“Three hours. Deep breaths, honey. We’re coming. We’ll take care of everything.”
“Oh, God.” She lets out a choked sob, and I want nothing more than to be able to teleport myself there, to be there for them.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Thanks, Ry.”
She hangs up, and I immediately make some calls, arranging for the team private jet to take me home, and then I turn to the guys.
They’re already watching me with somber faces.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” Mac says. “Go home, Cap. We can postpone Bora-Bora.”
“No, you guys go and have fun. You’ve earned it.”
“Keep us posted, yeah?” Spencer says, and I nod as I swallow hard.
Fuck.I need to get home.
“Thanks, guys.”
I hate hospitals. I’ve spent my fair share in them after particularly rough injuries on the ice, but mostly I despise them because it was a place like this where I said goodbye to my mom after the last asshole she was with beat her so severely, it killed her.
I always think of her when I have to be in a hospital. I know she would hate that, but I can’t help it.
I held her hand in places like this more times than I could count, and one day, she didn’t get to go home with me.
“Ry!”
I look up to find Willow rushing down the hallway, her pretty face ravaged from tears, and then she’s hugging me, holding on tight as I stare over her shoulder at Gideon, who walks toward us, his face grim. We’re both in suits. We look like we’re late for a wedding.
“Am I too late?”God, is that my voice?
“No,” Gideon says, and when Willow eases back, he pulls me in for a hug. “But you need to get in there.”
“You two go together,” Willow says.
I slip my hand in hers and link our fingers, our palms pressed together. “You come with us.”
She nods and holds on to me tight. Willow has been my best friend since I was fifteen. Since she managed to make Gideon and me brothers rather than enemies. We’re the Three Amigos.
These two are my best friends. The people I can count on, ride or die, no matter what.
Having Gideon next to me and Willow’s hand in mine is the only thing keeping me from losing my shit right now.
We walk into a dim room, where Ray, the only father I’ve ever known, is lying on the bed. He’s hooked up to monitors, and he’s sleeping. He’s lost all his color. I’ve never seen him so gray.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice a ragged whisper.
Christ. That’s my dad.
“Stroke,” Gideon says. “We’ll go over it all later. It doesn’t matter now.”
No, I suppose it doesn’t.
I cross to him and sit in the chair beside the bed, then take his hand in mine and bring the back of it to my lips. Since that day that we stepped foot on the Triple Creek Ranch all those years ago, this man has been bigger than life itself. Strong. Tall. Proud.
