by Laurel Greer
“Okay. You can follow me home, then.” She freed herself from Zach’s arms and busied herself with taking a now-sleeping Ben from Lauren and transferring him to his stroller.
Lauren, shooting her sister an “I see what you did there, looking at that guy in that way” brow arch, slipped off her shoes, rested her heels on the edge of the chair and sank against Tavish. He absorbed her weight into his side and kissed her hair, which looked rather like she’d been standing in a windstorm. He wasn’t about to point that out. “You should both eat something.”
“I can’t,” Lauren said. “I won’t keep it down.”
“Your dad’s going to be fine. And you need to think of yourself,” Tavish emphasized. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Think of the—”
“Fine.” Her jaw jutted out. “But I’m not eating cafeteria crap.”
“I can bring us something healthy from home,” Cadie said. “Though that’ll be well over an hour with driving.”
“I’ll survive,” Lauren said.
As Cadie and Zach’s footsteps—or crutch squeaks, in Zach’s case—faded down the hallway, Lauren slid away from Tavish and dropped her head against the back of the chair. “Don’t be so obvious. I’m not ready to announce my pregnancy to the world.”
“But Cadie knows.”
“And Zach doesn’t.”
“Sorry. I tried to whisper.” Tavish’s stomach gurgled. “I can’t wait for breakfast—what can I get you from the cafeteria?”
Lauren nodded. “Tea, please. Green.”
He headed for the elevator.
* * *
Alone in the waiting room, Lauren inhaled, gagging at the hospital smell. She didn’t have much longer to deal with the smells of medicine—disinfectant, latex, bodily fluids. But her flash of happiness over that vanished when she remembered why she was in the hospital in the first place. Worry made the base of her throat tingle. Dad will be okay. Angioplasty rarely resulted in complications. She wasn’t a cardiologist or a surgeon, but she knew enough.
Even so, her knowledge didn’t stop the stress from corroding her stomach lining.
Tavish returned after ten minutes, holding a disposable tray, replete with cups and two muffins, in one hand.
“I brought you a muffin just in case.” He sat next to her and kissed her softly. “Any news?”
He was being so attentive. But that didn’t bring ease. In her under-slept, stressed state, her whole body buzzed, waiting for the rug pull. Waiting for him to bolt after her freak-out this morning. “No, no word yet.”
“Come here.” He welcomed her with arms she’d grown too used to over the last couple of weeks.
Sliding her legs over his lap, she clung to him, dug her fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. Even if her father’s cardiac event meant she wouldn’t be able to take any more steps forward, she needed Tavish’s support. But if he kept pushing her like he had yesterday, their relationship wasn’t going to go far. Were they better off giving up now, focusing on coparenting? No way was Lauren setting foot outside Gallatin County after she gave birth. Her baby needed a stable home. Safe. One where parents didn’t get sick or die when their children weren’t home.
Out on the trail yesterday, he’d smiled bright enough to give the sun a run for its money. Even the short distance had brought him joy. How much happier would he be had she been able to go farther? And she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she was the reason for that smile dimming again.
Unpleasant and unwanted, the truth hardened into a ball in her throat. She swallowed and made herself spit the words out before she convinced herself it was okay to keep holding him back. “You’re not going to be happy in a relationship with someone like me, Tavish. Even part-time.”
He jerked and a strange, still energy overtook his body. “We’ll manage, Lauren.”
No. Managing wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t fair for anyone. She couldn’t expect Tavish to stay if she wasn’t going to be able to compromise. “You should go.”
“What?” He wove his fingers into her hair, held her head to his chest. His heart thudded against her ear. The physical comfort was the most unfair of teases. “I want to be here for you.”
“I know you do. But you have needs, too. You deserve an equal partnership, someone who can meet you halfway. I thought I could do it, but I can’t.” She had to protect her heart as best she could. They had seven months to talk about sharing responsibility. She couldn’t do seven more minutes with Tavish at her side, knowing she couldn’t go with him when he left, couldn’t be what he needed. Shifting her legs from his lap, she settled her feet on the floor. She gripped the edge of her seat and tried to muster strength. Alone.
“Lauren.” His voice rasped, pain slicing into the sounds. “Give yourself some time. You’ve had a big shock—no need to make decisions right now. I think between me working at the college part-time and taking shorter assignments—”
“No. Part-time won’t work.”
“But...” The tendons and muscles of his hand slackened on her back. Then the comforting weight was gone. “You can’t mean that.”
Oh, she could. Yeah, she was hurting him, and she hated herself for it. But hanging on to something flawed and hurting him even more, keeping him in a relationship that would slowly make him miserable? She loved him too much to do that to him.
Shooting to his feet, he paced in a circle in front of her. He stuck his hands behind his head. The naked anguish in his eyes shredded her insides.
Tears welled, dripped onto her sweatshirt. “I love you. I can’t ask you to compromise further, knowing it will make you unhappy.”
“You want to talk about unhappy? This is making me unhappy, sweetheart. It’s not right. I need you. And I want to be the man you need.” His arms fell to his sides and he lingered in front of her for a minute or so, lips parted, silently begging.
