Chapter 5-2
2637 Words
“Flight attendants take your seats.”
Maddie clutched the armrests and leaned her head back, shutting her eyes. For the last ninety minutes, the plane had been tossed around in the air like one of Dottie’s donuts in a bag of cinnamon. Finally, they were landing.
She chanted under her breath. “The plane wants to fly, the plane wants to fly.”
Her terror for her father only slightly trumped her terror of flying. One of the many reasons she’d made repeated excuses not to come home. Guilt washed over her for the millionth time in the last four hours. She pushed her glasses up her nose.
She should have been the bigger person…
She should have let the bullying go…
Should have, could have, would have.
It wouldn’t change the past, and it wouldn’t change what was. Which was her father, clinging to life. Nope. Guilt wouldn’t change anything.
And what was Blake doing wrapped up in the middle of this? His voice echoed in her mind. I should have known better than to tangle with a Hansen…
Had he tried to purchase the property again? Chances were he’d heard from someone that her father wasn’t doing so well. Blake hadn’t come across as the predatory type, but maybe she was wrong. He’d made her head spin that night, so maybe her judgment had been off.
She exhaled a huge sigh of relief as the back wheels touched down at the tiny airport outside Manhattan.
She reached under the seat for her bag and fished out her phone. A text was waiting from Martha.
He’s out of surgery and in recovery. They’ll move him to ICU next.
She texted back.
Just landed. I’ll be at the hospital soon.
At least he was still alive.
She steeled herself as she stepped into the center aisle. Time to put her game face on. Martha was beside herself, and Eddie would have his hands full caring for her. Someone had to stay on top of things and ask the tough questions.
A blast of wet, spring air smacked her as she stepped from the plane. The kind of air that felt like more storms would move in. She inhaled deeply, searching for strength as she crossed the starkly lit tarmac to the small baggage area. If Gunnar or Axel weren’t already there, she’d grab a taxi. She quickly scanned the handful of people waiting, looking for height and blond hair.
She found height. But it wasn’t blond hair waiting for her. A pair of piercing hazel eyes underneath a signature black Stetson locked with hers. Blake. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him. He looked more delicious than she remembered. Suspicion immediately replaced anticipation. Where was her family? Why was he here?
She stopped in front of him, her eyes glued to his. Even with the crisis at hand, being this close to him set her body vibrating like a neutrino.
She wet her lips nervously, her mouth suddenly parched.
His eyes flared, but he made no move to speak.
Should she speak first? Given the way he’d left her hanging, she should make him squirm. As quick as it rose up, the fight left her. She adjusted her glasses. Now was not the time. She just wanted to get to the hospital and check on her dad.
“Nice glasses.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Somebody stole my favorite pair.”
The corners of his mouth curved up as he reached for her bag. She never carried anything at home. Not when the men were around.
“I like the blue frames.”
Huh. Was he toying with her?
He turned, allowing her to step past him, and placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her through the tiny crowd. It was like having a hot coal at her back. She shivered.
“You cold?”
She shook her head. She was, but she’d never admit it. Especially to him. She’d come straight from the stables, grabbed her laptop and called a taxi. She hadn’t even bothered to put her work clothes back on, let alone grab a coat.
He stopped in front of an oversized F150 she recognized as Gunnar’s. Interesting. He tossed her bag in the bed and opened the door for her, offering his hand to assist with the height. His eyes met hers in challenge.
Was he daring her to take his hand?
Or to refuse?
She paused briefly, her eyes raking down over the white shirt peeking out from beneath his black leather jacket. Down over the worn denims hugging legs of iron to his shiny black boots. Back to his face that held the barest trace of a smile, up to his eyes still daring her to make a move.
Clearly, he’d been practicing his poker face.
She held herself perfectly still. If she disclosed her indecision she’d lose this little battle of wills. Keeping her gaze steady, she arched her eyebrows and took his outstretched hand, doing her best to ignore the electricity zinging up her arm.
It would have been rude not to take his hand. And given the fact he’d helped her family today…
At least, that’s what she told herself.
She remained silent as he settled himself in the cab and pulled out of the parking space.
“How far is it?”
“Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded, her father’s words playing on endless repeat in her head. I ain’t got nothing to slow down for…
Blake let out a sigh.
“Is this how it’s going to be?”
She slid a glance at him, pushing her glasses back up her nose. She couldn’t read him in the darkened cab.
