“Yeah.” He hit the answer button. “Parker? Everything okay?”
“Where the fuck are you?” Parker’s keyed-up voice shook all the cobwebs from Luke’s mind. “I’ve been calling for the last five minutes.”
“What’s wrong?” Luke asked, standing to hunt for his shirt. Charlotte handed it to him.
“It’s Dad. He’s in the ER.”
“His arteries are past a stent,” the cardiologist told Mom. “We need to do a double bypass. The sooner, the better.”
Luke closed his eyes. While he’d been off, hiding from his family, his dad had had a heart attack. The look on his mother’s face when he’d finally made it down the mountain to the hospital had spoken volumes: blame, fear, desperation. Parker hadn’t been able to sit still. He’d paced the waiting room back and forth, not looking at anyone. Now he wouldn’t leave their mother’s side.
Only Zoey had sat with Luke, reaching for his hand immediately. It was oddly comforting, just like something a sister would do. Like it should be.
Somewhere, somehow, they’d turned a corner.
Probably another thing he could thank Charlotte for. Knowing she was the one he wanted, wholeheartedly, had reduced whatever residual awkwardness still existed between him and Zoey.
Now, he stood behind his mom and brother, chilled and exhausted, as the cardiologist explained the surgery. They’d crack Dad’s chest, graft two arteries, then close him up and hope for the best. He’d be in the hospital for four days and rehabbing for two months.
Two months he wouldn’t be working, leaving the business entirely in Mom’s hands.
“When will you operate?” Mom asked, her voice hoarse. Her hair hadn’t been combed since yesterday sometime, and it was falling out of the hasty ponytail she’d put it in after following the ambulance to the hospital. Luke couldn’t remember ever seeing her not completely put together. Not even when she’d had the flu a few years ago.
“Before noon. He’s stabilized for now, so as soon as an OR clears, we’ll take him back.”
Mom nodded. “Can we see him?”
The ICU hadn’t let them visit overnight—per policy—which was part of why Parker had paced the floor for hours on end. The doctor checked his watch. “A brief visit, only two of you at a time.”
“I’ll go with Mom,” Parker said before Luke could offer. His eyes were hard, daring Luke to ask. “Then I’ll come back and let you go.”
Let him go. Like Parker was calling all the shots. Luke wanted to be pissed at Parker for being pissed at him, but he didn’t have the energy for it. He nodded stiffly instead.
They disappeared behind the doors to the ICU, leaving Luke alone with Zoey. She touched his arm. “You okay?”
He stared at the red icu sign over the door, wishing he had no reason to be here, that Dad was home, fine, lacing up his ski boots to go out with Zoey’s parents. “No.”
“It’s not your fault,” she murmured, squeezing his biceps. “It’s not.”
Luke ground his teeth, alarmed by the sting at the back of his eyes. He never cried. “I know it’s not.”
“Luke, look at me.” He turned and was caught by her rich-blue eyes. Her expression was serious. “It’s not your fault.”
He let out a harsh breath. “You heard, then. About me dropping out to focus on SBX.”
“And I think it’s awesome.” She smiled softly at him. “I sometimes wish Parker would go for it in more slopestyle competitions, but he doesn’t have the burning need to compete like you do. I know your parents have some expectations of what you’ll do when, but I don’t think it should be marked ‘required.’ I learned something last year—you have to do you. At the end of the day, not living like your true self is a crappy way to go on.”
Her words rang true—she’d gone through a metamorphosis a year ago. He’d seen it and had ignored it in favor of chasing her like she was a gold medal. It was clear now, though, why she was so comfortable in her own skin. Zoey had found herself along the way, and Parker was only a small part of that equation.
“My mom won’t even look at me.” Luke’s head felt full of cotton, dull and slow. “You may think it’s not my fault, but she thinks differently.”
Zoey tugged on his sleeve. “She’s wrong, and you should stop beating yourself up. You know why? While you were out last night, I overheard our dads talking after dinner. Your dad is proud of you. He knew it was going to mean more time on the job for him, but, and I quote, ‘It’s not like the kid could take over as CEO on day three. We had years to go before he’d be ready, even without the delay for him to chase his dream.’ So, you see? He wanted you to go for it, too.”
