9 #4
The break in her voice wrenched emotion from him. “No one could have kept me away.”
“The dog?”
A laugh strangled out, and then he did kneel, unwilling to chance hurting her by sitting on the side of the bed. “She’s with
Addie and I’m sure she’s a happy little camper. I think she’d been on her own for a while, but now she’s in good hands.”
“She’s my dog,” she whispered, her tone fierce.
“Okay. That’s fine.” He’d have the dog brought to her if it’d make her feel better. “Tanner and Callie are here, too, so we
had to leave her with Addie. She wanted to be here as well. She told me to tell you that and to give you her love.”
Glory gasped, then winced, closed her eyes and swallowed.
“Easy,” Kam said. If he could take the pain for her, he’d have accepted it gladly. He loved her. He knew that now. Nothing
but love could hurt this much.
“I’ve been thinking about her,” she said once she’d gotten her breath back. The words were low, carefully moderated. “I want
her. I’ve never had a dog.” Her lips trembled again. “Oh, God, I look so ugly.”
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Please believe me.”
“Get up off the floor.”
Her strangled whisper had him smiling despite the awfulness of the moment. “I’m going to take some time off work.”
“No.”
“I want to be there with you, to help you, to do anything I can. You can’t tell me no because that would be cruel, and you
aren’t cruel, Glory.”
Tears tracked down her cheeks. “I have scars.”
“We all do, baby.”
“If I could smack you, I would.”
“I’ll keep count and when you’re better, you can deliver all the smacks at one time.” As carefully as he could, he brushed the tears off her cheeks.
“I was so scared,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
“I shouldn’t have panicked, but I was in a wreck once before . . .”
Should he tell her he already knew that? Or would that bother her more? “I imagine anyone who’d ever been in a bad wreck would
fear it happening again.”
“For years, I would feel paralyzed whenever I had to get in a car. I did my best, but it would feel like my lungs were seizing
up.”
She’d been a kid, with Liz sending her off to additional surgeries. His throat thickened until he couldn’t speak without her
hearing the pity in his voice. Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed her knuckles.
“For years now, I’ve been better about it. I didn’t really have a choice. Kids travel in cars. Adult women drive.”
“I understand.” He really did. How hard would it be for her to get back in a car again? He’d figure it out. Somehow, he’d
make things all right for her.
“I don’t want to go backward. As soon as I can, I have to get back to driving.”
“We can do that together.” He’d be with her every step of the way. “There are old country roads around here, where all you’ll
see is a horse or a cow, maybe a farmer on a tractor.”
Her lips trembled. “You’re going to hate me.”
“No.” Coming up next to her again, he stole another soft kiss. “Why would you even say that?”
She turned her face away, and he saw tears tracking down her bruised cheeks again. “You’re going to hate me and so will Addie.”
Her upset just about killed him. “Never, Glory. That will never ever happen.”
“Damn it,” she rasped low, without much breath. “I am such a pathetic mess.”
“You’re not pathetic and you’re not a mess. You’re hurt, and I wish I could somehow make it better.” He got as close to her
as he could without bumping her, without causing her more pain. “All I can do is swear to you that no one will hate you. Not
for any reason.”
The shuddering breath she drew made her freeze, stark agony on her face. “Oh, God.”
They both went still for several seconds.
“I think it’s the medication,” she finally whispered. “It’s making me whiny.”
“But it’s clearly not helping enough.” Kam wanted to find the nearest nurse or doctor and demand they do something—but what?
The doctor had said her ribs would hurt the worst for the first week. Seven days of this? He had to remind himself that Glory
was strong, a fighter, who’d already come through one wreck, then the multiple surgeries that followed.
“You impress the hell out of me.” He touched his mouth to hers one last time—for now—then said, “Callie is anxious to see
you.”
“This shouldn’t have happened when she’s supposed to be celebrating her new marriage.”
Through the door, Callie said, “I can hear you, Glory, and you know better. Now kick out Kam, so I can have a turn.”
Wasn’t easy, but he came to his feet. “I’m taking you home, and I’ll be taking care of you.” He lightly brushed his fingertips
over her jaw. “Don’t let Callie convince you of anything different.”
“I can manage on my own.”
“Cruel,” he murmured, trying to sound light instead of tormented. “I know you won’t be cruel.” Not wanting to hear anything
else, Kam stepped out to give Callie a turn. He didn’t look at her or Tanner, or any of the medical people coming and going
along the hallway. He went to a wall, braced his arms against it, and lowered his head.
Far as he was concerned, Mike was a dead man, and if that made him like his father, he didn’t care.