Chapter Eighteen
The text came through approving Dalton’s request to be reinstated on Blakely’s case in a matter of minutes.
Are you sure this is what you want?
His response was direct: Never been more certain of anything in my life, boss.
Done.
Dalton glanced up at Blakely, who he was surprised to learn had been studying him like notes the night before a final. “I’m back on the case. You’re my responsibility now, and I take my job seriously.”
“So I’ve noticed,” she shot back as she matched his glare. “You’re the best. It’s the reason I’m still alive, and I don’t take that for granted.”
“No more funny business. Period. Understand?”
Blakely looked more than a little put off by the comment.
“I have no intention of getting myself killed,” she lobbed back with fire in her eyes. “And I feel a whole lot better with someone who I know is competent having my back than a stranger who is punching a time card.” Daggers shot from her eyes now. “And no more funny business on your side either.”
It wasn’t the words she said so much as the way she’d said them that had him thinking she’d changed topics on him.
Did she mean the couple of kisses they’d shared?
Because he hadn’t been the one to initiate them.
Though, he’d been a willing participant.
No way in hell could he regret those, or even stick them in the category of bad ideas.
They were. But they’d also been the best kisses of his life and had held the most heat and promise.
He knew exactly what happened next when he let those kisses run wild.
Primal instinct took on a life of its own when his hands roamed her smooth, silky skin.
She was the closest thing to heaven on earth he’d ever experienced, and he highly doubted he would ever have the pleasure of experiencing anything that came remotely close again.
“We’re in agreement then,” he said vaguely. Two could play games. Speak in veiled sentences. “No more.”
Before Dalton could issue another response, he saw Grandpa Lor being wheeled toward him after the elevator doors closed.
Seeing his grandfather alert and alive filled him with emotion. Dalton’s heart was so full it could burst open.
Blakely followed his gaze and turned around, and he could see a warm smile spread across what had been a serious face only a few seconds ago. “The family resemblance is strong.”
“That’s my grandfather, all right.” Dalton had barely finished his sentence when his feet started moving of what felt like their own volition toward his grandfather, not stopping until he was bent over the wheelchair in a warm embrace.
This was almost too good to be true after fearing too much time had passed with his grandfather in a coma for him to make a meaningful recovery.
There was something about seeing his grandfather that seemed to wash away all his anger and frustration from a few moments ago.
Blakely had taken a huge risk in coming to the hospital. The small but annoying voice in the back of his head reminded him that she’d taken that risk to be with him and to make sure he was okay. There was no way he could stay angry at her for risking her own life to see him.
He wasn’t ready to assign a meaning to it either, like she was in love with him and unable to see it or cop to the fact.
“Welcome back, Grandpa Lor. Welcome back.” Dalton whispered those words on repeat in his grandfather’s ear.
“It’s good to be back,” Grandpa Lor admitted.
Sizing him up, Dalton could tell he’d lost a few pounds, but it wasn’t anything Mama Bea’s country-fried steak couldn’t fatten up.
“Grandpa, I’d like you to meet my friend Blakely.”
Blakely stepped forward and extended a hand. “It’s my pleasure to have the honor of meeting you.”
Grandpa Lor’s gaze shifted from Blakely to Dalton and back. He said, “I’d be proud to shake your hand. However, we’re huggers in the Remington family.”
That was all he had to say for Blakely to close the distance between them and offer a warm hug.
A dozen campfires lit inside Dalton’s chest at seeing two of the most important people in his life hugging.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Blakely said.
“Don’t believe any of it. I’m not nearly so wild as the rumors would have you believe.
” Grandpa Lor winked. His usual lightness and sense of humor was intact.
His mind was sharp. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, Dalton had real hope life might return to some semblance of normal.
Grandma Lacey had to pull through. Life wouldn’t be the same without her.
Blakely’s wide smile as she practically beamed at his grandfather sent another jolt of electricity straight to Dalton’s heart.
