by Debra Kayn
Reggie slapped him on the back. “I’m heading back. I need to take care of Florentine’s things and make sure they know she’ll be riding in the finale.”
“No, she won’t.”
Reggie chuckled. “I’ll let you try and explain that to Florentine when she wakes. In the meantime, tell her I got things covered. I’ll stop in tomorrow and see her.”
“Wait.” He glanced back at the nurses’ station. “You’re not going to stay here?”
“Can’t. I just told you, I got things to do. Florentine wouldn’t want me to fall down on the job.” Reggie leaned forward. “And if you know what’s best for her, you’ll stay out of her business. She don’t like someone tellin’ her what to do.”
Un-flipping-believable.
Reggie started to leave but turned around to say, “She’ll also want to know her score when she wakes up. Tell her she made the buzzer, and she’s seated number two going into the final. That’ll make her feel better.”
He stood in shock, watching Reggie disappear into the elevator. Could things get any worse?
He walked over to the window and peered out. Lights illuminated the parking lot below. He glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock? Damn.
Sarah would already be asleep. He’d promised her he’d be home today. He pulled out his mobile phone.
“No cell phones on this floor.” Nurse Susan glared from her post.
He flung out his arms. “If Florentine wakes up, will you let her know I’m here, and I’ll be right back?”
“Sure.” Susan’s mouth softened. “You’ve been here for hours. Why don’t you grab something to eat in the cafeteria? The kitchen is closed, but there are vending machines and you can make any calls you need from there.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
Reluctant to leave Florentine by herself for too long, he took the stairs two at a time down to the deserted cafeteria. In no time, he’d downed a half a bottle of Pepsi and opened his second Snickers bar. He took a bite of the candy bar and dialed his dad’s phone number.
He finished chewing and swallowed. “Hey, Dad.”
“Where are you at? Are you coming home?” John Reardon asked.
“No. That’s why I’m calling. I need to stay over one more night. The rider, Florentine, was hurt on her last ride. I’m at the hospital with her.”
“That’s too bad, son. Is she going to be all right?”
“Yeah, eventually.” He threw his trash in the garbage can.
“Good.” John sighed. “Damn. I hate to do this to you, but my flight to Vegas leaves tomorrow afternoon. You’ll have to come back in the morning…or maybe I can drop Sarah off with you on the way to the airport. How long do you think you’ll be there?”
“Shit. I forgot you were leaving.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t leave Florentine tonight. She’s not even awake, and seeing how I’m responsible for her, I don’t want to leave her alone. Go ahead and bring Sarah to me. I should have things settled with Florentine by then, and I’m sure Sarah would like to take the drive back to the ranch with me. Hey, pack her a few clothes. Maybe we’ll spend a couple nights in the city. She can see a movie and dine out with me. She’ll get a kick out of that.”
When he disconnected the call, he sat down in one of the few chairs left seated at the table instead of perched on top. Alone but for the buzzing vending machines, he seemed too far away from his daughter. He’d promised he’d be home in time to tuck her in bed.
He propped his head on his hands and groaned. Maybe Sarah was right. How many times had she asked him for a mom and tried to educate him about how moms play with their daughters, not dads? He felt like a failure.
It wasn’t fair to rely on his dad when he wanted to enjoy his retirement. These were the times having a wife would help. He let his fist fall on the table. Hell, he had enough problems right now—adding more wouldn’t solve anything.
An announcement echoed through the room. “Cole Reardon, you’re needed on the second floor. Cole Reardon, you’re needed on the sec—”
Florentine. He ran, arriving within a minute at the nurses’ station. He swallowed down his heart and got it back in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, struggling for breath.
Susan motioned him to follow her. “Florentine woke up and is refusing to let the doctor in the room. I’ve consulted with the physician on call, and we’re positive she’s suffering from a panic attack. I’ve calmed her down somewhat, but we hope seeing a familiar face will put her at ease.”
