“You know what,Ellie?” She used the fake name on purpose, pissed off and not caring how much it showed. She would get out of the car right now except that would only delay her getting to the hospital. “Give me the Davis Reeds of the world any day. At least he was honest about what he wanted from me. With you? I don’t have a flipping clue. And I’ve gotta tell you I have no use for people who lie to me.”
Clayton waited.
The industrial clock on the wall sounded in need of repair as it ticked off the seconds with slow, sustained clicks.Or maybe Clayton simply felt time dragging, each tick a reminder of all he’d left unfinished with his father. His half sister.
And Gabriella.
Holding his head in his hands, he propped his elbows on sprawled knees where he sat on a crappy vinyl padded bench against the wall covered in pencil sketches of Tennessee wildflowers. He’d already cataloged all of them, as well as the benign seascapes on the wall opposite in his dove-gray painted hell outside the CT scan rooms.
The quiet was worse than the noise of the ER when they’d first rushed inside the Franklin medical facility, where Pete’s records alerted the staff to the seriousness of his case, and he’d been admitted right away.
In theory, Clay knew how bad off the old man was. But seeing him struggle to breathe—knowing that those eyes might not open again—had been a one-two punch to his conscience. He should have come sooner. Should have checked in on the guy if only to make sure his affairs were in order. He didn’t have a responsibility because Pete was such a great guy. He had a responsibility because he liked to thinkhe—Clay—was a halfway decent person.
Now, after delaying the trip and delaying the visit both, he might very well have missed the chance to clear some things up with his father. Although Pete had stopped seizing by the time the ambulance reached the hospital, his blood pressure was dangerously low. Clay overheard the admitting doctors talk about “neurological complications of end-stage cirrhosis,” but when he’d tried to quiz a passing nurse about it, the man had insisted Clay wait for the doctor’s prognosis.
In the meantime, Clay did searches online with his phone, and all of the news was damn dire.
Straightening on the bench, he debated grabbing a coffee when the doors to the CT waiting room flung open, admitting a dark-haired young woman followed by Gabriella.
Gabby’s gaze went to his immediately and he knew right away her conversation with his half sister must not have gone well. Pale and rain-streaked, both women were visibly upset
“I want to see my father.” The brunette—it could only be Mia—rushed to the laminate counter where an attendant worked at her computer behind a bouquet of silk sunflowers.
Already on his feet, Clay strode over to Gabriella. The urge to fold her in his arms was strong, but something about her posture told him this wasn’t the time.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, unable to keep his hands off her. He settled for rubbing his palm along the back of her too-tense shoulders.
And damn, he really needed to hold her for his own sake if not for hers. Today had damn near sucked the life out of him.
Gabriella’s stiff nod said plenty about her day. “Fine. How’s your father?”
“Stable enough for a CT scan, but he hasn’t regained consciousness as far as I know.” As he filled her in briefly, he could hear Mia’s demands to see her father grow louder.
“Maybe you should try talking to her,” Gabby urged, her eyes still on the teen. “She asked me how I knew about Pete on the way over here—wanting to know why I’d been contacted and not her. I had to tell her about you. She didn’t speak to me for the last fifteen miles of the trip, accusing me of lying to her.”
No wonder Gabriella looked so upset.
His gut sank. This was his fault. He should have introduced himself to the girl sooner. Reached out to her. He’d buried his head in the sand for too long where his father’s life was concerned, and the innocent teen at the nurses’ station was the one paying the price.
Reluctantly he let go of Gabriella and moved closer to his half sister, knowing how much she had to be hurting. And scared.
And feeling betrayed.
“Mia?” He gave her plenty of space. He had experience dealing with teens on the edge from his own days in the foster system and, since then, in his work as a private investigator.
Damned ironic that he specialized in reuniting families when he’d turned his back on his own.
“Are you my father’s doctor?” the teen demanded, swinging around to face him. Dark eye makeup had streaked down both cheeks, her damp hair clinging to her neck.
She didn’t resemble their father, but Clay could see hints of his grandmother in her—the dark hair and eyes. He wondered if she’d ever seen photos of the woman.
“No. I’m?—”
“Then I don’t want to hear it.” Mia turned back to the nurse in purple scrubs. “I need to see my father before he dies, okay? I’m his daughter and he’ll want to see me. He needs me.”
Clay weighed his options, understanding her urgency. Their conversation could wait until she got some peace of mind about their father.
The attendant’s gray eyes traveled from him to Mia and back again. “If it’s okay with the rest of your family, I can take you in for a minute.”
