Diamonds and Dust (Lonesome Point, Texas) (19 page)

“Can I go see him?” Tulsi asked. “Is he awake?”

“He is, but he’s put in a request for no visitors.” The blonde with the pencil shoved through her bun tapped a pink fingernail to the computer screen. “No one except his wife, no other family members.”

“What?” Tulsi shook her head. “Why? Can I at least talk to him on the phone in his room, I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” the blonde said, casting a pointed look over Tulsi’s shoulder at the other people in line. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Well, can I at least get the room number to give to my mom?” Tulsi asked in a small voice.

Dad must have decided Tulsi was to blame for the accident. She could practically hear his voice in her head—if she hadn’t asked him to drive Clem back to camp in the evening instead of letting her sleep over at his house the way he’d suggested, this wouldn’t have happened. She wasn’t sure exactly how her father was going to spin it, but somehow it would be Tulsi’s fault. It was always her fault.

She wrote down the room number and stepped outside to call her mom, relaying the terrible news in an unexpectedly steady voice. Mom was sobbing by the time Tulsi got to the part about Clem being in surgery, but Tulsi’s pulse beat slower with each passing moment until her fingers felt numb and her nose and lips cold despite the heat lingering in the evening air. Distantly, she realized she was probably having some sort of stress reaction, but she couldn’t worry about herself or her parents or Pike or Mia or anyone but Clementine.

Clementine, her baby, her heart, the ray of sunshine and trouble who made every day a blessing. Her daughter was so vibrantly, powerfully alive. God couldn’t take her away, he just couldn’t. It would be an offense against his own creation.

After Tulsi had hung up with her mother, she sat down hard on the curb near the ER parking lot, clasped her fingers together and prayed with everything in her that Clem would be okay. She prayed and begged and bargained, promising she would never lie or deceive anyone again if Clem pulled through. God might not think that prayers from a liar like Tulsi were worth answering, but Clem was innocent.

But then so were all the other children in the world who were abused, hurt, or killed every day. Innocence was no assurance that Clem would live. This was out of Tulsi’s hands. She was completely and utterly helpless to protect her daughter. With the genetic odds against her, she couldn’t even donate blood. And now, after all the years of sacrificing and keeping secrets to do what she thought was best for her little girl, Clem might not live to see her seventh birthday.

With a sob, Tulsi staggered to her feet and started walking. She walked across the parking lot, through the decorative shrubs, and into the dusty lot next to the hospital. She wasn’t sure where she was going, she only knew she couldn’t sit still another second, let alone the endless two hours or more it would take for her to be allowed to see her baby. She’d be back long before Clem woke up, but she couldn’t stay here and wait for things to get worse. If any news came between now and seven o’clock tonight, it was only going to be bad news, news that the surgery had failed and that her baby was gone.

Silent tears streamed down Tulsi’s face as her power walk became a jog and then a run. By the time the beige truck pulled over in front of her on the shoulder of the highway, she was sprinting down the side of road toward town in her pale green bridesmaid dress and boots, heart racing even as her mind slowed and the world blurred around the edges.

Later, she wouldn’t remember the exact facial features of the woman who offered her a ride and a bag of tissues from her purse to wipe the smudged mascara from her face. She wouldn’t remember asking to be taken to Dad’s ranch or telling the woman who dropped her off thank you for the ride. She wouldn’t remember much until the moment she was standing outside the pen where her sister’s latest wild stallion had recently been delivered, staring at the furious animal who had never asked to be bought or sold or tamed, pondering the lack of justice in the universe and wondering how in the hell she was going to move forward from here.

If Clementine died, Tulsi would have no reason to keep living. Pike hated her. Mia hated her. And she hated herself. Sawyer had felt sorry for her at the hospital, but he would get around to hating her, too, sooner or later. Her dad obviously blamed Tulsi for the accident and her mother would never stand up to her father. Mom didn’t stand up; she fell apart. Tulsi didn’t blame her for it, and for a long time, she’d assumed she was just like her mother. Reece was the troublemaker with the loud mouth and the will of steel, like Dad; Tulsi was the peacemaker who kept her dissenting opinions to herself and fainted in the face of trouble, like Mom.

