his thoughts.
“Fiancée. They won’t bother you then.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“My pleasure. The pictures you took at the ribbon cutting for the new pediatric ER were great. My supervisor loved them.”
Rubber soles squeaked, the door
whooshed
and the scrape of wood on the linoleum floor told Cade the nurse had left and Ivy had pulled up a chair next to his bed. Her hand rested lightly on his arm just above his IV, and the sunny, springy scent he’d come to associate with her mixed with the pungent, antiseptic smells of the hospital.
He cracked open one eye slowly, hesitantly, afraid to find out he might still be dreaming.
“Hey.”
Nope. Not a dream.
The hand on his arm trembled along with her voice. “You’re awake.”
He opened both eyes, blinking against the glare of the hospital’s harsh fluorescent lights. “You’re here.”
“Is that...okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.” He gave her a weak smile that he hoped she read as reassuring and not
scary clown
. “It’s better than okay.”
“I heard some of the guys from the station came by.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and struggled to sit up. “My parents...”
“I spoke to them.” She cut him off. “They’re in Edmonton. You dad’s giving the keynote at a botany conference and your mom’s working on a paper she’s coauthoring with a professor at King’s University College. They wanted to know if they should cut their trip short and fly down.”
“God, no.” His stomach rolled at the thought. He’d never hear the end of it if his little accident interrupted their precious careers.
“That’s what I told them, after I reassured them your condition wasn’t life threatening.”
“Thanks.”
“They’re idiots.” She squeezed his hand.
“I know.” He squeezed back. She got him. She really got him. Anyone else would spout some crap about how his parents loved him in their own way. Not Ivy. She knew better. And so did he. He was barely a blip on their radar, an afterthought in their busy lives. On the rare occasions when they did remember his existence, it was to rehash what an embarrassment he was to them. His lack of ambition. His blue-collar job. His parade of women.
He half closed his eyes and let his head fall back. It was starting to pound again, no doubt thanks to his parents and the lighting.
Ivy released his hand and stood. “You’re tired. I should go.”
“Stay.” He reached out to her, eyes fully open now. “Please.”
She shuffled her feet and tugged on the hem of her shirt. “What will people say?”
“What people?”
“It’s a small town. People talk.”
“So don’t listen.” He ignored the pounding in his head and stared at her, his eyes starting to water but his gaze unmoving.
She hesitated for a second before reclaiming her seat and his hand. “Okay. Until you’re asleep.”
He closed his eyes and let out his breath on a long, slow, pain-infused sigh. “Good enough.”
For now.
10
W HEN C ADE WOKE up the next morning, Ivy was still there, sprawled in the chair, head back, mouth open, snoring adorably.
The corners of Cade’s mouth curled into a smile. Who knew snoring could be cute?
“I see one of you is awake.” A nurse, this one in lime green, came in with a tray of brown-and-gray institutional food. She wheeled a table over the bed, set the tray on it and pressed a button on the bed rail to raise the head until he was almost in a sitting position. “Eat up. You’re being released. The doctor will be by in a few minutes with your discharge papers.”
“Great.” Six weeks of daytime talk shows and bad reality TV. Maybe he could convince Cappy to let him come in a couple of hours a day and do paperwork or something.
Ivy sat up and yawned, revealing a strip of creamy white skin between her waistband and the bottom of her shirt. “I’ll make sure he follows doctor’s orders and takes it easy.”
What was she, a mind reader?
He reached down to adjust the blanket. His
“Fiancée. They won’t bother you then.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“My pleasure. The pictures you took at the ribbon cutting for the new pediatric ER were great. My supervisor loved them.”
Rubber soles squeaked, the door
whooshed
and the scrape of wood on the linoleum floor told Cade the nurse had left and Ivy had pulled up a chair next to his bed. Her hand rested lightly on his arm just above his IV, and the sunny, springy scent he’d come to associate with her mixed with the pungent, antiseptic smells of the hospital.
He cracked open one eye slowly, hesitantly, afraid to find out he might still be dreaming.
“Hey.”
Nope. Not a dream.
The hand on his arm trembled along with her voice. “You’re awake.”
He opened both eyes, blinking against the glare of the hospital’s harsh fluorescent lights. “You’re here.”
“Is that...okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.” He gave her a weak smile that he hoped she read as reassuring and not
scary clown
. “It’s better than okay.”
“I heard some of the guys from the station came by.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and struggled to sit up. “My parents...”
“I spoke to them.” She cut him off. “They’re in Edmonton. You dad’s giving the keynote at a botany conference and your mom’s working on a paper she’s coauthoring with a professor at King’s University College. They wanted to know if they should cut their trip short and fly down.”
“God, no.” His stomach rolled at the thought. He’d never hear the end of it if his little accident interrupted their precious careers.
“That’s what I told them, after I reassured them your condition wasn’t life threatening.”
“Thanks.”
“They’re idiots.” She squeezed his hand.
“I know.” He squeezed back. She got him. She really got him. Anyone else would spout some crap about how his parents loved him in their own way. Not Ivy. She knew better. And so did he. He was barely a blip on their radar, an afterthought in their busy lives. On the rare occasions when they did remember his existence, it was to rehash what an embarrassment he was to them. His lack of ambition. His blue-collar job. His parade of women.
He half closed his eyes and let his head fall back. It was starting to pound again, no doubt thanks to his parents and the lighting.
Ivy released his hand and stood. “You’re tired. I should go.”
“Stay.” He reached out to her, eyes fully open now. “Please.”
She shuffled her feet and tugged on the hem of her shirt. “What will people say?”
“What people?”
“It’s a small town. People talk.”
“So don’t listen.” He ignored the pounding in his head and stared at her, his eyes starting to water but his gaze unmoving.
She hesitated for a second before reclaiming her seat and his hand. “Okay. Until you’re asleep.”
He closed his eyes and let out his breath on a long, slow, pain-infused sigh. “Good enough.”
For now.
10
W HEN C ADE WOKE up the next morning, Ivy was still there, sprawled in the chair, head back, mouth open, snoring adorably.
The corners of Cade’s mouth curled into a smile. Who knew snoring could be cute?
“I see one of you is awake.” A nurse, this one in lime green, came in with a tray of brown-and-gray institutional food. She wheeled a table over the bed, set the tray on it and pressed a button on the bed rail to raise the head until he was almost in a sitting position. “Eat up. You’re being released. The doctor will be by in a few minutes with your discharge papers.”
“Great.” Six weeks of daytime talk shows and bad reality TV. Maybe he could convince Cappy to let him come in a couple of hours a day and do paperwork or something.
Ivy sat up and yawned, revealing a strip of creamy white skin between her waistband and the bottom of her shirt. “I’ll make sure he follows doctor’s orders and takes it easy.”
What was she, a mind reader?
He reached down to adjust the blanket. His
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