ROAR (19 page)

She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug of support. “I know you like being in control, but they’re going to take good care of her. Don’t worry.” Keeping her arm around his back, she steered him toward two empty seats. “Here, let’s sit down while we wait for word. These procedures don’t take long.”

“Yeah, they’re doing it right in her ICU room.” They sat apart from most of the others now enjoying their unexpected treats. “The muffins were a hit,” he said. “Glad you thought to order some.”

She nodded. “As was your idea for decent coffee. Luckily, not everyone is as addicted as we are. We had just enough to give a jolt to the four who wanted a cup, and half the OJ is gone, too.”

Kristoffer pulled out his phone and pushed a speed dial number. She heard him order two more carafes of coffee, probably from the same restaurant, which spoke volumes as to the number of times he’d spent time here. He stood and took her hand. “They’re too busy to deliver, and I’ll go stark-raving mad if I just sit here. Let’s go pick them up. We’ve got time.”

They stood, and he took her hand, squeezing it as if needing to hold on. He continued to hold it all the way to the cafe. Half an hour later, each carrying a pot of coffee, they took turns making the rounds to refill cups and pour new ones for a few people who hadn’t been here earlier.

A nurse came to the door and called Kristoffer’s name. He set down the pot abruptly on the nearest table and hurried through the door without a backward glance.

Please let her be okay. For Kristoffer’s sake.

*     *     *

Kristoffer shook hands with Tori’s doctor in the conference room. “How is she?”

“Mr. Larson, we found some areas of concern on the admitting x-rays, so we wanted to take some biopsies.” The no-nonsense woman didn’t pull any punches.

“What are you talking about? Pneumonia, right?”

The Asian woman in the white coat set her lips in a straight line, and Kristoffer prepared himself for more bad news. “I’m concerned about the possibility of a tumor.”

Cancer? Was she fucking kidding him? Kristoffer ran his hand through his hair and raked the loosened strands behind his ears. “How much more is she going to have to take?”

“I know you have a DNR order in place and that you’ve asked that she be treated for infections. As her spouse and legal guardian, it will be up to you to decide what course of action to take if the biopsies are positive—whether you prefer to take action at all or to simply let nature take its course will be up to you.”

He stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. “If she has cancer, you sure as hell are going to treat her. I don’t want it eating away at her. What if she still feels pain?”

As certain as he could be of anything concerning Tori, he didn’t think she was cognizant of pain. Not resuscitating her if in cardiac arrest was one thing, but letting cancer eat away at her cell by cell? No bloody way!

“Let’s wait to find out if the lesions are benign or malignant, Mr. Larson, and go from there. I assure you, we’ll do everything possible to make her comfortable if there’s any indication she’s in distress.”

The doctor left, and Kristoffer went to Tori’s room. Her mouth, legs, and arms were more relaxed—again probably due to the effects of the sedation. She looked so peaceful. He stroked her hair. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’m going to make sure you get the best care.”

As if she could worry about anything anymore. He’d long since had to carry that burden for both of them.

He stayed longer than he was supposed to, but was grateful no one told him to leave. He needed to be with her, even if he couldn’t crawl onto the bed and cuddle with her.

Bone weary, he returned to the waiting room and homed in on Pamela’s smiling face. Vibrant. Caring. She might be only a few years younger than his forty-one years, but on days like today, he felt older than the octogenarian sitting on the other side of the room.

Her smile faded, and she stood to meet him. “Kristoffer? What did they say?”

He needed to get away—no, to take her away from this before she, too, started to feel as old and helpless as he did. “Come on. Time to take you home. Tori will be sleeping off the sedatives for a while, and I have a cat who might just be destroying my sofa because she’s been neglected so long.”

“I had no idea you had a cat.”

“Well, in her mind, she’s still Tori’s cat. I’m just the man she allows to take care of her in Tori’s absence. Noma tolerates me at best.”

She laughed. “Typical cat.”

Once behind the wheel, he stared ahead blankly, unable to comprehend what he was supposed to do next. Pamela reached for the keys in his hand. “Trade places. You’re in no condition to drive.”

“You haven’t had much more sleep than I have.”

