Darcy’s lungs compressed, no air coming or going, the same time her heart leapt into overdrive. The combination had her swaying and dizzy. She and Ada locked eyes. Her voice barely audible, Darcy said, “You’re not going to die.”
Flashing red lit the night.
Wolf pushed a gurney into the den. “Ada Wilde, what have you done to yourself?” His chipper question swept away the desolation of the moment.
Darcy wanted to hug him again. “Her hip is sore, and she has a fever, Wolf. Do you think it’s an infection?”
He ran a topical thermometer over Ada’s forehead and chuffed. Everyone was silent while he counted her pulse with two fingers on her delicate wrist. While he banded her arm with a blood pressure cuff, he said, “Infection is a common risk of any joint replacement.”
As he removed the cuff, he squeezed Ada’s arm. “We’ll get you all fixed up, Miss Ada, don’t you worry your head.” Turning to Darcy, he asked, “You want to ride in the back?”
Darcy climbed into the ambulance after Ada had been loaded and clutched her grandmother’s thin hand in both of hers, holding it over her heart.
* * *
Robbie waited until he was inside to unwrap the package. He ran his fingers over the rustic handmade wooden frame. Putting the picture of his coach inside, he set it on the mantle and took two steps back. It was perfect.
He grabbed a bottled water and let Avery out. Propping his shoulder against the front-porch column, he watched Avery sniff at a bush and take care of business. Darcy Wilde was a piece of sandpaper to his wood grain, stripping away protective layers.
Flickering lights through the trees drew him out of his semi-trance. He grabbed his phone and whistled for Avery. They both piled into the truck. Avery barked and shifted, mirroring Robbie’s worry. They pulled up as the taillights of an ambulance disappeared in the trees. Kat stood on the front porch, her hands cupped around each elbow.
He rolled down his window as Kat ran to him. “What happened?”
Her normally confident voice sounded strained and reedy. “Miss Ada started running a fever. She wouldn’t let me take her temp because she didn’t want to interrupt your date. Darcy thinks one of her hips might be infected. Should I call Logan?”
“That’d be great. He’s at the Tavern. I’ll stay at the hospital with Darcy until he gets off work.”
He parked in front of the county hospital and rolled down the truck windows. Avery had curled up on the seat at his hip. The ambulance sat in the unloading zone of the ER, the doors open but the back empty. He sat in the truck for a few minutes. Darcy might not want him there. It’s not like he was a real boyfriend. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel a few times before climbing out, leaving Avery dozing.
The smell of disinfectant hung heavy in the hospital. Luck was on his side. Visiting hours were over, but the night nurse was the mother of one of his players, and she ushered him through the locked doors. Bypassing the waiting area, he opted to prop himself in the hall across from Miss Ada’s room. Nurses bustled in and out, but no one seemed frantic.
The patience and stillness he’d learned in the woods and perfected in the service served him well. Two hours passed. A doctor strolled down the hallway, his gaze on a sheaf of papers he carried. The man had also been on the hiring committee when Robbie had interviewed for the coaching position.
“Dr. Mackenzie,” Robbie said, “how’s Miss Ada?”
The doctor looked up with a smile, and they shook hands. “Looks to be an infection around the metal joint in her left hip. Started her on IV antibiotics. Nothing life-threatening at the moment, but these infections can be difficult to shake, especially considering her age.”
They discussed football until the doctor was paged away. Robbie crossed his arms and resumed his position, prepared to wait all night. The door opened a few minutes after midnight, and Darcy backed out of the room. Blood sped through his body, sending him a step toward her. As soon as the door shut, her shoulders dropped, and she turned.
“Robbie?” She blinked as if he were a figment of her imagination. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought you might need someone.”
At first, she showed no indication she’d even heard him. Then, her chin wobbled as she took a few tentative steps toward him. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and her weight fell into him.
The feeling of having a woman count on him and look to him for solace was foreign, yet instead of hightailing it in the opposite direction, he pulled her closer, stroked her hair, and wiped at her damp cheeks with a thumb. The night nurse approached on soundless shoes and offered a box of tissues with a sympathetic look. He dabbed at Darcy’s face.
