Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
T he antiseptic stench of the hospital room stung in Kirsty’s nose as she sat slumped in the hard chair by Connor’s bedside. She stared at his still form, willing his eyes to open, for him to flash that crooked grin that never failed to make her heart tip over. The beeping of the monitors drilled into her skull, a relentless metronome counting the moments he remained lost to her.
She’d made her way from London to Aberdeen as soon as Lucy had told her. Launch be damned.
A soft knock at the door made her head jerk up. Doctor Kovács came inside, her white coat crisp and sterile against the washed-out blue of the walls.
‘How is he?’ Kirsty asked, her voice raspy from disuse.
Doctor Kovács consulted the chart in her hands. ‘Physically, he’s stable. His readings are okay. As I said earlier, the broken ribs and leg will heal with time and proper care. His spine is not injured, nor is his skull. It’s only a concussion.’ She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. ‘He was extremely lucky. But…’
Kirsty’s stomach clenched. ‘But what?’
The doctor met her gaze, her eyes full of professional sympathy. ‘There’s no obvious medical reason for him to still be unconscious. His brain scans are normal, no abnormal pressure. That can sometimes happen. All we can do is wait. I’d like to be able to tell you more. I’m sorry.’
Ice slid down Kirsty’s back.
She knew that Connor had a fall from one of the walkways of the platform, that he’d been brought in on a helicopter, and that everybody said he’d had a guardian angel. He was alive and more or less in one piece. But before Kirsty could ask another question, the door flung open and a tall man strode in. His features were strikingly similar to Connor’s, but harder, colder.
Oh no. Not him.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he barked at her.
She rose to her feet, lifting her chin. ‘Connor’s fiancée.’ A small fib she had to tell to be allowed to sit here.
His green eyes, the same dark shade as Connor’s but without the warmth, narrowed. ‘Fiancée? Seriously? Doesn’t sound like my chaste baby brother at all.’
Kirsty seethed at his sneering tone. ‘Probably because he hasn’t talked to you since you screwed him over with the bakery and then shacked up with his ex-wife. Classy, by the way. Real classy.’
A tic plucked at his nose, and he turned to Doctor Kovács. ‘I’m Alistair Bannerman, the patient’s next of kin. What’s his status? And can you get this woman to leave?’
The doctor glanced between them, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the air. ‘I’ll give you some privacy to sort things out. Be back after finishing my round.’ She hurried out, leaving Kirsty alone with Connor’s older arsehole brother.
Alistair looked down his nose at her, his lip curling. ‘Oh, wait. No way. I remember now. Ha, that’s funny. That’s cute.’ He let out a biting laugh. ‘You’re his teenage girlfriend. Wee Munro.’ He let a gaze run up and down her body. ‘You grew up nicely, I’ll give you that.’
‘Where’s your mother, Alistair? Shouldn’t she be here?’
‘Poor Maw is in a sanatorium with beginning dementia. But she’s got the best of everything. The very, very best. Don’t worry. Your parents aren’t doing too well, I hear?’
‘None of your business, gobshite.’
‘Tell me, Munro, what’s the emergency engagement for? Trying to claim a stake before the ship sinks? You know he’s been making a fuckload of money on that rig, right? Course you do. You need that silver to save your daddy’s shitehole of a café. That’s why you’re here. You’re not daft. And you’re pretty for a leech.’
Torrid fury seared through her veins. ‘Watch your mouth. The real question is: what are you doing here? Trying to ensure Connor doesn’t come back and claim what’s rightfully his?’
‘Ah, I see the big city hasn’t polished that rustic sharpness of yours. How quaint,’ Alistair shot back, his eyes flicking dismissively over her. ‘I’m his next of kin, you fucking cow. I’m here to make decisions about his affairs as long as the little shitehead is out of commission.’
She stepped closer, her voice a blade. ‘The only decisions you’re capable of making are which back to stab next. Connor might be unconscious, but you’re delirious if you think I would let you anywhere near him. Or his affairs.’
Alistair’s laugh was piercing and cold. ‘There’s nothing you can do, darlin’. Even though your role-play as the devoted fiancée is quite the performance. How long do you believe you can keep that up?’
‘Alistair, if you had balls, I’d rip them off and shove them down your throat to shut you up. And I’d laugh doing it.’
‘Oooh! Hear, hear.’ He giggled. ‘Such a spitfire. A bit psycho, sure, but I can see why my brother likes to bury his cock inside you. You know what they say – the redder the head, the wilder in bed.’
She rushed forward until they were nearly nose to nose, her hands balled into fists. ‘You’re a sad little fuck, Al. Slink back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Stay out of his life. Of our life. You’re the last thing he needs. Or wants. I’m more family to him than you ever were. Now leave, before I have security remove you. I swear to God… I’m not only a psycho, I’m also a journalist. Bad combo, mate. I find things out for a living. I can make your life hell beyond your most fucked-up nightmares. I dare you. I fucking dare you.’
Alistair’s eyes flashed, his jaw rigid. For a moment, Kirsty thought he might actually strike her. Part of her wished he would, so she could smash his skull in with a chair and plead self-defence.
But then, with a final contemptuous glare, he spun around and stormed out, slamming the door closed behind him.
Kirsty’s shoulders sagged, the adrenaline rush leaving her shaky and drained.
She turned back to Connor. Gently, she took his hand, mindful of the IV line. ‘I’m here, my love,’ she whispered, blinking back the hot sting of tears. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Cause I love you, you stubborn, infuriating, clumsy man.’ She lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a fervent kiss to his knuckles. The steady beep of the monitor was her only response, each pulse a taunting reminder of the chasm between them. ‘You clearly got all the heart in your family. And I love you for it. I haven’t told you that recently. But I do. I love you. So much.’
In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Kirsty clung to his hand, praying to any deity who would listen to bring him back to her. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against their entwined fingers. ‘I’m here,’ she repeated, her voice breaking. ‘I’m here, Connor. I’ll always be here. Come back to me.’
She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.
Not when she’d finally found her way home.