One to Chase (One to Hold #7)
Page 19
Her body melts a little more in my arms. Clearly this is what she needs to hear. Thank you, Elaine.
“I was so afraid.” Her words are muffled against my chest. “It happened so fast. All of it was too fast. They were so rough with her. I tried to make them be gentle.”
She shudders again, and I feel the warmth of fresh tears against my now-damp shirt. I couldn’t give a shit. She can cry on me all night if she needs to.
“I’m sure they were just doing their job.” I’m speaking against her soft hair, since her head is in my chest. “Medical treatments are rougher than we realize. It’s probably why they don’t allow us back when they’re working.”
Perhaps I’m right, but I wouldn’t know. I’ll say anything at this point to comfort her. She clutches me tighter, and I return her strength.
“I tried to get here as soon as you called.” I rest my cheek against her head. “I hope you weren’t alone for long.”
Her arms loosen, and she steps back. Not too far, though, just enough to see my face.
“I wasn’t.” She wipes her eyes with her fingers, and I fish in my pocket for a handkerchief. Taking it, she notices the navy MM monogrammed on white cotton before glancing up. “Thanks.”
“My grandmother insisted we be prepared.” She sniffs a small smile before pressing the cloth to her face.
“I’ll have it laundered before I send it back.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She’s quiet, and I know she’s processing, worrying about her mother. I want to find some way to ease her mind, but until the doctor checks in with us, there’s nothing more I can say.
“Let’s sit.” Taking her arm, we go to the navy vinyl chairs lining the waiting area.
Moments tick by as I watch her slowly coming around. She’s still afraid, and she pulls the fabric of my handkerchief back and forth in her fingers.
A television blasts sharp voices reporting on a kidnapping, then a flash flood in the west. I’m about to stand and turn it off, but Amy leans back with a deep sigh and slides her hand under mine.
The chair arms prevent me from pulling her into my side. Now the television is blasting about some Hollywood starlet showing her ass. It’s all so stupidly inappropriate, I lean forward as if to block her from it.
“Would you like some water? A coffee?” She’s dressed in soft grey pants and a charcoal tee. Her hair is a messy bun, and it looks as if she had only just got out of bed when it happened.
“I’m okay.” Her voice is so soft, I tighten my fingers over hers gently. She rests her head on her hand, and I lift her fingers to my lips.
Minutes tick by like hours. I can’t take her away from here. We have to wait for word from the doctor. She’s called everyone as far as I know, and her brothers are most likely on airplanes. Looking around, I try to find something to distract us.
A dog-eared copy of The Great Gatsby sits on one of the low end tables. Some high school kid must’ve left it here. When I was in high school, I skipped reading it, but as a Pre-law and English double-major, I muddled through Fitzgerald’s seminal work.
“The great American novel,” I say picking it up.
Her eyes scan the royal blue cover. A disembodied face floats above the curl of cigarette smoke and the lights of Cony Island. She takes it and stares at the cover a few moments.
“New York money kids playing their own version of the game,” she says, handing it back.
Turning the slim volume over, I scan the back text. “It was a flop when it came out. Reviewers hated it.”
“Now it’s a classic.”
“Who decides such things?” I open the front cover and read the first page.
“Vivid writing and iconic imagery,” she sighs. “Gatsby’s green light, the dream he’s so convinced he wants to possess. It never lives up to reality, and in the end it kills him.”
“You remember it a lot better than I do.”
“I saw the movie twice.” Her green-hazel eyes blink to mine, and she gives me a grim smile.
“I seem to recall some of that.” I drop it back on the table. “I’m with the reviewers. I hated that fucking book.”
“Too boring?” The smallest hint of a tease is in her tone, and my shoulders relax. If she can forget her worries for just a few moments, I’m happy.
“Too annoying. Gatsby’s delusional. Nick Carraway is a judgmental prick, and Daisy’s a materialistic murderer satisfied with letting others clean up her messes.”
