Always with You - Part One(12)

"I think we've got some … work to do tonight, don't you?" 

"I think you might be right. How about we light up the Christmas tree at the condo? The right way?"

"Mmmm," I growl against her throat, my dick twitching at the imagery. "You, naked, bathed in twinkling lights, moaning my name? Hell yeah! That really is the right way!"





CHAPTER TEN



Olivia



I have just finished packing the last of our things and stripping the sheets from the bed when my phone rings. I answer it, tucking my cell between my shoulder and my ear as I take the sheets to the washing machine and stuff them inside. "Hello?"

"May I speak with Olivia Davenport please?"

"This is she."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm calling from St. Joseph's Hospital. You're the emergency contact listed for Darrin Townsend. Do you know someone by that name?"

My heart begins to pound wildly as my hands still on the closed lid of the washer. "Yes, he's my father. Is something wrong?"

"We have your father here in the cardiac cath lab. He was transferred from an urgent care unit in Salt Springs. Would you mind coming to the registration area to fill out some paperwork?"

I am instantly sick with worry. My father is in the hospital? In a cath lab? Does this mean he had a heart attack?

Ohgod ohgod ohgod!

"Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can get there. I'm leaving now."

"Thank you. When you're finished at registration, you can come back to the cath lab waiting room and call the nurse's desk from the phone in there. Just ask for Amber and I'll update you."

"Okay. I-I will. Thank you."

"You're welcome. See you soon."

"Yes. Thanks."

My fingers are trembling when I press the END button on my phone. As I was packing up our things to take to the condo, I made the mistake of thinking to myself that nothing could make this holiday worse.

But I was wrong.

So, so wrong.

I abandon the sheets and the packing and go straight for my shoes and purse. I walk out into the garage bay to where my husband is loading the car with our stuff. He looks up from behind the trunk lid when I call his name. His expression falls into one of deep concern when he sees my face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He knows me so well.

Cash doesn't hesitate to stop what he's doing and take the few steps to me. He winds his long fingers around my upper arms and bends to look into my eyes, his own nearly-black ones glittering with apprehension.

"It's Dad. He-he's in the hospital. The cath lab. At St. Joseph's. I have to go fill out paperwork. I … I … I don't know what's going on, but it must be bad, Cash. It must be really bad."

I feel tight as a drum from head to toe. Rigid, like my muscles are bracing themselves. For what, I'm not sure.

Gently, my husband takes the keys from the edge of my purse and ushers me to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and shuffling me inside. I stare straight ahead, my mind buzzing around a dozen different scenarios, kind of like buzzards circling the air over a fresh kill. Watching. Waiting.

When Cash slides in behind the wheel and starts the engine, he hits the button to lift the garage door and then takes my fingers in his. They're warm and firm and familiar. Safe. "Whatever it is that's going on, he'll come through. Your dad is one tough man. Remember when he broke his leg? How hard it was to get him to stay down? He's a fighter. Strong. Stubborn. Just like his daughter."

"I know he is, but stubborn can't stop a heart attack."

"No, but it can bring him through it. He'd do anything for you, to keep you happy and never hurt you. He knows he can't leave you yet. That's why he'll fight tooth and nail-for you. You know that."



       
         
       
        

"Yeah, I know. But Cash, his heart? Oh God!"

I drop my face into my hand and will myself not to fall apart. I want to. I feel like I need to in some ways. Like the stress of the last couple of days is just too much and I need to check out of reality for a little while. But I can't. Now is not the time to be weak and frail. Now is the time to suck it up and be strong. Even though I don't feel strong.

Cash brushes his lips over the knuckles of my left hand before releasing it to back out of the garage. I feel the loss immediately. When he's touching me, I feel as though nothing can hurt me. But the instant he lets go …

Always sensitive to my needs, to what I'm thinking and feeling, Cash reaches for my hand again after he pulls out onto the main road. He doesn't let it go until we pull into St. Joseph's parking lot some thirty minutes later.