The nurse behind the wheelchair, gripping the handles, cleared her throat. “I hate to be the one to break up this family reunion, but we are in the hallway, and I’d like to get Mr. Remington back into his room so I can get him more comfortable in his bed.”
Dalton and Blakely stepped aside at the exact same moment, parting like the Red Sea to allow the nurse to wheel Grandpa back inside the room.
As Grandpa passed Dalton, he reached for his hand and asked, “Has there been any change with my girl since I was gone?” If Dalton was ever going to commit his life to anyone, he would want to have the kind of love story his grandparents had.
High school sweethearts turned life partners who’d built a small business from the ground up together.
Ranching was hard work, and yet he never once heard his grandparents complain.
Then again, complaining wasn’t in their nature.
“No, sir,” Dalton said, the nurse agreeing a moment later.
She added, “But just like you, Mrs. Remington’s condition could change at any minute now.
You hang on to that. You hear?” Dalton heard the hopefulness in the nurse’s voice and wished he felt the same way when it came to his grandmother.
Having Grandpa Lor back was nothing short of a miracle. Did he dare hope for a second?
Dalton instinctively reached for Blakely’s hand and linked their fingers as they followed the wheelchair inside his grandmother’s room.
He told himself the physical connection with Blakely made him breathe easier because he didn’t want to let her out of his sight and not because her touch comforted him in ways he knew better than to allow.
He wanted to know that she was always near so he could keep an eye on her.
She needed to be within arm’s reach at all times should anything serious go down.
They’d barely walked into the room when Dalton’s cell buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the screen. “It’s from Jules.”
“Is everything okay?” Blakely asked.
“Yes, she’s fine,” he said. “She’s asking for help to bring up all the food from the parking lot.”
The thought of leaving his grandfather even for a few minutes docked a boulder on the center of his chest. What if he left and his grandpa Lor fell back into a coma? He’d just gotten him back.
Blakely, who was standing right next to him, nudged him with her elbow. Then she whispered, “I’ll go down. You stay here with your grandfather.”
Dalton bit back the urge to say no. Because this was Jules they were talking about. She was also a highly trained and damn good US marshal. And his sister wouldn’t let anything happen to Blakely any more than he would.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back,” Blakely promised. He let go of her hand before he changed his mind.
Besides, he never would have agreed if she hadn’t outsmarted Johnny Spear to show up here in the first place.
The fact she’d risked her life to come see Dalton wasn’t lost on him.
But he couldn’t afford to let himself get wrapped up in the gesture.
Besides, he needed to help his grandfather out of the wheelchair and into the bed. Dalton moved beside the nurse. “I can lend a hand.”
“That would be appreciated,” she said.
This close, Dalton could assess just how much weight his grandfather had lost. Hoisting the man up was too easy. He stood on spindly legs, but that wasn’t anything good Southern cooking couldn’t fix.
“I’ll leave you to it,” the nurse said after reconnecting Grandpa Lor to the machines next to his bed. She paused at the door. “Lori-Anna has been calling every day to check on you and your wife. Am I allowed to call her back and give her a status update on your condition?”
Dalton hadn’t heard his mother’s name spoken out loud in longer than he could remember.
He had no desire to see or hear from her again after what she’d pulled.
Even hearing it now, after all these years, caused his hands to fist at his sides.
What could possess a person to walk out on their infant son?
Not to mention another son and daughter who were barely old enough to wipe their own backsides?
She’d walked out on her husband and her children.
Dalton had no use for the woman, despite the tug of curiosity deep in his chest.
“You have my permission to tell Lori-Anna about my status and tell her that I appreciate her calling and checking on me,” Grandpa Lorenzo said, much to Dalton’s complete shock and horror. Then added, “I’ll give her a call as soon as I’m able.”
He waited for the nurse to exit before he pulled a seat next to Grandpa Lor’s bed and asked, “Do you really want that woman to receive an update, or are you just being kind?”