But she wasn’t like Mom; she realized that now. There was a wildfire of hurt and grief and rage burning inside of her. If there was an enemy she could fight for Clementine’s life, Tulsi would take to the ring with nothing but her bare hands and fight until her body was bruised and her opponent’s blood filled her mouth. She would destroy anyone who threatened her baby, but there was no one to fight, nothing to do with her clenched fists.

There was only the horse, snorting and stomping as it glared at her across the ring, the misery threatening to consume her heart, and the terrible fear that there was no waking up from this nightmare.

Before Tulsi consciously decided to move, her feet started toward the fence gate, but once she realized where she was going, she didn’t try to stop herself. The world was blurring around the edges again, and she didn’t want to bring it back into focus. The clear picture was too cruel.

This was better. The numbness, the softness, the distance from the pain. She would stay here, for now, in this limbo state where she wasn’t conscious of all the things she’d lost and the precious life that hung in the balance.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Pike

He was a father. Pike still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

He was that beautiful little girl’s father, but she might die before he had a chance to be a part of her life. She might die, and he would never get to hug her, eat wings with her again, or get her that puppy she wanted so badly. He wanted to give her everything—the world on a platter, the moon and more—but after the nurse placed a bandage at the crook of his arm and told him she’d come back with an update on Clem’s condition as soon as she could, there was nothing more he could do.

He sat beside Mia in the small specimen collection room, staring at the cups of orange juice and hard cookies the nurse had brought for them and wondering how he was going to keep from losing his mind while he waited to hear if Clem was going to make it.

“I can’t talk to her right now,” Mia said softly, breaking the silence. “I know I should. I know she must be falling apart somewhere, but I…I don’t know what to say.”

Pike sighed and reached for the glass of juice, downing it in two gulps, but the sickening sweetness felt wrong in his mouth. This wasn’t the time for anything sweet, not when life was dosing up so much bitterness and hurt.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Mia continued in a dazed voice. “Why did she lie?”

Pike shook his head. “I don’t know. Guess she didn’t think I was good enough to be a father.”

“That’s bullshit.” Mia grabbed for a tissue from the box near the sink and mopped angrily at her face. “No matter how big an asshole you were to her—and I’m sure you were because I know your history with women—you deserved to know that Clem was yours.
I
deserved to know.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I deserved to know that the little girl I’ve loved her whole life was my family and Clem deserved a father. You would have done right by her, I know you would have.”

“I
will
do right by her,” Pike said, swallowing hard. “She’s not going to die. I’m going to get to be her dad. It’s not too late.”

Mia reached out, taking his hand and holding tight. “Of course it’s not. She’s going to pull through. She’s so special, Pike. So smart and funny and…” Mia’s voice broke and when she spoke again her words were barely audible, “I just love her so much.”

“I love her mama,” Pike whispered.

“Oh shit, I do, too,” Mia said, rubbing his back. “I do, I just don’t know what to do with all this. About Clem and you two keeping all of it hidden. I had no fucking clue you were ever together.”

“It started when I was drafted into the minors. But I was in love with her before, I was just too stupid…” He trailed off as the tears pushing at the back of his eyes spilled down his cheeks “I still love her, but I don’t know how to get past this. I can’t stop thinking that if Clem dies, she will have spent her entire life thinking her daddy didn’t want her.”

Mia wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him as he covered his face with his hands and fought to pull his shit together. He hadn’t cried in years, not since Tulsi called things off the first time. That night, he’d ended up sobbing into his whiskey until two in the morning and puking through his morning run the next day.

Why hadn’t she told him? Maybe not at first, when she was so young and they were both hurt and full of resentment, but why not after Clem was born? Or at some point in all the years after? Had she really hated him
that
much?

The way you hated her until you laid eyes on her again?

