Pitch Perfect(38)
Emmy stared at him, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?”
Tucker looked down, his mismatched eyes in sync when it came to gazing at her warmly. “I’m coming with you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hospitals reminded Tucker of his surgery.
They smelled too clean, like the antiseptic was being overused to cover up all the nasty smells that made a hospital real. Blood and puke and shit. Those were the honest hospital smells.
Even Tucker had been keenly aware of his own awful scent when he’d been stuck in a bed after his surgery. Sitting with Emmy outside her father’s room, he was reminded of the ripe, unwashed fragrance.
He didn’t like it here.
Why had he volunteered to come with her?
She was staring at her hands, twisting the hem of her blue shirt between her fingers so often he was sure she’d worry a hole right through the cotton. On instinct he reached out and took one of her hands in his. For a second she hesitated, her hand going perfectly still, and then she yielded to the gesture and wove her fingers through his. The fidgeting stopped.
They hadn’t been allowed in while Vince was resting, and they were currently waiting for his attending physician to arrive so she could explain what was happening. Melody—a lithe twenty-something Emmy introduced as her father’s girlfriend—had run off at the first sight of them, claiming she’d be back with coffee.
Tucker weighed the options of what was best to say in a situation like this and came up blank. He’d lost his own father a few years earlier, but it hadn’t been a shock, and Tucker didn’t think talking about death was the smartest thing. He also didn’t want to be overly cheerful in case the doctor arrived with grim news.
Emmy letting him come along without sending him home at the airport was enough of a miracle, he didn’t want to screw things up any further. Why had she let him come? Was it the audacity of his gesture, and her mind being too occupied elsewhere to think of refusing him? Or was it that deep down Emmy really wanted him along?
He hadn’t been thinking too much when he’d booked two tickets instead of one. For some reason going with her had seemed like the right thing to do. Now that he was here with her, though, he didn’t fully understand what it all meant.
Tucker just knew he was with her, and her boyfriend was nowhere in sight, in spite of the fact that Simon lived in Chicago.
Had Emmy called him?
A doctor appeared before them, all brusque efficiency and exhausted politeness. Her hair was pinned back in a bun that might have started the day severe but had lessened its hardness at some point in the midst of her rotation. She had deep purple bags under her eyes which were mostly hidden by a pair of black-rimmed glasses.
Emmy pulled her hand away and got to her feet.
“My name is Doctor Albright,” the woman said, offering a handshake to Tucker after Emmy was done. “I understand you’re Vincent’s daughter?”
“Yes, Emmy Kasper.” Emmy and the doctor sounded equal degrees of tired, and both were soldiering their way through it.
“Emmy, your father suffered a minor heart attack early this morning. We’ve been monitoring him, and I feel very comfortable telling you Vin…Vincent is going to be fine.”
The whoosh of air that escaped Emmy’s lips could have propelled the Regatta by the Bay. She slumped against Tucker, and he held her upright, squeezing her shoulder gently.
“You’re sure?” Emmy asked.
“Of course.” Doctor Albright looked down at the chart in her hand, flipping through the thin pages. “We’ve done some tests, and I think there will be a few serious lifestyle changes in order for your father—no more ballpark pretzels I’m afraid. His cholesterol was astronomical. And his blood pressure…” The doctor clucked her tongue. “But he’ll be back in the booth by the end of the month.”
Clearly the good doctor knew her Cubs history. Tucker reminded himself that Vin Kasper was a legend in this town—one even he knew about. It shouldn’t have been a surprise people in the hospital would be aware they were caring for a local celebrity.
“Thank you so much,” Emmy said, shaking the doctor’s hand vigorously. It was obvious she wanted to hug the woman, but she restrained herself, and the doctor kept a safe distance.
“You can go in to see him now, if you’d like.” Doctor Albright nodded at the door, and Emmy didn’t need to be told twice. She was gone in an instant, leaving Tucker in the hall with the doctor.
“Thank you,” he said, not knowing what else he should say. “She was really worried.”
“Naturally.” She was staring at him, but not his face. Her gaze was focused on his arm, where the silver-pink scar was showing plainly thanks to his short-sleeved shirt. “Did you play?”