Chapter 20
TWENTY
LANIE
Four White Walls
A plastic chair molds to the shape of my butt outside the door to Cord’s room.
Nurses flit in and out, carrying clipboards and cups of meds, though he doesn’t use those.
Others push carts to change out his IV stands.
The surgeon refused to look at me at all for the first few hours, and West explained the process, being the veteran in the room.
All we have to do is wait. Simple, yet terrifying.
They’ve operated three times already. Levi, West, and Billy mingle in the corridor, providing a constant stream of burnt coffee from the hospital café.
I initially tried to push back their offerings with an equal stream of politeness and failed.
The world has become a blur of white coats, white walls, white pens. Clipboards and sterile trolleys.
White, white, white.
I don’t know the time, or if the day has turned over.
My phone died sometime before my butt turned numb. That was before my stained plastic cups filled with coffee dregs stacked up beneath my plastic chair and before Billy slid down the wall to rest beside me. Sometimes, I sleep. On a shoulder or a plastic seat. It doesn’t much matter.
Not until Winnie marches in and slaps me. Even then, the additional body barely registers.
I stare up at my best friend, my face lacking sensation just like the rest of me. Every inch is deadened, just as Cord appears to be, with only a wall and eternity stretching out between us.
“Get her out of here!” she yells at the nurses, her voice reverberating along the endless white hall that stinks of bleach. “It’s her fault he’s in there.”
West storms forward, his arms folding in a barrier between us, but I’m too exhausted to fight. Winnie lashes out at him, too. Nevertheless, he takes up position between us, standing guard.
I blink at the denim-covered backside I’m presented with. Dust still clings to West’s jeans. Mine, too, probably. None of us have been back home to Coyote Falls to shower or sleep. None of us have been willing to leave.
“Come on, girl. Doc should be back soon,” Billy encourages.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Winnie snaps, yanking her arm back when he tries to coax her into a chair on the opposite side of the corridor to Cord’s room.
It’s a good try, but I could have told him not to bother. West shifts to one side. I catch a view of his face as he watches Winnie carefully, his customary glare replaced by a deep frown.
“She’s devastated that he’s down again,” I whisper, my voice a bare thread as I lean my head back against the cold wall behind me. “And that she wasn’t here.”
“Because you didn’t tell her, huh?” He rolls his shoulders. “Me either.”
I nod, but he’s not looking at me. My neck aches as Winnie begins to shake. Knowing she won’t let me near her now, I hang my head between my knees so she doesn’t have to watch any more tears. I could have prevented this. If I’d fought hard enough for the man I love. If I’d pushed.
If, if, if.
The stupid thing is that Cord won the bet.
He stayed on the demonic bull, looking for all the world like the sexy cowboy, all grace and flowing lines just like West predicted.
Even to someone who knew nothing about rodeo life, he clearly had a masterful grasp of the bull, moving with the animal, not against it.
The way he and that stupid damn bull shifted together in the swirling dust reminded me of a storm at sea, the huge waves lurching but never crashing over each other. Flowing together.
There was a beauty in it, but now I find that difficult to appreciate when the man I would give up my world for—small as it might be compared to his—lies in a bed unable to wake a wall away.
Then his bull went down. A strange movement that barely registered to my eyes.
West moved first, hoisting his bulk over the tall fence in a breath, tearing through the still swirling dirt before it settled.
Billy tossed me onto the sand before the bull stopped thrashing, following my path a second later.
Everything was still and calm by the time I made it to Cord’s side. My knees touched the sand, fingers grazing his face as I yelled for him. At him, to no response, only a frozen face as though he might never wake again. Jed stood a half dozen feet away, some snide remark on his lips.
I yelled at him, too.
The paramedics hadn’t let me ride in the ambulance. West collected me, lifting me into his truck, Billy following along in his own vehicle.
The next time I glimpsed Cordell Rand, white bandages covered him.
His form remained deathly still as orderlies maneuvered his wheeled bed into his room without a word to any of us.
We occupied a row of plastic chairs opposite the doorway, keeping a constant vigil.
Clustered tightly together, one of the boys often touched me, though I knew they took as much comfort from the gestures as I did.
Because Cord might never wake again.
