9. Owen
CHAPTER 9
Owen
B rock scrolls through his phone, the corners of his lips twitching as Toby paces the small hospital waiting area. We’ve been waiting for two hours, but there’s been no update about Emerson’s condition since we brought her in.
“One of us should go back to the ranch,” Brock says, glancing up from the screen. “I’m not sure I trust Andy to watch over things if we’re here all night.”
Toby stops moving long enough to blink at him, and I stare at him in confusion. “Why not?” I ask, dumbfounded by the statement. “He did it when we were in Vegas.”
Brock returns my look evenly. “Are you kidding?” He glances angrily at Toby. “I told you to talk to him after what happened with Lana. Did you?”
Twice as bewildered now, I look in Toby’s direction. “I don’t understand,” I say slowly. “Talk to him about what?”
Toby’s eyes flash as he advances on Brock. “You think Andy did this to her? Are you fucking crazy?”
Brock stands and meets Toby’s eyes evenly. “Do you have another explanation?”
“Woah, hold on a second,” I interject, stepping between them. “You don’t even know if she was attacked!”
Separating them, I gently push Brock back into his chair. “All we know is that Emerson was unconscious.”
“There wasn’t a mark on her,” Toby hisses at our oldest sibling. “She probably collapsed because you worked her to death, you prick.”
“You didn’t talk to Andy like I told you to do, though, did you?” Brock barks. “So, it still could be?—”
“Andy didn’t do this!” Toby yells, his voice ricocheting across the room.
“Sir!” One of the nurses gives him a reproving look. “Keep your voice down!”
Toby glowers at her. “Do you have any idea how much money my family has given this hospital over the past half-century?”
“However much it is, it’s not enough to soundproof the walls. Please think of the patients,” she urges.
Toby’s face hardens, and he strides toward the reception desk, splaying his hands over the countertop.
“I am thinking of the patients, one in particular. Where is Emerson Ward? Are there any updates at all?”
She exhales sympathetically and sits back, tapping into the computer system. “Give me a minute, all right?”
Toby rolls his eyes and saunters back toward us, flopping down in the chair next to Brock, but he avoids my brother’s eyes as I watch the pair.
“What did you see in the coach house when you found her?” Brock asks again.
“No,” Toby growls. “I’m not going through this again.”
“I think she passed out, Brock. I don’t think this was an attack,” I tell him, pushing myself off the wall to sit with them. “I see why you’re suspicious of Andy, but honestly, the old man doesn’t have it in him.”
“Lana, maybe?” he offers weakly.
“Nobody attacked her! Why is your mind going there?” Toby curses. “To assuage your own guilt?”
The other people in the waiting room look at us with disgust, and I eye them apologetically.
“He’s right,” I agree. “We all know she was overworking herself. She probably just overdid it.”
A young physician in a lab coat emerges from around the nurse’s station, but none of us react until he comes to speak to us.
“Are one of you the father?”
At first, the question falls flat, the three of us staring up at him unblinking.
“Whose father?” I ask, sure that he has the wrong group.
“The father of Emerson Ward’s baby.”
Blood drains out of my face, and I feel my brothers withdraw around me in tandem.
“Oh…” Brock inhales. “No.”
“Shit,” Toby mutters.
The doctor’s eyes widen as if he realizes he’s made a big mistake, but he clears his throat. “Emerson is awake now if you’d like to see her.”
“Is she all right?” I ask, jumping to my feet.
He nods. “I can’t really disclose much more than I already have, but you can see her.”
“And the baby?” Toby adds.
The doctor falters and lowers his eyes.
“Look, you already told us, Doc. You can at least tell us if the baby’s okay before we walk in there.”
He grimaces. “The baby is all right, too.” He turns away and signals for us to follow him.
We’re led down the corridor, scooping up the visitor passes from the reception desk as we move, but my mind races.
Did she know she was pregnant when she arrived at Pine Sky, or is this a shock to her, too? Is this some kind of escape?
What the hell are we going to do with her now?
She’s in a crowded room with three other beds, and I bristle at the sight.
“How long does she have to stay here?” I ask the doctor as my brothers enter.
He pauses with me and clears his throat. “We’ll keep her overnight to monitor her and the baby,” he says. “If all goes well, we’ll discharge her in the morning.”
“Find her a private room if she’s not being discharged tonight. We’ll cover the costs.”
He nods, and I head inside to join my brothers, drawing the curtain around us.
She’s eerily pale and embarrassed, her eyes hooded and sleepy.
“How are you feeling?” Toby asks, perching on the side of her bed. “You scared the shit out of us.”
She tries to smile, but her lips are cracked. I find her a cup of water and feed it to her through a straw.
