She nodded. “I know.”
They sat side by side for a moment, then Maeve plucked up all her courage and reached across and took hold of his hand. Threaded her fingers through his, palms touching, skin against skin.
She saw him glance at her and then look down at their entwined fingers. For a second, she feared he would pull away, that it was the wrong move; too close, too intimate. Then she felt him grip tighter, holding on like it meant everything.
Time ticked by. She sat beside him for as long as her break would allow. His brothers kept getting up, Logan pacing, Noah going outside for fresh air. Martha sat with her hands clasped, resting her forehead against them.
Suddenly, the door flew open and their little sister, Willow, rushed in. A cloud of wild chestnut curls, wearing leggings, cropped T-shirt, and an oversize green cardigan, she’d obviously been crying, her face was all red, eyes puffy. “Is he alive?”
Logan stalked over to greet her. “He’s in surgery, Willow.”
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Logan wrapped his arms protectively around her.
“I came as soon as I heard.” Willow gasped for breath as she spoke, moving away from Logan when she saw her mom, going over to sit by her side, hold her close. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m okay. I knew he was working too hard. I knew I should have made him slow down. I knew something wasn’t right.”
“Mom,” Willow said, “no one can tell Dad what to do.”
That made Martha laugh sadly. “I know, I know. Why does he have to be so stubborn?” She wiped a tear away.
“Maybe he’ll slow down after this,” Willow comforted.
Martha patted her hand. “Maybe.” But they all seemed to know how precariousafter thiswas.
Brodie covered his eyes with his hand.
Maeve gave his other hand a squeeze. He glanced her way and smiled. “Thanks for being here.”
“It’s kinda my job,” she joked.
He smiled again. “You know what I mean.”
She nodded, looking into those beautiful, sad eyes and felt like she was one step on the dangerous tightrope between them, desperately hoping she wasn’t about to fall.
ChapterForty-Six
Emmett came out of surgery. It was all still pretty touch-and-go. Maeve knew well enough how precarious the situation was and didn’t dare offer any false hope. She popped in to check on him in the ICU at one point. Looking at him lying there, eyes closed, machines bleeping, the oxygen mask obscuring his face, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, it was hard to see the great Emmett Carter looking so gray and helpless.
She stood at the end of the bed, hands on the bed frame, and said quietly, “You can do it, Emmett.” She swallowed, felt a lump in her throat, thought of him teaching Zoey to throw a rope. “You got a granddaughter to get to know,” she added with a sigh, fingers crossed that he could hear, because a lot was down to hope now—and Emmett’s will to fight on.
Then Martha and Logan came in and Maeve made herself scarce.
She stuck her head around the door again later when she was walking by, but stopped up short when she saw Brodie in there. He was sitting in a hospital chair, his back to the door, holding his dad’s hand. His head slightly bent.
Maeve watched, knowing that she should make her presence known, but then he started to speak.
“Come on, Dad,” he said, “You can do it. You’re too stubborn to die.” He laughed then wiped his eyes.
She leaned her head against the doorframe.
He sat back and folded his arms, seemed to be watching the rise and fall of Emmett’s chest. The room was quiet. Maeve was about to leave them to it but then Brodie said, “I know what you meant now about growing up, taking responsibility. I understand.” He shifted so he was leaning closer to where his dad lay. “I know who I am—or maybe not quite who I am, but who I could be, would like to be. I’m getting there,” he said, laughing a little at himself and his own jumbled explanation. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this now. I suppose it’s because, while I want you to get better—one hundred percent, believe me—I want you to know, just in case you can’t hold on, just in case… I want you to know that it’s all in safe hands. We’ve got it. We’ll look after everything—the ranch, Mom, each other.” He clutched his dad’s hand in both of his. “I’ll look after Zoey. I’ll be her dad. As good as I can be. I promise. I won’t mess it up. You can trust me,” he said. “I promise you. I’ve got it. You don’t have to worry.”
Maeve stood in the doorway, watching Brodie’s broad back, his hands wrapped around his dad’s, too stunned by what he’d said to move away quick enough. As if sensing he was being watched, Brodie turned and their eyes met, silently, wordlessly. She felt everything he had said in that gaze. Without looking away he nodded, as if confirming it to her.
She nodded back. Then stepped away, both ashamed she’d been caught listening and entranced by what she’d heard.
ChapterForty-Seven
