All About Sage (A City of Sails Romance Book 2)

by Hill, Joanne

  “Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to go ahead. “Let’s get this fiasco over with.”

  He followed her out and up the stairs to Robyn and Jack’s room. The door was open, and Harriet walked straight in.

  He followed, and checked out the scene. Sage was lying on her back in the bed, motionless, her mouth half open.

  Harriet stuck her hands on her hips. “Mother?” she said in a loud voice.

  There was no movement.

  “Mother?” Harriet said again, and went over and gently shook her shoulder.

  Sage barely moved.

  Ethan frowned and went over to the bed to look down at her. She was breathing. The cover had slipped and he could see the rise and fall of her chest.

  “Should you check her pulse or something?” Harry asked.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll check her pulse.” He sat down on the bed. “And for the record, if she wakes up I want you to tell her the truth. That all I am doing is waking her up so she can do her part of the childminding.”

  Harry nodded, and chewed her lip anxiously.

  He swallowed. Leaning over, he cautiously put his fingers to her carotid. Her pulse was slow and steady. It was shallow, but it was there.

  “She’s still alive,” he said as he withdrew his hand.

  “Do you think she’s unconscious?” Harry asked nervously. “Like she’s in one of those comas and she might never wake up. Or maybe she’s brain-damaged, or she’s had an aneurism.”

  He glanced at her. “Brain-damaged from what?”

  “From the aneurism. I don’t know.”

  He recognised something of Sage in her anxious expression. “You’re a lot like her, you know.” Yesterday, he recalled, Sage had thought he was having a heart attack on the beach. Not that Harry was a drama queen at all – far from it – but clearly she overthought. Although maybe that’s what kids who had decent parents did.

  “I’ll tell you what.” He reached over for the remote by the bed and aimed it at the TV, so that it blared into life. He flicked through until he found the sports channel and the re-run of the cricket, then turned up the volume.

  “It’s pretty loud,” Harry said. “Mum hates sport.”

  “That,” Ethan said, watching Sage closely, “is the idea.”

  She didn’t move.

  Unease began to edge up his spine. “Does she normally sleep like this?”

  “No. I mean, she has done in the past, like when she’s had too much to drink.”

  He bent closer but there was no trace of alcohol that he could smell. He set down the remote and scratched his chin.

  “What do you think?” Harry sat on the other side of the bed, and Ruby followed closely.

  He sighed. “I’m not sure. It’s not as if we can call emergency services. She just seems to be sleeping.”

  Eric suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Mrs Parker said to come and tell you the pancakes are ready. Bags I get the biggest, Ruby.” He turned and ran back down the stairs.

  “No, I want the big ones,” Ruby screamed. Ethan winced as Ruby took off after her step-brother. He looked hopefully at Sage in case the screaming had woken her up.

  She gave what sounded like a snore.

  “What do you think?” Harry asked.

  He had no idea what to think. He tapped Sage on the shoulder but she just gave a faint grunt. “I think that, much as it kills me to say it, we just have to wait for her to wake up.”

  “What if she never wakes up?”

  “She’ll wake up, Harry.” He gestured to the door. “Are you hungry? Mrs P’s pancakes are pretty good.”

  “A bit hungry. Not much.” She glanced at Sage.

  Ethan looked back at her, too. The breathing was solid. She had colour in her cheeks. Suddenly, she turned over, and Harry breathed a loud sigh of relief.

  “Phew. I think she’s okay.”

  Ethan felt something similar grip hold of him. So maybe he’d been worried. He was a decent person. Of course he’d been worried.

  “Let’s go and mind those children,” he said. “I could eat a pancake or two.”

  Twenty minutes and several pancakes later, Mrs Parker was wiping down the counter, and Ethan went to check in on James and Eric. They were in the family room, already hypnotized by laptops. Perfect.

