Emily's Cowboy

by Donna Gallagher

  Emily was pointing to a chair in the far corner of the stark, cold room, still refusing to look him in the eye. Gareth could not believe that she had really thought he would leave. What had she been thinking? He wouldn’t leave her to deal with something so terrible alone. Never. But something had changed in her. His Emily was gone again, and the new Emily was back. The one who had pushed him away.

  But not this time. This time Gareth was going to fight harder, fight to stay with her.

  “Of course I wouldn’t leave. I want to see Mac for myself. God, Mum and Dad are both worried sick. I want to be able to tell them I’ve seen him and that he’s okay. They both wanted to come to Sydney, but they need to stay in Gunnedah. They’re looking after both farms now, at least until Mac gets better. Mac is my friend too, you know, Em, and so are you. I would never leave you to deal with this alone. I can’t believe you think I would.”

  “I just thought, after the phone call and all, that you might be needed elsewhere. I don’t want to interfere in your life. I’m guessing you have training and stuff, people to be with…”

  Gareth didn’t know whether to be angry with Emily or just drag her into his arms. She looked so lost, so confused, so tired, and she was saying such stupid things. Did she not know him at all?

  “I don’t have anywhere to be but here with you and Mac. The coach has given me the next few days off. There are no people who are more important to me than the Mackenzies. Well, maybe Mum and Dad as well—but Em, I’m here for you, baby.”

  Gareth watched as Emily’s gaze slowly rose to meet his. He could tell that there was something else, some flicker of doubt left in her pretty little head, but he would remove it eventually. This time, he was not giving her any chance to push him anywhere. He was staying.

  “C’mon, let’s grab some coffee. When did you last eat, baby?”

  “I don’t remember. Yesterday, sometime,” she said, waving her hand as if it were of no concern. “Don’t think I could eat anyway.”

  “Well, let’s just find the cafeteria and see what happens. I could use a strong coffee about now, anyway.”

  Gareth was pleased that it didn’t take much coercion on his part to get Emily to eat some food. Getting her to sit still while she ate it—well, that was another matter. She was terrified to be away from her father, worried that something would happen in the ten minutes it took her to wolf down a dried up ham sandwich. He grabbed an unappetising-looking roll with some indistinguishable piece of curled up meat on it—which he thought could be roast beef, but tasted more like cardboard—and forced it down. He collected the coffees as soon as they had been made, and with a skittish Emily’s hand in his, he went in search of the Intensive Care Unit. Gareth wondered whether Nurse Ratched would still be guarding the door.

  Chapter Six

  Emily knew she shouldn’t lean on Gareth, but old habits died hard. She was exhausted. Her face and neck ached, felt tight and hot, probably due to her overwhelming, bone-deep tiredness. Seeing her father lying in the hospital bed was awful. He looked as if he had shrunk overnight, as if the hospital bed had sucked his size from his body through those horrible tubes and cables attached to him, draining fluid build-up and pus, checking his vitals.

  The monotonous beeps, the perpetual noises all the machines made were deafening in their regularity. Beep… Beep… Beep… Wheeze… Beep… The noise was maddening against the silence of the room—so impersonal.

  Her dad was naked, with one thin sheet between him and the world, with all those tubes everywhere. Emily knew he would just hate it—the fussing, the continual scrutiny from the nurses. God, she needed him to get through this, to come back to her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, her father…her dad. Tears slipped from her eyes. She had given up trying to brush them away. The motion was ineffectual, since they just kept coming.

  But through it all Gareth sat by her, hour after hour.

  “Babe, why don’t we take a minute, get something to eat? Nothing has changed in the last two hours, and you need to keep up your strength. Mac will need you more then, when he is awake. You have to be ready for that.”

  Emily looked into Gareth’s penetrating blue eyes, fell into them. She loved those eyes, their unique colour reminding her of sun-filled country skies, and in them the concern for her showed unreservedly. Emily could always judge Gareth’s mood, his emotions, by looking into his eyes, as if they opened a door to his soul for her.

