Her dad perched at the edge of the bed near Skye’s ribs, his posture stiff. He turned his head to look at her slowly, until a wince crossed his face as he reached the edge of his range of motion. He held her hand and shone kind eyes on her. “It’s nice to be the one visiting the sick person instead of the one in the bed for a change. But I wish it wasn’t my beautiful daughter.”
In so many ways, her dad had gotten the short end of the stick in life. All those damn health problems, his back, his failing heart. Forced into dependence on his wife and girls, not only financially, but physically. So much had been robbed from him, but every time she looked at him—really looked—she saw hints of the larger-than-life giant he’d been to her when she was a little girl, before he got sick.
Once, when Skye was seven or eight, she’d wandered into a field of cattle on the farm across the street from their old house. The cows had trotted to her, perhaps thinking she was there to feed them. They’d scared her with their size and heft. They crowded her until she couldn’t see the fence she’d jumped. She’d cried, stuck and small and helpless. Her dad’s voice had found her there. At first she’d thought it was the voice of God. But it was only her dad.
“You’re braver than this,” he’d said. “You can save yourself, but not if you panic. You have to quiet your anger enough to listen.”
He never said what she should be listening for and over the years, her theory evolved from God to her inner wisdom. Or maybe the two were one-in-the-same.
She squeezed his hand. “I love you, Dad. Thank you for being here for me.”
“That must have been some ride,” he said. “I bet the sunset was beautiful up on that mountain.”
Without warning, she was hit by a sudden and overwhelming urge to weep. Something about her father’s quiet strength made her want to let herself dissolve in his arms. Ridiculous. She had too much to think about, too much to deal with, to get emotional. To panic. “Yeah. It was beautiful. I’d never been in that part of the state before. It’s incredible.”
“Are you okay? I mean, besides the sprained wrist and your beat-up legs?”
She mustered a grin. “I think so.”
“Your heart?”
Nope. They weren’t going to go there. “My heart is good.”
“Your mother is scared. She doesn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
“I know. I didn’t mean to hurt her either.”
He snorted. “Of course not. I know I’ve told you this before, but you remind me of my mother. She never means to hurt anyone. She just can’t keep her feet tethered to the ground. It took me a lot of years to accept that about her. Her spirit is too wild. Just like yours.”
“I don’t want to have a wild spirit.”
His chuckle echoed in the quiet room. “I don’t know if you have a choice.”
Everybody had a choice. You can save yourself, but not if you panic.
She almost told him about the baby. But the words wouldn’t come.
She was saved by a knock at the open door. A tall, dark, handsome man dressed in navy-blue scrubs grinned at Skye. “Wow, it smells good in here. I’m Aiden. And this beautiful lady must be Skye. I stopped by to tell you that I’ll be your nurse tonight.”
Her father uttered a prayer under his breath, then smiled at Skye. “We have got to talk to your mother about that love spell.”
She didn’t have the heart to return his smile, not with her arm aching and her legs on fire, not with every cell of her being screaming out in horror at what she’d done to herself. She would have thought that getting pregnant would have canceled out the spell, because what man would want her now? More accurately, what would she want with a man? Hadn’t the lot of them done enough damage to her life already?
Her father’s words echoed in her ears. You can save yourself …
Damn right, she would. It was the only choice she had now that her world had come crashing down around her.
Chapter Fifteen
Even after her family left, sometime around dawn, Skye couldn’t sleep—and not only because she jumped every time a nurse entered her room, fearing it was Gentry. No, she couldn’t stop staring at her belly, watching it rise and fall beneath the blanket with every breath. She was having a baby. Even as she lay there, that baby was growing, cells dividing, the organs forming.
What a mess. And it was all because she was foolish enough to go against everything she believed in, against her morals, her family’s advice, and against her faith—all so she could jump on the back of some random rock star’s motorcycle for a temporary thrill.
She closed her eyes. You can save yourself, but not if you panic. The wisdom in those words hit her all over again. Instead of panicking, what she needed was a plan. There might be nothing she could do about the baby growing inside her, but there was definitely a way to help herself stop jumping out of her skin every time the door opened. It was time to clear the air with Gentry, right then and there in the relative privacy that the early morning hour provided, before her family returned later that day. Not that she planned to tell him about the baby right then and there. He had a right to know, of course he did. But she couldn’t tell him, not yet. Not when she could barely think the words, much less say them out loud.
The nurses had kept her updated on Gentry’s status, namely his recovery from the surgery on his hand. They’d even passed along his room number in case she wanted to call him. She had wanted to, about a million times since her surgery, but what she had to say needed to be said in person.
Slowed down by the fact that she could only use her right hand, she lowered the side rail on her bed and pulled back the covers. Her legs were covered in bandages and open sores that the doctors had told her would heal better if left unbandaged. She gingerly shifted her legs one at a time over the edge of the bed. All the blood rushed from her head straight into her legs. They throbbed with the pain of it, but that wasn’t going to stop her from doing what she had to.
