Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
Korrie
I had no more tears in me. The wetness had dried on my cheeks, tracks that had been a constant flow because I stopped worrying about brushing them away. I held my father’s hand tighter, thankful he was sleeping comfortably.
Although he would be fine, the fall had taken a lot out of him, and he’d broken his hip. Coupled with his autoimmune disease, he was in for a long recovery, but I was so very thankful the medical staff said they predicted he’d be okay and as healthy as he’d been before the fall. I had to imagine his stubborn, strong personality and attitude aided in that too.
Not much could bring my father down.
“You should go home.”
I snapped my head up at my father’s gravelly tone. He had his head turned toward me, his eyes heavy-lidded, wear and strain written across his face.
“Daddy,” I said, feeling like a lost little girl who was watching her father be taken down and there wasn’t anything I could do to help or stop it.
He gave me a tired smile. “You haven’t called me that since you were little.” I rested my forehead on our joined hands and exhaled. “You must be pretty scared to fall back on that old title.”
I smiled and lifted my head. “I’m trying to be strong, but I am scared.”
“Sweetheart, this is life,” he said and shifted on the bed but immediately winced.
“Don’t move around. You broke your hip and are covered in bruises. The drugs they gave you are probably dimming a lot of the pain.”
“Not enough of the pain,” he grumbled. Then he smirked. “Am I considered part of the geriatric club now, since I broke a hip?”
I rolled my eyes. “There he is, the teasing smartass I know and love.”
His expression turned serious. “I know you blame yourself for this because you weren’t home.” I opened my mouth, but he shook his head, stopping me. “This isn’t anything you could have stopped. Sometimes life just throws you curveballs, and you have to either try to catch it, or you get slugged with it.”
I exhaled, leaning back in the chair but keeping our hands twined together.
“You’ve always been there for me, and I know you always will be. The same as I’ll always be there for you. But we can’t beat ourselves up with the what-ifs, with the thought that we could have changed things. We can’t.” His tone was hard. “I couldn’t change the fact that your mother is gone, even though I wish I could.”
My throat tightened with emotion. It was so long ago that we’d lost her, but still that wound could feel so fresh at times. He gave my hand another squeeze.
“So what I’m saying is we have to just keep moving forward. Things happen for a reason, okay? And there isn’t a damn thing that can be done about it.”
I gave him a sad smile, one I hoped reached my eyes, but when he squeezed my hand again, I knew I’d failed. He closed his eyes, and I sat there silently for a second, just thinking about my father and all he’d gone through, how he stepped up and raised a little girl who lost her mother. And he was right, of course. Sometimes you either got slugged in the gut from life, or you managed to dive out of the way just in the nick of time. That was just the way the dice rolled.
I reached into my purse to grab my phone and send Sharon a text, knowing she’d want an update. She’d been so worried when I’d shown up at the hospital to relieve her. I couldn't thank the woman enough. She’d really been there for us, and if she hadn’t heard my dad, I don’t know how the night would have played out.
When I had my phone, I saw the black screen and realized it was turned off. In my haste to leave Bishop’s place and come here, I accidentally shut it off. I turned it on, and a moment later there was text after text from Bishop. So many missed calls I could sense his panic as he tried to contact me. Before I could call him back—though I didn’t even know what to say and didn’t want to leave my dad—my cell started ringing.
It was Bishop, and I felt this warmth fill me.
“Ah, so it’s a guy calling.” I snapped my head up, knowing my expression was surprised. “Sweetheart, I’m your dad. I can tell when my little girl is in love.” I felt my eyes widen at that. All my father did was chuckle and shake his head. “Answer it. Don’t let the boy hang on the line. But,” he said, his voice going deep and stern, “I want to meet him at some point when I am up and healing. I want to make sure he’s treating my daughter right and that he knows if he messes up, he’ll deal with me.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Deal,” I whispered, not bothering to deny anything he’d said. I did love Bishop, but I guess I hadn’t allowed myself to really realize it until it was thrown right back at me.
