"Three."
"In the morning? What the hell, Brian? I need sleep."
"Myrna's in labor."
Trey's heart twisted unpleasantly. "She's not due for … "
"Two weeks. I know. It's the real deal though. She's already at the hospital." Brian grabbed Trey's arm and jerked him out of his bunk to the floor. "Hurry up. I will not miss the birth of my first child."
"I don't understand why I have to go," Trey said.
Brian looked a little hurt and Trey immediately wanted to take that comment back.
"You have to go because I need you there," Brian said.
"Fine. I'll go. Whatever," Trey said as if his heart wasn't singing with delight. Brian needed him? There was a first time for everything, he supposed.
Trey rearranged his boxer shorts and located his jeans on the floor next to their new soundboard operator's empty bunk. Rebekah's bunk didn't get much use. She and the band's drummer, Eric Sticks, spent most nights in the back bedroom claiming they were still on their honeymoon. Seven months of honeymooning was a bit much by anyone's standards. Even Trey's. Trey hopped into his pants, tugged a T-shirt over his head, and began his search for a spare sock.
Brian chuckled at him when he tossed his ruined sock in the garbage. "That must've been some dream. What was it about?"
Trey raked a hand through his long bangs. "These three really hot chicks," he lied without missing a beat. "I had three cocks and each of them was sucking one."
Brian quirked an eyebrow at him and Trey's heart skipped a beat. The man was so fucking gorgeous, it was a sin. "Weird."
But not as weird as having homoerotic dreams about your best friend. Your married best friend who was about to become a father.
"Did you get plane tickets already?" Trey asked.
"Your brother's jet is meeting us at the airstrip. It's already on its way. Should be landing by the time we get there."
"So Dare's coming with?"
"Nope. Just you and me."
Alone on a private jet. Trey was pretty sure they wouldn't be initiating each other into the mile high club. Bummer.
By the time they reached the hospital four hours later, Brian was in a panic. When Trey hesitated on the threshold of Myrna's delivery and recovery room, Brian grabbed his arm and hauled him inside.
"I didn't miss it, did I?" Brian asked the doctor who was between Myrna's legs with his bloody surgical gloves trying to ease a black-haired head out of something Trey wished he had never ever seen. Oh fuck. That had to hurt.
Trey's eyelids fluttered, the floor disappeared from beneath him, and everything went black.
The squall of a baby and the declaration, "It's a boy!" flittered around Trey's semiconscious mind. That and some strange ammonia smell just beneath his nose.
"Come on, gorgeous," a soft feminine voice said nearby. "Open your eyes for me. The messy part is all over now."
Trey regained full consciousness with a sudden intake of breath. He instinctively knocked the offensive smelling salts from beneath his nose and sat up.
"There, he's back with us," someone said from the opposite side of the room. The doctor maybe? Trey couldn't get his eyes to focus.
"Did I pass out?" Trey asked.
"Out like a light, buddy," Brian said from beside Myrna's bed. He chuckled much too gleefully.
"You cannot tell anyone about this," Trey said, struggling to climb to his feet. He leaned his back against a wall to steady himself. He hated hospitals. He'd spent far too many hours in them as a child, including one entire summer when his father had been serving his residency and his mother had decided to ride a bicycle across the country. Just the smell of a hospital made his skin crawl.
"Yeah right," Brian said. "I'm having T-shirts made. I wanted to wait to cut the cord, but you refused to wake up in time to watch."
Trey's stomach did a summersault. Cut the cord? Yuck. "Sorry I missed it." Not.
"That's okay. I got it on film."
"Great … " Trey ducked his head to hide his crinkled nose.
A stunning brunette dressed in pink scrubs bent down to enter Trey's field of vision. She stroked his hair out of his face. The slim brows over her striking blue eyes drew together in concern. "Feeling better now?"
He grinned at her and she flushed. "I think I'll live," he said.
Her hand slid to the back of his head. "You bumped your head." Her fingers found the scar that ran beneath his hair in a wide arch over his left ear. She traced the ridge with her index finger. "What's this?"