Her lips press together. “Gatsby built her up in his mind. She became a fantasy he wanted, something unreal.”
“So she stays with her racist, cheating husband.”
“Everybody cheats.” Our eyes lock a moment before hers cut away again, and I’m unhappy with the irritating turn our conversation has taken.
“No they don’t.”
If she’s trying to draw some parallel here, she’s going to have to do a better job. I have a clear-eyed vision of what I want, and it’s not a fantasy. I know who she is, and most importantly I know who I am.
A physician who looks far too young to be treating her mother appears in the public area, calling for the Knight party. Amy is on her feet at once, nearly jogging in his direction. I’m right behind her, but I’m also ready to be told I’m not family. I have to wait while they discuss Sylvia’s prognosis in private.
“Miss Knight?” The young doctor’s manner exudes calm concern. I’m thankful for that. His eyes flick to me. “Is this your husband?”
I clear my throat, but her slim hand grasps my forearm. “No—he’s... family.”
We are not related, dammit. I give a tight smile and a nod. The young man motions for us to follow him into a glassed-in area. Amy’s arms are crossed over her body again. I’m right behind her, ready to catch her if she falls.
“It was a mild heart attack, but your mother is doing very well.”
A blast of relief exhales from us both the moment the words leave his mouth. “Oh, thank God,” Amy mutters, covering her face with her hands. I wrap my arms around her waist.
“We didn’t pick up anything on her scan a week ago.” He looks down at the chart. “At this point we think it might have been a coronary artery spasm.”
Amy’s head pops up. “She had a scan?”
“An angiogram.” The young physician returns her frown. “She didn’t mention it?”
“No.” I can see her thoughts flying behind her eyes.
“It’s a troubling diagnosis, as she doesn’t exhibit the usual risk-factors associated with spasm,” he continues. “Her cardiac muscle has suffered trauma as would be expected. However, your rapid response and the skill of the EMS team curtailed any permanent damage.”
Amy nods, but her arms tighten over her waist again. My hands move to rub her shoulders.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say softly, right at her hair.
“Thank you,” she says. I don’t know if it’s to me or to the doctor. Probably both.
“We haven’t detected any additional trauma, but she needs to stay with us for observation. I expect her to go home fully recovered.”
“Oh, God, thank you,” she whispers. Another little shudder, and I hold her arms. I’m here.
“We’ll prescribe a program for rehab and try a few medications to prevent it from happening again.” Amy nods as he continues speaking. “I’m sure you want to see her, however I’d rather limit visitors for now. She needs as much rest as possible.”
“How soon before she can go home?” I ask, feeling it’s something all the Knight children will want to now.
“Not for a day at least. Possibly two.”
We both thank him. He leaves as I notice the sounds of people arriving behind me. Amy turns, and I see relief break across her face. I’m pretty sure I know who’s behind me before I look.
“Amy?” Stuart Knight’s voice cuts through the waiting area. She’s out of my arms and running to her oldest brother. “How�
�s Mom?”
She stops in front of him. The siblings don’t embrace; rather they stand facing each other in controlled concern. A beautiful, slim woman dressed in a flowing red-patterned skirt and black halter-top is at his side, holding his hand. I can only guess she’s Mariska, his fiancée, from the delicate chains draping her neck and the rings on almost every finger. She matches Elaine’s description perfectly. She also doesn’t hesitate to step forward and give Amy a warm hug.
“I can’t imagine how frightened you were.” Releasing the hug, her hands drop to hold Amy’s.
I wait as Amy fills them in on what the doctor just told us, joining them slowly, not wanting to cloud the issue with my presence.
Glancing up, Stuart sees me and smiles. “Marcus.” He clasps my hand in a firm shake. “I should’ve expected to find you helping out in a crisis. I didn’t know you and Amy were friends.”
The last time Stuart and I were together, we worked to keep his best friend and business partner Derek Alexander out of prison. I actually like and respect him quite a bit, despite his former-Marine, imposing personality.
