I turned back. “Yeah?”
“The rings.” His eyes were wide. “You have the rings.”
“No big deal,” his cousin said with a chuckle.
“Oh shit,” I said, reaching back into my breast pocket as I walked back to Scott. “That really would’ve been a disaster.”
“No kidding,” Scott said, his cheeks red. “Thanks, man. Now get outta here. You’re stinkin’ up the place.”
When I was a kid, I loved going to visit my mother at the hospital. She was an administrator at Seattle General and a damn good one. Prior to retiring last year, she was the one that everyone turned to for leadership, guidance, and structure. And being her kid had its perks. Free slices of pie from the ladies in the cafeteria, free stickers and pens from the front desk, and my own clipboard to carry around with me as I walked the halls of Seattle General with one of the most important people in the building. If I’m honest, by the age of 10 I thought I was pretty hot shit.
If only that cocky, spoiled kid had realized how scary it can actually be to walk through those automatic doors. How the sights and smells that were once so familiar could suddenly feel foreign, out of place, distant, and just…wrong. As I approached reception, I held my breath, hoping to see Betsy. Betsy Davison was one of my mother’s dearest friends who volunteered twice a week. Instead, I was greeted by an unfamiliar face. At least she seemed friendly.
“Good morning, how can I help you today?” she asked with a bright smile. As friendly as it was, it gave me no comfort.
“My father was brought in a few hours ago. Burton McTavish.”
She typed, looking at her computer screen. “Yes, I see him here. Room 307.” She grabbed a name tag and scribbled on it before handing it to me. “Do you need directions to the elevators?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I clipped the plastic tag to my tux jacket, realizing how ridiculous I must have looked walking into a hospital still wearing formal wear.
He’s in a regular room. Not ICU. That’s something.
As the elevator doors opened and I stepped into the long hallway, smelling the faint odor of cleaning products, I took a deep breath, preparing myself to see my otherwise strong, tall, larger-than-life father in a weakened, vulnerable, and all too human state.
But can you ever really prepare your mind for that?
As soon as I walked through the door, I had my answer.
No. No, you cannot.
My stomach jumped to my throat as I entered his room, slowly rubbing hand sanitizer on my palms as I stared at my father. Oxygen tubes, IVs, and so many machines. All six foot three of my dad was lying helpless before me. Purple bruises covered his forehead and cheeks, and his eyes were swollen shut.
“He’s sleeping,” a soft voice said. That voice was attached to a young woman, probably my age or a little younger. She held his hand in hers as she stood to greet me. “I’m Maren. We spoke earlier.”
God, she’s beautiful.
And I hated myself for noticing that at a time like this. My father was hit by a freaking car, and I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.
“Yes, hi. Thank you so much for calling me.”
She clenched her teeth as she studied me, her brown eyes compassionate and kind. “You’re so dressed up. Something tells me you left something pretty important.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Best friend’s getting married in about…” I looked down at my watch. “Oh, I guess he’s already married. They’re probably drinking champagne right about now.”
Maren sat back down in her chair, patting my father gently. “I’m sorry you had to miss it.”
“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is here in this room.” I shrugged, willing my eyes not to tear up as I stared at my dad. “How’s he doing? He looks pretty banged up.”
“Yeah, he is,” she said, tilting her head as she looked down at my dad, her nose wrinkled. She really did have such a cute nose. So tiny, with two little freckles on one side. Her skin was pale, and her chocolate brown hair spilled down her shoulders in loose waves. “The doctor should be in soon. I told them you were coming.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Would you like a seat?” She stood, gesturing to the chair.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. I don’t want to keep you, I know you’ve been here for hours…” I said.
Actually, I do. Please don’t go.
She pressed her lips together, looking conflicted. She glanced back at my dad. “Oh, I mean…you probably want some time alone with him, I guess. I’m sorry, I should get go—”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” I waved a hand in front of me, not wanting to send the wrong impression. “In fact, I’d like it if you stayed.”
She looked relieved as she smiled. “Really?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. I’d hate to leave him without saying goodbye,” she said with a shrug. “I guess I’ve gotten pretty attached to him in the last few hours. Is that weird?”
“Not at all,” I said. Although I was honestly amazed by her compassion for someone she’d never met. Here it was, creeping toward 2:00 in the afternoon. She’d spent her entire day in crisis with someone else’s father, and she didn’t welcome the easy out I gave her. In that moment, I suspected she was just as beautiful inside as she was on the outside. And I wanted to know as much as I could before she left the hospital.
I ran my fingers through my hair. “So, what happened exactly? Did you see him get hit?”
She shook her head. “No. I was outside of my shop downtown. I didn’t see it happen, but I ran to him as soon as I heard the crash. He was hit by a cab.”
“Was he able to get up? Why was an ambulance called?”
Sensing the anxiety in my voice, she paused, opening her mouth to speak. I knew she was pondering the right words, the right delivery. “He was unconscious, and he wasn’t breathing.”
“Oh God.”
“I gave him CPR, and the ambulance arrived pretty soon after that.”
