by Tiffany Snow
He was shirtless, with bandages stained slightly with blood that had seeped from the wound, machines quietly monitoring his vitals, an IV drip in his arm, and his hair in a spiky disarray that at any other time would look sexy but now just made me that much more aware of his injured state…It was enough to break anyone, and it broke me.
I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sob. Guilt didn’t even begin to describe the emotion I felt at seeing him this way. Because of me. And likely because of my father as well. I still held out a small hope that it had been a freak of circumstance, but I also wasn’t an idiot.
Parker’s hand lay on top of the covers and I gently covered it with mine. I couldn’t believe this had happened. It was surreal, like a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake.
As if to punctuate the whole nightmare theme, the door swung open and Natalie walked in, followed by Ryker.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I hissed at Ryker, heading him off at the pass and getting all up in his business. “Parker’s been shot and you bring her here? You think now is the best time for a reunion?”
“She wanted to come,” he said. “It wasn’t like I could tell her no.”
“So it would seem,” I spat. He heard the scorn in my voice—it was hard to miss—and his gaze turned cold.
“Does it matter? Tell me the first thing you did when you got home wasn’t to call Parker and tell him everything.”
I didn’t dignify that with an answer. Turning on my heel, I nearly gagged at the sight of Natalie, her hand cradling Parker’s, running her fingers through his hair. Twin tears trailed down her cheeks in perfect crystal rivulets.
“You’re going to wake him,” I gritted out, trying to keep my voice down. I knew they’d given Parker pain medication, but the way she was messing with him was sure to pull him out of any drug-induced haze.
Sure enough, no sooner had I thought it than his eyelids fluttered open.
I hurried back to his side—the other side, as Natalie had taken my previous position—and saw his eyes open and focus. Unfortunately, they focused on Natalie, and his brows drew together in a frown.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The rasp of his voice was low but even so, the words were unmistakable. I hid a triumphant grin, disguising it with a slight cough.
“Parker, it’s me. It’s Natalie.” The tears had stopped and she smiled the perfect blend of sad and hopeful.
“Yeah. I know.” He winced as he turned his head, pulling his hand away from hers as he did so, until his gaze landed on me. His hand fiddled with the controls to the bed. “There you are,” he said to me. “Glad to see you’re all right. What did the doctor say?” He completely ignored Natalie as he pressed the button to adjust the bed to sit more upright.
I gave him the rundown of his diagnosis and prognosis, ending with “And I called Rosemary and told her what to do about your meetings this week and the month-end reports. Your parents have been notified as well.” That last one I kind of glossed over because I didn’t want to go into detail about how unconcerned his mother had seemed to be.
“Good. Thank you.” He blinked kind of slow-like, resting his head back on the pillow, then saw Ryker standing behind me. “Man, what are you doing?”
Ryker stiffened. Parker hadn’t said it meanly, more like the way I’d ask a girlfriend why in the world she’d start texting the ex who’d taken forever to go away.
“We’ll talk when you’re not drugged up,” he said, approaching Natalie and taking her elbow. “Let’s go.”
Natalie let him lead her out of the room, but her gaze remained on Parker and what I saw chilled me: desperate longing and determination.
They went through the door and a noise from the bed had me swiveling, my attention now caught on Parker.
His eyes had shut but opened to slits when the door snicked closed.
“Are they gone?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought Ryker should know, but I didn’t realize he’d bring her.”
Parker sighed. “’S’okay. Best to get it over with sooner rather than later.”
“Is there anything you need? Anything I can get for you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Parker was clearly not fine—he was shot and in a hospital—but I got the message well enough. I’d been dismissed and I turned to go.
“Wait…”
I was afraid to hope when I turned back.
“Stay for a while?” he asked.
My smile nearly broke my cheeks, it was so wide. I nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll just go check on how my dad is doing, then I’ll be back, okay?”
He nodded and I hurried out to the waiting room, finding a nurse who was able to tell me my dad was still in surgery but things were going well so far. I told her where I’d be and asked if she’d come to Parker’s room to update me. She smiled in a nice way and said she would. Shultz hadn’t yet returned with my mom and I knew it would still be a while before they got here.
By the time I got back to Parker’s room, he’d fallen asleep, but that was okay. After Natalie had woken him, I was sure he needed the rest. And I didn’t care what he said about not having any reaction to Natalie’s return other than his exasperation at Ryker’s behavior—it would be a shock for anyone, especially considering their history. Maybe he just didn’t want to tell me for the same reasons I didn’t want to know.
I moved one of the chairs in the room closer to the bed, which took some doing as I was trying to be quiet and it was a heavy chair, made for people to sit in for long vigils and have some measure of comfort.
It was late and I stifled a groan when I sank into the cushions. Worry for my dad gnawed at me and I tried to keep my eyes open, but exhaustion—emotional and physical—proved too much and before I knew it, I’d nodded off.
A gentle hand on my shoulder woke me. I jerked upright from where I’d been slumped, then immediately winced at the crick in my neck. It would appear I was too old to be sleeping in chairs.