  Harriet had gone upstairs with Ruby to check on Sage. Ethan took advantage of the lull head back to the kitchen, and collapse onto a bar stool. This exhaustion was abnormal, but after two hours sleep, he wasn’t going to blame himself.

  “I’m off,” Mrs Parker announced. She glanced at her watch, and Ethan felt a moment’s panic. “Sure. Thanks for hanging around as long as you did. You’re an angel.”

  Mrs Parker snorted. “She awake?”

  “Bound to be,” Ethan said weakly. Hopefully.

  Mrs Parker stared at his mouth. “Is that a grin or a grimace?”

  “I’m covering my bases.” He pushed himself up off the stool and went to refill his cup with decaf. He hoped it wasn’t misplaced optimism that had him visualising falling asleep. Falling into a deep, deep sleep.

  Mrs Parker pulled her phone from her pocket, dialed a number, and after a minute said, “Parker.” Then she disconnected the call.

  Ethan drummed his fingers on the table.

  “I think,” Mrs Parker said, “that you might be…” She hesitated. “I think you might be okay to look after this lot.”

  “That’s nice of you,” Ethan muttered. He took a long slug of the decaf.

  Mrs Parker beckoned upstairs. “Sage’s girl is on to it.”

  He resisted the eye roll.

  “My taxi will be here in three minutes.” She picked up her bag and her tablet, and he walked with her out to the hall. “I’ll be back at four to make dinner, unless you think you’ll be fine all on your own.”

  “I think we’ll be fine,” he said as he opened the door for her. “I’ll get takeaways.”

  She seemed to think about it. “Okay, then. I’ll leave you and Sage to it. Call me if you need help. My number is speed-dial two on the landline, and I’m only a phone call away.”

  “Where do you live?” he asked curiously.

  “Just a ways down.” There was a toot from the road, and she gave Ethan a salute. “Have a good day.”

  The door shut behind her, and Ethan looked wearily back up to the staircase.

  Damn you, Sage. We had a deal.

  He dragged himself up the stairs and along to Jack’s room.

  Inside, Harry was sitting on the bed next to a still-sleeping Sage. Ruby had climbed up onto the other side, and they were both on top of the covers. reading. The volume on the TV had been muted.

  Harry looked up from her book as he asked, “How’s your mum?”

  “Snoring. But that’s normal. Barry said she’s got strong sinuses but his are worse.”

  Barry. Funny how he’d managed to push Bazza from his mind.

  “I want to play Lego,” Ruby said. “I need to make a castle for the fairy princess.”

  Harriet put down her book. “I can do that with you, Rubes.”

  “It’s all down in the family room,” Ethan said. “The boys are playing computer games.”

  Harry said, “I’ll take you down, Ruby. I might get my laptop and log into my school account. I need to work.”

  “No Facebook or Instagram updates?” Ethan joked.

  She grinned. “That, too. I’ve been offline for a day, and it’s a lifetime. Will you keep an eye on Ma, Ethan?”

  It was the first time she’d ever called him Ethan and he felt absurdly pleased. He said, “Will you keep an eye on Ruby and co?”

  “I’m used to it. I babysit for a living, remember.”

  “Then I’ll pull up a chair and watch the reruns until she wakes up.”

  Harry gave Sage one last look, and then held out her hand. “Come on, Ruby.”

  When they were gone, with Ruby chattering about how she was going to make a man monster and the prince was going to ki
ll him to get the princess, Ethan observed Sage closely. She had changed position and she was breathing. She was okay.

  He wasn’t. He aimed the remote at the TV and un-muted the volume, and glanced around for a chair.

  There was none there. He went through to the bathroom but there was only a stool.

  He stared at the spot Harry had vacated on the bed.

  Where needs must, he sighed, and sat down on the side of the bed again, judiciously positioning himself as far away from Sage as could be. He lowered his body onto the covers, carefully stretched out, and felt peace begin to seep through him.

  Luxury.

  Sage sighed, and he stiffened.