“How do I do that?” He rolled up his sleeves.
“Talk to her. Get her to take deep breaths, and focus on you. Stay calm and comfort her. She’s scared. I’ll be at the nurses’ station, and if you feel she’s getting worse, push the button on the bed. I’ll see about getting her some medication. Right now, the doctor would like to wait until he can do an exam and make sure nothing is wrong besides the concussion.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” He pushed through the door of her room.
Someone had redrawn the curtain, so the light cast a glow behind the privacy curtain. He walked slowly into the room, trying to hear any noise coming from the other side.
He paused outside the partition. “Florentine?”
When she didn’t answer, he pulled the material aside. Florentine sat in the middle of the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her legs. He stepped closer.
She shook, and her gaze darted from him to the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking care not to spook her further. Now that she was awake, her color looked better, but shadows around her eyes gave her a fragile appearance.
“What’s wrong?” He reached behind him and pulled the blanket over her legs. “Are you hurting?”
She kicked her legs, dislodging the cover. “No. Please.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and her chin trembled. He couldn’t look away. The change from the hard-ass she’d been just a few hours ago stunned him, and he felt an anxious twinge. What had the nurse said he should do?
“I don’t know what you need. Should I get the doctor for you? He can make you feel better.” He kept his voice low and soft.
“No.” She panted. “I can’t b-breathe.”
“Look at me.” He leaned closer. “I’m right here. Let’s breathe together.”
She held his gaze. “C-can’t.”
“Sure you can. Inhale…” He sat straighter, taking a huge breath. “Now, let it out.”
Her eyes softened, yet her brow remained wrinkled. He dared not break his gaze when he had her attention. She needed someone to help her, and he was the only one here for her.
“Again,” he whispered.
Her mouth opened and closed. He nodded. “That’s it. Keep looking at me, and we’ll keep breathing together.”
She struggled, exhaling a choppy puff of air. He inhaled, smiling when she copied the action. That was an improvement. At least she wasn’t panting any longer.
Her deep blue eyes cleared, and she seemed able to focus. Her features relaxed, and he took one more exaggerated breath, more for himself than for her. He’d missed the tiny scar at the end of her left eyebrow the other night. The imperfection was so faint, he wouldn’t have noticed unless they were close enough to kiss. He cleared his throat and put some distance between them.
“Better?”
“A little.” She pressed her hand to her chest.
“That’s good.” He stood and took a step toward the door. “I’ll go let the nurse know you’ll see the doctor now.”
“No!” Florentine grabbed both of his wrists and came up on her knees. “Get me out of here. Please. I can’t stay in a hospital. I’ve gotta leave. Now.”
Chapter Five
She had to get the hell out of here. Several beeps screeched outside Florentine’s hospital room, followed by a litany of medical codes streaming out of the overhead intercom. The noise startled her. She scrambled off the bed and stood in the corner of the room, despe
rate to find the best escape route.
Cole and the bed stood in her way. She glanced between him and the door. Her shoulder throbbed deep into the bone, and her head ached like it had endured one hell of a bender. She’d never make it past him, but she could handle the bed, even if it meant upchucking. She’d deal with any indignity if it meant she could escape.
She jumped on the bed, rolled past a breath-stealing stab of pain in her shoulder, and came up on her feet.
“Whoa…slow down.” Cole held his hands up and stepped in her way, blocking her escape. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t stay here.” She slapped at his arm, but he wouldn’t budge. “Please, Cole. I hate hospitals.” She cupped the back of her neck and took a deep breath when the promised wave of nausea hit.
“Not until you tell me what’s going through your head.” Cole sighed. “Can you sit down and give me five minutes to find out what’s going on?”
Despite the sickening fear, she nodded.
“Good.” He ushered her back to the bed. “Sit.”
She grasped the back of her gown together, aware for the first time that she was naked underneath. Nothing made sense. She remembered jumping off—or did she get bucked off? And then creeping panic when she woke up here. “What time is it?”