“I-I called him.” Amy’s voice trails off as if she’s not sure how to finish her sentence.
He’s unfazed. “Thanks for coming.” Releasing my hand, he puts an arm around Mariska.
“Glad to help.” As much as I’d like to put my arm around his sister, I don’t.
Knowing what I know about the elder Knight, it’s possible he’ll be a bit protective of Amy and suspicious of my motives. I’m prepared to ease his mind, stand up to his grilling, but now isn’t the time.
“The doctor said she has to stay a day or two,” Amy’s voice is weak from all she’s been through. I ache to hold her the way I held her when it was just us, but... well, see above.
“You must be starving!” Mariska’s cries. “Have you eaten today?”
Amy blinks to her and seems to realize. “No, actually. We were having our morning coffee when it happened.”
The young woman turns to me, and I know what she’s thinking.
“Good idea,” I say. “Mariska and I can step out and get food for you—for all four of us?”
“I’m not sure I can eat.” Amy leans back before sitting in the chair.
“Get us all something. Amy will eat.” Her brother is all tense muscles and intimidation, but she’s clearly accustomed to his personality.
“I’ll try to find something light.” We start to leave, and again, I long to give her a parting embrace. “We won’t be long.”
Chapter 18: Green Light
Amy
Patrick arrives while Marcus and Mariska are out getting food. It’s afternoon as my middle brother dashes through the waiting room. Marcus was an enormous comfort, but having both my brothers here lifts the pressure off me completely. I’m so incredibly thankful Sylvia’s going to be okay.
Elaine follows close behind, and I can’t help searching for anything about her that’s like Marcus, from her tight smile to her green eyes. Marcus’s eyes are hazel. His complexion is a bit darker.
Patrick called as soon as they landed, and we’d quickly explained Sylvia’s condition and eased his fears. Still, he’s quick to hug me. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always felt closest to him.
“How you holding up?” He rubs a strong hand up and down my back. “You must’ve been freaking the flip out.”
My brow crinkles as I pull back. “Interesting choice of words, big brother.”
He chuckles and leans into my ear. “Fucking swear jar is about to break me.”
I exhale a laugh, so happy he’s here. Elaine’s cool hand slides across my arm.
“How are you doing?” Worry lines her pretty face.
“I’m good. I—” Almost say Marcus was here, but I haven’t decided if I want to go there with them. If I say his name, I’m sure everything between us will be plain on my face. “I wasn’t entirely alone.”
Elaine waits for me to elaborate, and I frantically toss around for something. “I’m a little hungry.”
She hops to attention. “Let me run out and get you something!” Her bag is on her shoulder, but I catch her arm.
“Mariska’s getting food.” I don’t add whom she’s with.
“Oh, good.” She relaxes. “I hoped she’d join Stuart.”
“Yes,” I agree.
Mariska softens my oldest brother like nothing I’ve ever witnessed. Without her, I’m sure he’d be barking at the doctors and staff, arguing with Patrick, and bossing me around. Basically, reminding us entirely too much of our father.
The guys return to us. They’ve been discussing arrangements and working out a plan as to who will stay with our mother so she’s never alone.
“What’s going on?” Stuart asks.
Elaine steps around him to hold Patrick’s arm. I can’t help admiring my new sister-in-law. “We were just saying how lovely Mariska is.”
My oldest brother smiles so warmly, I’m almost sorry Patrick and I ever referred to him as “Captain Asshat.” Almost. It used to be quite fitting.
“Elaine! Patrick, you’re here!” A female voice interrupts us.
The lady in question dashes toward us with Marcus right behind her. I try not to let my expression reflect the joy surging through my chest at his return.
Every moment of Marcus comforting me today has me wanting to rush into his arms, from his secure hugs to his gentle reassurances to his kissing my head repeatedly. He’d been so focused on taking my mind off my fears for my mother. All of it swirls in my brain in a building rush of gratitude and...
Let’s not get carried away.