Pike flinched against the thought. He
had
hated her. He’d held a grudge against that woman like it was his job because…that was the only way he could get by without her. Because sometimes hating someone is the only way to survive not being allowed to love them anymore.

He’d told Tulsi the truth the other day—he really had been falling in love with her his entire life. It wasn’t just that perfect spring that haunted him. It was every summer camping trip, every time he’d plopped down on the couch between her and Mia and given them shit for the romantic comedies they watched when they were teens. It was every time he’d warned one of his friends not to look at his surrogate little sister like she was a piece of meat and every time he’d ridden a trail with Tulsi and admired her quiet assurance with horses and the gentle way she smiled. It was just Tulsi, the sweet, beautiful, seemingly fragile woman who had the biggest heart he’d ever known and a fierce, secret strength when it came to protecting the people she loved.

The thought brought back a memory, one of those few crystal clear memories from childhood that had never left him.

He’d been ten years old and had run off down the river bank to find a stick to use for a sword fight with his friends. The entire church had turned out for the annual float trip, but all the grown-ups were busy fixing lunch when the accident happened. Pike had been the only one to see six-year-old Tulsi tumble off the fallen log, as she was crossing the river, and get swept downstream in the swift current. There hadn’t been time to get a grown-up, but even if there had, Pike wouldn’t have hesitated to run down the rocky bank and dive into the water. Tulsi was his little sister’s age, but she was this tiny thing who only came up to Mia’s shoulder. The second Pike heard her cry out for help and saw her little blond head disappear beneath the water, his heart had stopped and protective instincts, he hadn’t realized he possessed at ten, had surged to the surface.

Later, after he’d pulled Tulsi from the water, all the grown-ups had called him a hero, but it was Tulsi’s arms locked tight around his neck that had made him feel like one.

Even now, nearly twenty years later, he could still recall the wonder that had filled him as he realized he’d saved the life of the little girl in his arms. And thank God he had, because she would grow up to save his, with her love and her touch and her eyes that looked past his defenses and saw every hidden piece of his heart. No one had ever known him the way Tulsi did and he would never love anyone the way he loved her. It didn’t matter what she’d done, it didn’t matter how much it hurt.

There were only two ways he was going through life—loving Tulsi or pretending to hate her while he ignored the hollow place in his life and heart where his other half was supposed to be. And he didn’t want to hate Tulsi. No matter how hurt he was right now, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pike murmured, swiping the last of the tears from his face with his fist.

“What?” Mia asked with a sniff.

“It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.” He stood, lifting his hat and running a clawed hand through his hair. “I love her and she loves me and we have a little girl who’s going to need us when she wakes up. I’m going to go find her.”

“Can I come with you?” Mia asked, rising from her chair. “You’re right. There’ll be time to talk through the bullshit later. Right now, love is more important.” Mia’s lips trembled. “She’s my best friend and she shouldn’t be alone. She’s no good at it, especially when she’s upset.”

“Come on.” Pike held out his arm, tucking his sister tight to his side as they left the collection room and pushed through the swinging doors into the waiting room.

Pike’s eyes scanned the pale pink room with the faded blue chairs, but there was no sign of Tulsi or Sawyer. He was about to suggest to Mia that they check outside when Sawyer hurried in through the automatic doors, a worried expression on his face and Tulsi’s phone clenched in one hand. Bubba and Marisol weren’t far behind him.

“What happened?” Mia asked, stepping forward to meet Sawyer. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Sawyer said, shaking his head. “I went outside to check on her and found her phone on the sidewalk, but no sign of Tulsi. The truck’s still here and I have the keys so wherever she went she’s on foot. I was about to go after her when Bubba and Marisol showed up.”

“I’ve got the rental car,” Bubba said. “Marisol and I can check my place and that side of downtown.”

“I figured we could check the shop and her dad’s,” Sawyer said. “I don’t think she should be by herself right now. I’m obviously not a doctor, but I’ve seen shell shock and I didn’t like the look on her face after she talked to the woman at the front desk.”