Where Their Hearts Collide: Wardham Book #2 (17 page)

She bit her lip, and he silently cursed at himself. Now she was second guessing something in her head, and that wasn’t where he wanted to go. He didn’t want her doubting herself. He didn’t want her thinking at all, but that was an impossible fight. Maybe a conversation about their relationship would be an acceptable distraction from what was looming in front of her in St. Louis. Even better if he could re-direct it to a lighthearted place. He’d hit the jackpot if he could give her a little confidence boost at the same time.

“Hey…” He flipped his hand over, releasing her fingers
so he could squeeze her knee. “Where did I go wrong?”

“I don’t always do that.”

“The first time we met, you lurked in your front bushes, waiting to ambush me.”

She jerked in her seat, and he chuckled. Mission accomplished. “That wasn’t the first time we met.”

“So you’ve said before. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Her knee bumped up into his palm as she twisted to look more fully at him, and he took the opportunity to twist his fingers up and under
the bottom of her capris. Warm skin stretched over bone and muscle, providing an endless moving playground for his fingers to explore. Did she feel the same spark at the barest contact? Get wrapped up in the same compulsion to constantly touch, to find that physical connection no matter how futile any attempt at a relationship might be?

“There were a couple of times that I tried to talk to you before that afternoon.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she licked her lips, and if she wasn’t in the middle of a family crisis, he’d have pulled over and done it for her. Kiss and lick and bite her lips until she was squirming in his lap, all hot and needy. He cleared his throat again. “I don’t remember.”

Her fingers danced against each other as she
pulsed her hands in the air. “I wasn’t successful. One time you were going out for a jog, and ran right past me.”

“I don’t believe it.” At her confused look, he stroked his hand up and over her knee cap before squeezing her leg. Reassuring her, satisfying
his own need to touch. Two birds, one stone. “Have you seen yourself? If I didn’t notice you, it’s because of all the fucked up shit in my head, darlin’. Nothing on you.”

“What do—
no. Never mind.”

“It’s okay, you can ask.”

“It’s none of my business.”

What’s mine is yours.
The truth smacked him in the chest, and he had to fight to keep from visibly reacting. When had that happened? He’d been more open with Karen than anyone else in the past, but she still didn’t know most of the messed up thoughts he had. And now he was an open book? Since when?

Since twelve hours earlier when he’d been balls deep in her, and decided he’d never give that up. Not for anything. Susan and Megan would have to deal. Hell, they’d probably both be pleased as punch. It would only be Karen that would take some convincing.

But he would. Because she was worth it.

Because he loved her.

Fuck.

Now was so not the time for dawning awareness. Right now, he needed to be a good friend. He needed to distract her until Windsor,
then deliver her and her sister to the Detroit airport. When—fuck,
if
—her brother pulled through this and her family came out of this crisis without needing too much, then he could lay his feelings on the table. Make his case for a long-distance, take-it-slow-or-whatever, as-long-as-there-isn’t-anyone-else relationship. He’d waited thirty-seven years for her, what was one more?

“Suffice it to say that I had a lot on my mind when I moved to Wardham, and I apologize sincerely for not noticing you sooner.” He winked at her and squeezed her knee again before changing the subject reluctantly. “Do you know what name your sister would have on her passport? You should text Susan what she needs to know.”

Another opportunity lost, his sub-conscious warned.
Shut up
, he argued back.
Stop thinking with your imaginary dick.

One crying woman would put any man on edge. Two crying women, one of whom he loved, a new realization at that, and the other he’d never met before…it was enough to make
Paul want to run for the hills, if only until the sobbing stopped. Except it was Karen, and what looked like Karen 2.0, from the small glimpse he got before the younger woman buried her face in her sister’s shoulder. And they needed to get this shit out of their system before landing in St. Louis, so he stood there awkwardly with Audrey’s friend Liza. She introduced herself while the sisters had their cathartic moment, which Paul appreciated. He quietly asked if Audrey’s bags were handy, and Liza pointed to a backpack leaning against the wall. He loaded that into the trunk and checked his watch. Time to move them along.

After a quick check for passports and international calling plans, because someone had to be practical and it might as well be him, he loaded both women into the car and nodded his thanks at Liza.

Once across the border, it didn’t take long to reach the airport. He didn’t bother parking—their flight would be called soon enough, and he didn’t know how Karen would want to play it in front of her sister. Instead, he stopped in the kiss and fly lane outside Departures, and turned to Karen just as she was reaching to touch his arm. Her pale cheeks and red-rimmed eyes reminded him she was on the edge, but her palm was warm and still against his skin.

“The
flight details are in the email Susan sent,” he started, deliberately sticking to the mundane. “You should double check you’ve got her number programmed into your phone.”

She giggled, and he couldn’t help but join her in finding that funny. B
etter than crying, he supposed. And maybe it would be good for them to be able to connect directly. Susan hadn’t hesitated to help. She didn’t even question why Paul was asking on Karen’s behalf.

In the rear-view mirror, he caught Audrey watching
him, eyes squinted in a deductive fashion. Instead of worry, relief crawled down the back of his neck and eased some of the tension that had taken up residence in his shoulders. While she was in St. Louis, Paul was going to have to talk to Megan about Karen. It was time for his daughter to know that he was dating again. Even if Karen didn’t know it yet. He wasn’t going to give up on them this time, no matter what barriers she threw in his path.