“Close to ten,” he said.
“Friday, right?”
“Yes.”
She groaned and covered her face. “Please tell me I rode long enough to qualify.” When he didn’t immediately answer, she dragged her hands over her face and looked at him. Her heart sank. His frown said it all. She’d lost.
“Oh, no.” She tried to stand.
Cole stepped forward. “Calm down. You made it. Reggie said to tell you that you’ll be going into the finale in the number two seat.”
She sagged against the bed and blew out a puff of air. “Thank God. What happened? How did I end up here? I remember letting go, but after that it’s all black.”
“No kidding.” Cole sat down on the bed beside her. “You catapulted off the back of the bull, got kicked in the air by the bull’s hoof, and then you landed on your back.”
That would explain the sore shoulder. She peered underneath her gown and poked the area. “I’m fine though. This isn’t even as bad as the last time I was hurt. I don’t need a doctor. I probably only knocked the wind out of myself.”
Cole stared at her. “It was a lot more than a fall. Would you like me to call your family? Maybe one of your sisters could—”
“No!” She shook her head and groaned when her headache rebelled. “You can’t tell them.”
“Why not? Don’t you think they’ll be worried?”
“Of course! They’ll all swarm in here like I’m d-dying.” She looked down at her hands and focused on inhaling past the panic. “Sorry. I really need to get out of here. My heart feels like it’s going to bust out of my chest any minute, and my stomach…I’m going to puke.”
He leaned forward, dragged the wastebasket close to the bed. “Here.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Did they give me medicine?”
“Something for pain. But you’ve got a head injury.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m dizzy.” She stood up and swayed.
“Sit.” Cole guided her back to the bed. “Damn, you don’t listen. You need to get back in bed.”
“Stop telling me what I should do.” She pushed away from him. “I don’t even like you.”
“I’m not really enjoying our relationship either, if it makes you feel better.”
She sniffed. The smell of the room reminded her of death and lemons. She hated lemons. Hospitals used the citrusy scent to cover up the smell of formaldehyde and sickness. Cancer. ALS. Her stomach rolled, and she groaned. Leaning over, she braced her head in her hands. She had to get out of here.
“Are you okay?”
“No! I’ve already told you. I want to go home, to my trailer.” She lifted her head. “Would it be too much to ask you to drive me back?”
“I’m not taking you out of here.”
“Why?” She stood. When he moved to follow her, she stuck her hand in the air. “Back off.”
He held his hands up and retreated.
She glared at him. “Where’s Reggie?”
“He left.”
She held her hand out. “Let me use your phone.”
“Can’t.” He pointed to the sign over her bed. “They don’t allow cells on this floor.”
The door swung open. A tall, thin man with gray hair and glasses and wearing a white coat entered the room. Florentine ducked behind Cole and held on to his shirt while a wave of dizziness and nausea threatened again. “Don’t let him touch me,” she whispered.
“Miss McDougal? I’m Dr. Larson.”
“Please. If you can only do one thing for me in your lifetime, will you send him away?” She leaned her head against Cole’s back. The room spun.
“Can you give us a moment?” Cole’s deep voice vibrated through his back and into her ear.
“I’m only here for fifteen more minutes, while I make rounds.” The doctor paused. “I’ll come back, but I do need to check on Miss McDougal before I leave.”
“Thank you.” Cole pivoted and faced Florentine. “Start talking.”
“It’s none of your business.” Her stomach heaved, and she covered her mouth.
“Let me call your family.” He hitched his shoulders. “Won’t they be upset when they find out you’ve hurt yourself and didn’t tell them?”
She shrugged and moved away from him, rubbing her chest. “I’m fine. Really.”
“How about I stay with you tonight?” He sat down in the chair. “I won’t leave. You can get some sleep, and tomorrow you’ll feel even better.”