  His blond hair, a little darker now since he wasn’t spending time working on the farm under the bleaching, harsh rays of the Australian sun, was mussed, the curls falling over his brow. He needs a haircut. It seemed like a strange thought to have under these circumstances. Emily could not resist touching his hair, brushing it from his face, remembering the familiar texture. She ran her finger down over his high cheekbones, caressing his face, his lips with her fingertip. She felt the stubble on his strong jaw—prickly, masculine.

  “I’ve missed you so much.” The words slipped from her lips before she had a chance to censor them. But they were true. She had missed Gareth with a ferocity that had made her weep, night after night, at the loss.

  “I’ve missed you too, Em. But I’m here now, and that won’t change. Let’s go for a walk, get some air.”

  It was a good idea. Emily needed some air, needed to get her emotions back under control. She loved Gareth—always had, always would—but her reasons for pushing him away had not changed. He deserved someone better than her. Someone he could be seen in public with, be proud to have on his arm. Maybe this Pippa woman was the answer? Emily understood that, but it still hurt. She couldn’t lose her resolve when it came to Gareth. She loved him enough to see that, and as much as it would destroy her she would push him away again—but later. She needed his strength to get her through this, as selfish as that motive was. He had said he was worried for Mac as well, wanted to be there for her father, so she would let him for the time being.

  After checking in with the ICU nurse, giving Gareth’s phone number and extracting a promise that they would call her if her father’s condition changed, Emily let Gareth lead her from the ward. I must look a wreck. Deep in thought, she mentally listed the items she could purchase at the hospital shop for herself and her father. Toothbrush, hairbrush… I’d kill for a change of clothes. Wonder where the nearest shopping centre is? She was so caught up in her mental list-making that she didn’t realise until too late that Gareth was greeting someone.

  “Rook, Pippa—what are you two doing here?”

  As soon as she heard that one name, that same name he had used before—Pippa—her heart became a leaden weight in her chest. Oh, my god. Gareth’s girlfriend, the one he’d told he loved over the phone, had come for him. She tried to spin from his grasp, turn back to the door of the ICU, tried to find the call button to gain admittance, but Gareth would not let go of her. His grip on her hand was painfully tight, allowing her no chance of escaping the nightmare that was about to unfold, no chance of ignoring the woman who stood in front of them. The woman with the beautiful, unblemished face. Emily wished the ground would open up and swallow her, and fought the pressure that was building behind her already tear-swollen eyes.

  “Em, these are my best friends, Mitchell Harris—but everyone calls him Rook, so feel free to call him that too—and his fiancée, Pippa Rogers. Pippa is the Jets physio. Rook, Pippa, this is my Emily.”

  Emily didn’t know which part of Gareth’s introduction to be more shocked at. Her head spun with the details she had just heard, still trying to make sense of the new information. Pippa was engaged to Rook. Emily knew of Rook, had watched enough Jets games to recognise him as the star halfback and captain of Gareth’s team…and Rook was engaged to Pippa. She, Pippa, was Gareth’s friend. A friend he loved. Emily could have wept with relief at the knowledge, if not for the next part of Gareth’s introduction. Her heart had restarted, and was beating rapidly with his claim. He had introduced her to his friends as his—‘my Emily’. What
did that mean?

  “Emily, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Gareth has told us so much about you,” Pippa said, her voice warm and friendly.

  “God, talks of nothing else,” Rook said, butting into the conversation, the comment taking Emily by surprise. It was all a bit too much to take in at once.

  “Mitch, shut up, darling. You’re not helping,” Pippa replied. She reached out and took Emily’s hand in hers. “Ignore him, Emily. I’m so sorry to hear about your father. How is he?”

  Emily was lost for words. Pippa was pleased to meet her. Gareth had talked about her—and from what Rook had blurted out before Pippa had stopped him he’d talked about her often. What did he say? What sort of things did Gareth tell people about her? How she had broken his heart? Pushed him from her life, destroyed their plans for the future? God, she hoped not. But she needed to pull herself together, answer the enquiry about her father, acknowledge Gareth’s friends.