He briefly took his eyes off the road. “Madison… Maddie.” His voice softened. “Look. I’m sorr–”
She held up her hand, shaking her head, refusing to let him finish.
“No. Not now. Right now I want to focus on getting to the hospital and seeing my dad.” A lump swelled in her throat, threatening to choke her.
He huffed out a breath, but didn’t argue.
The silence stretched between them.
He shook his head and huffed again. “Maddie. Don’t be absurd–”
She waved her hand more forcefully this time, glaring at him. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it. Ask me how my flight was.”
“Your flight?” He glared back at her the next time he glanced over. “Fine. How was your flight, Doctor Hansen?”
His irritation was not lost on her. Not in the least. But if she was going to get through this ordeal in one piece, she had to compartmentalize.
“Bumpy.”
He laughed, shaking his head. A bitter edge crept into his voice. “Anyone tell you you’re a piece of work?”
She refused to take the bait. Instead, she shrugged, adjusted her glasses, and looked out the window, focusing on the lights moving by. Warren’s voice continued to haunt her. I’m damned sure not gonna wither away to a wisp the way your ma did…
They pulled into the parking lot, and Maddie hopped out of the car before he’d barely cut the engine. She turned to reach for her bag, but couldn’t reach over the wall of the truck bed. Suddenly, she was thirteen and in need of rescue.
Again.
She waited while he locked the truck and took his time coming around the back. His eyes were inscrutable in the shadow of his Stetson. He stopped only when he was toe to toe with her.
He was so close she could see the whisper of dark curls peeking out from the vee of his shirt. If she inhaled, she’d not only smell his aftershave, she’d smell him.
Her pulse thrummed in her ears, and she willed herself to not look away.
He pushed his hat back and bent his head toward her, amusement and something harder flickering in his eyes. Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her? Not here. Not now. Her mind shouted no, but every cell in her body screamed yes.
Not taking his eyes off her, he reached into the truck bed and lifted her bag. Disappointment briefly squeezed her chest. She didn’t want to kiss him anyway. Not really.
Pushing her glasses back up her face, she turned and made for the main entrance, as fast as her feet could take her.
His long strides easily kept pace with her while his hand returned to the small of her back, sending delicious waves up her spine. She slowed once they reached the lobby, unsure of where to go next.
“This way.”
He steered her over to the elevator banks and pressed the button. The doors immediately opened. She stepped in and turned, leaning against the back wall, absently watching him push the number six.
Suddenly the fear that she’d been holding at bay pulled at her like a black hole. There was no escape. Her breath hitched and she concentrated on a scuff on her boots.
“Maddie.”
She glanced up sharply. The tenderness in the way he said her name surprised her. It caressed her. Slid into hidden crevices. Left her nerves frayed. She could deal with anger, with sparring. She couldn’t deal with…with this.
Concern shone through his eyes, but he made no move to stand close to her. As if he knew it would be too much.
“When was the last time you saw your father?”
She swallowed the ache in her throat. “A few days at Christmas.” Well that doesn’t count. Her father was right, it didn’t really count as a visit. She’d been home a day and a half at best. Guilt twisted hard in her chest.
Blake nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“You need to prepare yourself. He looks pretty bad.”
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to an empty hall. He held the door and motioned her through, catching her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze as he stepped out with her.
Momentarily overcome with dread, she squeezed back, holding on as if he were a lifeline. They turned the corner to the waiting room. Martha immediately cried out, rushing over. She let go of Blake’s hand, but not before she saw Gunnar’s eyebrows shoot up.
Arms encircled her. “Oh dearie. I’m so glad you’re here.” Martha’s voice caught, and she sniffled, shaking her head. “You poor, poor girl. First your mama, and now this.”
Maddie patted Martha’s back, consoling the woman. “It’s okay Auntie M,” she said, using the nickname from childhood. The last thing she needed now was her aunt in hysterics. If she was going to learn anything from the doctors, she’d have to stay calm and rational.
“Where is he?”
“Around the corner,” Blake answered.
Judging from the looks on her family’s faces, he’d clearly taken charge of the situation. Uncle Eddie sat in the corner, hunched over a paper cup of coffee. Axel and Gunnar stretched out awkwardly on either side of him.
She gave her aunt a final squeeze, then extracted herself from the embrace. This was all too familiar. The awkward glances, the hyper emotion from her aunt. It was as if her father was already dead.