We can’t leave, either. Not that any of us want to go home. A man in a dark suit also waits a few rows of chairs away. He’s spoken to the surgeons, appears to know them. They’ve instructed West to wait until the odd man has the information he needs before anyone is allowed to leave.
So… we aren’t going anywhere, and apparently, neither is he. Now, the man sits patiently. Which is what we were doing right up until Winnie arrived and broke up our strange little party.
Cord’s sister glares at me from across the corridor. I beg her forgiveness, and turn my head toward his doorway, watching for as long as I can before my eyes drift shut on a fresh wave of tears.
My doze is broken when my row of plastic chairs shifts under a new weight. At first I think West has finally given in and planted his behind, but I start to find Winnie next to me. She passes a cold cup of coffee into my hands. I take the offering and down a sip.
“You could have called me,” she whispers.
“I don’t even know where my phone is.” I press one hand to my empty pocket and drop it, letting my arm hang listless.
“I’ve got it.” West folds his arms, standing in front of Winnie. “And before you go off on her again, she’s probably the only reason he’s hung on for so long.”
“Or that stupid farm that’s cost him everything,” Winnie shoots back, tears coating her face again.
I might have joined her, if I hadn’t already exhausted my own supply.
“That stupid farm didn’t cost him anything. A very greedy man with low morals did.” The man in the dark suit approaches, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. “I wanted to do this in an office environment, but here will have to do. Richard McCullins. I’m Rand’s lawyer.”
Winnie ignores his outstretched hand. “Good for you.”
“Thank you. When the police have finished their testing and all is settled, I’ll be able to complete my business on Rand’s behalf.”
West frowns. “What business?”
“What testing?” Winnie asks.
West shushes her, and she turns the weight of her glare on him. He ignores her, focusing on the lawyer.
“The business of who will be the caretaker of his other concerns as well as his ranch, should he stay in the condition he’s currently in for longer than the next twenty-four hours. At this point, that’s you, Ms. Parker, and you, Mr. West.”
I jerk, some of my numbness dissipating. “Me?” I blink, the world sliding into sudden focus. Everything is too sharp, too bright. My body aches with a caffeine hangover, but I ignore that, pushing back knotted hair that snares in dry fingers. “Why would he do that? When?”
“When? The day before the incident. Why? Because he believes you—both of you—have no real interest in his fortune. I did try to explain to him that would be unlikely, but seeing you both here over the last hours… I believe I might understand his line of reasoning a little better now.”
Winnie sits quietly, staring at her hands.
“Ms. Rand.”
Winnie looks up at the mention of her maiden name. “What?” she snaps. “I’m sorry. I haven’t used that name in a long time.”
McCullins nods. “I’m sorry. Mrs. Hamilton.
Rand established a trust fund for your daughter, Sally, nearly nine years ago, just after her birth.
Current assets stand at twenty-seven million dollars.
I am authorized to transfer one million dollars into her account from the family trust each year on her birthday for expenses, with the rest to mature when she turns twenty-one.
I believe her next birthday is in two weeks? ”
Winnie doesn’t nod, but I do.
“There are considerable investments that are managed and will continue to grow. I can have an advisor take you through them.”
Winnie glances around, standing. Her hands shake. “I never asked him to do that.”
“That trust is to be transferred to you, Mrs. Hamilton, regardless of whether Rand recuperates or not. He also made changes to the family trust and would like both yourself and Ms. Parker to become joint signatories. I will forward you the information. And here is our man.”
Cord’s lawyer dumps the biggest bombshell of our lives into our laps and walks away. He speaks softly to a uniformed officer who waits further along the hall.
Winnie crushes my hand in hers. “I didn’t know we had a family trust,” she says, stunned.
West snorts.
She glares at him again. “What, and you did?”
“Of course. I helped Rand set it all up, back when everyone who mattered abandoned him. Took him to meet with lawyers, read over the drafts to make sure it secured a future for your family.” He clenches his teeth, a muscle working in his jaw.
“Your parents know because they send requests to withdraw from it, even though they refuse to speak to their son.”
“The fu—” Winnie’s mouth shuts. “Apparently, that happens to self-made CEOs.” She shakes her head, muttering.
West eyes her and then tips his head sideways to study me.
“I didn’t have a clue.” I scrub my face with my hands, trying desperately to wake myself up.