His dad was proud of him? “For real? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
“For real.” She pointed at some chairs. “Go sit. I’m going to grab us coffee and text my parents to tell them the latest.”
Luke sank into one of the cushy chairs in the waiting room. Unlike the cheap plastic chairs bolted to the floor in the ER, the ICU waiting room was comfortable, with overstuffed couches and dim lighting. Three other little knots of people gathered together around the room, and Luke wondered who they were waiting on.
He was grateful for one thing—Dad’s doctor was the best cardiothoracic surgeon in Colorado outside of Denver. He was in good hands. The guy was direct, but nice. He could see why Charlotte wanted to be a doctor. Dealing with them when a parent’s sick would make you picky about the ones you saw. She’d be one of the good ones, he bet.
Zoey returned with three coffees, and they sat, drinking in silence, until Parker came out. He looked strained—his face was pale, and dark circles stained the skin under his eyes. He moved with a weariness Luke had never seen in his brother.
He came over to them, and Zoey jumped up to give him a hug. Parker sank into her like she was a lifeline. Over her shoulder, he mumbled, “Dad’s conscious. He wants to see you, Luke.”
Luke nodded and went through the forbidding doors of the ICU. Inside, a nurse immediately gave him the eye and asked, “Which patient?”
“Jason Madison.”
She nodded. “Room three. We ask all visitors to be as quiet as possible.”
“Noted.”
Luke stumbled down the hall, the exhaustion of his all-nighter crashing down on him. Large rooms lined the walls. Machines whirred and beeped, and nurses bustled past. He might have to be quiet—the ICU was anything but.
At room three, he paused before knocking. Mom’s voice rose and fell behind the door. It sounded like she was crying, and a knot settled in Luke’s stomach. Zoey might not think this was his fault, but Luke was going to have a hard time believing it, and he was sure his mother would agree.
Finally, he knocked, forcing a brave smile. “Can I come in?”
“Luke!” His dad’s greeting was breathy and weak. “Good to see you, son.”
He avoided looking at his mom. “Sorry I wasn’t there yesterday.”
“You probably needed to blow off some steam. I understand.” Dad’s eyes darted toward Mom. “Don’t we, Tina?”
Mom didn’t answer. She stared at the display showing Dad’s heart rate.
“What can I do for you, Dad?” Luke forced the next words past a lump in his throat. “Do you need me to take on some work at the office?”
“Yes, we do,” Mom said, the words sharp enough to draw blood.
Dad sighed and shook his head. “No, we don’t.” He held Luke’s gaze. “Daniel is going to cover for me, and your mom is going assume control of the business until I’m well enough to work.”
“Mom can probably use my help, though.” Luke darted a glance at her. His mother had a pinched expression, and her eyes flashed with frustrated anger. “I…I don’t mind.”
Dad snorted. “Yes, you do.” He held out a hand, and Luke took it. “You have the same fire I used to when I was younger. Did you know I raced alpine for a few years after college?”
Luke’s eyebrows rose, and his mother huffed out a b
reath, but Dad waved her off. “Your mother’s heart was in her throat every time I did. When I broke my leg and got a nasty concussion on top of that, she convinced me to stop, but I didn’t stop loving the sport.”
“Really?” Okay, things were making more sense—his mom wasn’t just pissed at Luke. This ran a lot deeper. “I bet you were a badass out there.”
Dad laughed. “I was, kid. I was fearless. Too much so, Mom would say.”
“I would say.” She glared at them both. “And I don’t want my baby being as reckless.”
Luke turned to face her. “This isn’t about the business, is it?”
“Yes, it is.” Then her face fell. “Not entirely.”
“Mom accepted that you boys wanted to flip around on your snowboards, and she was proud of your success, but you should see her hands shake when you compete.” Dad reached for her. “If she’s guilty of anything, it’s loving us so much, it hurts her for us to take risks.”
A smile twitched at the corner of Mom’s mouth as she arched an eyebrow at Dad. “Like drinking Scotch when you have a heart condition?”
