Chapter Seventeen
MATO
THE AUTOMATIC doors to the ER in Tulsa don’t open fast enough, and I have to slow down and wait for them, hindering my rush to get to Breanna. This hospital has one of the best cardiac medical facilities in the state, and I know that Mr. Harlow came here when he had his last heart attack.
When Tucker called me five years ago to let me know his father was in the hospital, I took a few days’ leave and flew in to see him. And to be close in case the worst happened and Breanna might need more support.
The man is like a second father to me, he always took care of me and my dad. So, when Dad died, he took me under his wing and made sure everything was taken care of, and told me I could always count on him for anything.
Breanna wasn’t at the hospital the day I visited him back then, I made sure to be there when I knew she wouldn’t be.
That was around the time she was working on her residency, and I knew she didn’t need any more stress from me.
I spent several hours with him in his room, and we had a pleasant conversation.
I told him about my secret that day, and he told me he suspected something was going on. He was angry at me when I told him I ghosted her, but after we talked about my reasons, his anger cooled some.
Even if Mr. Harlow is in excellent hands, Breanna has always been very close to him, and if she were to lose him, it will devastate her. And there’s also the fact that her birthday is this coming week. She can’t fucking lose him on her birthday.
The elderly attendant at the front desk looks up with a smile. “What can I do for you, honey?”
Leaning across the desk, I grip the edge. “I’m looking for the Clive Harlow family waiting room.”
“Okay.” She taps on her computer before she looks back up at me. “They just moved them to waiting room twelve.” She points her finger to her right. “It’s down that hall, follow it all the way around the corner.”
I nod at her and hurry down the long, curving hallway to a set of double doors that has a sign over them with the number twelve on it. Placing my hand on the handle, I pause and take a deep breath, hoping that there is good news on the other side.
The large room is full of the Harlow clan, except for Tucker and his girlfriend. He went to Tennessee for a job interview last week, and they aren’t due back for a few days.
My eyes scan the room, each sibling is sitting or standing with a significant other, worry on their faces, but my search finds Breanna pacing in front of the soda and snack machines, alone.
Her head is down and her arms are crossed in front of her.
She’s chewing her thumbnail, a habit she’s always had that gets worse with stress.
She looks so small right now, her long curls are hanging down her back, the shorter ones around her face have escaped the barrette holding the top part up on the crown of her head and are standing around her face. Her boots scuff on the tile with each step.
Koda is sitting in a chair by himself, hugging a new bookbag to his chest, his legs dangling under him. He’s looking up at me, guarded uncertainty in his eyes, and as I walk by him, I reach down and squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, bud.”
Breanna hears my voice, and she stops, her head snapping up.
When our eyes lock, her face crumbles, chin wobbling.
Without a word, I cross the room and pull her into my arms. She doesn’t fight me, and she doesn’t pull away, but her body stiffens for a few heartbeats before she melts into me, and a silent sob makes her body shake.
She’s so short, her head is under my chin, and her body feels delicate in my arms. I’d almost forgotten how small she feels.
Her sweet, floral scent fills my nose and my chest squeezes as my mind floods with memories. Cupping the back of her head, I hold her against my chest and dip my head to set my lips on her crown. When her hands fist my shirt on my back, I breathe a sigh. It’s like coming home.
Her shoulders shake as she silently cries, her tears soaking into the fabric over my heart. I wait until the shaking stops and all that is left is sniffles before I say anything. Keeping my lips pressed to her head, I speak into her hair. “Have you heard anything?”
Without letting go of me, she shakes her head against my chest as she sniffs again. “No.” Her voice is soft and muffled, and her nose is stuffed up.
Turning my head to rest my cheek on top of hers, I mumble, “Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”
Shaking her head once against my chest, she sniffs again. “You don’t know that.”
Wanting to comfort her, needing her to know I’m here for her, I say, “Whatever happens, I’m here.”
Her frame stiffens, and she lets go of my shirt to set her palms on my ribs, pushing me away. “I don’t know that.”
Those four words are like a spear through my heart. I deserve it. I destroyed her trust in me. The only thing I can do is show her every day that I’m here to stay.
Glancing to the side to avoid looking at me, she takes a step away from me as she wipes the back of her hand, which she’s covered with her shirt, across her cheeks and under her nose.
Breanna was never much of a crier, it was rare when she needed comforting when we were young, but for her dad, I think she would cry a river.
The door clicks, and when everyone sees the doctor, it’s like a rush toward the door; they all form a semicircle around him. Breanna joins the circle, still wiping her face and nose on her sleeve, and I slide my hands in my pockets as I stand behind her.