My cell stopped ringing, but I felt it vibrate with a couple incoming texts. Then it was ringing again.
“Answer it, honey. And don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be fine.”
I stood, leaning down to kiss his knuckles, then left him alone to rest in his room. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, the hallway on this floor of the hospital quiet this time of night, or early morning, or whatever time it even was. I was so turned around I didn't know up from down.
I slid my finger over the screen, answering the call and putting the phone to my ear. For a second I couldn't say anything, and there was this silence that was thick and suffocating.
“Korrie?” Bishop prompted, urgency in this voice. I could practically hear him running his hand through his hair, stress surrounding him. “Baby,” he said, and I closed my eyes at the deepness of his voice, the sorrow that was thick in it. I also felt something warm and real at the endearment he uttered.
He felt relieved to hear my voice.
“Korrie?” His voice was a little more strangled, as if he were afraid the connection had been lost.
“I’m here,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “I’m here, Bishop.” I exhaled, heard him do the same, and again I could envision him pacing back and forth. “I’m sorry I just up and left without saying anything.”
He exhaled again. “Baby, that's fine. It’s fine. I’m not even thinking about that, so don’t you worry.” I could hear him pacing, the sound of his heavy boots hitting the ground somehow coming through the receiver.
Overhead, I heard a doctor being paged, but then my brows knitted as I heard the echo of the same page come through the receiver… as if Bishop was here in the hospital.
“Bishop?” My heart was thundering. “You’re here? How? Why?” My mind was racing, and I turned and looked back at my father. He lay still in the bed, his hands clasped on his chest, his eyes closed, a relaxed expression on his face. It made me feel relieved, even though I knew he had a hard, long road of recovery ahead of him.
“I am here,” he exhaled, the sound of him still pacing seeming to grow louder. “I tried calling, knew something had to be wrong for you to leave without saying anything.” I could hear his unspoken words, I hoped like hell you didn’t leave because of me .
“They won’t give me any fucking information, Korrie.” He sounded strained, like he was in a frantic place in his mind. “I didn't know your father’s first name, and giving them his last name, which I assumed was the same as yours, got me nothing.” He sounded pissed, growling out his words. “I’m about to lose my shit on these people,” he uttered.
“How long have you been here?”
He was silent for a moment, and again I could picture him checking the time. “Not that long. They almost kicked me out, because I made a scene about how they better give me some fucking information.”
I could actually picture that, even smiled a little, and it felt good to feel something other than sorrow right now. But then my smile faltered as I thought about Bishop being so worried about me that he’d come here. “How did you know I was here?” My feet were taking me to the bank of elevators before I even knew I was moving.
Then I was inside. The doors closed. My finger pushed the L button for the lobby. And then I was descending. There was static on the other end, Bishop saying something, but the connected kept cutting in and out because I was in the metal box.
“Ko—” The dinging sound as I descended floors filled my head. “Korr—” Bishop’s deep voice kept breaking up, but I could hear it becoming deeper, his panic growing.
My heart swelled, this unfamiliar feeling once again consuming me.
“Hold on, Bishop.” I wasn't sure he heard me, but it didn’t matter because the doors opened a moment later. I waited until a burly man with a bouquet of flowers and a blue teddy-bear-shaped balloon that said Welcome Baby Boy stepped inside. I excused myself around him, the waiting room to my right, a reception desk to my left. “Bishop?” I prompted, but my phone kept going in and out, the reception awful.
Perfect freaking timing.
I pulled the phone away and looked down; the call had already disconnected. I shoved the cell into my pocket and started looking through the throng of people, searching for Bishop. There were so many that it was hard to wade through everyone, but then I saw him across the waiting room, his body towering over everyone else.
And my heart stuttered, the breath leaving me. Seeing him made me feel… right. Centered. Like everything would be okay.