“I’m sorry to wake you, but I thought you’d want to know that your father came out of surgery okay,” the nurse said quietly. “He’s in the ICU now and your mother is with him. You can visit him in the morning. You can talk to the doctor then about his condition, but for now the surgery went well and he’s stable.”
I glanced at the generic clock on the wall. It was after three in the morning.
“Yeah, okay, thank you.”
She disappeared out of Parker’s room as quietly as she’d apparently entered. The lighting had been turned down so only the faint glow from the panel of windows on the door lit the room. I tried to find a new position in my chair that would provide any semblance of comfort. Impossible.
“Sage.”
Parker’s voice startled me. I thought he’d been asleep.
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
Thinking he was in pain and needed something, I jumped to obey. “What is it? Do you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine. But you look like the proverbial princess and the pea, trying to sleep in that chair. Here. There’s plenty of room. Climb in.”
I eyed the space next to him in the bed that he indicated. Even small, it looked decidedly more appealing than the chair, and not just because it was next to Parker.
I shucked my shoes and climbed in, being careful of his cords and monitors, though they were all on his other side.
He slid an arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side. A deep sigh eased from me and I didn’t resist the temptation to rest my arm across his abdomen and snuggle closer.
In that quiet moment, it hit me, and tears began leaking from my eyes. I didn’t sob, thank God, but neither could I halt the flow dripping down my cheeks and onto Parker’s chest.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his fingers brushing my wet cheek.
I had to swallow—twice—before I could speak.
&nb
sp; “I nearly lost my dad today,” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. “Nearly lost you. A few seconds’ slower reaction time from you and you’d be—” I couldn’t finish.
His arm squeezed me tighter.
“Shh. It’s all right. I’m fine and your dad will be fine. I promise. No one died and no one’s going to die.”
His word choice made me wonder for a moment, then I shrugged it off. I was too relieved that we were all okay to worry about it. He was on painkillers and likely didn’t know what the heck he was saying.
I felt him press his lips to the top of my head and my eyes slipped closed. I savored the feel of his skin, the sound of his heart beating strong under my ear, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Before I knew it, I was once again out like a light.
* * *
Voices woke me and I cracked my eyes open against much brighter light than I would have wished for. My head was hurting from too little sleep and it took a fraction of a second longer than normal for me to remember where I was and what had happened.
I was in bed with Parker, who’d been shot.
My eyes flew open and I tried to sit up, but Parker’s hand tightened on me, keeping me in place.
“The doctor will be in to discharge me this morning, correct?” he asked the nurse who was busy removing his IV, and looking none too happy about it.
“He’ll be in to see you, yes,” she said. “Though whether or not he’ll discharge you is up to him—”
“I’m sure we’ll work something out,” Parker interrupted, giving her a smile I’d seen work on weaker women, and it didn’t fail now. She mustered a small smile in return, her displeasure at his demanding to be discharged softening.
After she left, I twisted to look up a Parker. “Discharge?” I didn’t think I had to say any more and also didn’t want to because, hello—morning breath.
“No way I’m staying in here any longer than I have to,” he said, his fingers trailing through my hair. “And your mom stopped in earlier. I told her I’d send you her way once you woke.”
Alarm shot through me. “My dad—”
“Is fine,” he interrupted. “He’s doing well and is stable. Your mom went to the cafeteria for some breakfast. Why don’t you go join her while I deal with the doctor?”
Coffee sounded better than air at the moment, so I just nodded. This time he let me slide out of bed and I padded on bare feet to the bathroom, where the image in the mirror made me wince. My makeup was long gone, save for the morning-after raccoon-eye thing I had going on, thanks to too many tears mixing with my non-waterproof mascara.
After washing my face and doing all the necessary things one did in the bathroom, I combed my fingers through my hair the best I could and came back out. Parker looked better than any man should, especially after what he’d gone through. But other than the bandages and him looking more tired than usual, he could’ve been recovering from a late night out with the guys rather than a bullet wound.
“Do you want anything?” I asked.
“Coffee.”
I didn’t know if he was supposed to have coffee, but I nodded anyway. I could ask the nurse or something.
My mom was sitting by herself in the cafeteria, a plate of barely touched food in front of her, and sipping from a Styrofoam cup. She was staring off into space, but focused on me as I sat in one of the three empty chairs at the table.
“You look exhausted,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“I could say the same to you.”
“I wasn’t shot at last night.” Her hand reached to grasp mine, holding on tightly. “But my baby girl was.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” I squeezed back. The bones in her hand felt fragile and delicate. “How’s Dad?”
Her face clouded. “He did well and the surgeon was very thorough. But it was quite serious and they have him in an induced coma at the moment.”
My stomach sank. I knew that had been a possibility, but to hear that I wouldn’t be able to talk to my dad for who knew how long was a blow.
We sat in silence, both of us absorbing our new reality. Dad was our rock. He’d always seemed such a force of nature, unstoppable. Now someone had hurt him, nearly killed him, and I felt the anger rising inside again. The feeling became more familiar each time I felt it, like greeting an old friend.
