Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
CATE
Whatever Grüsh was about to say is interrupted by my phone ringing from the pocket of my discarded pants.
“That’s Hope’s ringtone. Why is she calling in the middle of the night?” Scrambling off his lap, I dig the phone free and bring it to my ear. “Hi, is everything okay?”
“Cate, it’s Ogram. I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour. Hope went into labor a few hours ago, and now they’re prepping her for an emergency cesarean section. She’s asking for you before they take her in.”
“Of course. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say, stabbing the end-call button.
“What happened?” Grüsh says as I toss my phone onto the nearest table before hurrying to dress.
“The baby is coming via C-section and Hope wants me there before going into surgery.” Stuffing my phone into my back pocket, I turn to kiss him goodbye, but he’s already on his feet, pulling on his clothes.
“I’m going with you.”
“It’s nearly one in the morning and I don’t know how long I’ll be at the hospital.”
“Even more reason for me to go with you. I can take care of you while you’re taking care of Hope.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of, Grüsh. I manage on my own just fine.”
“I’ve never doubted that for a minute. I know you don’t need me.”
Part of me, the heartbroken part, wants to tell him that I did need him with me six years ago. No good can come of telling him now, and certainly not at this moment, when I’m needed elsewhere.
Exhaling, he pushes his hands through his hair. “I want to be there for you. With you. Hell, maybe I’m the one who needs that, even though I have no right to.”
Another section of the carefully constructed wall around my heart crumbles. “Okay,” I say softly, taking his hand. “Let’s go be there for our family.”
“Our family,” he repeats while looking into my eyes.
Grief squeezes my vulnerable heart as I force a smile, looking away before he has time to read my expression.
CATE
The doors close behind us with a whoosh that seems louder than it probably is, but at this hour, in this small-town hospital maternity ward, there’s not much else creating noise, including conversation.
The drive over was equally quiet. Not uncomfortable silence.
Grüsh simply cupped his hand over mine and held it.
If I’d spoken, I’m sure he would’ve engaged. But he didn’t initiate. He let me lead.
Having him beside me for something like this is simultaneously natural and awkward. My mixed bag of emotions will have to wait. Hope’s well-being, and the baby’s, are all that’s important right now.
He hangs back a bit as we enter her room, taking a route around its perimeter on his way to join Ogram, who stepped away from Hope’s bedside as I approached.
Red-faced with tear-streaked cheeks, she extends an arm toward me. “You came.”
“Of course I did. I always will,” I say, gently squeezing her hand.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t so scared. I know it can’t be easy for you to be here for baby stuff.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my mask of calm in place. “Don’t give it another thought. I’m here for you, the baby, and Ogram. Tell me what you need.”
Her glassy gaze shifts briefly to Ogram, then she gestures for me to lean in closer.
“The doctor says not to worry, that cesarean sections are totally safe and routine, but they’ve never done one on a human carrying a troll baby.
And if anything goes wrong and there are complications,” she chokes on a soft sob, “and I don’t survive—”
“Honey, no,” I whisper, stroking her hair.
“Promise me you’ll still be my baby’s grandma, and that you’ll make sure Ogram finds happiness again.”
“The OR is ready,” someone says from behind me. “It’s time to meet your baby, Hope.”
When I try to step back, Hope grips my hand tighter, her eyes pleading as desperately as her voice. “Please, Cate.”
“Okay.” Nodding, I press a kiss to her hand, then let it go. “It’s a promise I won’t need to keep, but I promise.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say as they wheel her bed out of the room, her huge troll husband following as closely as physically possible.
Then it’s just me and Grüsh standing in an empty labor-and-delivery room. Not totally empty. The hospital bassinet stands ready to receive a newborn.
Old grief leaks from the box I locked it away in. “I’m going to get some air.”
“I’ll join you.”
Looking into his eyes is the last thing I want to do right now, but I force myself anyway. I even manage a weak smile. “I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.”
His dark eyes travel my face, seeing more than I want him to, probably. A perk and curse of having known each other so completely once upon a time.
“I won’t be long,” I say. “Then I’ll join you in the waiting room, unless you’re planning to head out. I’m sure Ogram wouldn’t expect you to stay. Neither do I.”
“He should, and so should you.” Grüsh gently cups my cheek, the warmth of his big hand instantly soothing me with this simple touch. “I stayed away too long, and I can’t change what’s done, but I’m here now. I’m here for you, with you, in any way you need or want me.”
The urge to melt against him, interpret his offer the way I wish he meant it, is so damn tempting.
Whether I do or don’t, heartbreak is inevitable.
For all his beautiful, sentimental words tonight, his presence in my life is still temporary.
He’s here for me now, but he’ll leave again. Return to his rock star life.
So, instead of accepting his comfort or verbally acknowledging his comment in acceptance or dispute, I nod, then turn and walk away.
GRüSH
Since joining me in the waiting room, Cate hasn’t spoken a word. I’m no stranger to the sensation of time moving with excruciating slowness. That’s how it always feels on long stretches in the tour bus. But experiencing it in Cate’s company is a first.
Those endless, dragging hours on the bus were a pain-in-the ass burden I couldn’t wait to end.
This is different. I’m not cursing the clock on the wall, antsy to get the fuck out of this room.
Just for the silence to end. But this isn’t the time or place to talk about what the future holds for us, or ask why Hope said it wouldn’t be easy for Cate to be here for baby stuff.
That made no sense. We never talked specifically about kids while we were together, but I never got the feeling that she dislikes them.
Even if she did, she wouldn’t let that interfere in her relationship with Hope.
