Page 13 of Property of Doc

I chuckle because that sounds like something Pokey would say. He never had an ol’ lady or a wife; his life has been the club. “Yeah, I get that and can hear him saying that exact thing,” I say. “You said he’s told you he doesn’t have much time?”

“Naw, he’s got maybe a few weeks at best. They implanted a pain pump to manage his pain, and he’s got some other medication that I’ve been taught to give him if he has any breakthrough pain,” Rio replies.

“Brother,” I whisper. “That’s a lot to handle. See if he’s willing to let me take that off your hands. You can remind him that it’ll remain confidential because of HIPAA.”

“You’ve got your own hands full, Doc,” he reminds me. “Running the clinic, overseeing the people we rescued as they detox, and whoever gets hurt or sick around here.”

I shrug, used to being busy. Sleep is a bit overrated sometimes, but right now, with Gretchen’s sleep schedule all messed up as she detoxes, if nothing else, I can use that time to check on Pokey and make sure he’s as comfortable as possible.

“Fuck cancer,” I grumble. “He may not be the friendliest brother, but he’s always been solid ever since I joined the club. And he might be older, but he’s always managed to get his hands on the latest gadgets.”

“Because the Kings is his life,” Rio replies. “There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for any of his brothers and it’s driving me nuts that he won’t let us return the favor. The only reason I got involved is because he wanted the club attorney to handle all his paperwork and he didn’t have his number handy. Speaking of, I think all the brothers should probably make sure their paperwork is in order, especially since so many of us have taken on ol’ ladies.”

“Good point, we need to bring it up in church,” I say. “Okay, let me know what Pokey says, prez.”

“Will do.”

It’s late when I finally make it back to the clubhouse. Rio texted me earlier to let me know that Pokey is begrudgingly allowing me to take care of him, so I reached out to his oncologist and spent some time going over what treatments I can offer if the pain pushes through his pump medications. Before I go insearch of my woman, I head up to Pokey’s room, my bag in hand. After lightly knocking, I let myself in and see him lying on his bed, the remote in his hand.

“Brother,” he says, acknowledging me. “Not a fucking word to the brothers,” he rumbles, his voice hoarse from the drugs that course through his body.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” I reply, setting the bag down to pull out my stethoscope. After I put on a pair of gloves, I quickly check his vitals more for my own sake than anything. “There are rules in place that protect a patient’s privacy, Pokey.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I know you’ve told us about other brothers who’ve been hurt, Doc,” he retorts.

“When I wasn’t actively involved in their case, yes I did,” I tell him. “Now, no bullshitting me, old man, tell me how you feel right now. Any nausea? Breakthrough pain? Are you hungry?”

“Haven’t felt like eating much these past few days,” he admits. “Been sleeping more, too.”

“What about fluids? You still drinking enough?” Fuck, this man used to start his day with coffee and end it with a fifth of whiskey, so it’s doubtful he willingly drinks something as basic as water, but I gotta try.

He snorts out a laugh that quickly turns into a wracking cough. “Lost my taste for anything like that yesterday,” he finally says once he’s done. “Thinking it’s close to my time on this earth to end, Doc.”

“Knowing you, you’ve researched the shit out of everything,” I say.

“Yeah, of course I fucking did,” he snarls. “And if I’m right, I’m in what they call the transitioning stage, or close to it. Next, I’ll lapse into an unconscious state and then it’ll be lights out for me.”

Fuck. Me.

There are times when being a doctor is more of a curse than a blessing and this is one of those times as far as I’m concerned. The fact that he has no appetite and is almost dehydrated tells me that his organs are starting to shut down.

“Pokey, you sure you don’t wanna let the brothers know?” I ask.

“So they can all traipse around with long faces? Fuck no,” he growls out. “I’ve had a good life, Doc. Had my bike, my brothers, and my club. Might’ve been good if I had found a woman to share it with, but after being tricked a few times, I decided it wasn’t in my cards. The brothers might get pissed, but I’d rather them not know until after it happens.”

“Fine, fine, you’re the boss, Pokey,” I reply. I briefly debate whether or not I should hang a bag of IV fluids, using his port for access, but if his organs are shutting down, it’ll just cause toxins to back up and why the hell should he have to deal with sepsis when he’s literally on his death bed? Decision made, I take off my gloves and toss them, then ask, “Do you need anything?”

“Naw, Doc, I’m good. Appreciate you taking this from Rio. He’s a helluva president and Paps would be proud.”

“Yeah, he would be.”

Laughter spilling out of the kitchen has me redirecting my steps to where I hear my woman’s voice. “What do you think?” she asks as I walk through the door.

She’s looking at Livy, who has just bitten into what I now know is a cake pop. “This is good,” Livy replies before she takes another bite. “And they’re not hard to make?”

“No, you just need a little bit of practice,” Gretchen says. Seeing me, her face lights up in a big smile as I make my way to her side. I lean down and brush my lips across hers, biting back my own grin when I hear a small moan of protest after I pull back.

“Are you giving my job to someone else?” I tease, while winking at Livy who giggles.