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It started with a throwaway comment.
Robby wasn’t really even listening to the conversation. He was too busy trying to decide if his patient was sober enough to understand post-care instructions he was supposed to give her. She could barely spell her own name; the likelihood of her being able to read prednisone was slim.
“You’re not working Friday, McKay?” Dana asked from somewhere behind him. She sounded betrayed.
“No,” McKay replied, toying with the end of her stethoscope as she read the patient board. “I took it off a month ago.”
“I wish I did too,” Dana sighed. She shuffled some papers sitting on her work station. “Word on the street is there’s supposed to be some kind of protest.” She shook her head. “In 10 degree weather along Pittsburgh's busiest streets.”
McKay looked away from the board in surprise. “For what?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Dana’s eyes fluttered shut briefly, probably imagining the disaster that was to come. She opened them and leaned towards McKay. “I’m sure you have plans that are more fun than treating MVAs and hypothermia.”
McKay beamed. It made her look years younger. “Harrison’s class wrote a book,” she explained. Her eyes shone with pride. “They’re doing a little meet and greet at that library a few blocks East of here.”
Dana put a hand over her heart. “That is adorable.”
“I know, right?”
“Are you talking about the Community Library?” Whitaker leaned against the counter next to McKay. She stared at him for a second.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, looking him up and down. She was probably thinking the same thing as Robby: where the hell had he come from? “You know it?”
“Oh yeah.” Whitaker bounced on the balls of his feet. “It’s a great place. I used to spend all my days off there when I was doing my internal medicine rotation.”
Robby finally abandoned his attempts at dumbing down his post-care instructions and joined the conversation. “Really?” he asked in mild disbelief. “The library was the best spot for a twenty-something to hang out at?”
“26,” Whitaker corrected. He looked… cagey. He was normally a bleeding heart with a face that could be read as easily as a children’s book but now his expression was shuttered. It was very, very unlike him and Robby didn’t know what to make of it.
“My point still stands,” he said.
“Leave him alone.” McKay crossed her arms. “There’s no harm in being studious.” She gave Whitaker a fond look. “It’s what makes you such a good doctor.”
“Would you rather have him going out drinking like your friend in South 15?” Dana added, nodding at the room Robby’s intoxicated patient was in. He held up his hands.
“All I’m asking is what does someone do in a library all day?” Something in his gut told him to keep pushing the subject. Years in the ED meant that Robby trusted his gut more than anyone. He was scratching the surface of something and he didn’t know what.
“Read.” Whitaker’s tone was short and clipped. He didn’t sound anything like his awkward but well-meaning self. His shoulders were tense like he was preparing for a fight. “Are the labs back for my patient with vertigo?” he asked, turning away from Robby.
“Not yet, hon,” Dana answered. She raised an eyebrow at Robby and jerked her head at Whitaker. Robby sighed.
“I didn’t mean-”
“I’ll go check on Mr. Narula then.” Whitaker turned around quickly and was ducked into a room as fast as he could. The other three watched his retreat. McKay tapped her fingers on the counter awkwardly.
“Well that was weird,” she said helpfully. She turned around slowly. “I have… patients.”
“Show me pictures of Harrison,” Dana called after her. “If he becomes a famous author, he better remember us all.”
McKay began walking backwards. “His little book is about hotdogs and hamburgers fighting each other,” she said, clasping her hands together. She expertly avoided a wheelchair. “Isn’t that so cute?”
Robby barely heard their conversation. He was too busy staring at the room Whitaker had disappeared into. Something wasn’t right. Spending whole days in a library wasn’t necessarily a cause for alarm, even if it was kind of strange. Whitaker’s reaction was. Robby couldn’t ignore the feeling that he needed to stay on whatever this was. Whitaker had a big secret, he was almost certain of it.
“You’re thinking something,” Dana noted, appearing by his side.
“I usually am.”
“Oh, he’s got jokes today.” She looked over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “You know, I’ve heard a few unhoused patients talking about shacking up at that library.” She shrugged. “It has HVAC, it’s clean, and you can even learn something.”
Robby frowned. Why was she telling him this? “Do you think-”
“Don’t push him too hard on this though,” she warned. Years of working together meant they could basically read each other’s thoughts. “He’s like-’ She waved a hand around. “- a bird. He’ll fly away at the first sign of danger.”