“I had a couple of naps. But I’ve had a lot more coffee—and haven’t had to deal with one crisis after another the way you have.”

Without waiting for him to move, she exited the Jag. When he did give up his seat, he waited beside the driver’s door to help her in before taking his place on the passenger side.

“Tori asked me to let her drive that night, too, but I wouldn’t let her.”

Pamela reached across the seat and squeezed his hand. He’d never shared that with anyone before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She nodded without a word and turned the ignition. Kristoffer closed his eyes as he leaned against the headrest. “Well, maybe. But I don’t want you looking at me as I do. Just drive, please.”

“No problem.”

The squealing tires and Tori’s scream exploded in his head
. He opened his eyes again. No, he wasn’t ready to talk with Pamela about that night. But at the same time, he needed to. First, he’d share this morning’s news. “They found some lesions. She might have lung cancer.”

“Christ, no! I’m so sorry, Kristoffer!”

He nodded. “Why not me? At least I’m stronger. I can fight back better than she can.”

“I’d hate for either of you to have it, but cancer is indiscriminate.”

A silence ensued as they traversed several miles. “It was raining that night. I was tired, but being the cocky, macho man I was, wouldn’t concede that I might be too tired to drive. We were in my Mercedes. Headed home from a party at Gunnar’s place.”

Pamela merged onto I-70 East as he continued. “I hadn’t been drinking, but was still impaired due to a lack of sleep. I never should have gotten behind the wheel.”

“We all drive at least once knowing we shouldn’t, whether after a few too many drinks, distracted over something that happened that day, or just from being tired. You’re human. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I was her husband.” He realized he’d said it in the past tense, even though he was still her husband. “It was my responsibility to take care of her.”

She sighed. “What happened?”

He closed his eyes again, and the scene unfolded before him.
Face what you’ve done
. “The rain was torrential and the mountains foggy in spots, so I wasn’t speeding. I was in the passing lane because that side had fewer potholes. By the time she screamed at me to watch out, I was only yards from the brake lights of an eighteen-wheeler. I don’t know if I zoned out a moment, blinked too long, or what to not see it sooner. I slammed on the brakes and tried to take evasive action into the slow lane, but skidded in front of a pickup truck that hit the passenger door dead center.” And Tori. “That sent us hurtling into a guardrail. Our front and side airbags deployed, but she was thrown around pretty badly despite that and her seatbelt. Her head hit the passenger window when the truck plowed into us, which is probably what resulted in the brain injury.”

Everything remained deathly silent for a moment—both in the scene playing in his head and the one in the car right now. “I must have blacked out. When I came to, I was being pulled from the Mercedes. I yelled at them to take care of her, but no one listened. Maybe they thought she was gone already. Maybe she was.”

Sirens wailed, coming closer.

“They cut her out of the car. She wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing. Someone did CPR. Firemen. Paramedics. EMTs. I’m not sure who. Apparently, traffic had been stalled because of another accident ahead when I clipped the semi.” His telling of the story was disjointed, and he hoped she could follow because he did not intend to retell it. “People came from everywhere to work on her.” While he sat on a gurney and watched. Numb and helpless. “I had nothing but a tiny cut on the head.”

“Thank God.” He stared at her, uncomprehending her comment until she continued. “I would have hated for you to have been gravely injured, too.”

“But it should have been me, not her.”

She pulled onto the shoulder, far from the moving traffic speeding by in the slow lane, activated the emergency blinkers, and turned toward him. “Who died and appointed you God?” she demanded, jabbing his chest when she said “you.”

Her anger surprised him, leaving him momentarily without a thought as to how to respond. “What? You didn’t even know me then.”

“But I know you now—and I wouldn’t have if you’d died that night. Or worse, you might have been left hanging somewhere between life and death, too, like your wife. What if the outcomes had been reversed, and she was sitting here having to go on without you? Would she be blaming herself?”

His throat closed up, and he cleared it. “Probably not. She tended to accept things as they came, without trying to analyze a dozen actions she might have taken to change the end result.” Would Tori have moved on, divorced him, remarried? Maybe not in four years, but what about six or ten? He’d want her to be happy and move on.