Taking the wad and blowing her nose, she said between hiccups, “I need to call Logan, but I don’t have his number memorized. I left my phone and purse and everything at the house.”
“All taken care of. Logan is heading over after he closes up. He should be here any minute. The doctor said your grandmother’s not in immediate danger.” Her arms travelled back around him, her response a squeeze.
Logan turned the corner, hands deep in his pockets. His step stuttered seeing Darcy snug in Robbie’s arms, but thankfully, he refrained from comment.
Robbie pointed to Ada’s room. After patting Darcy’s shoulder, Logan slipped inside. She tried to follow, but Robbie said, “Give him a few minutes.”
He expected an argument, but she surprised him by notching herself back in his arms, her forehead against his neck. He nuzzled his chin against her temple, and she went lax.
Logan rejoined them. “Darcy looks half asleep. Why don’t you get her home, Dalt? I’ll stay here. The nurse has given Ada some pain meds, so she’ll be out the rest of the night anyway. As soon as they offer some recommendations in the morning, I’ll call.”
“I should stay too.” Her protest was thick with exhaustion.
“No room for both of us. Go on and try to get some rest. She’ll be fine.” Logan squeezed her forearm before disappearing into Ada’s room.
“Come on. Logan is right.”
She didn’t offer significant resistance when he loaded her into his truck. She scooted to the middle of the bench seat, and Avery settled next to the window. The two regarded one another with equal amounts of antipathy.
“He’s not going to hurt you.”
“Why does he look like he wants to rip my throat out?”
“He picked up on my feelings about you.”
“You want to attack me?”
A trick question. He wouldn’t mind ripping her clothes off and taking her like an animal. But tonight had revealed a sobering fact. While she no doubt deserved better than him, he wanted her. Even more, he wanted to be better man for her.
“It’s complicated,” he offered instead of a straight answer.
In a matter of minutes, he’d pulled in front of the house. He turned the engine off and walked her inside. Darcy didn’t turn on any lights. They stood at the base of the stairs, dim moonlight filtering from the window above the door.
He shuffled his feet, uncomfortable with their shifting relationship. “Well, I guess—”
She grabbed the front of his T-shirt and stepped close.
“Stay. Please.” Her whispered plea tore through him, electrifying his nerves.
What exactly was she asking? Did she want him to take her to bed? Why? Out of fear or loneliness or something more complex? He wasn’t sure which answer would be the most unsettling. He skimmed his lips over her forehead. “Go on up.”
Before any other body part could voice an opinion on the matter, he retreated to the porch.
* * *
Darcy woke with sadness squatting uncomfortably on her chest. She curled into a ball and allowed a few tears to leak out. The wires and IVs had seemed to tether Ada to the big hospital bed last night, as frail and delicate as a tissue kite.
The house was quiet. Covering her
face with a pillow, she groaned. Like an idiot, she’d asked Robbie to stay. The arousal from their dance had buzzed through her like alcohol. She’d wanted him in a multitude of ways last night. For sexual gratification, certainly, but she’d also been seeking the physical solidness of his strength. He’d been a rock the night before.
No matter. He had shoved her upstairs and left. She pulled on jeans and a blouse and padded downstairs to find her phone. A recent text from Logan informed her Ada was awake and sassy, but they were still waiting for the doctor to make rounds. She blew out a gusty sigh and headed to make coffee. The sight in the formal living room stopped her short.
Robbie hadn’t left after all. Sprawled on the ornately curved, Chippendale-style couch, he’d pilfered the ancient afghan from the den. His shoes were off, one foot on the floor, the other hanging over the armrest, his body longer than the couch. Avery blinked at her from the rug. One of Robbie’s hands dangled to lie on the dog’s scruff, and Avery either didn’t want to wake him or enjoyed the contact.