“And what am I?” Robby couldn’t help asking. Dana gave him a wry smile and hit him in the chest with her stack of papers.
“A bear that claws birds out of the sky,” she answered without so much as a stutter. “Or some other animal that eats birds. I don’t fucking know.”
A shrill scream rang through the ED followed by panicked shouting from Dr. King. Robby closed his eyes. The commotion sounded like it was coming from Trauma 2. Great. He straightened. Whatever was going on with Whitaker would have to wait.
“Go,” Dana told him, pointing with a pencil. “I’ll have Princess deliver those instructions.”
Robby jogged away, waving a hand behind him. There should be a statue built in Dana’s honor. Or at the very least, she deserved some kind of award. A surgeon’s salary might be good. Or maybe a lifetime supply of cigarettes. The screaming had turned to weak moans of pain by the time he reached Trauma 2 thanks to the ketamine flowing through the patient’s veins. “Alright.” Robby clapped his newly gloved hands together. “What do we have here?”
The next time Robby noticed something strange about Whitaker was about an hour later. Robby was rifling through the fridge in the break room, looking for the Uncrustable he’d stored there last week. It was probably soggy but with the amount of preservatives in those things, it would likely still be good enough to eat. There was a reason he wasn’t a nutritionist.
Princess and Perlah walked in on him arm-deep in the freezer. They snickered before setting their own neatly packed lunches on the table. Show offs.
“Ladies,” he greeted, shaking ice shavings off his hand. “Princess, did you get those post-care instructions to my patient in South 15?”
“The blacked out girl with hives?” Princess asked. She popped open a Tupperware container and the smell of something delicious filled the break room. “Yeah. She had me leave a voice memo on her phone so she remembers everything I told her when she sobers up.”
“Excellent.” He hadn’t thought of doing that before. “If only more of our intoxicated patients were as good at planning.”
“If only,” Perlah muttered. She’d had two drunk patients and they’d somehow found each other in the busy ED. Their screaming match had been a lovely addition to the usual soundtrack of machines beeping and people crying.
“Are you looking for something, Dr. Robby?” Princess asked, nodding at the open freezer door. Robby shut it quickly. The last thing they needed was a busted fridge. It would be what would finally push the nurses into going on strike. He would probably join them.
“Just my sandwich.”
Princess nudged Perlah. “Maybe Whitaker took it,” she said in a stage whisper. Robby perked up. He’d almost forgotten about his Whitaker related concerns.
“Why Whitaker?”
Perlah said something in Tagalog that sounded a lot like chiding. The hand gestures got the message across the language barrier. Princess rolled her eyes and replied in the same language. They had a bit more back and forth before Princess switched back to English. “Haven’t you noticed how he stockpiles food?”
“Princess,” Perlah scolded.
“What? It’s true.” Princess pointed at the counter. “Remember when we got those Subway sandwiches? I saw him walking out of here with like five. And don’t even get me started on the food cart.” She smiled mischievously. “He must be a growing boy.”
Perlah covered her mouth to disguise her laugh. That gut feeling came back. Robby leaned against the fridge and crossed his arms. “So he hoards food?”
The girls noticed his serious tone and sobered immediately. “He doesn’t do it as much anymore,” Princess explained quickly. “It’s not an issue or anything.”
“Nice going,” Perlah said under her breath. “You got him in trouble and it’s not even noon.”
“No one’s in trouble,” Robby promised. He looked out the break room window and saw Whitaker and Mel walking together, their heads bent over a clipboard. Robby was a doctor. Pattern recognition was basically second nature. He knew the criteria backwards and forwards and knew how to evaluate if someone was meeting that criteria. Whitaker was checking off a few boxes of a particularly worrying criteria. But he wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions, especially conclusions that had no place in the ED. Whitaker’s personal life was just that: personal.
Except Robby couldn’t seem to leave his worries at the door. Instead of seeing the labs Whitaker was showing him, all he saw how skinny his wrists were. Instead of listening in on Whitaker calling a patient’s parents, all he could do was stare at his cracked and battered phone. Memories of Whitaker’s complaints about student loans came flooding back. Robby decided to get more information before he drove himself crazy with half-formed theories.
“Dr. Santos,” he called. He fell in step with her and glanced at the chart in her hands. “How’s your anemic patient?”