Grandpa Lor studied Dalton for a long moment. He motioned toward a big white pitcher with a straw poking out of the top next to his bed that was probably filled with ice water.
Dalton handed it over carefully.
After taking a sip, Grandpa Lor cleared his throat and said, “Your mother’s situation was complicated. I understand why you wouldn’t want to talk about her, so we didn’t force the conversation on any of you.”
“Does that mean you stayed in touch with her over the years?” Dalton asked, a hornet’s nest of emotions buzzing around his heart.
As angry as he still was, curiosity was getting the best of him.
After almost losing his grandfather and with the possibility still looming that he could lose Grandma Lacey, his heart must have softened when it came to blood ties.
No. The subject was dead, and he should probably leave it alone.
“I won’t pretend to condone what Lori-Anna did all those years ago,” Grandpa Lor began.
Speaking caused him to cough. He paused long enough to take another sip of water before holding the big jug in his once sturdy, now shaky hands.
“Life is complicated. Families are complicated. Sometimes, finding a place of understanding is better than holding on to anger.”
Dalton couldn’t remember a time when either of his grandparents spoke ill about anyone in the family.
His no-good uncle had ditched Dalton’s cousins after his wife died.
The good son, Dalton’s father, had been killed in an accident on the ranch.
His wife had walked out on their children a couple of years before his death.
So, yeah, he completely understood just how complicated families can be. Relationships fell into the same boat. He’d be a hypocrite if he said otherwise. Especially considering his relationship with Blakely. Or lack of relationship, he should say.
“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand,” Grandpa Lor continued before another small coughing jag.
“Maybe you should rest,” he said, not wanting to wear his grandfather out.
“I’d rather talk, if that’s all right with you,” Grandpa Lor said. “I’ve been asleep too long, and it feels good to have company.”
“All right then,” Dalton said.
“Your mother had a lot of difficulty after you were born,” Grandpa Lor said.
“No one understood what was happening at the time, including her. Times were different almost thirty years ago. Difficulties were swept under the rug. She went inside herself. Got real quiet. Which wasn’t anything like her normal personality. ”
“Does that excuse what she did in everyone’s eyes?” Dalton couldn’t help the question.
“I never said it did,” Grandpa Lor said wistfully. “I think sometimes it helps to understand, even if it doesn’t excuse someone’s behavior, if that makes sense.”
“It does,” Dalton confirmed, not yet ready to let go of his feelings toward the woman who birthed him but couldn’t stand to stick around long enough to raise him.
She hadn’t tried to reach out since then either.
Not one birthday card over the years. Not one Christmas present.
As a young boy, Dalton couldn’t count the number of times he’d fantasized that he would wake up Christmas morning, run downstairs and find her sitting next to the Christmas tree with an armful of presents.
Too many.
Don’t get him started on all the birthdays he’d spent waiting by the phone just in case she called.
He’d wasted a lot of energy and a lot of time waiting for his mother to make an appearance.
He’d cried himself to sleep as a little boy, wishing he had a mother like the other kids on the playground had.
And then one night, he made a promise to himself never to shed another tear.
That was the last time he’d cried.
“Time doesn’t heal every wound,” Grandpa Lor said.
It occurred to Dalton that he’d been talking to Grandpa for several minutes. Blakely should be back by now. He checked his cell. Nothing.
“Excuse me while I send a message to Jules, Grandpa,” Dalton said.
Grandpa Lor gave the okay via a quick nod before he took another sip of water.
Dalton sent the text. Checked the time stamp on the one Jules had sent. It came in twelve minutes ago. Fourteen minutes.
The parking lot was a two-minute walk from the ER. There wasn’t a lot of activity at the hospital today, so the elevators shouldn’t take long. A bad feeling settled in his chest.
Panic slammed into him with the force of a two-by-four.
Where were they? Where was Blakely?