Still, I will admit, being in his arms was the most divine comfort I’ve ever experienced.
“Marcus!” Elaine skips forward to greet her brother.
He returns her embrace. “How was your flight?”
Watching them, I try to picture the two of them growing up together. I wonder if she thinks of him in any sort of paternal way. I wonder if she’ll be angry at me if she knows...
I have got to stop thinking this way immediately.
“Long and stressful,” she says. “I almost couldn’t take the nerves before we finally touched down at O’Hare.”
“Tell me about it.” Patrick catches her hand, threading their fingers. She melts into his side, leaning her head against his shoulder. “It looks like not much to do here tonight. The doctor said they’re keeping her sedated so she can rest and recover.”
Mariska goes to Stuart, and he glances down at her before returning his attention to me. “I’ll take the first shift tonight if you’d like to head home and get some rest.”
As much as I long to see my mother awake and okay, I know it won’t happen this evening, and now that we’re all together, the waves of exhaustion are pulling me under.
“I might try to rest,” I say, taking the plastic bag Mariska holds out to me.
“Do you need a ride?” Patrick catches my hand. “Elaine and I have a room at the Marriott.”
The hospital is only blocks from Sylvia’s condo building, another blessing in our crisis today. It allowed me to run here this morning, when I would have gone crazy waiting on a car. “I can walk back. It’s not far.”
“I’ll walk with you.” Marcus’s low voice floods my insides with soothing energy.
“Thanks man,” Patrick claps his shoulder. “I owe you like... ten million for being here today, looking after my little sister.”
I can’t help noticing a slight flinch in Marcus’s smile at Patrick’s words. “I was glad to be here,” he says. “I was glad she called me.”
Elaine gives him a proud smile. “You’re always the rock.”
Oh, if they only knew, would all of this be different?
I can’t linger over it. Fatigue presses on my forehead like heavy weights. Taking Marcus’s arm, I allow him to lead me out of the hospital and back to Sylvia’s place.
* * *
Marcus
She’s quiet as we walk
the few blocks to the condo. Gusts of wind sweep through the tall buildings crinkling the plastic bag holding her lunch and throwing my tie over my shoulder. I came straight from work when she called. The events of this morning, my conversation with Paige, all of it seems like ancient history now.
My feelings for Amy burn at the forefront of my mind. Paige is settled, and I’m ready to head back in, pick up where we left off, stay with her until she surrenders the fight and agrees to be mine.
As soon as she’s recovered from her mother’s crisis, of course.
The entire walk, our hands don’t entwine. I don’t want to push her. Standing in front of the tall condo building, I can’t help remembering the last time we were in this same place together. She’d run out of Studio O after I’d shown up with Paige. I’d come after her once I’d realized she was on the streets alone.
“Charmed life,” I say, thinking of how wrong that night could have gone.
“What?” She looks up at me, confusion lining her beautiful face.
“Just thinking of the last time we were here. The guy you dropped a fifty on following you. That could have been very bad.”
“Oh.” Her expression relaxes and she shakes her head. “You’re right.” She’s quiet a beat before she finishes. “I guess I’d reached my quota on bad things for that night.”
Her words sting, but I’m not convinced she means them the way they come across. Judging by her far-away expression, I’m pretty sure she’s giving me another fleeting glimpse of her past.
Or she could simply be exhausted.
“Don’t get cocky.” I catch her chin and give her a gentle smile. “Be safe.”
She gives me a weary smile in return. “Make good choices. Don’t do drugs.”
Damn I want to kiss her. I want to sweep her into my arms and love all this pain away. It seems too much in view of the day’s events, so I step back.
“Get some rest, beautiful. I’ll check on you in the morning.” Her hand lightly touches mine, and I lift her fingers to my lips, giving them a soft kiss.
Her eyes smolder, and I hesitate. I’ve seen that look before, specifically when she first stepped on the cruiser the day we took pictures for the website—the day that quickly turned into one of the best two days of my life.