For Karen, the next three hours were a blur of waiting and rushing, impatience and frustrated self-censorship because no inconvenience or annoying airline procedure came close to what her brother was enduring. Getting to the hospital, blessedly without running into any paparazzi, and finally—finally—stumbling into the waiting room, it was like passing through a filter and everything else faded away. Their parents looked tired, and Audrey tugged on Karen’s arm. As if she needed any encouragement to sprint across the room and wrap them in tight, never-let-go hugs.

“He’s moved into the recovery unit.” Karen brushed hair from her mother’s face, a tender role-reversal moment that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them before her mom continued,
waving at the digital display high on one wall. “He’s the third patient down on that list. The nurse warned us that the surgeons might not be able to immediately come and see us, but it should be soon.”

“That gentleman over there—” Their father waved at a tall white haired man who returned the sentiment with a polite nod. “His wife is having her fourth operation in this hospital. He said no news is good news.”

“Do you need anything? Want us to do a coffee run?” Audrey’s voice was small but strong.

“No need, sweetie. That vending machine over there makes the most delicious cappuccinos.”

Karen snorted, and from the look on Audrey’s face she didn’t quite believe it either. Their father chuckled under his breath—thank goodness for small miracles—and Karen made a silent vow to swallow whatever brown swill came out of that machine if it amused her parents.

From the doorway, the sound of someone clearing their throat made both young women jump, but their mother smoothly stepped between them and nodded at the two men in suits. “Welcome back, Oscar
. We haven’t heard from the surgeon yet, but he’s been moved to recovery.”

Oscar
. One of them was her brother’s agent. The other must be from the team.

“Thank you, Grace.
You holding up?”

“Now that my daughters are here, absolutely.”

“I just spoke with Davis, he’s in Houston.” Oscar flicked his wrist, revealing an extra-shiny watch. “Maybe taxiing out of Houston, his layover was only 40 minutes. He should be here in a couple hours.”

Karen turned her face toward her mother and lowered her voice. “I saw a sign about visiting hours ending at 8:00 p.m., will that apply to Davis?”

Her mother nodded, her brows pinched together. “Not that he’ll let that stop him, but I think so.”

“Maybe we should get some hotel rooms?”
If there are any left
. Maybe they’d all have to cram into the RV.

“If it’s not too forward, Ms. Miller, we’ve booked two suites at a hotel not far from here.” The other man finally spoke. At Karen’s ra
ised eyebrow, he hastily added, “Sorry. I’m Mitchell. Mitchell Wagner. Director of Communications for the Coyotes.”

She nodded and turned back to her mother and her father, who had joined them, forming a tight pack of Millers. He
r dad passed her a surprisingly yummy smelling paper cup and she rolled her eyes at his smug expression before returning to the subject at hand. “That okay with you?”

“We’re fine
in the trailer,” her mother murmured, but Audrey cut her off with a quick thanks to the men in suits.

“There’s more to discuss in the coming days, of course—”

“And that can wait for those coming days.” Oscar cut off the younger man, but before Karen could figure out where that had been heading, another young man, this one wearing scrubs and a matching hat and backwards gown, stepped into the waiting room and drifted his gaze toward her parents. Karen suddenly felt old, surrounded by professionals who looked a decade younger than her.

“Excuse me, are you the Miller family?” Her father stepped forward and nodded. “Follow me.” He held up his hand as they stepped as one large group toward the door. “Family only, I’m sorry.”

“My wife and daughters can all come?”

A quick nod and a swirl of blue fabric.
Karen was glad to follow him across the main corridor and through a restricted access doorway. The
more to discuss
could happen after they’d processed whatever they were about to be told. On their timetable. On Chase’s timetable. Not the team’s, or his agent’s, no matter how many hotel suites they booked.

He led them to a small, pleasantly appointed family meeting room. Once they were all inside, he gestured to the couch and chairs. “Please, have a seat. I’m Kevin, one of the OR nurses.
              The surgeons will be in to speak to you soon. I can tell you that the surgery went well, and as you know, Chad is in the recovery unit right now. Once you are done here, one of you can go and sit with him.”

Karen reached out and squeezed her mom’s hand. Grace Miller was vibrating with impatience.
Thankfully, they didn’t need to wait long. As promised, two more scrub-clad bodies soon whirled into the room and introduced themselves as two of the surgeons who had worked on Chase all afternoon.

The older doctor, tall and distinguished, introduced himself as the Chief of Orthopedic Surgery, and
explained about the plates and screws that were holding together Chase’s pelvis and one of his ankles, and how they repaired fractures in both legs. “He was lucky to avoid any damage to his internal organs. He doesn’t need to spend any time in the ICU, but we will be monitoring him closely over the next forty-eight hours. After that, if all goes well, we’ll start to discuss the next steps.”

He stood, shook hands with Grace and Hank, then excused himself after reassuring them that he’d stay in close contact with the public affairs department and the hockey team, so the family wouldn’t need to provide any medical details to the press.

After he left, the younger doctor explained she was a senior resident, the primary surgeon on Chase’s ankle repair, and offered to answer any further questions they had about the surgeries and what was in his near future. Hank had the most questions, but Dr. Razvi answered them clearly and in language they all understood. It wasn’t long before another knock on the door told them that Chase had moved from recovery to a private room in a step-down unit nearby.

A
fter the surgeon left the room, they all let out a collective sigh. It could be so much worse, but would Chase feel the same way? As if she had the same thought, Karen’s mother rose to leave, but Hank stood with her and pulled her into a fierce hug first. One of his hands squeezed the back of his wife’s neck, the other stroked the small of her back, and, mouth to her ear, he whispered something private that visibly eased Grace’s weariness. She nodded, and pulled away enough to stroke her husband’s brow before setting her face into implacable mom mode.