“Resting.” She seemed distracted and a bit irritated that the attending was on her case.
“Do you think that’s something she can do at home?”
Santos pointed at the clipboard. “She needs another blood test before I can discharge her.”
Robby made a keep-going gesture. “So give her a blood test.”
Dr. Santos sighed. “She’s exhausted,” she insisted. “She’d been working an eight hour shift when she fainted. I want to let her relax before I stick her with another needle”.
“We need the bed.” Robby held Santos’s gaze before sighing in defeat. He was an asshole but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. “Let her sleep for another 20 minutes before giving her that blood test.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, and write her a note excusing her from work tomorrow. That oughta get her caught up on sleep.”
Dr. Santos nodded. “Will do.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” He crossed his arms, trying to think of a way to ask this question without sounding insane. “How’s rooming with Whitaker?”
Santos narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she said slowly, her sharp eyes picking him apart.
“You know that if you two get into a romantic relationship, HR has to be notified-”
“Ew,” Santos interrupted. She looked at Robby like he’d just suggested she jump into traffic. “Never going to happen.” Her lips curled in disgust. “I’d rather kill myself. Seriously.” She shook her head. “I’d never date a guy who takes that long in the shower.”
Robby shut his eyes to get the image of Whitaker showering out of his head. He shifted his weight to look more casual. “Do you know where he lived before he moved in with you?” He ran his finger along his badge as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
It was like a light switch had been flipped. Santos’s face shuttered in the same way Whitaker’s had when Robby had pushed him earlier. “No,” she said, avoiding eye contact. Her jaw was set. “I don’t.” She spared a quick glance. “Why?”
Robby shrugged. “No reason.”
“Dr. Robby!” someone called from somewhere down the hall.
“That’s my cue,” he said. He pointed at Santos. “20 minutes.”
She gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”
So Santos knew. She knew something but she clearly had no intentions. Robby found who had been calling his name and tried to listen to the presentation. Oh, he wasn’t getting out of there anytime soon. Bare feet plus a pressure washer equaled a long and invasive treatment. Maybe next time Mr. Willis would leave sidewalk cleaning to the professionals. Or at least wear a pair of Crocs.
A few hours later, Robby was back at the nurse’s station. He leaned over and put his forehead on the cool surface of the counter. Dana walked by and absentmindedly patted his back.
“Last hour,” she reminded him.
He straightened and rubbed his face. “If we’re lucky.” He was getting way too old for this. There was no reason for someone his age to be spending 12 hours on their feet. That was a job reserved for people who didn’t know what a dial-up was. “Anything good?” he asked, nodding at the pile of envelopes in Dana’s hands.
“Someone threw in a copy of Surgical Tech Weekly,” she said dryly, holding up a magazine with a ten blade on the cover.
“At least someone cares about us.”
Dana snorted and continued sorting through the mail. She stopped and frowned at an unassuming white envelope. “That’s odd.” She scanned the ED, which was miraculously calm. Things were winding down, well as much as they could wind down for the Pitt. “Whitaker,” she called, jerking her head. He stopped in his tracks like he’d been caught in the middle of a crime and walked over.
“What’s up?”
She handed him the envelope. “You’ve got mail.”
He frowned and a crease appeared in between his eyebrows. Robby wanted to smooth it out. Whitaker opened the letter and skimmed it. Red bloomed across his face. “It’s my W-2.”
“What?” Dana put her hands on her hips. “That’s supposed to go to your home address.”
“I know.” Whitaker rubbed the back of his neck. “When I filled out my info, I didn’t have—it-it must’ve gotten mixed up.” His face had gone from red to pale in record time. “Sorry.”
She pointed at him warningly. “You better fix that when you get home.” She had little patience for paperwork errors.
“Yeah. I will. Sorry again.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll just-” He gestured behind him. “Yeah.” He stumbled away, clutching the envelope to his chest. Dana threw up her hands.
“How the hell do you get that mixed up?” She picked the rest of the mail back up. “If he can make it through med school, why can’t he fill out a form right?”
Robby hadn’t missed Whitaker’s near slip up. I didn’t have... It didn’t take a genius to finish that sentence. Whitaker hadn’t had a home address when he filled out his payroll information. Like Dana said, he was smart. He’d found a way to confuse whatever overworked HR person processing his paperwork and reroute all his paperwork to the hospital. He must’ve forgotten to update the form after moving in with Santos.
