Her father had always had a rawboned face. His brown hair was cut military short. She saw the deep lines around his mouth, recognizing perhaps for the first time how much pain it showed he’d fought back and refused to release into the world. Sky had seen those lines so often in the black-ops wounded who came through her hospital in Bagram. The feathery lines at the corners of her father’s eyes told her of his love of being outdoors.
When he wasn’t on duty as a chef at their restaurant, he was chopping wood for the winter, hiking, fishing or hunting. He never killed anything they didn’t eat. And Balin had taught him to pray over those lives he took, releasing their spirit, thanking them for giving their lives. Lines. How much they told her as she observed her sleeping father. How much had he never told her?
Gently moving her fingers down his lower right arm, Sky was careful to stay away from the IV inserted into the crook of it. She saw his lids quiver. He was coming awake. Trying to steel herself, trying to be strong for him, Sky slid her warm fingers among his long, calloused ones. Slowly, his eyes opened. At first, Sky could see he wasn’t aware, just in that in-between state. He’d been given other medications, among them, a sedative to keep him calm. If he moved around too much, he could dislodge the clot. It was a fine balance between keeping her dad quiet and then allowing him to move enough so that his limbs didn’t become numb or circulation sluggish.
“Sky...you came....”
Her father’s hoarse, broken voice nearly unraveled Sky. She smiled down into his drowsy-looking blue eyes. She had her mother’s features but her father’s blue eyes. His pupils were huge and black, indicating medication in his bloodstream. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered unsteadily, leaning forward, placing a warm, lingering kiss on his wrinkled brow. She felt his fingers grow tighter around hers.
“Sky...” he croaked.
“Are you thirsty?”
He nodded. “Like a camel,” he muttered, lifting his other arm and wiping his cracked lips with his trembling hand.
Sky looked at the IV drip. She also saw a pitcher and glass on a tray nearby. “Hang on. I’ll get you some water to drink...”
Just getting to do something...anything...to help her dad made Sky feel better, more stable. As Alex settled back, giving her a weak look of thanks afterward, her heart opened with such love for him. Despite the past rocky months with him, he had been a wonderful father to her. He’d helped put her through college, money out of his own pocket, to see that she got her degree to become a registered nurse. He’d sacrificed a lot and so had her mother so she could have the education she’d wanted so badly. Both her parents had given up a lot so that she could thrive.
“You’re doing better, Dad,” she whispered, leaning over and smiling warmly at him. A little color came into his cheeks. The spark of life slowly emerged from his cloudy-looking eyes. As she lifted her head to sweep her gaze across all the beeping and sighing instruments, she was hopeful. His blood pressure had dropped even more, indicating he was at peace. Maybe because she had come and she was here at his side?
“Thanks,” he managed. Grimacing, he said, “Am I going to die?”
So typical of her father: straight and to the point. Gray had the same kind of bluntness. “From everything I see, Dad, you’re better. The medication is melting the clot.” She squeezed his hand. “You just need to lie still, rest and let it do its work.”
“Damn clot. Who knew?” Alex moved his head slowly toward her, their gazes locking with one another. His eyes grew dark. “I wanted you to come, Sky. I need to say something...to own up to something.... I was wrong to tell you those things when you had those nightmares, when you were screaming in your sleep....”
“Dad, it’s okay,” Sky soothed, seeing how anxious he’d become. His blood pressure was rising. “I understand and I forgive you. I was a mess when I got home. And frankly, I don’t blame you. I was waking you and Mom up every night, almost. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I should have rented a house in Casper, gone through that stage of my wounds—”
“No,” he said flatly, his voice cracking. “No, Sky, you should have been home with us, but I chased you off. I told you that you were messed up, that it was all in your head.” He let out a broken breath, his chest heaving with exertion. “Dammit, it was my fault. I was projecting on you when I should have been holding you, listening to whatever you wanted to tell me, letting you cry.” He gave her a pleading look, tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes. “I’m so damned sorry I hurt you like that, Sky. If anyone understood what you were going through, it was me.” His lower lip trembled, and Alex squeezed his eyes shut, raw pain in his hoarse voice. “I was in black ops. I had PTSD, but never admitted it to anyone. I was strong enough to hold it at bay. Strong enough to not let it eat me alive, destroy Balin, destroy you...” He opened his eyes, staring up at her, begging her to understand.