No gruff words or walls could hide the truth of his soul. He’d saved her from a snake, rescued her from Rick’s advances, taken care of her like a gentleman when she was drunk, waited at the hospital, and slept on the most uncomfortable couch in all of Alabama because she’d asked him to stay. What she wanted to do was wake him with a kiss.
What she did was creep away to make him breakfast. The smell of frying bacon lured both man and beast to the kitchen. Robbie shifted on socked feet, his blond hair rumpled and his shirt halfway untucked. Blond stubble covered his cheeks and trailed down his neck, and he scratched at it as if needing something to do with his hands.
Any reasonably intelligent greeting got lost in a wave of high schoollike shyness. The man was intimidating and gruff and frustrating. He was also freaking adorable.
Avery snapped a bark and cozied up next to Darcy. His tongue lolled, and his tail wagged. She directed her words toward him. “You like me as long as I have bacon to offer?”
Avery barked, and she swore he grinned. “Does he understand what I’m saying?” she asked Robbie with an awkward laugh.
Robbie poured himself a cup of coffee. “In my experience, he listens better than most people.”
“I need to thank you for—”
The whoop of male voices and a procession of trucks on gravel silenced her.
She knocked the heel of a hand to her forehead. “The boys are here to sand and paint the front porch. You have to go. Hurry, before they see you.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the back door. “You can make a break for the woods. . . . What are you waiting for?”
“My truck is parked out front. Leaving out the back isn’t going to save face. It’s not like they’re catching us in bed naked. Hellfire, nothing even happened last night.”
“But they’re teenage boys, they’ll assume we . . .” She waved her hands leadingly.
His eyebrows rose, and she ducked her head, her hair brushing her cheeks. “It’s embarrassing.”
His finger under her chin tilted her face up, and he pushed her hair back over her shoulders. “We can keep up the charade awhile longer. Date. Would that help?”
More fake dates wouldn’t help her peace of mind, but she was honest enough to admit she wanted to spend more time with him, charade or not. She nodded.
“I’ll put the boys to work. You’d better put on another pound of bacon.”
She fried up all the bacon and scrambled two dozen eggs. As she finished, Logan called. Laying out the food, she grabbed her keys and found the boys hard at work.
Tyler put down his scraper. “We’re awful sorry to hear about Miss Ada.”
“Thanks, Tyler.” Her gaze sought Robbie. “They’re moving her to Tuscaloosa. I need to go.”
“You want me to come?”
She did, she really did, for very complicated reasons. But he had a game to prepare for in less than a week. “No, I can manage.”
Miles’s deep baritone grabbed her attention. “We’ll have the porch ready for Miss Ada when she gets home. It’ll look real nice.”
All the boys nodded. She looked around at all of them, their young faces solemn and determined. She wanted to hug every single one of them but instead smiled through her sting of tears. “Thanks, boys. Text me pictures of your progress so I can show Ada.”
As she drove off, she watched Robbie’s diminishing reflection in her rearview mirror, swallowed in her trail of dust.
13
The next week passed in a blur of catnaps, worry, and boredom. Logan came and went as he could, bringing real food and much-needed coffee, but his commitment to the football team increased exponentially as game day approached.
Ada mended slowly. The doctors hadn’t recommended replacing her hip yet again, but the wear and tear of the strong antibiotics etched dark circles under her eyes and deepened the furrows on her face.
Darcy received sporadic texts from Robbie—terse and to the point, mostly asking after Ada.
Logan called Friday morning, his voice a combination of nerves and excitement. “You have to come, cuz. Ada is out of the woods. It’ll be next week before they’ll move her home. The boys have been asking every day if you’re going to be in the stands. By the way, they all aced their essays on To Kill a Mockingbird.”
“I’m not at all surprised they did. God, I would love to sleep in my bed. Did Robbie say anything about wanting me there?” She chewed a thumbnail.
“No, but he’s hyperfocused right now. I’m sure he’d appreciate your support.”
“So personally put.” She rolled her eyes even though Logan couldn’t see.
