“He said, ‘Tell Claire Ann I’m doing damage control for Trace and that I’ll be there as soon as I can.’”
Claire Ann let out a loud breath. “Oh. Okay.”
Kylie didn’t miss the disappointment that flashed in the other woman’s eyes.
“Um, he also said to tell you that he loves you and to call him when you get a chance.”
At that, Claire Ann’s mouth hinted at a smile and her eyes brightened.
“So Pauly Garrett, huh? You know, I have always thought he was handsome…for an old guy.”
“He’s forty-three. That’s not old,” she snapped.
Kylie grinned. “I know. I just wanted to see if he meant what I thought he meant when he said to tell you that he loved you.”
Realizing she’d told her own secret, Claire Ann stiffened. “Look, it’s really none of anyone’s business who I—”
“Claire Ann.” Kylie met her panicked stare with what she hoped was a reassuring one. “My lips are sealed. I do think you should tell Trace though before he finds out some other way. But it’s none of my business, so I’ll just be in the corner practicing my Taylor Swift shocked face for when he does find out.”
Trace’s sister smiled at her for the first time in as long as she could remember. “Thanks. And, um, I’m sorry I’ve been so cold to you. It’s just…” She trailed off and glanced at Trace through the small window in the waiting room door.
“I understand,” Kylie said softly. “And with everything that’s going on, being nice to me is not something you should even be worried about.”
“Yes it is,” Claire Ann argued. “He loves you. Therefore I love you. And Rae actually is your number one fan. If they told her you were here, she’d probably snap right out from under the sedation and start demanding to know every detail of how you and Trace reconciled.”
Both women smiled. And then began to tear up.
“Claire Ann, is she going to be okay? I mean, I heard what the doctor said, but aside from being unconscious, is there any other—”
“They don’t know for sure.” Trace’s sister wiped at her eyes. “One of her legs is broken in several places, and with head injuries, only time will tell. So…we’ll see.”
“She’ll be okay.” Kylie glanced at Trace through the same window Claire Ann had looked through. She had no idea how long it had been since he’d slept or eaten. Or if all this stress made him want to drink. “She has to be.”
AGONIZED MOANS pulled Kylie from an already restless state somewhere between levels of unconsciousness.
Rae had been moved into a private suite that was as big as Kylie’s living room in her apartment. So the furniture was slightly more comfortable than the ICU waiting room and she was thankful that she was allowed to be in the room now.
But nurses came in and out every other hour, machines beeped constantly, and when the air kicked on it sounded like an eighteen-wheeler was driving through the vent.
She opened her eyes and looked around.
Rae was still unconscious, a fact that had everyone on edge. It was well past time for her to come to. Trace’s mom, a fifty-something woman who looked like a world-weary Claire Ann and spoke very little to anyone, was slumped in the chair closest to Rae’s bed. Claire Ann’s head rested on Pauly’s shoulder. They still hadn’t told Trace they were dating, but Kylie knew from chatting with Claire Ann that they were planning to once Rae was in stable condition.
The source of the moaning stirred and jerked next to her. Kylie rubbed her eyes. Trace’s handsome face was contorted in a mask of pain and fear.
“Ooh,” he moaned again. “Stop. Stop it,” he yelled out suddenly.
“Trace.” Kylie wrapped her arms around him and kissed the side of his jaw. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Get your damn hands off her,” he slurred.
“Trace, hey.” She shook his shoulder a little less gently. “Trace, look at me.” He twitched, but whatever he was seeing in his sleep kept its grip on him. She slid her hand onto his inner thigh and squeezed. “Wake up, baby.”
“Hmm?” His eyes opened slowly and she kissed him again.
“You were having a bad dream.”
He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. “Oh. Shit. What time is it?” His voice was thick with sleep. He sat up straight and looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Which would’ve been comical in any other situation because she hadn’t showered in three days.
“It’s almost seven. In the morning.”