He didn’t understand. The longer she stayed here, the worse she would feel. She needed to go home. Margot’s wedding was a few days away, and she couldn’t miss it. She wouldn’t give her sisters anything more to worry about. Margot deserved a happy wedding day, and everyone had planned for the Fourth of July celebration this year. She’d promised she would be there.
The room must have a telephone she could use. She spotted it on the cart beside the bed, but when she lifted the receiver, the line was dead. She pushed a few buttons and waited. Nothing.
“Why doesn’t this work?” She held the receiver in front of her.
“I believe there’s a number you have to push to dial out.”
Not seeing anything to reveal that magical number, she turned around. “What is it? I need to call Reggie.”
“Sorry. I’m not going to let him take you out of here. I don’t even know how he got in here in the first place. I had to go through hell and prove our relationship before they’d let me in to see you.” He stifled a yawn. “Climb up in bed. The doctor will be here in a minute, and I’ll stay with you while he listens to your heart and flashes a light—”
The whoosh of the door set her heart to racing. She glanced at Cole, begging silently for him to take her out of here.
“Excellent. You’re ready.” The doctor walked through the door. “Why don’t you hop back up on the bed, and let me take a look at you.”
Florentine mouthed I hate you to Cole. She would’ve kicked him and his smug smile if the doctor wasn’t studying her every move. She hated doctors, too. The longer he checked her out, the better the odds that he’d find something deadly wrong with her.
She sat down and slipped her hands under her thighs. It wouldn’t help her case if he saw how bad they shook. To keep her mind off all his prodding and poking, she stared at Cole. She blamed him for everything. If he weren’t here, she’d already be gone. If he’d gone away like she’d told him to when he brought up the contract, she wouldn’t have fallen off the bull.
“Look at the tip of my nose.” Dr. Larson took a pen light out of the pocket of his white coat and flashed it in her eyes.
She flinched and grabbed her neck. “Ow.”
Dr. Larson pushed her ha
nd away and probed along her neck. “Uh huh.”
“What’s that mean?” Florentine scooted back on the bed out of his reach. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve strained the muscle along your neck. The pain you’re feeling is a muscle spasm. It’s common when someone’s head hits the ground hard enough to receive a concussion. I’ll have the nurse bring you some Motrin. That should help.” Dr. Larson walked around the bed.
She kept her eyes on him, scooting to the edge of the bed and shifting sideways when he stood behind her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m only going to take a look at your shoulder. Hold still. I’ll be fast.” Dr. Larson undid the top tie of her gown.
She pressed the gown to her chest and glanced at Cole. His brows drew together at whatever Dr. Larson showed him. She frowned. “I’m fine.”
“Well, you will be. Tomorrow, you might think you were run over by a…was it a bull? Horse?” Dr. Larson tsked. “Raise your arm.”
She clamped her teeth together and lifted her hand to shoulder level.
“Higher.”
The stiffness made it difficult to follow his directions, but she muscled through and kept her mouth shut when her elbow passed her shoulder. She let her arm down and stood.
“For the next twenty-four hours, a nurse will come in every four hours and call your name.” Dr. Larson wrote on the clipboard without looking at her. “With the medicine and the excitement you’ve had, you’ll probably sleep right through, but we’ll make sure you stir enough to let us know everything is okay. For one week, I don’t want you doing anything that would cause you to bump your head. No strenuous exercise. The second week, you can start doing all your normal things, but stay away from everything that would put you in danger of bumping your head again. After two weeks, you can go back to regular activities.”
She shook her head. “That’s too long. Ten days max, or my career will be ruined. If I’m kept out of the first event, there’ll be no way I can qualify to ride in the PBR.” She couldn’t believe a stupid bump on the head had the potential to destroy her dreams.
Dr. Larson peered over his glasses.
“Please, I don’t want to stay here. I need to go.” She tried not to look too pitiful, but she could tell by the way his mouth softened that she’d failed.