Gratefully, she nods. “I’m sorry,” she rasps. “I’m mortified. I don’t know what happened?”
“What are you embarrassed about?” I ask gently.
“Maybe the pregnancy thing,” Brock offers coldly.
I smother a groan. Seriously, Brock?
Her green eyes widen. “Who told you that?” she demands, a tinge of anger lacing her tone.
“The doctor thought one of us was the father,” I explain, sinking onto one of the chairs beside her bedside. “Understandably, I suppose, since we’re the ones who brought you in.”
Confusion flickers over her face as she looks us over. “You… you brought me in? How? What happened?”
“We found you in the coach house, passed out,” Toby says. “It’s a good thing we came looking, too. Who knows what would have happened to you and the baby if we hadn’t.”
Fear crosses her face, and I see the wheels turning in her eyes. Her hands fall on her stomach, panic crossing over her face.
“You’re all right,” I tell her comfortingly. “Everything’s okay now.”
“Did you know before you got here?” Brock asks bluntly.
“Brock,” I cut him off, reading the look on Emerson’s face. “Now’s not the time for this.”
He nods curtly and stands back, folding his arms over his chest, but he avoids looking at her.
Ashamed, Emerson looks down at her hands. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything.”
“You should get some rest,” I tell her, standing and nodding toward my brothers. “They’re going to move you into a private room soon.”
Emerson’s lips part in astonishment. “Oh, you don’t need to?—”
“You’re part of Pine Sky Ranch now, Emerson. We take care of our own,” Brock says firmly, turning away.
“I’m staying with her,” Toby tells us.
I don’t argue.
“Fine,” Brock agrees. “Make sure she gets her room. If there’s any trouble, call me.”
“I can handle it,” Toby grunts.
“Make sure you do,” Brock says.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Emerson’s eyes haze over with tears.
“Thank you,” she mumbles again.
“Just rest up.” I squeeze her hand. “We’ll see you soon.”
* * *
“Pregnant. Fuck. What are we going to do with her?” Brock demands as we climb into the truck.
“I mean, we have to figure out what the story is, don’t we?” I answer in my usual diplomatic way.
“Do we, though?” Brock growls. “She accepted the job knowing she wouldn’t be here long.”
I tense as he drives out of the parking lot toward the ranch.
“You don’t know if that’s true,” I reply slowly. “Just because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she’s going to quit when she has the baby. And did you consider that she might have been surprised by this?”
“Did she look surprised to you?”
No. She didn’t look surprised to me at all.
“There could be more to the story, though, Brock. I mean, what if she’s trying to get out of a bad situation,” I press. “You hear shit like that all the time. Hell, we’ve even had women come through here before?—”
“Not knocked up and applying for jobs,” Brock cuts me off angrily.
I know why he’s so mad. He’s mad for the same reason I am. He feels betrayed by this woman, who we both feel weirdly connected to for some reason.
But that’s more of a reason to keep her safe.
“She should have been forthcoming about it.”
“People do funny things in bad situations,” I tell him. “You know that.”
He grunts again.
Brock has never been the most forgiving, but I doubt he’s going to throw the girl out on the street. All the same, we need to devise a plan for when she gets back.
“We still don’t know the nature of her health condition. Why she passed out, or what’s going on with the baby,” I say, more to myself than Brock.
“Ugh. She was supposed to make things less complicated, not more complicated.”
But there’s something else in his voice, and it’s not annoyance. It’s hurt. He’s hurt by this pregnancy, as if he thought he had some shot with Emerson.
I know it because I feel it, too.
That’ll teach us both.
The twenty-minute drive back to Pine Sky Ranch is silent, the pitch blackness unsettling around us.
When I get inside the house, I head directly to my room and pull out my laptop, looking online for Emerson’s symptoms.
The list of potential problems during pregnancy only fuels my apprehension.
Good Lord, how do women do this to themselves?
Toby texts an hour later to inform me that Emerson has been moved into a private room. I text him back.
Me: How is she doing?
Toby: Her color is better. She’s laughing at my jokes.
Me: Call the doctor. It sounds like she’s getting worse if she thinks you’re funny.
He sends the middle finger emoji, and I smile.
Me: I’ll come and pick you up in the morning when the doctor gives the go-ahead. Tell me when.
He sends the thumbs-up emoji.
I plug my phone back in to charge, then sit back on my bed.
None of us will sleep a wink tonight, not without the answers about Emerson.
We barely know this woman, and she’s got this hold on us already. Now, with a baby, things are going to get so much more tangled, but what choice do we have but to help her?
Brock must be losing his shit right now, but I don’t know what to tell him because, frankly, I’m losing mine a bit, too.