-1Chapter 12

Briana woke in the middle of the night, not sure what time it was. It was as if someone was sitting on her chest and she couldn't breathe. It hurt.

No, she thought. It's just an anxiety thing. Just breathe deep and then try to go back to sleep.

But no matter how hard she tried, the pain just wouldn't go away this time. Afraid and tearful, Briana dialed 911, hoping she wasn't overreacting.

5:17 AM:

"This fucking building better be burning down or someone's bleeding to death," Brian growled when his phone rang.

Flipping it open, he snapped. "Your fifty cents, make it good."

His tone changed when the caller informed him what was happening. He bolted upright from the bed at the mention of Briana's name.

Fucking hell! No, not his Bree!

"What?! Is she okay? When did they bring her in? Yeah, sure, I can be there in about twenty minutes."

Brian tore out of bed and threw on the first clothes he saw, not noticing what he wore, and then grabbed his car keys, tearing out of the apartment.

Luckily, traffic wasn't heavy yet; rush hour wouldn't be for another couple of hours, and he was able to speed through town while mentally crossing his fingers at the same time that he wouldn't be stopped for a ticket.

He dialed Paul's number, and as figured, the jackass wasn't awake yet. Brian left a voice mail that something had happened to Briana and he would be at the hospital with her for as long as she needed him, and with that, they would have to cancel their plans for that day.

Paul would probably have a shit fit, but at this point, Brian didn't care. Bree needed him, and she was more important right now. It wasn't quite the way he'd envisioned making up for missing her birthday date the night before, but this would have to do–at least for now.

Meanwhile:

"Ms. Ford?" a doctor asked.

Briana was groggy from the medication and oxygen she had been given, taking a few moments to remember where she was. "Yes?"

"So far, your tests have come back fine, but I want to keep you for observation for a day or two just to make sure you're all right. You could have had what is called an arterial spasm, but I want cardiology to do a further work up on you. Simply routine."

"Sure…" She was totally out of it.

"They'll be taking you upstairs in a few minutes, and someone's on their way to see you."

"Okay…." Briana only wanted to go back to sleep and wished he'd just shut up and go away already.

Several minutes had passed by before she woke again, sensing another presence in the room. A man leaning down over her; a familiar face.

"Briana?" it asked softly. "Sweetheart? You okay?"

"Gary," she slurred. "You finally came back."

Brian was taken aback by her statement, shaking his head in confusion and left the room as the nurses came in to take her upstairs.

How in God's name would she think he was her late husband?

Later that morning:

"I don't even know why the hell I'm still here," Brian sighed, "especially after what happened in the ER earlier this morning when I came in."

"Man, they gave her some strong stuff," Zeke reassured him. "She was probably drugged out of her skull and thought she was dreaming of the guy. I'm sure it was nothing personal."

"Dude, she called me by her husband's name. The guy has been dead for two freaking years."

"Like you didn't have moments of being zonked when someone gave you morphine or some shit like that. Come on, man, cut the lady a break. I'm sure when they bring her back from that stress test this morning, Bree will be fine and happy as a pig in shit to see you."

"You got a way with words, Zeke."

"I'm just saying. And I'll bet any money she doesn't even remember what went down in that ER. She'd probably think you were ready for the hoo hoo hotel if you'd much as mentioned it to her."

"Hell, maybe I am; who the fuck knows? One would think I'd be used to people picking someone else over me anyway, even if it is a dead guy."

Zeke gave him an odd look. "My man, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you had something more for this lady than just her being paid for fooling with that mop on your head."

"Perhaps."

"Look, it's clearly obvious that you care about her to some degree; otherwise, your ass wouldn't have been sitting here since six this morning, even after she called you by some dead guy's name because she was all doped up. Fess up, bro. It's written all over you."

"Maybe."

"Maybe my ass. I think either when Bree is back on her feet or when you both get some down time, it's time for a serious talk. She isn't going to be around forever, man. Grab the opportunity while it presents itself."