  He raised the TV volume a fraction, looked sideways at her. Her mouth was still open.

  He lay back against the headboard. It was okay. Harry, the expert babysitter, was babysitting and Mrs Parker was only a call away. He frowned, and thought of his bed downstairs.

  Sage gave a snore.

  He focused back on the TV, groaned as he watched the umpteenth replay of a wicket being taken, and settled back.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sage opened her eyes and stared at the wall. For a moment, she was hideously disoriented and it took a while to figure it out. Jack and Robyn’s bed. Of course. She was in their house. Deep in her sluggish–horribly sluggish–brain, she knew that.

  She turned from her side over onto her back, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh.

  Her eyes shot open and she went deadly still.

  Were there sports going on somewhere?

  It was loud. As if it was in the room.

  Sports. She shuddered, and closed her eyes again. Ethan had been watching the cricket last night. Or was it this morning?

  The mattress moved.

  Harry was there. One thing she loved about her girl was that she wasn’t too old to lie on the bed with her mum, having a sleep. One day she would. But not for now. Gosh, she loved Harry so much, and she knew, in spite of the moments that had threatened to turn her hair grey, that she was so lucky to have a daughter like her. Unlike those two sons of her ex.

  With her eyes closed, she reached out, patted the duvet cover, then stretched out and patted her way to the sleeping bulk.

  “Harry?” She opened her eyes and glanced over.

  It was Ethan.

  Her hand froze where it lay on his shoulder.

  Ethan’s shoulder.

  Panic went through her, and for a moment she couldn’t move.

  She looked around. There was noise downstairs. Slight noise. And the cricket was on the TV in her room. It wasn’t loud at all. It just sounded it. Had Ethan been watching the cricket in her bed? What was he doing here? With her?

  She moved her hand. This was bad. This was really bad.

  Suddenly he moved, and without thinking, she shrieked. He shot around, saw her, confusion flashed across his face, then he relaxed. For a moment they just stared at each other. His eyes were amazing. Just so deep and beautiful and—

  “So,” he said in a throaty voice. “You’re alive.”

  “What? Yes. Of course.” He was just a few feet from her in the bed, and there was something that might have been relief across his face, but she had no idea why.

  “What are you doing?” she said to him. “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing?” He pushed himself upright, so he was leaning against the back of the bed, looking down at her. “Do you recall anything about our agreement?”

  “What?” She needed to pee. She began to pull back the covers to climb out, then hastily checked to make sure she wasn’t naked. She frowned. Far from it. She was fully clothed. What on earth was going on?

  Ethan continued to look down at her, arms folded across his chest. Even when she was practically looking up his nostrils, the man was gorgeous.

  You are so sick, she chastised herself, as she climbed out of bed and stumbled her way to the bathroom.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do,” he called out.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered as she shut the door, and staggered over to the toilet.

  She buried her face in her hands. She had some explaining to do to him? Was he kidding? She couldn’t even explain any of this to herself.

  She went to the toilet, wondering if he could hear every sound that was made, like in her house, but figured Jack would have incorporated privacy into his design. She flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and didn’t even bother to look at her reflection. She knew what it was like and she didn’t care.

  Did not care.

  She took a deep breath and stepped back out.

  He was still on the bed, still sitting up, but this time he’d clasped his hands behind his head. His gaze was steady on her, his eyes watching her.

  She noticed he’d switched the TV off.

  She took a breath and cleared her throat. Confidence, Sage. Dig deep for some of that confidence. Ethan is in your room. He is in the wrong. Do not be intimidated by him.

  And whatever you do, do not imagine him naked or in his underwear. Whoever made up that saying as a way to deal to nerves had clearly never had someone like Ethan McGraw in close proximity.

  She said, her voice surprisingly calm, “So what’s going on here?”

  “Good question, Sage. Really good question.”

