Quarter Mile Hearts(14)
Chapter Five
Of course, because I didn’t close the curtains, the early morning sun hits me square in the eyes when I roll over. With a groan, I throw an arm over my eyes. I fumble with my watch and peer through the crack in my eyelids. I expect it to be stupid o’clock, but I’m shocked to read 8am.
Shit. I have to be up and at ‘em. The hospital first and then the garage. Although I’m sure Aaron has everything under control, there is no doubt in my mind that the paperwork will be piling up and no one will have been paid this week. I pull out another pair of jeans and a sleeveless blouse; better to at least look respectable going into the hospital. I slide my feet back into my boots and pull on my leather jacket.
My hair is hidden beneath my helmet, but I take an elastic band just in case. All set, I lock up and head out. I throw my leg over my bike and pull out of the drive. I ride at a leisurely pace and wish I could take my helmet off and feel the wind in my hair. I may like risks, but I’m not stupid.
• • •
When I reach my dad’s room I stand at the door unobserved, watching him for a minute. He’s concentrating on whatever crap is on the TV, remote in hand, ready to change it as soon as he gets bored or the commercials come on. Fine lines etch his face, and although I can’t see them from here, I know they’re there. As he shifts in the bed, his face crumples with the pain, and that’s when he catches me watching. His body sags against the pillow and his lips curve into a tired smile.
“Leigh.” He reaches out with his free hand but winces as pain hits. I rush over, taking his hand so he doesn’t have to strain himself.
“Hey, Dad.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. “How are you this morning?”
“Okay. A little sore. I think the pills are wearing off.” He scrunches up his eyes tightly. I move to the bottom of the bed and pick up his chart, quickly turning the pages and scanning the notes the doctors have made. I run a finger down the times of his medicine.
“You’re due for another dose. I’ll go find a nurse.” He gives me a weak smile as I leave the room in search of anyone who can help.
By the time I come back with Nurse McCartney, my dad is as white as a sheet and his breathing is shallow. It hurts to breathe because of his broken ribs.
“Now, Mr. Storm.” Nurse McCartney bustles over and fixes his pillows, ignoring the way my dad winces at being jostled about. “Your daughter tells me that you’re in some pain.”
“Yes,” he mumbles and looks like he’s about to barf while she takes her time checking his chart.
“Right. Here, take these.” She hands him three pills in a little cup. “Drink this,” she orders, pouring him a cup of water and handing it to him. He knocks back the tablets and sinks back into the pillows, his eyelids fluttering shut. Nurse McCartney pads from the room, leaving us alone.
“I’ll come back later and see you. I’m going to the garage now. Okay?” I don’t know if he hears me, but he nods and closes his eyes. It is my cue to leave.
I pass Nurse McCartney on the way out. “Call me if there’s anything.” She gives me a warm smile.
“Don’t worry, honey. He’s in good hands,” she assures me. I nod and make my way down the corridor to the elevator, still not entirely happy at having to leave him, but there’s not much I can do here.
• • •
When I pull up outside the garage, the metal shutters are up and all the lights are on. The engine on the Harley dies and music filters out, Pink singing “The Truth About Love.” There are a couple of cars up on the ramps and a Volkswagen Golf GTi in the middle of the garage with its hood up. Blue overall clad legs stick out from under it, black boots tap in time with the music, and soft humming is coming from under the car. I stand with my hands on my hips and straddle either side of the black boots before kicking one to get his attention.
The humming stops, and I watch as Aaron slowly slides out from under the car and between my legs. Only it isn't Aaron. It's Max, and he’s grinning up at me looking like the cat that got the cream. His dark hair is tousled and sticking up in places where he ran his fingers through it, and dirt streaks his forehead. He doesn't look surprised to see me. Wish I could say the same.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, outraged, because he obviously works here but nobody thought to tell me.
“Nice to see you, too.” He smirks and sits up.
“No, seriously, where is Aaron?”
“Still in bed with Beth, no doubt, and I work here.” He is so infuriatingly calm.
“Since when?”