I paused for just a moment as I let her words sink in. I locked eyes with her and took her hand in mine. “You saved his life.”
“Well, I don’t know about that exactly.” She blushed, looking down at the floor before looking back at me, her brown eyes so warm and kind. “But I did my best.”
I could have lost him today if not for her.
She looked at my Dad and smiled softly before turning her attention back to me, squeezing my hand before pulling away casually.
I wish you hadn’t let go.
“I’m serious, Maren. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.” I could feel tears welling in my eyes. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.
Breathe, Peter. Get a hold of yourself, man.
“I’m sure you would have done the same in my shoes, ” she said.
I sighed. “I’d like to think so. But I guess it’s hard to know what any of us would do in that situation, right?”
“Definitely.”
“And you… Well, you amaze me.” I didn’t think before speaking. I just had to say it. Her cheeks reddened again, and she tucked her long bangs behind her ear.
“You are way too kind. But I appreciate it.”
I nodded, and we stood in awkward silence for a moment before she broke it.
“I’m gonna run to the cafeteria. Haven’t eaten yet. Can I get you something?” she asked with eager eyes. Maren wanted to help, to be of service. And I knew right then I hadn’t scared her away with my intensity.
“No, thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Makes sense. This has all been… intense.”
You can say that again.
“I’ll be back soon.” She stepped into the hallway and turned back, her smile so warm. “Talk to him. Maybe the sound of your voice will wake him up.”
I nodded with a genuine smile. “Thanks, Maren. Seriously, thank you.”
She blushed and pressed her lips togethe
r in an understanding smile before turning to walk down the hall. I watched her walk away.
Crossing the room, I loosened the suffocation that was my bow tie. With a sigh, I sat down next to my dad, patting his hand with my own.
“Hey, Dad. It’s Peter.” My voice was soft, gentle, unassuming. “Heard you had a rough morning. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”
The machines continued to beep, his lungs rose and fell, but his eyes remained tightly closed. I let out a long held breath before continuing. “Mom’s on her way. She’s freaking out, but I’m sure you already know that. Thirty-five years together will do that. It’s thirty-five, right?” I chuckled, doing the math in my head. It’s funny what our brains try to focus on when things like this happen. Who cares how long my parents have been married? Apparently, I do.
My thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. A man in a white lab coat entered the room.
“I’m Dr. Crawford, chief of surgery and head of cardio. I’d like to speak to you about your father.”
“Of course. Thank you, doctor.” I’d never met Dr. Crawford, but my mother had always spoken so highly of him and his expertise. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that my dad was in the best hands possible.
He entered the room and pulled my dad’s chart from the foot of his bed.
“He had a heart attack while being transported to the hospital after his accident. The good news is that they were literally pulling into the ER entrance when it began. It’s because of that timing that we were able to stop it. Another hour or so and we’d be having a very different conversation.”
His expression was sober, his forehead wrinkled in concern. A chill ran down my spine.
Thank God for Maren. She saved my father’s life in more ways than she even knows.
“Wow. So are you saying that getting hit by a car may have saved his life?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. It’s possible that the accident may have triggered the attack. Lack of oxygen at the scene was definitely a contributing factor. However, the blockage in his arterial valves was a ticking time bomb, and it was bound to go off eventually. And he’s very fortunate that it struck when it did. The timing couldn’t have been better.”
“Is he going to be okay? Are there any lasting effects with this?”
“I performed a balloon angioplasty earlier this morning and inserted a stent to keep that artery open. He’ll need to stay here a few more days while he recovers. He’s going to be sore, but can return to work about a week after he goes home. We can refer him to a cardiac specialist with whom he can follow up, or I’m happy to offer follow-up care if he chooses.”
“Got it.” I did my best to digest the information. Angioplasty. My father had surgery, and I had no idea.
Thank God I’m here now.
“We’ll send him home with some prescriptions that will need to be filled right away.”
“Got it.”
“I also suggest he see a nutritionist and eventually a physical trainer when he’s feeling strong enough to leave the house. Is your father pretty sedentary? He’s slim, but doesn’t seem to have much muscle tone.”
Without missing a beat, I said, knowing my father had two hobbies: golf and watching golf on TV. “Yes. Golf is his only sport…and he always uses a cart and a caddy.”
“I’d suggest he give up the cart,” Dr. Crawford said with a laugh. “It’s going to take him some time to bounce back, but with the right diet and exercise plan, he should be just fine. Lifestyle changes and follow-up care are essential.” He glanced behind him. “Is he married? It always helps when the spouse is on board.”
“My mother is on her way from Napa. Don’t worry, though, she’ll be all over it.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nodded before pausing and narrowing his brow. “McTavish. Is your mother Valerie McTavish?”
“The one and only.”
He smiled. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner. Now I know he’ll be in good hands.”
We both laughed, knowing Valerie McTavish didn’t mess around with patient care. She would make sure my father had the best care humanly possible.