“I’m gonna talk to him,” Robby said, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“Not before helping Dr. Mohan.” Dana licked her finger and began sorting through the mail again. “She was asking for you. Her patient’s rash isn’t responding to treatment.”
Robby sighed. The Whitaker situation would have to wait then. He just hoped the rash wasn’t infectious. The hospital gloves were great but disease could always find a way to get through the barrier. “My money’s on impetigo,” he said. Dana shook her head.
“With our luck it’s MRSA.”
“Don’t even invoke its name.”
It was impetigo. The patient was naturally intolerant to steroids so Robby had Dr. Mohan pull out the big guns. Skin irritation was a small price to pay from keeping the hospital safe from pus-filled sores. Robby washed his hands three times afterwards and instructed Dr. Mohan to do the same.
Their shift was over by the time Robby had a chance to talk to Whitaker. He found him hovering outside of Central 11, reading the patient’s chart. Based on the symptoms, it sounded like a nasty respiratory infection, maybe bronchitis.
“If I’m not mistaken, Dr. Whitaker,” Robby said, pulling on his jacket. “You’re off for the night.”
Whitaker jumped before visibly calming himself. It didn’t seem to work based on the way his fingers were nervously fiddling with his badge. He had surgeon hands with long nimble fingers that could probably put a stitch in a capillary. “Yeah, I am.”
“Then what are you still doing here?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Trin—I mean Dr. Santos is catching up on her charting and she’s my ride.” He gestured at the chart. “I thought I’d make myself useful.”
“The night shift’s got this,” Robby promised. He caught sight of Abbot pulling on a pair of gloves and laughing at something a patient said. There was no one else in the world Robby trusted to run the ED during his time off. “Why don’t we get some air?”
Whitaker tensed. He was smart, too smart to not know where this was going. But he was also brave. He gave a short nod and followed Robby out the double doors. The night was cold but the city was alive all around them. Robby said a silent prayer that the sirens he heard in the distance were heading anywhere but the Pitt. It was probably an evil thought to have but Robby never claimed to be a saint. “How was the shift?”
Whitaker’s eyes darted back and forth, scanning every inch of Robby’s face. “Fine.”
“Good.” Robby rubbed his beard, trying to find a way to start this conversation. He had to ease his way into this. “Everything going ok living with Dr. Santos?”
“Yeah.” Whitaker was leaning away, like he was getting ready to break into a sprint at a moment’s notice. “She’s great.” His blue gray eyes were filled with apprehension. Dana’s comparison to a flighty bird didn’t seem too far off.
“Where did you live before?” Robby was surprised to find anxiety in his own chest. He already knew the answer but was scared to hear it out loud, which was ridiculous. Whitaker was his employee. It wasn’t like he should care about his personal issues. They never affected his work. That was all that mattered. But Robby did care. He couldn’t help caring about Whitaker because Whitaker cared about everyone. He cared so much it destroyed him at times. It wasn’t fair that no one was doing the same for him.
“Close by,” he said, averting his gaze.
“Oh yeah?” Robby asked, trying to keep his tone casual. “Where?”
A flash of anger crossed Whitaker’s face. “Does it matter?”
Robby exhaled slowly. There was no dancing around the subject anymore. “It does when I have reason to believe you were unhoused.”
Whitaker stepped back like he’d been slapped. “Why-why would you think that?” he asked in a shaky voice.
Robby shrugged. “Come on,” he said softly. “Extended time in the library, food hoarding, the whole W-2 thing.”
“That was a paperwork error,” Whitaker insisted hotly. “And everything else doesn’t mean that I was-“ He looked around before lowering his voice. “-homeless.”
Robby smiled sadly. He should’ve known this wasn’t going to be easy. Patients almost never responded well to this kind of conversation; why should Whitaker? “You can talk to me, Dennis.”
“Don’t fucking do that. Don’t-“ Whitaker took a steadying breath. “I’m fine, Dr. Robby. Thanks for the concern.”
“You’re not in trouble.” Robby held out his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to help.”
“There’s nothing to help,” Whitaker snapped. “You know I live with Santos. You know I deliver high quality work every shift. I’ve had no write-ups, I’ve never been late. I don’t see what the issue is.”