“It’s all right, Dad,” Sky quavered. “I do forgive you. Please...you need to calm down now, all right?” She anxiously scanned the instruments, all of them climbing, indicating his distress.
Gently, Sky smoothed her hand across her father’s chest, much like petting the wolf pups. “Dad, I want you to calm down,” she whispered, holding his tear-filled gaze. “I want you to slowly breathe in and out. You don’t want to move that clot around in your lung, and your breathing is ragged right now.”
She put her hand up to his cheek, smiling with all the love she had. “Breathe with me. Let’s breathe out our pain and replace it with the love we’ve always had for one another.”
And for the next five minutes, she and her father began synchronous breathing, bringing down the climbing instrument readings, calming one another.
Christine came over and opened the door. “Sky? How is your dad doing now? Things look more normalized.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Sky murmured, “He’s going to be okay. Thanks for checking in.”
She saw the worry in Christine’s expression, but she nodded brusquely, said nothing and quietly closed the glass door, leaving them alone once more.
Sky smiled down at her father. “We’re a good team, you and me. Your monitors are looking normal.”
“You always had a magic touch with me,” Alex whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in our lives, Sky. I chased you away, but I want you to come back. We can heal one another....”
“Shhh, Dad, just close your eyes. You’re so tired. You’ve been fighting so hard, you’re exhausted. I’m here, and I’m not leaving. Do you hear me? I’ll be here along with Mom. You’re going to beat this. You’re too tough, too stubborn, to give up now.”
His hand curled around hers, weak but still strong. “Balin said you had a man in your life,” he said, barely opening his eyes. “I hope he’s good to you.”
Her face crumpled with tenderness as she searched her father’s glistening eyes still filled with tears. “His name is Gray McCoy, Dad. He’s the one who figured out why you couldn’t have me in the house. He’s black ops, too....”
Alex grunted. “Tell me he’s a Marine?”
Laughing softly, Sky said, “Sorry, he’s Navy. He was a SEAL for nearly a decade.”
“Well, it could be worse. The Navy cuts the paychecks to the Marine Corps. He’s a sister branch, so he’s okay.”
Sky’s softened laugh filled the ICU, and she felt her father’s hand begin to relax in hers. His lashes fell against his cheekbones, his skin pulled tight across them. His skin was pale from the battle with the blood clot. She gently caressed her father’s head. “You’ll love him, Dad.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“IS THERE SOMETHING wrong with you?” Balin asked her daughter as she came back from the bathroom. “You look terrible.”
Nausea rolled through Sky, and she forced a weak smile she didn’t feel. “I think it’s something I ate,” she offered, walking ba
ck to the waiting room of the ICU. She’d just filled her mother in on her dad’s progress when Sky suddenly needed to vomit. She’d barely made it to the bathroom.
Feeling suddenly exhausted, she said, “I’m going to go to the house and get cleaned up, change clothes and rest for a while. Then I’ll come back and spell you?”
Sky hated to see her mother’s anxiety. The woman had enough to worry about.
Balin dug out the keys to her car. “Take the truck. Why don’t you come back at six? You can spell me, and then I can go home for a bit, get a shower and something to eat?”
Nodding, Sky squeezed her hand and left. As she passed her dad, she slowed to a stop, studying the monitors, studying him. He was stable. And he was improving. With a sigh, she turned and nearly ran into Christine.
“Hey,” Christine said, slipping her hand around her arm, “you don’t look so well. Can I help?”
Sky grimaced. “Something I ate.”
“Do you have a fever?”