  “Nice to meet you, Pippa, Rook. I haven’t met any of Gareth’s city friends before. Dad is doing as well as can be expected. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.” She managed to pull the words from her chaotic mind, managed to string coherent sentences together even though she was reeling with her own questions.

  “I had a thought this afternoon, after I talked to Gareth and he said you had been flown to the hospital, that maybe you wouldn’t have had time to grab any personal items. I hope you don’t mind, but I grabbed you a few things I thought you might need. Some toiletries, a change of clothes—I didn’t know your size and was hoping you might fit into one of my tracksuits. Now I’ve seen you, I can see that we’re almost the same size, so the clothes should fit okay.”

  Pippa thrust the small sports bag she was holding into Emily’s hand. Emily was again at a loss for words at the kindness and thoughtfulness of this stranger. Okay, she was Gareth’s friend, but still… Emily was so touched by the act. The caring. She knew that she and Pippa had the possibility of becoming good friends just because of that one act of generosity. Emily could tell Pippa had a good soul, and was a close friend of Gareth’s.

  “This is so kind of you, Pippa. You’re so right, I didn’t have a chance to grab anything. I was mentally making a list of necessities in my head when Gareth saw you. I was miles away, didn’t even notice you at first, I’m sorry. I’d love to change my clothes—I feel so dirty. Thank you for your kindness. It will be heaven to get out of these filthy jeans.”

  “You are more than welcome, Emily. I want you to know that Rook and I are here for you, anything you need. Just let me know, and I mean really—let us know, don’t just say yes because you think it’s polite, but with no intention of ever asking. Okay?” The smile Pippa gave her was so warm that Emily was captured by it, drawn to the brightness of the friendship it offered. “Were you two heading somewhere before we interrupted?”

  “Yeah, Pippa, we needed some air and I need to feed Em. We were heading to the cafeteria. Why don’t you both join us? The food is something to experience, let me tell you.”

  She wasn’t sure she felt up to socialising, but after the couple’s genuine concern and thoughtfulness, Emily didn’t think she could refuse. It would be rude of her to do so.

  She was surprised to find that the added company was refreshing, helped clear her mind of dark thoughts as she listened to Rook and Gareth discuss the training session Gareth had missed. They joked at some of the antics of the younger players and laughed at the gossip surrounding Gareth’s no-show.

  “Ah, so quickly discarded,” Gareth said, following up with a loud, theatrical sigh, then laughed when Rook retold one of the stories circulating—that Gareth had been cut from the team for a reason that was as ridiculous as it was implausible. The sound of Gareth’s rumbling laughter was a soothing balm to her tense body.

  “Yeah, was a bit confused myself though, Cowboy, when you didn’t show, and as you can imagine, Pippa was worried sick. Thought maybe the soreness you’d been complaining of last night was more serious. I think she’d imagined you unable to drag your poor broken body from your bed. And thinking about you in bed is something I don’t want Pippa doing.”

  “Mitchell, give it a rest.”

  Pippa gave her fiancé a look that said more than enough. It was distinct, cautioning, given to end that line of conversation. Emily was now more than a little curious to find out the whole story between Gareth and Pippa. It was obvious from Rook’s comments that something had happened between them, and Emily could not stop the jealous reaction that stole her breath. Her stomach clenched and rolled at the thought of the man she loved with the perfect, friendly, lovely dark-haired woman sitting opposite her.

  “Yeah, go on, Rook…whatever! Because hey, Pippa hasn’t loved you since she was fifteen or anything. Although I must admit I’m a pretty awesome sight first thing in the morning. Aren’t I, Em?”

  Emily’s face burst into heat at Gareth’s question in front of his friends. He was an awesome sight, he was right. She had spent many early mornings just soaking in the image of Gareth sleeping next to her, memorising every nuance of his face, his hair, his skin. She knew exactly where every freckle sat on his handsome face, had counted them—all of them—more than once, loved each and every one of the spattering of dusky, adorable spots. But she was not buying into this conversation, that was for sure. Her embarrassment grew tenfold. So instead, she decided it was time to flee.

