“It’s all yours, boys,” Anna said, unhooking her radio and passing it to Adam.
Adam thanked her and switched the battery out before attaching it to his own belt. Their shift had officially started, and it wasn’t two minutes before they were tagged with their first call.