Especially when Hope needs her. Her protectiveness and affection for Hope have been crystal clear since I got to town.
Shifting in her chair, Cate rolls her head from side to side, then around.
This, I can do something about. I slip an arm behind her and slide my hand beneath her hair so I can massage the back of her neck.
Sighing, she bows her head, giving me better access. “You still have the magic touch.”
“Just with you.”
She huffs a single, incredulous laugh while side-eyeing me.
“You don’t believe me?”
Her lips part, but whatever answer she might’ve given is interrupted by Ogram’s entrance.
His presence brings us both to our feet, and when she steps forward, I move with her, my hand sliding from her nape to the small of her back.
“We have a son,” Ogram announces, his deep, joyful voice booming in the middle-of-the-night silence.
“That’s wonderful,” Cate says, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “Can we see them?”
“Not yet. They’re keeping Hope in recovery for the next few hours, then she and the baby will be in a room for a few days, at least. They want to make sure everything is healing well before sending her home.
” His smile withers, his lips forming a penitent line.
“The procedure required an incision much larger than standard because of the size and position of the baby.”
“She’ll be well taken care of, Ogram. By her medical team, and you, and me,” Cate says. “And probably by half of Harmony Glen once the news is out.”
He nods, his expression relaxing. “You know I will do whatever is necessary for Hope and our child.”
“And then ten times more, at least, I’m sure.” The smile she gives him is warm and caring, while containing a hint of good-natured teasing. “Congratulations on your wonderful family. I’m so happy for you both. And for myself, since I’m the honorary grandma.”
“Thank you. Surely you know that you are much more than an honorary member of our family.” The smile returns to his face, then his gaze shifts from Cate to me.
“And thank you for being here, Grüsh. Perhaps with some juggling, your schedule will allow you to visit your nephew from time to time. I would like very much for him to know you.”
The comment lands like a gut punch, even though I know he spoke from his heart, not to twist a knife in mine. “I hope to be around a lot. So much, you might get tired of seeing me on your doorstep.”
“Impossible.” He pulls me into a hug tight enough to force a cough out of me.
His powerful pat on my back thumps another grunted breath from me, then he releases me.
“If you’ll excuse me now, I need to get back to my wife and child.
” The smile on his face when he says those words couldn’t stretch any wider.
“Of course,” Cate says. “Tell Hope I’ll come back during visiting hours, but if she’s not feeling up to company, just to tell me.”
“I will give her the message, though I am certain she will welcome your presence at any time. She’s excited for you to meet—” There’s a twinkle in his dark eyes as he pauses. “The baby.”
“You’ve decided on a name, haven’t you?” Cate says.
“We have. We wish to tell you together.” Ogram looks from Cate to me. “Both of you, if you’re still in town in the morning.”
“Count on it, brother.”
My brother’s thick, shoulder-length hair falls forward as he bows his head, then he leaves, his heavy footfalls echoing down the quiet hall.
Cate collects her handbag from the chair, the two of us falling into step as we make our way through the hospital. “Ogram is clearly very happy you were still in town for the birth.”
“What about you? Are you happy I’m still here?”
Without breaking pace, she looks up at me, a coy smile on her lips. “Was my happiness earlier not obvious enough?”
Amusement rumbles in my chest, and my cock thickens at the praise. Engaging in sexual banter would lower the stakes between us. Be an easy way out. I don’t want out. I want all the way in.
Looking forward again, she remains silent for the duration of our exit from the hospital.
Outside, she takes a deep breath of the cool night air, exhaling slowly as she stops on the sidewalk.
“I’m going to walk home. Use the time to decompress and clear my head so I can sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. ”
“I’ll walk with you, then come back for the car afterward.”
She shakes her head. “Harmony Glen is as safe as it’s always been, and it’s only a few blocks to my place. Plus, I doubt I’ll accomplish any decompressing or head-clearing if you’re with me. You’re very distracting.” Smiling up at me, she presses her palms to my chest.
There’s more to it, but it can wait. As long as it takes, I’ll wait. “And you are my favorite distraction,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and leaning down to claim her mouth.
Our connection ignites instantly. Her lips part, her tongue teasing my tusks, inciting a hungry growl that mixes with her soft, breathy moan.
“You better let me go,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Made that mistake once. Don’t intend to make it again.”
She pulls back, her eyes wide open as they meet mine. No words pass through her parted lips. She just blinks up at me.
“I respect your need to be alone right now, but there are things I need to say to you. Want to say to you. Things I should’ve said a long time ago. Whenever you’re ready to hear them.”
She nods. No words. No movement. Barely a blink.
The bubble bursts when a car pulls up a few feet away. A woman hurries out of a rear door, then opens the front passenger door and carefully helps a frail older woman out of the vehicle. “Put your arm around me, Mom.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” the silver-haired woman says in a trembling voice.
“You’ll never have to worry about that because I’ll always be here for you.”
Cate and I remain still as statues, watching the women disappear into the hospital.
When I look at her, her eyes shine with unshed tears.
I don’t have to ask the reason. We were together when her mother became terminally ill eight years ago, suddenly and far too young.
I held Cate through the long nights when, no matter how strong she tried to be, she couldn’t keep the grief at bay.
When I pull her close now, she lets me provide that comfort again, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her cheek to my chest.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Never apologize for loving deeply and forever.”
She nods against my t-shirt, her breath stuttering as if fighting back a sob. “I’m exhausted all a sudden. Would you drop me off on your way to the cabins?”
“Anything you want,” I say, and I mean it. And as soon as the time is right, I’m going to tell her.