The doctor scans the large group and shifts his hands in his white coat pockets. “Your father did have a heart attack. At this point, we are not sure how severe it is; we still have to do some tests to check the extent of the blockage.”
“What does that mean?” Kinley barks, interrupting the doctor.
Her eyes are red and swollen, and her husband is behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest, his chin on her head.
She has one hand resting on her stomach that looks bigger than it did when I saw her last Sunday, and her other hand is full of tissues in front of her face.
He patiently nods his head like he hears this question every day. “It means one of his arteries has a blockage that is slowing the blood flow. It’s important that we find out the extent of the blockage so we can proceed from there.”
“What did the EKG show? STEMI or NSTEMI?” Breanna asks, her voice nasally from crying.
Every head in the room turns to her, some in surprise. It surprises me that they’re surprised, she may be a doctor of animals, but she’s still a doctor. But there’s no surprise on the doctor’s face, and he slightly turns to face her as he responds.
“The EKG indicated NSTEMI,” he scans the rest of the faces, “which is better than STEMI.” His eyes find Breanna again. “But we are scheduling an angiogram for tomorrow morning to get a better look and identify the blockage.”
Breanna continues. “I know you can’t answer all our questions without seeing the scans yet, but from what you know right now, what is the minimal prognosis?”
“As of right now, he will be here for a few days - minimum. I’ll know more after the angiogram, and we want to monitor him for a few days.
” He scans the rest of the faces. “After looking over your father’s chart, I know that after his last attack, he wanted to get back to work as quick as possible, but I have to tell you he won’t be doing his usual farm work for at least four months as it stands today. ”
Heads nod around us, and the eldest sibling, Gray, speaks up. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything.” Mason and Jax nod in agreement.
The doctor smiles. “Good. We are getting a room ready for your dad right now, and the nurse will be in to give you that information when she has it. Any more questions?”
Heads around us shake, and Rhys steers Kinley to a chair.
With a nod, the doctor retreats, and when the door is closed behind him, Mason says, “Okay, we have to figure out how to keep the old man away from work. Any ideas?”
A few chuckles rumble around the room.
“I’ll spend more time in the stables through the day, it will do the girls good to be outside more.” Jax, Marley’s husband, pipes up talking about their twins. I’m not sure, but I think he has glitter in his hair. He also has a slight accent that I can’t place, maybe Russian.
“When Marley has the baby, you’ll be needed in the house more.” Mason says. He’s standing behind his wife, Sloane, who is also pregnant, but she only looks half as big as the sisters.
“Lainey Rai can help more after school,” Gray says, referring to his pre-teen daughter.
“I can help,” I say.
Every head in the room turns to me, including Breanna, the only difference is that she’s the only one who is scowling.
“That’s a good idea,” Mason says while looking at Gray, who’s nodding.
“What about your gym?” Breanna prods, her tone controlled.
She doesn’t want me there.
It sings.
I feel like I’m sinking when I recognize the subtle impatience in her blue eyes.
We lock into an unblinking, silent battle of wills.
Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her nose is bright pink from crying, but behind the hostility she’s trying to hide is the betrayed girl who was once the center of my life.
Someone who was once sweet and an open book to me is now angry and closed off like a beautiful ice castle.
Tipping my head, holding her gaze, I say, “I don’t mind helping a couple of hours a day.”
Breaking her standoff with me, her eyes travel from person to person around us, realizing she will raise questions if she pushes. Her gaze comes back to me, and she nods. “I have to use the restroom.”
With a sigh, I watch her walk out before I turn to the rest of the group. “I need to get Koda home. I’ll stop by the ranch tomorrow morning.”
Since there are no questions about who he is or why he’s here, I assume Breanna explained when she got here with him. Koda slides off his chair and walks out the door.
“We’ll talk more.” Gray says with a tired nod.
Koda is silent as he buckles his seatbelt and during the short drive to the highway before he says, “I don’t think she likes you very much.”
You got that right, kid.
But for almost two minutes, she forgot she was mad at me, and she let herself need me.
I can work with that.
Not wanting to talk to him about Breanna, I nod at the bookbag in his lap. “That new?”
He hugs it tighter. “Yeah, Miss Breanna gave it to me. She said it wasn’t big enough to carry all her supplies.”
Miss Breanna.
I think it’s safe to say she likes him. I set my elbow on the door and cup my chin with a sigh.
I’m jealous of a ten-year-old.