  Nothing had gone on, of course it hadn’t. Not in the way that was threatening the far corners of her mind. He wore jeans and a T-shirt – good heavens his stomach was flat, but not in that skinny way of Barry – and his chest was so broad, and he lay on top of the covers. On top. Not to mention she’d been fully clothed.

  She glanced at the watch. It had just gone twelve.

  Panic wrenched at her. “The children,” she gasped, and turned to the door.

  “They’re fine,” he said sharply. “Harry’s been watching them. When she hasn’t been checking up on you.”

  Sage hesitated. “What do you mean, she’s been checking up on me?”

  He pressed his lips together. “She was worried.”

  She frowned. “Worried about what?”

  “About the fact you are one very strange sleeper. I’ve never seen anything like it. Especially,” he said as he swung his legs around, “when you told me you’d be up for hours because of your catnap.” He gave a stretch, followed by a groan of satisfaction.

  He released pheromones just by moving, she thought.

  Just by breathing.

  She changed her mind on that appearance thing.

  “I’m just going to the bathroom again,” she said, and didn’t wait for his response. In the bathroom she shut the door, took a deep breath, and then cautiously approached the mirror.

  Her reflection was… She sighed. It could always be worse. That was her mantra when things got tough. It could always be worse.

  She picked up her hairbrush, ran it through her hair, brushed her teeth, and sprayed her armpits.

  A thousand percent better.

  She stepped outside. Ethan was standing looking out the window, legs astride. She could tell he had his arms folded and there was never anything good about Ethan standing with his arms folded.

  He didn’t even turn around.

  He said, “So, about this arrangement.”

  “You keep going on about this ‘arrangement’ like a broken record.”

  He spun around, his lips tight. “Never took you one for reneging on a deal. Doctor Lockwood.”

  She eyed him hesitantly as he walked over to her. No one ever called her doctor. Unless it was a formal situation.

  She said, “What are you going on about?”

  He took a step closer. “I was watching the cricket. I had it planned. You knew I had it planned. I had beer and snacks and six hours of sporting heaven. You,” he said, and she was sure he was mentally stabbing her in the chest, “you were meant to take over from me when I went to bed. You were meant to be looking after Jack and Rob’s children while I slept off my night.”

  She st
ared at him, as understanding dawned. The pills. Oh, sweet heaven. The sleeping pills.

  She’d called Barry; she’d sneaked out. She had tried to throw up in the toilet. That had been the worst bit of it—

  “What’s that weird look on your face?” he said.

  She swallowed down, took a deep breath, a calming breath that had no effect at all. She said, with a dismissive wave of her hand, “It’s nothing.” Her mind went into overdrive. When had she taken the pill? How long had she been out to it? Seven hours? Eight hours? A day?

  She composed herself. “So how long were you waiting for me to wake up?”

  His eyes darkened. “Since Harry woke me up. Three hours.”

  Had he been on the bed with her for three hours?

  His forehead creased. “That look is getting stranger. You’re beginning to seriously freak me out.”

  “Just thinking,” she murmured. She cleared her throat. “Why were you here? In my room.”

  “Because your daughter,” he said, “was worried about you. Someone had to look after the children, someone who wasn’t wasted.”

  Her eyes shot open wider. Did he know she’d been under the influence of prescription drugs?

  “And I’d been drinking,” he said.

  Relief swamped her.

  “And so,” he went on, “Harry and I, we made a deal. A deal,” he added pointedly, “we stuck to. She looked after the children. I kept an eye on you.”

  “No one needed to keep an eye on me,” she said, with injected lightness that clearly failed to amuse him.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know your sleep patterns. I don’t know how you sleep, especially when you’ve got people trying to wake you up. I’ve never seen anything like it. But then, I sleep light. Had to train myself to live that way.”

  “Military?” she queried.

  His face blanked. “Not all of it. Look.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re okay. The kids are okay. Admittedly only because your daughter is amazing—”

  Unlike you. He never said the words but she thought them for him. Of course that’s what he was thinking. And he was right.