Home For The Holidays

by Elena Aitken

  “Because she deserves better!” Ryan roared. Before the sound even faded, Duke had wedged himself under Percy’s chair, making Ryan feel like even more of a dick.

  Dropping a hand to stroke the dog, Percy kept his own voice soft. “You’re damned right she does. She deserves an apology and groveling for your behavior. And an explanation for whatever set you off.”

  Ryan closed his eyes, seeing Hannah’s face, pinched with hurt even as she reached out to him. Something happened. Something tripped this switch, because the guy I’ve gotten to know over the past couple of weeks isn’t an asshole.

  Even in the midst of taking the hits he was dishing out, she still tried to make a connection. Jesus. And he’d wanted it. He’d wanted it more than his next breath. He’d wanted to take her into his arms and let it all spill out. But he couldn’t do that. He needed to lock his shit down and keep it that way.

  A fresh flare of anger crawled through him on the heels of the pain. He wouldn’t be in this position if not for her. He’d been absolutely fine compartmentalizing everything. He could function that way. Excel that way. And she came into his life, with her tinsel and ribbon and good cheer and big heart and just blew his walls all to hell. How was he supposed to go back to war, back to the job, without his armor?

  Pissed off at her, at Percy, at the world in general, Ryan scooped up the keys to Smitty’s piece of shit truck. “I’m going for a drive.”

  Somewhere in this town, there had to be a place he could blow off some steam.

  Chapter 10

  Hannah debated with herself the whole walk to Percy’s house. Ryan hadn’t tried to contact her in two days. Maybe it had been unrealistic to expect an apology. But she simply couldn’t reconcile the hateful things he’d said to her with the guy she’d come to know. Somewhere, deep down, he’d been doing it on purpose to push her away. She was a convenient target for some other hurt. Or maybe those were more attempts at justification for his behavior. None of it made the situation hurt any less.

  She’d ended up breaking down at Maudie Bell Ramsey’s house. Poor Chester had patted her back and offered up a plate of brownies, probably in the hopes that eating and sobbing weren’t compatible. The older woman had tried to get her to talk about it, but Hannah hadn’t wanted to admit how foolish she’d been in allowing herself to get attached to Ryan in the first place. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d fallen in love with the guy she’d believed him to be. And he hadn’t wanted that. He’d been clear from the beginning what this was, what it could be. She’d just believed he’d been changing his mind and coming around to her way of thinking. Her mistake.

  So instead of spilling her guts to one of the Casserole Patrol—who she suspected would’ve told her compatriots and headed over to Percy’s en masse to “jerk a knot in Ryan’s tail” as Maudie Bell had said—Hannah had finished the decorating job and gone home to Carolanne. The whole story had spilled out, along with gallons of tears. And because her sister was awesome, they’d turned to baking therapy and made baklava from scratch. Hannah had packed up a tin full of it to bring to Percy as a Christmas present. She wanted him to have another sweet reminder of his Janie.

  She could just drop it off, all casual-like. Don’t mind me, I’m just armed with sugar and Christmas cheer. But as she neared the house, her feet hesitated. What if Ryan was there? A part of her was afraid she’d see him. What if their next encounter proved he was actually the mean, hateful asshat and she’d been wrong about him all along? She didn’t want confirmation that her judgment was so skewed. But another bigger part of her worried she wouldn’t see him. That he’d maybe already gone—either home or back to Afghanistan—without an apology or a goodbye. The idea of it made her heart crack just a little bit more. She’d gotten her acceptance letter from the small business incubator and her first instinct had been to share the news with him. Would he even care?

  She straightened her shoulders. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to the house for Ryan. She was going for Percy. No matter how little she apparently meant to his nephew, she’d grown fond of the old man. She wasn’t going to balk at giving him this gift out of some kind of cowardice. Moving briskly, she rounded the corner onto Cochran Drive. The house came into view…with no rattle-trap truck in the drive. Relief came first, draining some of the tension from her shoulders. On its heels came disappointment. She wanted…well, she didn’t know what she wanted other than the guy she’d gotten to know. But that guy could never have spoken to her the way he had.