“Just leave. Please.” When she broke eye contact, unable to handle the violet bruise of his eyes any longer, he spun around. His footsteps receded.
Jarred by each reverberation of rubber against linoleum, Lauren’s heart shattered.
Chapter Fourteen
Tavish stormed away from the waiting room. He’d done what Lauren had asked, but he didn’t like it. The craving to stay with her, to hold her and wipe away her tears, overrode everything he’d ever wanted. That, he didn’t know how to deal with. His instincts were all wonky. She was trying to leave him. He should be cutting and running first, saving himself the inevitable arterial bleed of having her break things off for good. Of her limiting their relationship to cold shoulders and stilted conversations on his visitation days. But his muscles resisted every step he took away from her. I love you. I can’t ask you...
Alarm bells sounded in his mind. He stopped short, sandals screeching on the floor. She was pulling the exact same crap on him as he’d pulled on her when he’d left her sitting on the banks of the river. The classic “I love you so I’m going to push you away” garbage that had been his MO since he was a kid. Since his dad had left him.
Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he clenched his hands into fists and straightened. Try again, Pixie. No way would he let her make the same mistakes he’d been making for most of his life. But who was he to show her how to love? He didn’t even trust himself to commit to more than half a year with her and the baby.
Loving her—at least right now, while she was dealing with her dad’s trauma—would require meeting her more than halfway. Sweat broke out on his palms and he slumped against one of the hallway walls. Could he do more than half a year? She clearly didn’t trust him to, with her talking about him being unhappy. But he’d told her the absolute truth—leaving her was not right. Walking away while she sat alone in that uncomfortable hospital chair made him unhappier than staying in Sutter Creek ever had.
The mammoth task of convincing her to t
rust him weighed him down as if he were stuck under six feet of packed snow. Because before he could convince her to trust him, he had to learn how to trust himself.
And he didn’t know where to start.
Weariness flooded into his muscles. More caffeine would jolt him back to reality. Having left his coffee behind, he needed to get another before he began the stake-out he intended to hold in the lobby on the main floor. He’d damn well sit there until he figured out how to show her that pushing him away was a stupid-ass way to express love.
He peeled himself off the wall and strode into the elevator. The smell of antiseptic and illness permeated the space and seeped into his pores. A shower would be nice, but he couldn’t risk heading home and having her think he’d left. With a ding, the doors opened on the ground floor. Before he could exit, a couple rushed in, leaving him no room to squeeze out.
“Tavish!” His sister flung herself at him. Her freckles competed for space with the mottled blotches on her face. She’d always turned bright red when she cried.
“Kenz. Hey.” He gripped her tighter. She felt rounder than she had a week ago. “You grew.”
“Thanks for the reminder, jerk.”
“It’s a good thing,” he assured her.
She snorted, obviously unconvinced. But he meant it. And excitement nudged away some of his irritation over Lauren’s you-should-go nonsense. Pretty soon her body would start changing. He wanted it all, from feeling the baby kick to dealing with inevitable hormone swings. “You’re not leaving, are you?” His shirt muffled Mackenzie’s voice.
“No, I was going to get myself a coffee.”
“How’s my dad?” Drew’s haggard expression broadcast his level of distress.
Tavish wished he had a father he could feel that depth of emotion for. “Recovering well. I’ll take you to the waiting room.”
As they rode back up to the cardiac floor, he filled the couple in on what he knew. The waiting room was empty—Lauren no longer sat where he’d left her. At the nurses’ station, a guy in blue scrubs told them where to find Edward Dawson.
Drew held Mackenzie’s hand as they hurried to the designated room. A nurse stopped them before they entered. “Sorry, you’re going to have to limit it to one more visitor. He already has two.”
“I should leave. Lauren doesn’t want to see me anyway.” Tavish backed up.
Mackenzie shot him a questioning look before standing on her toes to kiss her husband. “You go in, honey. I’ll take a walk with my brother.”
Drew’s brow wrinkled. He clutched Mackenzie close. “If you’re sure.”
“We’ve been sitting for long enough. A stroll will do me good. Text me if you need me.”
Nodding, Drew ducked into his father’s room.
“Let’s go somewhere happier,” Mackenzie said.
* * *
Lauren sat at her father’s bedside, her attempts to regulate her breathing a fricking failure. Illness came with the territory of her job. But her dad, pale and swathed in blue hospital linens and monitor cables was completely different. She could have lost him. God, she’d almost missed getting to tell him he was going to be a grandfather again. Her final memory of his voice could have been that quiet, shocked tone as he’d processed her having quit. Her eyes went hot.
Her aunt Georgie stood with Andrew against the wall. The two were talking quietly about the arrangements that needed to be made to get Edward some help at home and work for the next while. Lauren planned to ask Dr. Martin if she could take some family time, or at least cut her schedule down until her contract expired, to allow her to give her dad a hand.
“Laur, we’re going to go make a few phone calls. We’ll be quick,” Andrew said.
“Sure,” she murmured as her brother and her aunt left the room.
She traced her fingers along her father’s wrist. Her father stirred.
