“Buddy.” Debbie’s voice was quiet, but he heard and turned. She hugged him tightly. “Thank you, darling,” she said softly. “When it counts, you’re the best.”

He grinned and patted her awkwardly and, for one silver second, thought of trading in his computers for someone like her. But reality reared, and he quickly dumped the thought and walked away. The only relationship he wanted was with a floppy disk and a good trade magazine. And when he felt the need, he could always eat a chocolate bar.

Debbie turned. Her attention focused completely on the tall man sitting alone against the wall, staring down at the floor. The dark stains on his clothing made her shudder. She knew what happened had been bad. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but she quickly ignored them. He didn’t need tears. He needed to be held.

Cole stared blankly at the thread of green marble running through the off-white floor tiles and wondered whose job it was to put in the color. It was an inane thought, but it kept him from thinking about the fact that his friend and partner was in surgery, fighting for his life while his wife sobbed quietly in the opposite corner of the room, waiting to see if today she became a widow.

The ache inside him was blooming. He could feel it spreading in a cold, frosty path throughout his body. If he gave it its head, it would encompass him. He couldn’t close his eyes. If he did, he kept seeing an instant replay of Rick going down, then of what had happened afterward. The two scenes flashed back and forth, caught forever in his memory in horrible perfection. He cursed quietly and buried his face in his hands.

“Cole.”

It was soft. But it was the most welcome sound he’d ever heard. He stood, afraid to talk. Ashamed, because if he did, he might cry. He’d never cried in front of a woman except his mother in his life.

And then she was in his arms. He pulled her off her feet and up against him as a swift surge of grief overwhelmed him. “Rick…he’s—”

“Sssh,” she said. Her hands cupped his face as she rained tiny kisses against his eyes and cheeks. “I know, Cole. I know. And I’m so sorry.”

He dropped them both into the chair, adjusted Debbie in his lap, and tried to ignore his overwhelming guilt at the fact that he was still alive.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against his shoulder as her hands moved across his face and neck, assuring herself that he was still in one piece and breathing.