Rescue Me(11)
“Quinn was with her tonight when they were attacked.”
Interesting. Willow washed her hands. “Is he okay?”
“Probably will be, but he rode with me in the chopper and is pretty shaken up.”
Golden boy, charming, wealthy. Hero running back for the Mavericks and dating Bella Hayes.
Willow grabbed a paper towel, dried her hands.
Maybe, with luck, she could simply sneak into Bella’s room for a visit and stay put until Sam left.
And then, somehow, dodge him for the rest of her sorry life.
“Oh, and your sister is here. She and Chet just pulled up.”
Perfect. “Thanks.”
Which meant Willow would probably need to scuttle through the hallways, duck behind the nurses’ station, and, well, get back to Jess’s place, pack her gear, and start sleeping in her car.
Maybe move to Canada.
What was her problem that she so completely led with her heart and ditched her common sense like an ugly sock?
Especially when Sam was involved.
And practically crying.
And in need of a hug.
She gritted her jaw as she opened the door and, of course, right there in the middle of the lobby stood Sierra. Cute Sierra, dressed in a pair of faded boyfriend jeans, Converse tennis shoes, and a hoodie. She stood in the middle of the group, arms folded over her chest, listening to the recap of whatever had transpired this night.
Willow didn’t know the details.
But she knew the effect it had on Sam.
Jess came out behind her and headed to the group. Willow knew that in about ten seconds, Sierra would look this direction and probably spot betrayal all over Willow’s guilty face. Her Achilles’ heel—she wore her heart on the outside of her body like a neon sign.
Flee. Willow was turning to scuttle her way to the ER in search of Bella when she spotted him.
Sam. Striding down the hallway, his jaw set, his eyes dark and composed. Quintessential Sam, the guardian of the PEAK Rescue team.
Not the man who’d practically clung to her.
Willow’s stomach burned as Sierra turned to him, gave him a hug.
Sam closed his eyes, touched his lips to Sierra’s head.
The perfect, right couple.
Yes, time to flee.
Willow found Bella in the third ER bay, propped up on a pillow, her eyes closed. She wore a hospital gown, and an IV line was running into her good arm.
The other arm was bandaged from shoulder to fingertips, encased in a protective plastic sleeve.
A dark-gray, purpled hue rose along her jaw, behind an accompanying gruesome scrape. And her eye—Willow wanted to wince at the sight of the red pinpricking her cheek, evidence of broken blood vessels, the rise of swelling along her cheekbone, the way her lip, swollen and grotesque, bore the marks of trauma. A welt along her upper brow had split with more swelling.
“They’re going to move her upstairs, to another room. But we’re waiting for the on-call plastic surgeon.” This from Pastor Walter Hayes, who stood at the edge of the cubicle, his jaw tight. He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Nice of you to stop in.”
Next to the bed, holding her daughter’s hand, Carrie Hayes sat with her back to Willow, barely glancing over her shoulder at her husband’s greeting. But what little Willow saw of her face appeared wrecked.
Only daughter. Near-death mauling. Yeah, she’d be wrecked too.
“I know I’m not on staff yet, but I thought, well, church family has to stick together. And Bella’s one of my girls.” She touched Bella’s foot.
At her bedside, Carrie stiffened.
Bella opened one eye—the good one—at Willow’s touch.
“How you doing, honey?” Willow said.
Bella’s mouth tweaked up one side, and then her eye fluttered closed.
“She’s on morphine,” Walt said.
Behind her, she heard a rattle, and she turned to see two orderlies pushing a gurney toward them.
Carrie got up and stepped back into her husband’s embrace, and Willow hazarded a glance at her.
She had swollen eyes and wore a cardigan and a pair of yoga pants, as if she’d been yanked out of bed into her shattered world.
Willow hadn’t a clue what to say. She stepped back, watching as the orderlies moved Bella, with all her tubes and bandages, over to the gurney. Bella groaned, and her mother winced.
They filed out, and Willow didn’t quite know what to do. So, she followed. Maybe they just needed someone to sit with them.
Besides, they were going the opposite direction of the foyer, so that felt like the right direction. Willow got into the elevator, saw Carrie glance at her, a tick of a frown on her brow. But she said nothing as they got out at the second floor.
Willow stood back, behind the Hayeses as the orderlies settled Bella into a bed. A nurse supervised, checked her hospital bracelet, attached a blood pressure cuff, and drew the curtain across the other bed.