Right behind him, not that the man was aware of it, Doc Jane was also peering over his shoulder at the black-and-white pictures—in full ghost mode.
The more eyes, the better.
“What do you see?” Manny demanded.
To his credit, the neurologist didn’t spin back around until he was good and ready—and he addressed John when he finally faced the crowd.
“There’s nothing abnormal in there that I can see.”
Cue the collective sigh of relief. And the first thing John did was grab Xhex’s tight body and haul her in close, the world obviously disappearing for them both.
As Beth watched them, she knew she should be focused on the good news. Instead, all she could think of was how she was not only alone while she waited to hear whether her brother had some kind of embolism or tumor or heaven only knew what horror in his brain—but there was a big-ass metaphorical pink elephant between her and her husband that was not going to go away anytime soon.
Pink. As in baby-girl color.
Or maybe not. Maybe it was pale blue.
“All of the brain structure is normal…”
The doctor launched into a whole lot of physician-speak that luckily meant something to Manny, given the nodding. But the lovebirds ignored all that, and their self-absorption was actually a beautiful thing to see.
At least until tears of relief mixed with tears of sadness, and everything went wavy for Beth.
Time to excuse herself.
Murmuring something about making a phone call, she ducked out into the hall. The imaging facility was isolated in the basement of one of the many St. Francis buildings, and outside of it, there was a whole lot of nothing going on: no patients in transport, no carts of supplies rolling by, no staff rushing around in soft-soled shoes.
Putting her head into her hands, she eased her butt against the wall and slid down to the floor. Thank God John seemed okay. So at least one part of her family was all right—
I need you to hear this and know that it’s the God’s honest. I will not service you in your needing. Ever …
Shit, she thought as she rubbed her eyes. Now she had to go back home and deal with all that.
A little while later, the group emerged from command central, and she shimmied to her feet, trying not to look anything other than relieved at John’s scan.
The neurologist was staring at a check in his hands and shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Manello. Did you win the lottery?”
Kinda. Thanks to Darius’s investments, fifty grand to the neurology department as a donation was no BFD.
And to think, all the white coat had had to do was shove her brother into his pinging machine for about a half hour.
“I’m just grateful you got us in,” Manello murmured.
The doctor turned to John as he folded the check and put it in his pocket. “So, yeah, I still recommend the anti-seizure meds, but if you’re dead-set against them, the only thing I can tell you is, try to keep track of the whens and wheres. See if there’s a pattern—maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. And know that I’m here if you need me. Remember what I said, though—just because I can’t see anything doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods. The episodes are happening because there’s something wrong. Period.”
“Thanks, man.” Manello put out his hand. “You’re the best.”
The former colleagues clapped palms. “Anytime—and I mean that. And … you know, if you ever want to come back, they’d take you in a heartbeat. You’re missed here.”
Manny’s eyes shifted over to Payne, and the secret smile that hit his lips was another source of awwww.
“Nah. I’ve got it good now, but thanks.”
Chatter. Chatter. Good ol’ days. Bye. Thanks again.
And then the vampire contingency split off once again from the human one, Manny leading them out through a maze of bare tiled corridors that looked exactly the same—to the point where she began to become convinced they were lost. Wrong. Either their man in front had a compass implanted in his frontal lobe or he remembered well his decade working in the place—because eventually they hit ground level and went out the revolving doors they’d entered.
Fritz was waiting by the curb, that huge black-on-black Mercedes looking like it belonged to a diplomat. Which was another reason the car was so useful: People tended to err on the side of not screwing with it, like its inhabitants were really important or heavily armed. Fritz got more wave-throughs at stop signs and parking garages than she’d ever seen. Then again, he drove in the exact opposite way he moved.
The elderly butler didn’t have a lead foot. The damn thing was made out of tungsten—
Let’s go back now? John signed in front of her face—like maybe he’d been trying to get her attention.