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll stop back in tomorrow to check on him. Until then, just be here for him and fill your mother in when she arrives. Give her my best, and let her know my door is always open. I’m happy to help however I can.”
“I will, thanks so much.”
“My pleasure. Take care.” Dr. Crawford smiled warmly before scribbling in my father’s chart and placing back at the foot of the bed.
“Petey? Is that you?”
“There he is,” I said with a smile, patting his foot, so relieved to hear his voice. “How are ya, champ?”
“I feel like hell. What happened?”
“You had quite the morning,” I said, standing next to him, patting his shoulder. “What do you remember?”
“A cab coming at me. Then everything went black.”
“Is that it? Is that all you remember?”
“No…” He stared off into space for a moment. “I remember waking up in an ambulance and the paramedics. And pain, tight, searing pain in my chest.” He paused, turning his head to look at the door. I followed his gaze to see Maren standing at the entrance holding a cup of coffee and a paper bag from the coffee shop downstairs. My dad stared at her in confusion. “And this young lady right here. I remember her, but I don’t know why.”
“That’s Maren, Dad. She saved your life.”
And I had a feeling she was going to change mine.
Chapter 3
MAREN
Butterflies.
Peter McTavish gave me butterflies. So many butterflies that I had to escape to the coffee shop downstairs just to get my bearings and put my head on straight.
That morning was like nothing I’d ever experienced, and I needed to get my priorities in order. I couldn’t let Peter see just how much he affected me. That his kind, wonderful words made my stomach do delighted cartwheels, that his piercing blue eyes made me want to peek into his soul and know every last thing there was to know about him.
No. I’m here for his father. And now that he’s here, I need to let them be together. I have no business sticking around and getting in their way.
“That’s Maren, Dad. She saved your life,” Peter said as he smiled warmly from across the room. My breath hitched as I looked between him and Burton.
“Hi, Burton. I’m so happy to see you awake.” And I was. In fact, it felt like a miracle.
“Saved my life?” Burton pressed.
“She gave you CPR, got you breathing again. Then she rode with you in the ambulance. In fact, she hasn’t left your side since the accident,” Peter said, tilting his head ever so slightly, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “And I can’t thank her enough.”
Tears formed in Burton’s eyes. “Neither can I. Thank you, Maren. I-I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”
I could feel my eyes welling in solidarity, so I cleared my throat and gave a gentle wave of my hand. “You don’t need to thank me. I was just in the right place at the right time…and I’m thrilled that you’re okay.”
“Yes, you just missed Dr. Crawford. Dad’s going to be fine with diet and exercise. And follow-up care, of course.”
Burton groaned. “I exercise.”
“Driving a golf cart doesn’t count, Dad.” Peter chuckled.
“I play tennis, too.”
“Since when?” Peter challenged him. “1982?”
“Smart-ass.” Burton shook his head. “I apologize for my son, Maren. He has no respect for his elders.”
I laughed, glancing at Peter, who was rolling his eyes. “I can see that.”
“Give it a rest, Dad.” Peter shook his head, pulling at the hanging bow tie around his neck and placing it in his pocket. He undid the top button of his shirt, and I couldn’t help staring just a bit too long at the tan skin of his neck. He was long and lean, just like his father. His
hair was dark brown, just like mine, but his eyes were the most brilliant color blue. So soulful and bright. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this attracted to a man right out of the gate. In other words, Peter McTavish was hot as hell. And giving me so many butterflies I could hardly stand it.
“I should probably get going.” I said, glancing down at my watch, suddenly feeling naked and exposed and wanting to run away from the intense attraction I was feeling. “Gotta make sure everything’s okay back at the shop.”
Peter hesitated, a crease forming in his brow.
Disappointed. He’s disappointed. If you ask me to stay, I will. I know I will.
“Of course, yeah,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I know my mom will want to thank you. Can I get your number?”
I smiled, trying to disguise just how happy I was that he’d asked.
“Of course. I’ll just type it into your phone.”
“Perfect.”
I added myself into his contacts, my fingers shaking from the nerves of the day. And the nerves that had been awakened by his presence in the room.
“Excuse me, hon. Gotta get his vitals,” a friendly nurse said, her hand tapping against my elbow as she dragged in the cart with the blood pressure machine. Quickly, I stepped out of her path.
“Oh, of course,” I said, handing the phone back to Peter.
“Great, thanks.” Peter said as he placed his phone back in his pocket and opened his arms, asking permission to hug me. Without hesitation, I walked into his embrace, patting him gently on the back. My hands continued to tremble, despite the warmth of his strong arms. His tall frame enveloped me and my ear was pressed against his chest. I could feel the pounding of his heartbeat. For just a moment, I closed my eyes and savored that sound.
“Can’t ever thank you enough,” he said softly into my ear. “Not ever.”
I squeezed him tightly. “You’re welcome.”
Pulling back, our hands lingered on one another’s forearms, and I hoped that we both felt the electricity of that hug. Those butterflies danced once again in the bottom of my belly. Being in Peter’s arms was exactly where I wanted to stay.
Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel Page 2