Gritting her teeth, she set one foot and then the other on the floor. Even through her socks, the cold chilled her all the way to her bones. Ignoring this added discomfort on top of everything else, she shuffled into the wheelchair that had been stationed bedside for her in case she needed to use the restroom. She grunted as she touched down in the seat. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Probably, she was due for another round of pain meds, and the prudent thing would be to wait to go traversing the hallways until she’d had a fresh dose. But she couldn’t wait. All she wanted to do was get this conversation over with.
She’d never used a wheelchair before, but she’d seen it done enough times to have the general idea of how it worked. She lowered both hands to the wheels’ push rims, but she couldn’t get her left hand to close around the rim without sending shooting pains through her arm. Without another option, she reached back to the bed and pressed the nurse’s call button.
When a nurse appeared in the doorway, Skye said, “Would you help me push this? I need help getting to room 208. The man I was in the accident with, that’s his room.”
“Oh, honey, I think he’s sleeping. You both should be sleeping. Healing takes rest.”
Skye bit back her frustration. The last thing she needed at the moment was a lecture, even from a well-meaning nurse. “I know that, but you saw how my family hovered over me today. They’ll be back later this morning, and I’d really like to go see Gentry before that so we can talk in peace. I haven’t seen him since the accident. Please.”
The nurse hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”
The wheelchair rolled smoothly through the quiet hall. Skye was grateful that the nurse didn’t try to talk her up, as busy as Skye was trying to figure out what she was going to say to Gentry.
Despite that it was only six in the morning, the hospital corridors and nursing stations were brightly lit and active with nurses, doctors, and the occasional patient shuffling down the hall.
At the closed door to room 208, the nurse
stopped. “Wait here. Let me see if he’s up for a visitor.”
She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, but was out a moment later, smiling at Skye. “He was already awake, and he very much wants to see you too. I’ll push you in and give you two some privacy. Just have him push the call button when you’re ready for me to wheel you back to your room.”
“Thank you.”
Gentry’s room was dimly lit with a light over the sink in the corner and the dawning sun beyond the window. Gentry was sitting up in bed, as though he’d been waiting for her.
“Skye,” he croaked as her wheelchair crossed the threshold. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried, but surgery wiped me out and I just couldn’t get over to see you.”
He did look weak. Weak and in pain. His face was scuffed up, and his left hand was wrapped in thick bandages. He pressed the button to turn a light on over the bed, wincing at the effort.
The nurse wheeled Skye to a stop close to the bed, close enough that she could reach out and touch Gentry’s right hand, if she’d wanted. Then the nurse was gone, closing the door behind her.
“I think the better question is if you’re all right?” Skye asked.
“Never better.” He said it sincerely, rather than sarcastically, as though seeing her had made everything right in his world in a genuine way. He reached for her hand, but she evaded his efforts. If they connected like that, then she might lose all resolve, just as she did every time they touched.
He curled his hand into a weak fist, honoring her wishes. “Skye, listen. I’m so sorry about the accident. It was my fault and it’s going to take me a long time to forgive myself for it. I should have gone slower. I should have seen that truck coming. And I can’t tell you how relieved and grateful I am that you’re not more hurt.”
The apology was a balm for her battered heart, even though the truth was that she should have been the one issuing it. But she hadn’t come to him that night in order to exchange apologies. “I was there. It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes shit happens.” Hopefully, he couldn’t tell that she didn’t believe her own words.
“It’s not your fault either,” he said pointedly.
So much for her attempt at dissembling. “Contrary to what you might believe, I was raised with the notion that there are consequences for our actions. And I screwed up, big time.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Stop it, Skye. I know where you’re going with this, but just stop it. God’s not punishing you. You didn’t bring this on yourself. I swear on my life, Skye. It was just a freak accident. You and I are going to be all right,” he soothed. “All we have to do is stick together and—”
Time to nip that thought in the bud. “Listen, Gentry. That’s why I’m here. Besides wanting to see for myself that you were all right, I came here to ask you to give me some space.”
He stared at her, blank faced.
To fill the silence, she forged ahead. “We’re not going to stick together because I can’t be with you anymore. I need time to heal. Alone.”
“I get it. You’re scared and in pain, but you and I are in this together, okay?”
He wasn’t getting it and it made her heart ache to have to say the words again. “No, Gentry, you’re not listening to me. I’m supposed to be in the hospital for a couple more days, and I don’t want to see you.” There was no mistaking the tinge of desperation in her voice. The plea for him to stop pushing her and let her go. She cleared her throat and tried to infuse her voice anew with strength and pride. “Not for a while. I need space.”
“The baby…”
The baby? She must have misheard him because there was no way he could have known she was pregnant. She would tell him, but on her own time. She was going to cut herself that slack while she healed.
You can save yourself, but not if you panic.
Yes. And as soon as she could rid herself of this damn panic, she’d figure out a way to save herself, just like she always did.
“I’m not your baby, so don’t call me that. And unlike you, I can’t just take off whenever the urge strikes me. I risked my job and my life with you too much already. You’re no good for me. And don’t try to tell me otherwise.”