“Do you want him to get personal? I failed to mention it, but you looked pretty comfortable all cuddled up with him at the hospital.”
“He was being neighborly.”
“Right,” he drawled. “I don’t tenderly hold old man Jenkins in my arms when he comes to return my errant mail.”
“Good grief. I’ll be there.” She disconnected, missing being able to pound a receiver down in its cradle.
Ada had tried to talk her into going home all week and shooed her away with reassurances. Darcy drove toward Falcon with her car top down. After being trapped so long under fluorescent lights, the sun and blue skies grew her optimism like a plant kept in the shade too long. By the time she blew past the city limits sign, she was singing along with the radio.
The last Falcon football game she’d attended had been her senior year. Kat was picking her up. She had just enough time to shower and change into shorts and a faded blue Falcon T-shirt that hadn’t seen the light of day for a decade. She and Kat exchanged a long bracing hug before they set off.
They had to park a good half-mile from the stadium. Cars lined the grassy sides of the road, turning it into a one-lane highway. Excitement crackled the air, infecting Darcy and making her stomach jump. Supporters of both teams swelled the streets, but Falcon blue and white was everywhere. Cars with school flags waving out the windows were in a gridlock on Main Street. The crowd of people moved from the sidewalks to the street like a dam bursting. The toot of car horns cut through the chatter and yells.
Someone started a Falcons cheer—“Let’s go Falcons”—followed by syncopated claps. Her friends in Atlanta would dismiss the spontaneous cheers as herd mentality, but Darcy threw her arms up and chanted with the crowd at the top of her lungs. Town pride swelled in her chest. Damn, but she wanted the Falcons to win.
“Darcy!” Henry Wilson called, waving his arms high.
Darcy burst out laughing and grabbed Kat’s hand to pull her into the doorway of the antique store. It was a calm eddy in the river of people. From his white beard up, Henry’s face was blue. The paint sank into his creases and wrinkles, his white bushy eyebrows jutting in stark contrast.
“You look awesome, Henry. Since when did you become a face painter?” Darcy asked.
“This is the first time I’ve tried it.” He patted his cheeks. “Looks pretty good, right? I figure
d we need all the luck we can muster.”
“You don’t think we’ll win?”
“Don’t know, but any little bit of support can’t hurt. I have Falcon tattoos. Want one?”
Kat demurred, but Darcy willingly titled her face so Henry could apply the temporary tattoo of a talon-bared Falcon in flight to her cheekbone. She kissed Henry’s blue cheek, and his huge grin crackled the paint around his eyes.
“You’d better get on if you don’t want to be stuck with end zone seats,” he said.
They waved their good-byes and let the flow of people move them closer to the stadium.
As they stood in line to buy tickets, several people stopped to ask after Miss Ada. Others asked when Darcy would be back at the library or thanked her for tutoring the boys.
The hum of voices and clanging bleachers filled the night. The stands were full, but as they walked past the 50-yard line, a metal clank caught Darcy’s attention—Miss Constance banging her cane against the railing.
“Darcy Wilde! You get your butt up here and sit with us.”
Darcy cuffed Kat’s wrist and led her up. Miss Constance somehow convinced people to scoot down for them, and Darcy squeezed between Miss Constance and Kat.
“Prime seats, ladies,” Darcy said.
“I had to threaten some teenagers with my cane,” Miss Constance answered with a twinkling flash of humor. “They think we’re witches; can you believe it?”
Darcy choked on a laugh and schooled her voice with an appropriate amount of surprise. “Where in the world would they get such a notion?”
Miss Esmeralda leaned out. “Miss Renshaw. We haven’t seen you in the library recently. Does your law work leave you no time for reading?”
Kat shifted and seemed to find the chanting cheerleaders in front of them fascinating. “I actually . . . well, you know . . . I have an e-reader, and I download books mostly.”
Miss Esmeralda gasped. “But don’t you miss having a book in your hands?”
Kat swallowed and cast a wide-eyed panicked look toward Darcy.
Slow and Steady Rush: Sweet Home Alabama Page 14