The storm swelling inside of me quiets. I can thunder and brood later. Right now, I need to be soft for her. I lean over and plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. Salty beads of sweat coat my lips with the contact despite the chill in the air. “Fine. But expect a firm scolding later when you’re feeling better.”
“Do firm scoldings include spankings?”
Lying next to her, I shake my head and take her hand, feeling the warmth spread from our intertwined fingers to my chest. “One day. I broke you in one freaking day.”
“To be fair, it was a perfect day.”
“Yeah, it was,” I sigh. “But I’d like more than just one with you, Dessy. The paramedics are going to be here soon, okay? Just let me know if you need something before then.”
I focus on my breathing and the sound of Aulie’s, letting it lull me into a sense of calm. Each rise and fall is a reassurance that she’s here still, with me. I trace her almost peaceful profile. The pinched corners of her mouth are the only visible sign that she’s in pain.
If I didn’t know her face like I do, all the soft curves and the usual upward tilt of her lips, she’d have me fooled.
I hate she didn’t tell me she wasn’t feeling well, but I hate even more that I missed all her subtle signs. I learned not to trust everything Aulie presented to the world a long time ago, but I thought we were past that. I thought we were being honest with each other.
Another tiny cry of pain passes over her lips—the sound serves as a dagger to my heart.
What other darkness is she hiding from me?
* * *
“I don’t understandwhy you can’t tell me anything. Seriously, you saw me come in with her,” I say, rubbing my temple with my forefingers. A tension headache is brewing, along with the storm inside. I’ve never been a patient man, and after the past two hours, I’m running on fumes. I’m going to break soon.
They brought Aulie to the hospital half an hour ago, and no one has given me an update or allowed me to see her.
The nurse behind the counter purses her lips but doesn’t glance in my direction. She hasn’t met my eyes since she refused to provide me with anything the first time. “And I told you, honey, it doesn’t matter that I saw you with her. I can’t release information to a non-family member.”
Screw it. I’m not proud, but sometimes being Jack Parker—a star hockey player—comes with its perks, and I’m hoping now is one of those times.
I lean my elbows on the counter, flashing her my broadest grin. “But, Doris, I’m her fiancé. That has to count for something, right?
Gus is on his way, but he was in a meeting two hours south and won’t be here for another hour.
There’s no way my nerves can wait that long.
Doris glances up from her clipboard. “I know who you are, sweetheart, and I haven’t heard of any engagement.”
“My fiancée is very private, so she wanted to keep it quiet.”
“Mmhmm, and that actress this summer?”
A muscle in my jaw jumps. Dammit, I didn’t have Doris pegged to be such a busybody, considering she’s giving me absolutely nothing. “She was a cover for the press.”
“I don’t see a ring on that girl’s finger.”
No, but there will be one day if I ever get my shit together.
“Aulie doesn’t wear her ring when she goes skating,” a soft female voice says from behind. I let out a sigh of relief, and my shoulders drop from their raised position under my ears. Emy. “She scratched him once while she was falling and could never live with herself for harming the love of her life. But here, she sent me a picture of the ring. He did good, huh?” She flashes the nurse a picture of Aulie’s grandmother’s ring that Gus and I refinished for her birthday. The pit in my stomach grows. Since we’ve been barricaded in her room, Gus hasn’t had a chance to give it to her yet.
“You should have seen her when she got the ring,” Emy keeps going. “He lit the gazebo with fairy lights and did it at sunset along King’s Pond, and boy, did she bawl—her brother and I couldn’t be happier for—”
“Is her brother here?” Doris interrupts Emy’s convincing tale.
“He’s on his way.”
Sighing, the nurse regards me skeptically, but eventually, she nods. “I have some questions that need to be answered.”
She pushes a clipboard into my hands, and I swallow, reading over the sheet. Address and phone number I can handle, but I know nothing about Aulie’s family or personal medical history.