Wouldn’t he?

But that wasn’t how it happened, so why entertain that scenario? “There are fates worse than death, Pamela.” Still, he’d change places with her in a heartbeat if it meant she could go on living. “I just hope she doesn’t feel pain. The fMRIs don’t indicate she does.” No cognitive activity whatsoever. “But an animal feels pain even if it can’t express that feeling in words or comprehend its surroundings. Not Tori, as far as I can tell.”

“Oh, Kristoffer.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and gave him a squeeze to comfort him, but nothing could do that. “I’m sure she doesn’t feel pain. Don’t make yourself crazy worrying about things that probably aren’t the case. You said she’s usually either awake or asleep. She doesn’t cry or scream out, does she?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes she flinches when they give her shots or insert IVs when she has to go to the hospital. She always hated needles. Most of the time, though, she seems serene as long as her breathing isn’t distressed. But that’s a physiological response to feeling suffocated. If she were brain dead, she wouldn’t even respond to that, but she was never brain dead.”

“Try to stop worrying about things no one can know for a certainty. She’s in one of the best facilities in the area and is now at the best hospital in the Rockies. You’ve been a devoted husband to her for eighteen years. A lot of other men would have bailed out in a situation like this and moved on, but you’ve been loyal to her from the beginning.”

He shook his head. “I could never abandon her. I owe her that respect, and I know she’d take care of me if the tables were turned.”

“Of course, she would. Cut yourself some slack.”

He stared at her as her words sank in. She smiled and brought a little sunshine back into his day. He needed to stop beating himself up. What’s done was done. She was right about that, for sure.

“You’re a good friend, Pamela. You’ve made today easier for me in so many ways. Gunnar keeps telling me I need to at least find someone to socialize with rather than be so solitary. Someone to take my mind off things for brief moments now and again.” Gunnar had been right, as was usually the case.

All he could offer was friendship. Nothing long-term. He’d never put Pamela in limbo like that. She needed someone who would make a lifelong commitment to her.

The very commitment he’d made the day he married Tori.

Lucky for him, Pamela seemed content with friendship.

Her hand remained on his forearm, and he became aware of it when she gripped him harder. “I’m here for you—whatever you need, Kristoffer. Helping others find joy, peace, and comfort is what makes me happy.”

“I saw the way you took care of the strangers in the waiting room this morning.”

She swallowed hard. “Kristoffer, your life has been on hold so long that you’ve forgotten how to take care of yourself or how to accept help from a friend. All I’m saying is that, when Tori’s out of the hospital and things go back to normal, whenever that is, I’d like to continue to see you in whatever way you want. I think we’re good for each other at this point in our lives. You’re a great sounding board for me and have given me a lot of clarity about what I want in future relationships. I understand things about myself that I might never have sorted out without making a lot more mistakes with the wrong guys again.”

She glanced at the cars and SUVs speeding by. “I want to give you a chance to unwind a little, Kristoffer. To do things like go to the jazz club or maybe on a picnic. Constant stress is a killer. I want to see you relax more. You need that most of all.”

Platonic. While she sometimes left him wanting something he couldn’t have, spending time with such a willing, expressive submissive again pushed all the right buttons for the latent Dom inside him.

“I appreciate that.”

Without another word, Pamela put the car in gear and merged back into traffic, continuing toward Aurora. “You going to be okay to drive home after dropping me off, Kristoffer?”

“Sure. I’m fine now.” He had so many thoughts ricocheting around in his head now that he was wide-awake.

Alive. Pamela had the effect of making him feel more conscious of his surroundings than he’d been in years.

This amazing woman seated beside him had awakened parts of him he’d thought long dead. She wanted friendship from him, but did he want something more?

*     *     *

Back in Tori’s hospital room the next evening, his phone vibrated, and he checked the caller ID. Liz. He’d called Tori’s mother last night to inform her and Ron about their daughter’s hospitalization. He’d held off calling right away, hoping for the biopsy results, but then decided to call anyway. They should be aware of the situation in case things took a sudden turn for the worse. Someday, he’d have to make the call to let them know their daughter had passed on.