“Daddy?”
He grimaced and then opened his eyes. “Cookie. Hey.”
Her lower lip started to wobble. “Oh, Dad.”
“Love you.”
“I love you, too.” Lauren squeezed his anesthesia-chilled hand. Hers wasn’t much warmer, really. “Don’t move, Dad. You’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”
“Yeah. Woke up. Four-thirty?” Swallowing, he glanced around the room without moving his head. He’d want water to moisten what had to be a surgery-munged mouth, but she couldn’t let go of his hand just yet. “Crushing pain. Surgery.”
Relief swamped Lauren at the sound of his voice, releasing the tears welling in her ducts. “I was so worried about you. But the surgeon said everything went fine.”
“It’s all pretty foggy.”
She sniffled. “This is my fault. I stressed you out too much by quitting my job.”
Her father’s gaze sharpened. “Try again. I worked too hard and pretended I ate well. My blood pressure was through the roof. I kept that from you.”
She wasn’t going to let him distract her with his own puny sins. “You needed me. And then I left. Just like I did with Mom. And Grammy and Gramps.”
“Lauren.” His voice quieted. His fingers clenched hers. “When you were fourteen, did you know how to cure post-surgical infections?”
“No. Of course not,” she admitted.
“And would you have stopped your grandparents from driving to Billings that day?”
“No. It’s not about controlling what happens...”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about making sure I’m here for you and Cadie and Andrew if something goes wrong.”
“Cookie, you came home as fast as you could. We’ve had some hard times as a family, but we’ve gotten through them together.”
His assurance boosted her conviction. “Exactly. I need to stay so that we can keep facing stuff together.”
“Lauren. That’s not what I meant. We don’t have to live in each other’s pockets.”
She shook her head, pulling her chair closer to the bed. Resting her head on his hand, she tried to believe him. And couldn’t.
Her father, eyes tired, stroked her hair. “Would you expect me to cancel all my business trips or my annual Dublin vacation just in case you or Cadie or Andrew needed me?”
Agh, that makes sense. But it’s different. She’d been the one to support her father, her sister, over the past year. If they didn’t need her support, and if she didn’t need to be a doctor for her mother’s sake, then who was she, really?
“I’m afraid,” she admitted.
“Of what?”
Dark spots formed behind her eyelids as she shut them hard enough to make her cheeks hurt. “Losing you. Mackenzie, Andrew, Cadie. Everyone.”
“Tavish?” her dad asked quietly.
“Yeah.” But she’d already lost him. Instead of working through her fears and taking the risk of compromising with him, her instinct had been to run away. Protecting them both. Except she hadn’t protected him at all. She’d hurt him. And her clinical side shone a beacon into the hidden parts of her psyche, the ones she didn’t want to look at. If a patient sat down in her office and told her a phobia was standing in the way of the person fully living life, Lauren would refer them to a counselor immediately. Physician, heal thyself.
“I don’t know how to be with him. But we’re not going to be able to completely sever ties.” The alluding words came out before she thought about the fact her dad was hooked up to a half-dozen beeping machines. Frick. Getting big news hours after heart surgery wasn’t in his best interest. She threw out a cover. “Because I love him.”
Pain edged his smile. “You always have, Cookie.”
“And it’s never been enough, Dad.”
“It’s going to have to be, isn’t it?” He glanced at the ceiling, then back at her. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to compare you to your mother
anymore. But I can’t, not when it comes to this—she always got sick early in her first trimester.”
“And...” she said, one last desperate attempt to evade the subject.
“Lauren—” his wan smile turned chiding “—you can’t be retching in the bathroom all week at work without people noticing. Rumors made their way up the chain to me. I was going to wait for you to say something, but this morning reminded me that sometimes we shouldn’t waste time.”
Truth. She and Tavish had wasted so much time. A decade, really. Definitely the last year. “I’m pregnant, Dad.”
“I know, Cookie. Which thrills me, truly. But how are you feeling about it?”
“About the baby? Fantastic.” The baby needs me.
And Tavish said he needed her, too. But her meeting the baby’s needs would mean not meeting Tavish’s. Her inability to properly love the two people who were entitled to all she could give pinched her rib cage tight enough to steal her oxygen.
And she couldn’t see a way to love them both without risking too much.
* * *
Mackenzie’s “somewhere happier” involved navigating a warren of hospital hallways. Tavish strode behind her, surprised at her speed. She moved at a good clip for someone with a serious waddle. They emerged through a set of glass doors into a well-tended prayer garden. “Hopefully we won’t have to be in a hospital again until I’m giving birth to this little one.” She rubbed her belly and then her back. “Today’s been pretty awful. Andrew’s in shock.”
“I could tell.”
“And as much as I feel bad complaining when I’m not the one who just had a heart attack, my back is killing me. Being away, having time to ourselves was nice, but I’m so ready to have this baby.”
“You got this, kiddo. Only four more weeks.”
“Shh, don’t tell Mackenzie,” she joked in a theatrically quiet voice.
“You’ll make it.” He coughed. “Can’t wait to meet him or her. I’m going to need the practice.”