  Moving quickly up the walk, Hannah’s gaze skimmed over the greenery, the lights, and ribbons. All the hard work she and Ryan had done to bring some joy back to Percy. It was still beautiful, even in the daylight. She’d see Percy again when she came to take it all down. By then, Ryan would certainly be gone, if he wasn’t already, and maybe Percy would have some kind of answers for her. Or maybe they’d pretend nothing had ever happened.

  She rang the bell. Inside, Duke began to bark. Fidgeting on the front porch, she waited. But there was no shushing of the dog and no one answered the door. Maybe Ryan and Percy had gone off somewhere together. Although, Percy had been taking Duke almost everywhere. Inside, the dog’s barking got more insistent. Uneasy, she tried the knob. Locked, of course. Just in case, she decided to circle around to the back, to peek inside.

  Cupping a hand around her eyes, she peered through the window of the back door. Duke leapt up, booming bark startling her so badly she jerked back. Pressing a hand to her thundering heart, she bent forward again, scanning the kitchen. A corduroy clad leg and a bedroom slipper stuck out past the kitchen table.

  “Percy!” She jiggled the knob. Also locked. She began to pound on the door. “Percy!”

  The leg didn’t move. Inside, Duke paced, interrupting his barking to whine.

  Dropping the tin, she raced back around to the front of the house, lifting and shifting every pot, every plant, every piece of furniture or decoration she could think of that might hide a key. Rising to her toes, she ran her hands up and over the top of the door frame. No key. She scanned the flower beds, searching for a rock that wasn’t really a rock. But there was nothing at all like that amid the mulch and bushes. Maybe she could get the garage door to lift. Rushing to the side of the house, she tried to get a grip on the door, but couldn’t manage to budge it. She needed something to wedge beneath the lip to get some leverage. But there was nothing. Ryan had cleaned up the mess all around the house while he’d been here.

  Duke’s barking rose in pitch.

  She had to get inside that house. Determined, she ran back up to the front door and rammed her shoulder into it. Pain ricocheted down her shoulder as she bounced off. That clearly wasn’t going to work. Frantic, she whipped out her phone to dial 911, just as the truck rumbled into the drive with Ryan at the wheel.

  The long drive around Hope Springs had done little to improve Ryan’s mood. All he’d managed was an hour and a half of self-recriminations, backed up with a repeated chorus in Percy’s voice, reminding him that he owed Hannah an apology. He’d do it before he left town, for whatever good it would accomplish. Maybe it would give her closure. For him, it would simply be another sign of how he’d fucked up.

  Movement caught his eye as he pulled into the drive next to Percy’s SUV. Hannah flew down the porch steps, toward the truck. The potent mix of joy and shame at the sight of her was a punch to the gut. He hadn’t driven her away completely. But as he slid out of the driver’s seat, he got a good look at her ashen cheeks and the eyes peeled wide with fear.

  “Percy! Percy’s passed out in the kitchen. I can’t get in!”

  For one, chilling beat, Ryan allowed the terror. Then he locked it away, throwing himself into action. He flew past her, hitting the porch steps at a dead run. His hand fumbled the key as he jammed it into the lock, and he lost precious seconds getting it to turn instead of simply kicking the door down as he’d done his first night here. Inside, Duke was going nuts.

  Hannah’s footsteps sounded beh
ind him as he got the door open. They raced inside, following the frantic barking of the dog into the kitchen. Percy lay face down on the tile floor. One of the chairs was askew, as if he’d grabbed for it on the way down. A quick, visual assessment didn’t indicate any obvious broken bones.

  Behind him, Hannah gasped. “Oh my God!”

  “Dial 911.” He knelt, checking for a pulse. The beat of it pounded beneath his fingers. Dimly, he was aware of Hannah giving her name and the address as he gently rolled Percy over.

  Percy moaned. “Janie? Is that you, baby?”

  “Percy, it’s Ryan. Can you hear me?”

