CHAPTER 21
Victoria
Cal is at least six-foot-four, maybe taller.
His brothers seem to be all about the same size, except for Kevin.
He is built more like a mountain than a man.
The four of them take up most of the space in the small hospital waiting room.
But as big as their bodies are, their emotions are bigger.
It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the place, used up by these ultra-competent men who suddenly find themselves with no control over the outcome of their brother’s surgery.
The sight of Evander’s bone poking a hole through his trousers didn’t seem to bother any of them.
I watched them fly into action, working as a team, as if they’d long ago decided what each of them would do in this type of emergency.
Maybe they had. All I know is that I watched them operate as a well-oiled machine.
I’m a different story. I’m not the person anyone wants around during a medical emergency. All I could do was run away and try not to be sick. I can’t stand to see anyone suffer, and I shut down when I see anyone in pain.
There’s a reason. At the age of six, I had to witness the last seconds of my mother’s life. My father insisted that I be given an opportunity to say goodbye. He told the doctors it would help prepare me for a life without her.
I’ve never gotten over it.
Even so, it never even occurred to me to run into Cal’s house and hide during the chaos of Evander’s injury.
I noticed that Cal’s niece, the little girl I’d seen in the hangar, needed someone to distract her.
So when she jumped in the SUV with her father and uncle, I grabbed my bag from the Jeep and slid in next to her in the back seat.
I didn’t ask if it would be appropriate.
Cal probably hates me for inserting myself into what is clearly a family matter. I’m sure I’ll hear about it later, and rightly so. I made a spur-of-the-moment decision, and now I realize it may have been the wrong one.
Here at the hospital, I’ve stayed out of the way as much as possible.
When the MacLaine men were in the treatment room with Evander, I sat in the row of plastic chairs between Jasmine, Cal’s niece, and Summer, their tattooed and pierced ranch hand.
Now that the men are camped out in the waiting room, I’m leaning up against the far wall near the doors, separating myself from a group I’m not part of.
We’ve been here almost two hours. Cal briefly introduced me to his brothers, and they were surprisingly polite, even in a time of crisis. Since that introduction, I’ve focused on making myself invisible.
It’s given me time to observe how the brothers interact.
Everyone defers to Cal, who’s clearly their leader.
The way they talk—their phrasing and all the insider terminology flying around—reminds me of a military team on a special mission.
I listen to them plan for their brother’s discharge.
I hear them review all the facts about the accident and discuss what they call the “unknown unknowns” of the surgical procedure.
Once a Navy SEAL, always a Navy SEAL, I guess. I wonder if that’s something a SEAL would say.
Suddenly Cal looks up from the huddle with his brothers to make eye contact with me. He doesn’t seem surprised that I’m here, so he hasn’t forgotten that I sat with Jasmine in the SUV. And he doesn’t appear angry. I’m not really sure what I see in his face, aside from exhaustion and resolve.
Wait.
He’s concerned about me.
I glance around to be sure no one else is leaning against this particular wall.
I must be reading him wrong. There’s no love lost between us. Lust, sure. There’s way too much of that. But not concern. I don’t matter to him, as a person.
Surely not.
But he’s still looking at me. There’s a question in his eyes, and I find myself nodding back at him in reply. I’m not certain what I’m agreeing with, but he needs something from me in this moment.
I’m fine, I tell him with my nod. Take care of your family. And then I find myself giving him the same questioning look, making that same, are-you-okay? inquiry with my eyes.
He runs a hand over his hair and nods ever so slightly. It’s the same barely noticeable nod he gave me last night at the hot tub, so subtle that I’d have missed it if I weren’t laser-focused on him. I guess it’s Cal’s way of saying the message has been received.
He turns back to his brothers and away from me. I let go of the breath I’ve been holding. This is a lot. This whole thing… it’s too intense.
I’m not used to family scenes. I’m not used to families who are connected, bound by love and honor and shared history. A family like the MacLaines. This is a family that would do anything for each other.
I’m an only child of a mother I barely remember and a father who only notices me when I either fuck up royally or excel beyond his wildest expectations.
With Mom gone, I got sent to boarding school to stay out of his hair.
I’ve never once heard him say “How was your day?” or “What’s going on in your life?
” I long ago accepted that my father is a cold, hard, and no-nonsense man.
He keeps a balance sheet of investments out, profits in, even with his child.
If he gives anything to me, it means he expects something of equal or greater value in return. Like this assignment. He’s given me a high-dollar deal to close on my own. He expects I’ll come back with everything done to his exact requirements.
Maybe I should slip out, go outside and let the family be together.
That’s when I notice Jasmine. She’s crawled up on her father’s lap and is nodding off in his arms. Finlay is her dad.
He’s the second oldest, and Summer told me that his wife died in childbirth, eight years ago, which is heartbreaking.
I don’t mean to, but I stare in awe at how much he loves his daughter, and how easily he shows it.
It seems to come naturally to him, like he doesn’t have to remind himself how to be a good parent. It’s baffling to me.
And awfully sad.
I’ve never been Jasmine. No one has ever held me like that. Not even in the midst of unspeakable trauma.
The last moment I got to spend in my mother’s company was in an emergency room like this one. With two important differences. It was a much bigger place, louder and busier. And there was no one there to embrace me, to assure me that everything would be all right.
That’s why I’ve never been able to understand the dynamics of big family dinners or holiday traditions.
If a college friend invited me to join her large clan for their celebrations, I was always overwhelmed.
And it’s why I can’t wrap my head around hospital waiting rooms overflowing with loved ones.
Hot tears fill my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. Absolutely not. I refuse to allow it. This isn’t about me. I’m just some stranger who needed a ride from the airport. These are not my people, and this is not my place.
I grab my bag and bury my face in it, pretending to hunt around for something in my purse, and then I slowly sneak out the front doors to stand outside in the night air.
I can’t deny it. I enjoy being on the edges of the MacLaine family. If only for a week. Soon enough, I’ll be back to my penthouse apartment.
Alone.