“I agree. I’m no good for you. At least, I haven’t been. But that’s all going to change now. You’re pissed off at me and scared, and that’s understandable. But I’m here for you. Let me prove that to you.”
“Are you kidding me? You almost got us in a head-on collision with a moving van. You almost killed us both.” They’d already established that it wasn’t his fault, but it felt so good to unleash her anger. “I didn’t ask you to ride into my life yesterday and mess everything up. But that’s exactly what happened. And now … now I can’t work—” She held up her wrist brace. “And my legs feel like they’re on fire. Have you seen them? This is going to leave permanent scars. My skin will never be the same.”
She twisted to the side and showed off the oozing gashes, bruises and scrapes that weren’t covered by bandages. He winced, and she could tell he was clenching his jaw. Good. He should feel bad for what he’d done to her. It had been his idea that she go with him that weekend to Nashville, and he hadn’t taken no for an answer. Those had been his condoms. Her life had been fine before he’d barged his way into it.
“Don’t you see? Our relationship has caused me nothing but pain and embarrassment. You might be living the high life in your celebrity fantasy world, but I have to go home and face my future. I have to do the dishes and get my niece and nephew ready for school, and I’ve got to help my mom with my dad’s care. On top of all that, I can’t work, so no paycheck, and even when I’m able to again, I’ll have to bust my butt to make up for the time I took off to be with you plus the time off I’ll need to take to recover from the accident. You and I aren’t going to be together after this because I can’t afford to be with you anymore. It nearly killed me already.”
He drew a labored breath through his nose. His chest puffed with the effort. But his eyes weren’t angry. They were sad. Was that … could that be pity she read in them?
“Don’t you dare pity me,” she spat. “I don’t even know why you would. You’re the one who’s hurt worse than me.”
He blinked his eyes wide and shook his head. “No pity. I swear. Take all the time you need. You have my phone number still, right?”
She had no idea. Did she even still have a cell phone or had it been destroyed in the crash too? Despite the excruciating pain in her left hand, she wheeled herself to the door. “I know how to find you. Just … don’t come looking for me. You’ve done enough damage.”
Chapter Sixteen
KTTX out of Texas is reporting this morning that the rumors of out-of-control drinking and partying surrounding award-winning country music artist Gentry Wells came to a head last weekend when the star and an unnamed woman were injured when their motorcycle collided with a moving van on a remote mountain pass in northern Texas. No word yet on whether alcohol was a factor, but Wells is best known for his—
Gentry clicked off the television and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window in his hospital room. His left hand still hurt like hell even though it had been four days since the accident, and even though the doctors had removed his bandages that morning and processed his discharge papers—but even that had nothing on the pain that plagued his heart. Earlier that day, he’d watched from that same window as Skye was wheeled out to the curb in a wheelchair. A newer model truck pulled around the circular drive and stopped in front of her and the hospital attendant, a man who had to be her father at the wheel. Her mother rushed around, barking orders, manic in her commitment to transfer Skye smoothly to the truck’s passenger seat.
In the truck, Skye had rolled down the window and looked up at the hospital, angling her head as though searching Gentry’s room out, as though she knew he was watching her. He’d set his good hand on the glass and concentrated his energy, willing her to sense him watching. But then the truck r
olled away and she was gone.
Their last conversation would haunt him forever. It hadn’t been the first time a woman had laid it out for him how much he’d hurt her and how he’d ruined her life, but this time, with this woman, the truth stung with a pain like no other. More painful than losing a finger. More painful than the collapse of his marriage.
When she’d told him that she couldn’t afford to be with him anymore, all he’d been able to think was that she was right. She’d had a good life before he’d walked into it, and all he’d done was screw it up. He’d nearly ended it. He’d gone to her and used her because she’d helped him regain his creative spark, but it seemed that the better she made his life, the worse he made hers. It was as if their relationship was a teeter totter, and Skye kept coming out on the bottom. If only he could have seen that more clearly sooner, before …
He stopped himself mid-thought.
Before what, the accident? Because if the baby was his, and he knew in his heart that it was, then their lives had already been on a collision course, motorcycle accident or not. And now she was obviously so damn scared of that fact that she was in denial—or, at least, unwilling or unable to talk about it with Gentry.
Not that he blamed her. He was still in a fair bit of denial himself. They were having a baby, a sentence he’d repeated to himself over and over, but which never felt like anything other than a trite song lyric or the punch line of a joke that was not at all funny.
What the hell was a man supposed to do in a situation like that, where the mother of his child was so scared and angry that she wouldn’t even come to him with the truth?
Marry her, a voice inside him said.
With as Catholic a family as she was from, marriage might be the choice that set her conscience at ease. The thought made his stomach churn. Just because getting married was the easiest and cleanest choice didn’t mean it was the best choice for either of them. Yes, the air sizzled whenever they were near each other, and since the moment he’d met her, he’d thought about her every hour of every day, but he was still Gentry Wells, Mr. Born to Leave. Every women he’d ever tried to have a relationship with, he’d ended up breaking their hearts, often without even meaning to—and some that he had.
One Wild Night Page 19