Locking her own feelings away for the moment, she took a deep steadying breath, suddenly grateful for Blake’s solid unemotional presence behind her. “I think I’ll go to the nurses’ station and check on him.”
“You do that, sweetie.” Martha patted her cheek. “It’s been a bit of a blur to us.”
She strode toward the double doors leading to the ICU, dimly aware of footsteps behind her. She pushed through and stepped into a world that was at once foreign and disturbingly reminiscent of her mother’s last days. The hushed voices of the nurses at the center station, the dim light, the muted whirs and beeps from multiple rooms of machines. Death lurked at every threshold.
Putting that behind her, she approached the nurses’ station. “Hi. I’m Maddie Hansen. I’m here to see my father.”
The matronly nurse looked at her kindly. “Oh yes. They brought him in a few minutes ago.”
She nodded.
Her heart slammed into her ribs as her eyes flitted around the bays. Blinking rapidly, she tensed her body to hide the shaking. Her hands were like ice.
“What’s the twenty-four hour prognosis?” The words tasted like cardboard in her mouth.
The nurse’s lips curved up. “He came through surgery with flying colors. He’s a fighter.” The nurse stepped back, coming around the station to lead her to the room where her father lay. “What saved him was the CPR.”
Maddie glanced sharply at Blake, but his face remained impassive.
“Can I see him?” She stilled, hardly daring to breathe.
Pity flashed in the nurse’s eyes, before the professional mask slipped back into place. “Of course, sweetheart, but you have to understand, he’s just come through major surgery. And while he did fine, he’s very frail.”
Frail? No one ever used that word to describe her father. She blinked furiously. She would not let Blake see her in a moment of weakness. Yet his hand was immediately at the small of her back, offering nothing but steady support. She blinked again, pushing back the piercing rush of fear that clawed at her insides. “Let me see him, please.”
The nurse ushered her toward a room on the other side of the station.
A solitary light in the corner cast a golden glow over the room. While she’d braced herself, nothing prepared her for what she encountered. Her father was asleep and hooked up by tubes and wires to various machines. The worst, though, was the ventilator breathing for him. His skin looked the color of oatmeal.
She slid a glance at Blake. “I thought you said he looked pretty bad.”
He gave her a partial smile. “He looks like shit.” His smile grew a fraction.
She stepped up to the head of the bed, and caressed his forehead with the back of her finger. His skin was cool.
“Dad,” her voice thickened with emotion. “I’m here, Dad. I want you to get well, okay?” Grief stabbed through her, lodging in her throat. “I’ll come home more. I’ll stay longer, just…just..” She heaved a sigh, pushing her frames up her nose. “Just get well… please?” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his brow. “I love you, Dad,” she murmured against his cool skin. “Don’t give up.”
She had to get out of here. Now. She refused to break down in this room. In front of the nurses. In front of her family. In front of Blake, who was quietly waiting just outside the threshold.
Brushing her cheeks with the back of her hand, she turned and pushed past him. She pushed through the double doors, blindly moving down the hall, turning at random intervals until she reached a dead end.
She leaned forward into the wall, bracing herself. She would not cry. She would not cry.
She. Would. Not. Cry.
She never cried. Ever.
Fear settled like metal into Maddie’s mouth, and hot tears welled behind her eyelids. She pushed her glasses forward and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Strong hands turned her. Encased her in solid warmth. Life. A tear squeezed out. Then another. And another.
Dammit.
She shook her head against his chest, clutching his jacket like a lifeline.
“Let it out, sweetheart,” he murmured above her ear.
A sob ripped through her throat as tears slid unchecked down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried this much since Marcus. At least those tears had been shed in private.
“That’s it, Maddie. It will tear you up if you hold onto it.” He held her tightly. Caressing her head as he continued to murmur softly. “Warren’s a cuss. He’s not gonna give anyone the satisfaction of dying anytime soon.”
After a few moments, awareness seeped back into her body, along with the overwhelming urge to flee. Bracing her hands against the soft leather of his coat, she pushed away, stepping back.
She steadied herself, taking off her glasses and brushing her hand across her eyes, before meeting his. What she found there mirrored her own turmoil.
Pain.
Sorrow.
Compassion.
She swallowed, looking away. “Thank you,” she uttered softly. “Thank you for… everything.”
She had to get away. The way he was looking at her was entirely too…feely. She had to get back to her family. Put on her capable hat. Pushing out a sharp breath, she replaced her glasses and turned to find her way back.
- Writer