  The old man moaned. Ryan checked his head for injury, but found no evidence of trauma. Why the hell had he passed out? Snapping his head up, he scanned the counter, noted the usual, huge collection of empty glasses. The three-quarters eaten pie was still on the kitchen table. Suspicion dawning, Ryan bent low to check his breath, catching the telltale fruity scent.

  “Tell them we have an eighty-one-year-old male in probable diabetic ketoacidosis. Rapid heartbeat, incoherent and only semi-responsive.”

  As she relayed the information, Ryan leapt to his feet and filled one of the glasses with water. Back down on the floor, he scooped an arm behind Percy’s frail shoulders and lifted him. “Come on, Percy. You gotta get some water.” As he pressed the glass to Percy’s lips, he flailed, knocking the glass away and spilling the contents down his front.

  “Damn it, Percy.”

  The tap switched on and a moment later, Hannah handed over another glass. Ryan tried again, taking a firmer grip on the old man’s arms. Percy tossed his head from side to side, but Ryan held firm, managing to get a little water in him.

  “What’s the ETA of the ambulance?” he demanded.

  “They don’t know. There was a massive, multi-car pile up at the edge of town because of the Christmas parade. There’s no ambulance available.”

  Fuck.

  “She says they can send somebody from the Volunteer Fire Department until an ambulance is free.”

  “No time. He might slip into a coma before then. We’ve got to get him to the hospital now.”

  She relayed their intent to the dispatcher.

  Percy’s head lolled back. Ryan shook him. “Percy. Percy! Wake the hell up. You can’t go to sleep. Stay with me now.”

  He groaned, his eyes fluttering.

  “Tell me what to do.” Hannah’s voice shook.

  “Find Percy’s keys. They’re probably on the hook by the front door.”

  She sprinted out of the room, back only a few seconds later with the keys in her hands. “Now what?”

  “Grab a few of the water bottles in the fridge.”

  He shifted, scooping Percy into his arms. His weight was so slight as to be insubstantial, as if he were fading away already. Ryan should’ve figured it out sooner. He should’ve seen. He should’ve forced Percy to a doctor. Shoving away the guilt and thread of panic, he moved to the front door.

  Hannah pulled it open, staying back a moment to nudge the dog back inside. Duke howled a protest at being left behind, but there was no place for him at the hospital. As soon as the door was shut, she skirted around him, yanking open the door to the backseat of Percy’s SUV. Ryan settled him inside, buckling him in to keep him from slumping over, and crawled in with him.

  “Give me the water.”

  She passed it over and he twisted off the cap, automatically pressing the bottle to Percy’s lips and tipping it back. At least half dribbled over his chin, but some of it went in. The old man’s throat worked as he swallowed.

  “Good. That’s good, Percy. Keep drinking.”

  “What—”

  His gaze snapped to Hannah’s. “I have to stay back here with him to monitor his vitals and try to keep him awake while I force some water down him. You’ve got to drive.”

  If possible, her face went paler. But she didn’t argue, hesitating only a moment before rounding the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat. She slid behind the wheel, her breathing way too fast. It wooshed in and out, a ragged, sawing sound. From the back seat, Ryan spared her a glance. She shook like a leaf. In the rearview mirror, he spotted the tears streaming down her cheeks and the edge of full-blown panic written all over her face.

  Shit.

  Percy’s life depended on him getting this right. Modulating his voice to soothe, he said, “Breathe, Hannah. Slow it down. In for four, out for eight.”

  Hands white-knuckled on the wheel, she did as he asked.

  “You’re going to put the key in the ignition and crank the vehicle. Keep breathing.”

  With a jerky nod, she followed orders.

  “Check your mirrors, then put the car in reverse. We’re going to head to the hospital, and you’re going to do fine. It’s a short drive, and I’m right here with you.”

  Another jerky nod, a few more breaths that had him wanting to scream, then she started the car and backed into the street. He could only pray they’d be fast enough.

  Chapter 11

  Hannah blinked furiously against the tears that wouldn’t seem to stop. Every muscle in her body ached with tension as she gripped the steering wheel, like that was going to offer her some kind of control of the situation. With every foot of travel, she waited for the flashback or the uncontrollable shaking.