“Dr. Spelling told me not an hour ago that I can have one to two drinks a day and it’s fine.” Dad gave her a dignified nod. “So, I’ll drink my nightly Scotch, thank you very much.”
Mom rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “I’ll have a talk with Dr. Spelling, see if he actually said that.”
“Mom.” Luke cleared his throat, wondering what he’d do if she said yes. “If you don’t want me to race, and to go back to school, I will. But you should know, I’m a contender. I could end up in the Olympics. My coach feels pretty good about it.”
“Buddy, you must’ve learned guilt trips from me.” Mom laughed sadly. “I know you’re good. Who took you to all those U14 races? I threw up after each one, but I took you, and I cheered. So…if this is what you want to do, then take the semester. The Olympics aren’t for another year, though. We can hold off that long, but I expect you back in college at some point…and not five years from now.”
That was more than he could’ve hoped for. His voice came out raw when he said, “Thank you. Is there anything you need? Zoey bought coffee for me and Parker, but I can get you some.”
Mom brushed Dad’s hair back and kissed his forehead. “I’m fine here.”
Luke pointed at the door, toward the nurses’ station. “Nurse Ratched might kick us out soon.”
“No—I’m next of kin. I get to stay.” She smiled down at Dad. “And in a few days he’ll be through the surgery and in a regular room. Right, honey?”
She said it sternly, and Dad saluted. “Yes, dear.”
Luke gave his dad an awkward hug over the hospital-bed bars. “Hang in there, Dad. We’ll be back to see you after the surgery.”
Dad gave him a thumbs-up, and Luke went back to the waiting room, feeling a little better. Now that his brain had room for other people, he wondered what Charlotte was up to, and if she’d give him another chance. Last night had felt magical, and he firmly intended to recapture it.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte
Evangeline gave Charlotte a leer that would put the Cheshire cat to shame. “Tell me…does he look as good under those thick sweatshirts as my imagination thinks?”
Charlotte blushed, but she couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Um, yeah, he does.”
“Girl!” Evangeline hustled her to the little nook behind the counter. “How about his ‘skills?’” She made air quotes. “Do they pass the test?”
Charlotte shook her head, and Evangeline groaned. “He’s bad? Ugh, I did not see that coming.”
“Wait, that wasn’t what I meant.” The smile fell off her face. “His brother called at an, um, interesting moment. Luke’s dad was in the ER. He rushed off, leaving me holding my bra on with one hand. I felt terrible.”
“Why? I mean, his dad being in the hospital is the terrible thing—being interrupted due to a family emergency is hardly your fault.” Evangeline grabbed a full coffeepot. “You should check in with him, see if he’s up for a do-over.”
Charlotte fiddled with her apron, not meeting her friend’s eye. “I will later. I don’t want to bug him right now.”
“Yeah, but a friendly voice is never a bad thing.”
Evangeline hurried out to the dining room. They were slammed this morning. Making up for the snow day yesterday, probably. With the holiday almost here, more people showed up in Aspen daily.
“And most of them decided to eat here,” Charlotte muttered under her breath as she went out to seat a new table. The wait was nearly an hour, and they were running like crazy, but they couldn’t seem to catch up. As soon as they closed, she was going to soak in the tub, then try texting Luke. If everything was okay, she assumed he’d have already texted her, which left her thinking it wasn’t, so she shouldn’t bug him.
Evangeline wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Just text him,” she said an hour later as she blazed by with a tray of food. “He won’t answer if he’s busy.”
She had a point, but Charlotte didn’t have a chance to even glance at her phone until after noon. The wait had cleared, and they were only about two-thirds full with brunchers.
“Take a break,” Mrs. Bzdyl said when she caught Charlotte stretching her back. “It’ll be five minutes before any of your orders come up.”
Charlotte nodded and sank into a chair they kept at the back of the kitchen. She fished her phone out of her apron—there was a text from Luke: Dad’s had a heart attack. He’s in surgery. Catch you later?
A pang caught Charlotte in the chest. She read the message again, her forehead wrinkling. God, how awful. Are you ok?
L: I am. Long story. I need to be here a few days. Wish I could see you. Can I call when I’m freed up?