Robby had never seen Whitaker so worked up. Sure, he was anxious as the day was long but never angry. Robby was playing with fire here. “I’m the attending,” he said carefully. “Which means it is my job to ensure the well being of all my staff.”
“I have a home now. That’s all that should matter to my boss.”
“Fine. I’m asking as a friend: were you homeless?”
The question echoed in the frigid night. A dozen emotions cycled through Whitaker’s eyes: fear, shame, betrayal. He seemed hurt that Robby would bring up what he thought was best left unsaid. Then the walls behind his eyes began to crack. He gave a defeated sigh and looked at the pavement.
“It was only for a little bit.”
Robby exhaled slowly. He shoved his hands in his pockets just to stall for another moment. The cold outside was barely noticeable anymore. Whitaker was watching him warily. His coat collar was pulled up, like he was trying to hide in it.
“Why didn’t you ask anyone for help?” Robby asked as softly as he could. He was no stranger to speaking with unhoused people but when it was his own student doctor struggling, it hurt. It hurt that Whitaker dealt with this all alone. It hurt that Robby wasn’t there to save him. That wasn’t his job, Robby reminded himself. Whitaker was a big boy who could handle himself. Robby wouldn’t let himself get all tangled up in matters that were best left outside of the ED. Whitaker’s next words made it hard to keep to his word.
“I didn’t want to take away anything from people who actually need it.” Whitaker swallowed hard. His head was hung like he was a kid receiving the lecture of a lifetime. What was Robby going to do with him?
“Dennis,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue easier than he thought it would, easier than it should. “Those resources are there for people like you.”
“I’m fine now, Dr. Robby,” Whitaker said quickly. “I live with Trinity. She has a car. I get to work ok.” He was rushing his words now, like he was in the last 10 seconds of a debate that he desperately wanted to win. “You don’t need to worry about me or-or tell anyone.” He looked up nervously. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
“No.” Gossip was an inevitable part of the job but Robby would make sure Whitaker’s former situation would stay confidential. “Of course not.”
“Ok.” Whitaker’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “Good. Thank you.”
Robby put his hands on his hips. Part of “do no harm” meant preventing harm in the future. It was the reason he’d made sure his patient with the hives had gotten her post-care instructions. It didn’t do anything good if a patient ended up right back up in the ED because they didn’t know how to help themselves moving forward. Whitaker wasn’t his patient but the same principle applied. Robby had to find a way to guarantee he would always have a home.
“I’m going to have you talk to Kiara,” he said. He put a hand up before Whitaker could protest. “She has some great resources, they’re all free, and she’s legally sworn to secrecy.”
“I don’t need-”
“Just do it for me, ok?”
Whitaker’s lips were pressed into a hard line. Robby probably shouldn’t have been looking at them in the first place. “I told you I'm fine now,” Whitaker insisted. “I have some savings put aside now and like I said, Trin’s been letting me crash.” He looked over his shoulder like he was expecting the entire crew to be behind them eavesdropping. “It was just a rough patch,” he explained quietly. “I didn’t grow up with a lot. My parents’ farm has been barely holding on for years.” He took a deep breath. “I knew getting through med school would be hard, I just didn’t think it would be that… hard.”
Robby thought back to his med school days, about a century ago. He’d been lucky enough to have a fair share of scholarships but he could distinctly remember looking at a letter from the tuition office and the accompanying feeling of dread. The system wasn’t exactly kind to those who just wanted to save lives and Whitaker was proof of that. “Where were you living?” Robby asked. He had a feeling that this time he’d get a clear answer.
“Here,” Whitaker mumbled, staring at his feet.
“Here where?”
“The hospital.” Whitaker gestured vaguely at the upper floors of the PTMC. “There’s some empty rooms that don’t get used.’
Robby’s heart sank. “For how long.”
Whitaker shrugged. “A month or so.”
A month. A whole month (probably more) of a stale room with flickering lights, hearing machines and people screaming from downstairs 24/7, and constant fear of being caught. “That must’ve been scary,” Robby said, fighting to keep his voice steady.
“Not really. Just-” Whitaker cleared his throat. “Just lonely.” He looked up. “But it never affected my work ethic. You can ask my attending from IM.”
“Oh, fuck your work ethic,” Robby said before he could stop himself. “I already know you’re great at everything you do.”