Sky knew that would be death in an ICU, to come in here with a fever. It meant a virus or bacteria could easily be passed on to a struggling patient and potentially kill them. “No...”
“Just do me a favor?” Christine said, giving her a maternal look. “Come to the back room with me? I want to take your temp just to make sure.”
Sky didn’t fight her. She knew she didn’t have a fever, but Christine was the front line of defense to keep her patients protected. They moved into a small examination room and Christine closed the door, motioning her to sit on the gurney.
It felt good to sit, and Sky could feel the emotional tsunami of today beginning to swell, getting ready to overwhelm her. She needed to go to her parents’ house because her emotions were shredded. She needed some quiet time because of her PTSD, to get herself together once more.
Christine popped the ear thermometer into her left ear. “Hmm, you are normal.” She placed her fingers on the inside of her wrist. Watching her clock, she pursed her lips. “You’re 120, Sky.”
“I’ve been through a lot in the last twelve hours,” Sky grunted.
“You have been,” Christine murmured, using her stethoscope. “Heart and lungs are great.” She tilted her head. “How long have you been vomiting?”
Shrugging wearily, Sky sighed and muttered, “Three weeks, I guess.”
“Got a guy in your life?”
She frowned. “Yes. Why?”
Christine moved her hand gently down Sky’s left arm. “Protected sex?”
Her brows went up. “Well, yes.”
“Honey,” Christine said gently, “I don’t want to alarm you, but from my viewpoint, you could be pregnant.”
“Oh...I just figured it was nerves or a bug.” And then, automatically, as if her body knew more than she did, she protectively moved her hand across her belly. “But we always have protected sex.”
“Are you on the pill, sweetie?”
“No. He uses condoms,” she said, realizing she’d been in denial. Oh, God, she could not be pregnant, not with all the turmoil in her life, even though she did have strong feelings for Gray.
Christine nodded sagely and gently patted her arm. Like a mother would an upset child. “One way to find out.” She reached down in a drawer and pulled out a pregnancy test. “Why don’t you go pee on the stick. I can run a blood test to confirm. Okay?” She gave Sky a kind look.
Sky’s breath was ragged and her heart thrashed in her chest. Sky sat gripping the ends of the gurney where she sat, head down, trying to deal with the shock. The possibility.
“Are you in love with this guy?”
Closing her eyes tightly, Sky whispered, “No...I love him... I mean...” She lifted her head, shaking it. “I—I haven’t told him yet. So much has been going on...”
“You’ve got a lot to deal with,” Christine said quietly, her hand stilling on Sky’s clenched hand.
It felt as if someone had gut-punched her. For a moment, Sky felt as helpless as she had on that wooden board she’d been chained to by the Taliban. “Y-yes, but I’m getting better.”
“Are you on any medication, Sky?”
“No. None. I won’t do that. I won’t numb myself out—”
“It’s a good choice. You’re young, and you’re strong.” Christine gave her a wink. “Your secret is safe with me. Come on. I need a confirmation one way or another on this. Because you know I can’t let you back into ICU even if you don’t have a fever. The vomiting is coming from somewhere, and I need to know where.” She gave her a gentle look. “You understand?”
“Yes,” Sky whispered brokenly. She took the small box, staring at it. My God, what if she was pregnant? How had it happened? When? Gray always took precaution. Always. Her chest hurt with a primal scream she wanted to shriek out to the world. Sky knew it was her PTSD. Wrestling with it, she gave Christine a glance, slid off the gurney and said, “I’ll be right back.”
* * *
SKY STARED AS the color changed. She gulped. Tears rushed to her eyes. These kits were reliable. Her mind spun over the past months with Gray. Had a condom malfunctioned? It was known to happen. A tiny rip or tear in it? Oh, God...
Christine took a blood sample from her. “Listen, I’ll rush this through the lab. Give me your cell phone number. If you are pregnant, you’re more than welcome to come back up here to see your dad. If it comes up negative, I can’t let you back in here. Understand?”