C: Yeah, definitely. Hope your dad’s surgery goes well.
“You okay?” Mr. Bzdyl came from the walk-in fridge with a crate of eggs in his hands. “You look worried. Your mom, she’s bad?”
She smiled sadly up at him. “It’s not Mom. Luke had to leave our date suddenly. His dad’s in surgery. Heart bypass.”
“I wondered where the boy was today. I wanted to feed him.” Mr. Bzdyl frowned. “Come see me after we close.”
Not sure what he was up to, Charlotte nodded and rose. “I better get back out there.”
“Yes, because table fifteen’s tuna melt is almost done.” He winked at her before disappearing into the kitchen.
Charlotte felt like she was wading through mud for the rest of her shift, unable to quit worrying about Luke. She knew what it was like to have a critically ill parent, and it was scary. Sure, Luke was strong and he’d probably bear up okay, but still. She wished there was something she could do for him.
“Hey, I’m headed up to watch the SBX action on the mountain,” Evangeline told her as they wiped down tables after close. “Kit’s supposed to be there. I need a fix.”
“I probably should study.” Charlotte paused to sniff the air. “What’s that heavenly smell?”
Cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar…that’s what heaven smelled like, she was sure. She took another appreciative breath. “This isn’t something normally on the menu, is it?”
Evangeline sniffed the air. “No… Oh my God, Papa’s making a cake.” They scurried toward the kitchen like starving puppies. “Papa, whatcha cooking there?”
Mr. Bzdyl smiled. “Two cakes.”
“T-two?” Evangeline leaned close to the oven, her eyes falling shut. “God, that’s practically orgasmic.”
“Evangeline!” Her mother’s mouth puckered. “More talk like that, I’m finding you a husband so you can settle down.”
“Or we send her to St. Margaret’s as a novice,” Mr. Bzdyl said, his mustache shaking from a suppressed smile. “In answer to the first question, strudel coffee cake. One for us, one for Charlotte’s Luke.”
Charlotte stared at him. “For Luke?”
Mr. Bzdyl nodded. “His family is at the hospital, yes? They need goo
d coffee and comfort food. You’ll take it to him.”
“I will?” Charlotte waved her hands. “No, Mr. Bzdyl, no. I can’t intrude like that.”
“You can leave it at the desk?” He frowned and mock-whispered to his wife, “She can do that, yes?”
Mrs. Bzdyl laughed. “Yes, misiaczku.”
Charlotte glanced at Evangeline, who was grinning at her. “Oh, come on. What’s a little humiliation when your heart’s in the right place?”
Okay, I’m not getting out of this. And it is a sweet gesture. Maybe she could say it was from Mr. Bzdyl and she was just delivering it. No, that would be a little rude. Besides, she wanted to do something nice for Luke. It sucked waiting at the hospital, worried about your parent.
She nodded. “Thank you for doing this. I’m sure they’ll love it. Um, can I have a piece of the second cake, though?”
Mr. Bzdyl threw up his hands like he was tossing confetti. “Cake for everyone!”
Charlotte turned in to the hospital parking lot around four. Mr. Madison had come out of surgery a few hours earlier and was doing fine, according to Luke’s texts. The family was hanging out in the ICU waiting room, taking turns going back to sit with him. It was hard not to feel like she was intruding by showing up like this, but Mr. Bzdyl had boxed the cake with a card that read: Get well soon, Luke’s dad. Love, Pinewood Café.
She grinned. Luke’s dad. That was cute—and hilarious—enough to spur her into driving down the mountain.
The parking lot was slick with snowmelt that was quickly freezing over. Charlotte, even in her good boots, slipped and slid a few times before making it to the hospital’s entrance, hanging on to the cake box for dear life. The automatic door whooshed open, letting out a gust of bleach-scented air. Most people hated that scent—eau de hospital—but Charlotte found it reassuring. Another reason she knew med school was the place for her. Hospitals didn’t scare her—they made her feel at ease.
She walked carefully across the damp floor to the “welcome” desk, where a man with snow-white hair and wire-rim glasses peered up at her. “Help you, dear?”
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