  From the backseat, Ryan’s harsh voice snapped, “Come on, old man. Don’t you dare make me call Mom. You know she’ll be down here in a minute to nurse you and drive you batshit. You want to avoid that, you stay awake!”

  The whip of it made her flinch, even though it wasn’t directed at her.

  As if he’d noticed her reaction, he spoke again. “You’re doing great. If you haven’t already, hit the emergency flashers.”

  She hadn’t even thought of that. With trembling fingers, she stabbed the button.

  “There now. That’s good. Drink some more water.”

  The water bottle crackled, followed by a retching sound.

  “Shit. That’s okay. That’s fine. We’ll clean it up later. Try to get some more down.”

  “Do…do I need to speed up?”

  “If you can.”

  Hannah sucked in a breath. The faster she went, the faster this would be over. She pressed the accelerator.

  It was the longest four miles of her life.

  By the time they lurched to a stop outside the Emergency Department of Wilton Memorial Hospital, her stomach threatened to revolt.

  “Run in, get a nurse,” Ryan ordered.

  More than ready to get out of the driver’s seat, she hurled herself out of the SUV, nearly falling as her legs trembled with relief that they’d made it. That help was just on the other side of those doors. She stumbled into the ER. “Help, please. We’ve got an eighty-one year old man in the car in—” What had Ryan said? “—probable diabetic ketoacidosis. He’s barely conscious.”

  The nurse manning the desk made a call and suddenly everybody was in motion. A gurney appeared from somewhere and a group of people rushed outside. Shaking with the chill of lingering panic, Hannah trailed after them, giving the whole crew a wide berth as they transferred Percy out of the backseat. Over the roar in her ears, she could just hear Ryan spouting off medical stuff she didn’t really understand. Percy’s skin was flushed and his chest heaved with big, gasping breaths, as if his lungs weren’t working right.

  As the automatic doors slid open, someone asked Ryan, “Are you family?”

  He hesitated. “It’s complicated.”

  She didn’t hear the response. Someone else had pulled up behind the SUV. She had to move it out of the way. On another deep breath, she made herself get back in, taking another couple of deep breaths in hopes of calming her nerves before she shifted into drive. It took mere minutes to park and run back up to the building. No incidents either time. She didn’t have the bandwidth to think about that as she raced back inside.

  Ryan stood in front of the double doors leading to the treatment rooms, his hand
s loose, shoulders slumped. The raw, unguarded fear in his face simply gutted her. In that moment, it didn’t matter that he’d been an asshole. It didn’t matter what he’d said. He looked like a man washed up on a foreign shore, and she couldn’t just leave him there alone.

  Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his waist, willing him to take the comfort she offered. On a pained sound, he curled around her, burying his face in her hair and holding on tight. She fisted her hands in his jacket, a fresh knot of tears clogging her throat as she breathed in the scent of him. And for just a moment, it didn’t matter how she’d gotten here. She was back in his arms, and the warmth of him thawed the last, lingering cold of fear from facing her demons and the sickness at how they’d parted.

  They stood that way for a long time, until the next incoming emergency forced them to relocate out of the path of foot traffic. But he didn’t let her go.

  Gripping tight to her hands he stared down into her face. “You drove.”

  “I guess I did.”

  “You were amazing.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t—”

  “Don’t say it wasn’t a big deal. I know it was for you. And I’m grateful you pushed through your fear for Percy. If we hadn’t gotten him here this fast…”

  “He’s going to be okay.” She knew no such thing, but her default state was optimism, and whether it was true or not, they both needed the lie.

  “I know my opinion shouldn’t matter, and I know you probably don’t ever want to see me again, but I’m proud of you.”

  “I…Thank you.” His opinion did matter. A part of her wanted to flush with pleasure at his praise, but talking about all this with Percy’s life hanging in the balance left her uneasy.

  Dipping his head, he seemed to search for words. The discomfort in his eyes was palpable. “I want to say, too, that I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I don’t have any excuse. But I’d like to tell you the reason, if you’ll listen. I feel like I owe you that.”