Teague shook his head, putting his hand on Hoyt’s shoulder. “First off, I doubt they saved your shirt and jacket, considering they were blood soaked. Maybe your jeans and shoes survived.”
“That’s better than nothing.” Hoyt eyed Teague. “I’ll wear your jacket.”
By then the nurse had apparently alerted the main desk because a doctor appeared in the doorway. “Trying to run out on us, Hoyt?”
“Yeah. Kick me lose, doc. I have to go with him.” Hoyt stabbed a finger toward Teague.
The doctor sighed, looking toward the ceiling. “Why me? Why do I always get the difficult ones?” Coming to the bed, he said, “I’ll examine you and we’ll go from there.”
“Go is right. As soon as you’re finished, I’m going.”
“Not if I say otherwise, Hoyt.”