  “I should get back to Dad. I might see if I can grab a shower and change now that I have something else to wear,” Emily said, pushing her chair back. She stood, willing her feet to move, and even as she spoke the next words she felt the heaviness in her heart. She wished she didn’t feel the need to say them, but knew she had to. “Gareth, stay with your friends, don’t let me keep you. Pippa, it was lovely to meet you, and thank you again for the clothes and stuff. Rook, nice to meet you too, and good luck with the rest of the season. That was a great try you scored last week. Can’t believe you managed to put the ball down before you went over the dead ball line. It was amazing. Anyway, thanks again.”

  “Stop it, Em. Stop trying to run away from me. I told you I’m staying, so just get on board with the idea.”

  “Well, look at you, Cowboy—acting all dominant. Don’t worry, Emily, it’s not like he has anywhere to go anyway. Usually he just mopes around between games and training sessions. He’s a bit antisocial, is the old Cowboy.”

  “Oh, my God, Mitch! Will you just be quiet? Seriously, think before putting that mouth into gear for once, will you?”

  “What? What did I say?”

  While Pippa and Rook were distracted by their own conversation—the sight of Pippa taking Rook to task one more time amusing Emily—Gareth pulled her to his side, locking his arm into place around her, connecting her to him. He seemed determined to prove that he was serious in his promise to stay with her. Emily’s sense of relief that Gareth had not taken the chance she’d offered him to leave was immeasurable.

  “C’mon, baby, let’s leave these two to their squabbles,” Gareth said as he turned towards the exit, back in the direction of the ICU. “Hey, guys, we’re heading back. Thanks for coming. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Sure thing, Cowboy. Let us know if you need anything.”

  After all the teasing and ribbing, it was quite a shock to see the solemn change in Rook as he made the offer to Gareth. In fact, Emily nearly tripped over Gareth’s feet as he spun back towards his friends quickly, pumping Rook’s hand in his before he dragged Pippa into his arms for a hug.

  It was clear to Emily that Gareth had made a good life for himself in the city, made close friends, no matter how Rook had teased him about being antisocial. Emily found that she genuinely liked these people, liked the fact they were so close to Gareth. They would be there for him when she left, returned home. Not only that, but Emily had not once thought about her scars until now, neither Rook nor Pippa commenting or even paying any undue attention to them. Gareth must have told them all about the fire and her
sensitivity to the ugly mess on her face. They did a good job ignoring it, she thought as she made her way back to sit by her father, the warmth of Gareth noticeable at her side.

  Chapter Seven

  It had taken a monumental effort on Gareth’s part to convince Emily to come home with him and get some rest at his apartment. Actually, the efforts of Gareth, a now conscious Mac and Nurse Ratched—who had turned out to be a friendly and caring nurse—plus the incredibly gracious offer from Rook and Pippa to keep Mac company. Finally, Emily had conceded to Gareth’s request and agreed to leave her father’s bedside.

  He had still had to drag her away, leaving Mac and Rook deep in discussion about the changes in the modern game compared to those of yesteryear. Mac’s communication had been stilted by pain, but he’d been doing an admirable job of disguising it. Mac had seemed to enjoy this change in conversation from that of the continual worried concerns over the past two days of his overly attentive daughter. Emily had almost nagged the poor man back into a coma with all her fussing. Gareth smirked at the idea. Emily was a very good fusser.

  Now, having achieved his goal of getting Emily away from the hospital for a few hours, Gareth had the tormented pleasure of imagining Emily in his shower. Naked in his shower. He could visualise the water sluicing down her nude body, and he had the rock-hard boner to attest to his vivid imagination.

  Fuck, man, get it under wraps. The last thing Emily wants or needs, is you trying to get in her pants, Gareth scolded his lust-filled mind. Not that she’s wearing any at the moment, his ever helpful mind added, making him groan even more as that train of thought rampantly took hold.