Sky wearily nodded. She wrote down her phone number. Reaching out, Sky gripped the nurse’s hand. “Thank you, Christine—for everything.” Because the nurse was nurturing and trying to be as supportive as she could to her right now. Sky was sure Christine sensed her emotional reactions even though she was presently sitting on them.
“Honey, if you love this guy, he’s not going to walk out on you once he knows you’re pregnant. I see that look in your eyes. As if he’ll abandon you.”
Sky nodded, the words jamming in her tightened throat. “I don’t know what will happen, Christine.” Lifting her head, she continued, “Right now, my dad is my priority.” She touched her belly gently. “I can’t handle any more right now.”
“I know, I know,” Christine soothed. “Come on. I’ll walk you down to your mother’s car. I think you could use some girl company right now....”
Sky sat out in the car in the late-afternoon summer sunlight, in shock. Christine had told her she was going to be all right, given her a sisterly hug and walked back into the hospital.
Needing to call Gray, she pulled out her iPhone. He would be waiting to hear about her father, his condition. Sky found a rush of emotions, both beautiful and terrifying, tearing through her. When she could be in a quiet place, not distracted, the R.N. in her knew the truth: she was pregnant.
Moistening her lips, Sky looked blindly out the car window, seeing nothing, wrapped in too many conflicting feelings to do anything but sit and let them subside. Rubbing her face, she held the cell in her right hand. Gray would be worried. He cared for her. He’d never said he loved her. And she hadn’t told him she loved him, either. God, what a mess.
A powerful, overriding knowledge swamped Sky. She needed Gray. She was desperate to hear his voice. His calm counsel. His voice that feathered through her, quieting her, helping her to relax, to trust him as she’d never trusted any man in her life with the exception of her father.
Her mind churned over telling Gray about being pregnant. Sky couldn’t tell him over the phone. She needed to see his facial expression to know truly how he felt about this bombshell suddenly exploding into their lives. Worrying that her PTSD would harm the baby she carried, Sky gnawed on her lower lip. She needed desperately to talk to someone who might know. Jordana would! After she called Gray, she would place a call to Jordana tomorrow morning. It was too late in the day to catch her at her clinic or at the hospi
tal.
Gray... Her lashes swept down and Sky so desperately wanted him here, with her. Just hearing his voice would soothe her. Settle her. He would help her get through this in one piece, not shattered as she’d been when she had been rescued by the SEALs.
“Sky?”
Gray’s deep voice flowed through her like sunlight in the darkness of her fractured soul. “Yes...Gray...” Sky’s voice broke into a husky whisper as she shared all the information about her family with him. She was clinging to the cell phone, her brow against the steering wheel, eyes tightly shut. PTSD cut her off at the ankles. It made her feel incapable of sustaining strength for any long period of time. Gray had promised her over time, she’d get stronger, and the weakness she felt right now would one day no longer dog her heels. By the time she was done with the news, Sky felt like water spilled across a tabletop, no boundaries to stop her, nothing to halt her pulverized emotions.
“How are you doing, baby?”
Just his endearment rushed tears to her shut eyes. “I—I’m okay.” She heard him give a short, wry laugh.
“Now you sound like a SEAL. ‘I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.’” Gray snorted. “Tell me the truth.”
Sky swallowed convulsively against a lump forming in her throat. “It’s overwhelming me, Gray. I—I thought I could handle it, thought...”
Her voice broke. Tears dribbled down her drawn cheeks. “I just feel so weak...so damned inept...like I’m fragile in places I never used to be. God, I’ve handled screaming, out-of-their-head wounded men, and it never made me blink an eye. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, Gray. I did. It’s just...that I knew if I couldn’t put my own feelings away, they could die. And I could do it. I did it.”
“Listen, baby, you’re still healing. Stop being so hard on yourself. You need to draw the wagons around you right now. Go to your parents’ home, draw a hot bath, relax and chill. Quiet heals you, Sky. This is just how PTSD works. You need to stop now and help yourself.”
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