“Can we see him?”
She nodded. “But you should eat something. You look dead on your feet.” She winced at her word choice, but our gazes caught and I cracked a smile.
“Mom being less than tactful? What’s the world coming to?” I teased lightly.
Mom grimaced. “Yes, I know. Obviously, I need more coffee.”
We both rose and headed for the coffee machine. I got a cup for myself and one for Parker, adding a banana and a granola bar. He might be hungry, too.
The hospital was bustling with early morning activity and the changing of shifts as we headed back upstairs to the ICU. The sight of my dad in the bed had tears leaking from my eyes again.
“So many machines…” I murmured, looking with dismay at how my dad was surrounded.
My mom and I held tightly to each other’s hands, then moved forward by mutual agreement to flank the bed.
“The doctor should be making his morning rounds soon,” she said quietly. “He’ll be able to tell us more.”
About ten minutes later, the doctor showed, going through what he’d told my mom last night for my benefit. It helped to talk to him and I was grateful for medical professionals. To him, Dad was doing really well so the doctor was positive and optimistic about his recovery. Whereas to us, he looked awful and gravely ill. Which he still was, but he’d get better, and that’s what the doc wanted us to focus on.
Drawing us out of the room and into the hallway, he continued: “There is plenty of research that says a person in a coma can be aware of their surroundings and can hear and even understand when people talk to them. So I’d encourage you to talk to him as you would normally. Tell him what you’re doing and normal, everyday stuff. Not anything that might cause him concern, you understand.”
Mom and I both nodded. I’d heard that before, too.
“It’s important that you don’t wear yourself out, being here all the time,” the doctor said. “It’s likely he’ll be in this state for a few weeks as he heals, and you getting sick won’t help that. So go home, pack a bag, maybe get a hotel close by. Take turns, get other people he interacts with on a daily basis in here to talk to him, too. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
The wheels were already turning in my brain of logistics and things to do and how we could get Dad what he needed, and my mom as well. The last thing I needed was her getting ill on top of everything.
Shultz and Charlie walked up for the tail end of the conversation and caught the doctor’s last bit of instructions. Shultz and I glanced at each other in mutual understanding. He’d help me take care of Mom and watch over her so she didn’t overdo it.
“I’m going to go check on Parker,” I said. “Mom, why don’t you go home and pack a bag, like the doctor said. Maybe get a nap before you come back.”
She nodded, but hesitated. “I know that’s what I should do, but I hate to leave your dad alone.”
“I’ll stay,” Charlie said. “Not a problem at all.”
I shot him a grateful look.
“Well…I guess it’s all right then.” Mom cast one more look through the doorway to Dad, then walked with Shultz down the hallway toward the exit.
To my surprise, Parker was dressed when I got back to him.
“They’re actually letting you leave?” I asked, watching dubiously as he put on his shoes.
“I’m fine. Just need something for the infection and some clean bandages.” He shot me a quick look before returning his attention to his shoes. “Though they said it might be a little worrisome, my living alone. If I passed out or something, I could hurt myself.”
Alarm shot through me. “T
hen you have to stay! You can’t leave now. Just another couple of days—”
But he was already shaking his head. “No,” he cut me off. “I need to get back to work and I can’t do that from a hospital bed.”
“Work can wait,” I tried again. He was shrugging on his jacket over his bloodstained shirt. “At least let me call Deirdre. Maybe she can come stay with you.” Deirdre was Parker’s maid, of sorts. She always was around to tidy the apartment and cook his dinners, which were incredible.
“Didn’t I tell you? She and Marco went away for the week. He’s taking her to Italy.”
I was momentarily diverted. Marco was Parker’s butcher and him dating Deirdre was a recent development—and incredibly juicy gossip.
“But they just started dating!” I said. “I can’t believe she’d agree to a trip like that so soon.”
Parker shrugged, then a tiny wince flashed across his face. “She said something to me about it, that they weren’t getting any younger and they got along really well. She seemed to be looking forward to it.”
Huh. Well, good for her then, I supposed. I had a slight pang inside that Deirdre—a grandma in her sixties with double-digit grandkids—was more able to take control of her life and go after what she wanted and what made her happy than I was.
There didn’t seem to be any other answer. I certainly didn’t want Parker by himself so soon after getting shot while protecting me. “I-I guess I could stay with you,” I offered, nearly afraid to utter the words. What if he turned me down? What if he didn’t?
Parker finished tying his shoes and stood. “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great,” he said. “You don’t have to play nursemaid. Just make sure I don’t keel over.” His lips twisted in a smile that made my pulse triple. I’d forgotten how beautiful he was in the few weeks I’d not seen him on a daily basis. Or else my memory just couldn’t do him justice.
“Sure.” I headed down the hallway, Parker just a step behind. “I just need to get some things from my apartment and I’ll be over.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” I argued. “I’ll take you home and get you settled, then I’ll go.”
“I’ll be fine and I’m sure it won’t take long.”