Whitaker looked taken aback. “Thanks?”
“None of that matters if you’re not taking care of yourself.” He put both hands on Whitaker’s shoulder and leaned down so they could look each other in the eye. Whitaker’s shoulders were tight under his palms. “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” They stared at each other for a moment, their breaths fogging up in the cold. It was quiet in a way that had nothing to do with them outside. Robby felt… calm. He didn’t pretend to understand the psycho-bullshit the hospital therapists tried to preach but he knew whatever this was probably fell somewhere under the grounding exercises umbrella. The simple touch cut through all the noise in Robby’s head. It was nice. He realized he’d been in this position for too long and gave Whitaker a shake for extra measure. “Talk to Kiara. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Whitaker’s eyes looked a bit shiny but he quickly blinked that away and nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Robby,” he said quietly.
Robby patted his shoulders before finally releasing him. “You’ll be alright, kid,” he promised. God, he hoped he was telling the truth. He would make sure that he was. The door behind them opened and Santos walked out in her coat and backpack. Her dark eyes went back and forth between them a few times before she fixed her gaze on Whitaker. “Ready to go, Huckleberry?”
“Uh yeah.” Whitaker wiped at his eyes quickly. He looked at Robby and opened his mouth to say something before shutting it. “Let’s get out of here.”
“See you tomorrow, boss,” Santos called as Whitaker joined her side. Robby gave her a halfhearted wave. He watched the two of them walk away, their heads ducked together as they battled the Pittsburgh winter. Santos looked over her shoulder and gave Robby a look: I’ve got him. Robby nodded at her gratefully. He really was their Huckleberry.
Robby took a few steps back and leaned his head up against the brick wall of the Pitt. He felt better than he had before but not by much. He knew everyone on his team had baggage. No well adjusted person went into emergency medicine. But he’d always been firm about leaving it at the door. Patients didn’t need doctors carrying emotional weights, they needed someone strong enough for the both of them. It was still hard though. Every day at the ED was like adding another gallon of gasoline on the end of an ever burning fuse. Today was no different. Whitaker was the best of them though. He was honest and competent and so compassionate it was ridiculous. It seemed like a great injustice that his reward for being an amazing person was a mountain of student loans that left him homeless.
Robby was getting too invested. The lines between professional responsibility and personal fondness were getting too blurred for his comfort. They always did when it came to Whitaker. It simply couldn’t be helped. The door opened again as Robby was blowing air in his hands to warm them.
“Jesus Christ,” Dana exclaimed. She was shivering already. “What are you still doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.” Robby nodded at the ED. “You finally let night staff take over?”
“I’m not the one who's been standing out here like a goddamn penguin photographer.” Dana adjusted her scarf so it covered her face better. “And yeah. I just had a few things to discuss with the charge nurse.”
“I know her new baby is cute but if you keep letting her show you pictures, you’ll never make it out on time.”
Dana snorted. “When do I ever?” She stood next to Robby and hugged herself. “How’d it go with Whitaker?”
“Well, I didn’t claw him out of the sky,” Robby replied, giving her a wry smile.
“Maybe you aren’t a bear after all.” She smiled. “Maybe you’re like one of those hippos that let birds ride on their back.”
Robby raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Dana threw up her hands. “I don’t know, Robinavitch. I just got off a 12 hour shift.”
“Go home.” Robby nodded at the parking lot. “Draw up a bath. Eat a bowl of chilli.”
“That an order, Cap?” Dana asked, bumping him with her hip. Her face sobered a bit. “But the talk went ok?”
“Yeah.” Robby stared in the direction Whitaker and Santos had gone. “I let him know we’re on his side.”
Dana nodded. “Not much else you can do.” She shivered again and looked at her watch. “I’m going home.” She gave him a stern look. “I suggest you do the same. I doubt you want Abbot treating your frostbite.”
They said goodbye and walked in separate directions. A bath and a bowl of something warm didn’t sound too bad. He hoped Whitaker could get the same. Dana was right though. Robby had done what he could. It was up to Whitaker to ask for help when he needed it. It drove Robby kind of insane though. The control freak in him wanted to wrap Whitaker in bubble wrap and keep him in his sights at all times. Robby sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He’d think of something better eventually. Maybe Whitaker could stay at his place. He laughed at the thought.