“Love you, baby. I’ll be there in five.” She hung up on him.
Cam snorted. “Yeah, Momma, I love you too. Sarah, come on, honey. I need you to go to the house.”
Sarah popped out of the barn, parasol in her hands almost held like a sword. “What’s going on?”
“Your daddy’s having a little trouble with the doctor. They don’t want him to drive home by himself. I’m gonna go. My mom’s coming to watch you guys.”
“Your momma’s real nice.” Her lip quivered, the bottom one because it stuck out a little bit, so he noticed, but she didn’t break.
“She is, and she’s kind of bringing all sorts of stuff for you guys to do. I heard her gathering things and putting them in a bag.” His mom was the one who was good with kids. He didn’t know what the hell to do with them, and he sure as heck couldn’t take these kids to the hospital with him.
The hand not holding the parasol slipped into his, and it felt so tiny compared to his hand. So delicate. As if she might just… He didn’t know. She wasn’t going to break. She was a strong girl, but he felt terrible for her.
“Daddy’s gonna be okay, isn’t he?”
“Sure is. I’ve seen people recover from way worse than what your daddy’s got. He just needs to have some patience and let himself rest. We’re going to help him with that, right?”
She squeezed his hand as hard as her fingers could. “We are. I trust you, Cam.”
Jesus fucking Christ on a purple sparkly pogo stick. How was he supposed to feel about that?
How could he feel about that?
He had no idea, but he smiled at her and got her into the house and felt like the Grinch with Cindy Lou Who. But that was okay; she didn’t know that.
Because really, he was fixin’ to go make her daddy mad as a wet hen…
Still, Cam was hellacious relieved when the crunch of gravel announced his mom pulling in.
Mom had two big tote bags filled with God knew what, and she came right up to him. “Hey, baby. You okay?”
“Yep. I need to go see Mitch, but I’m fine.” He cut his eyes to the kids. “I’ll call you soon.”
“I’ll hang out until you’re back.” She smiled and waved him off.
“Thanks.” He grabbed his keys and headed out to the truck, glad to be out from under the weight of those three solemn stares. The back of his neck felt itchy, and he hated being out of his depth.
Lord.
He got to the ER, because he knew Mitch still had to be there since he wasn’t wanting to be admitted… Or at least he hoped he’d find Mitch there.
Mitch was there, perched on the edge of a chair, cheeks flushed a dull, dark red, near-black eyes shooting daggers. Poor guy looked about mad enough to eat the devil, horns and all.
“There you are. I want to go; let’s go.”
“We’re not going.” Not yet. “You said you needed surgery. If you need to get that vertebrae fixed, you’ll have to let someone in there.”
“I can’t afford surgery!” That blush just got darker, angrier. “Not only that, but I have girls to take care of. The damn thing’s just gonna have to heal on its own.”
“Getting surgery will help that. That’s how it works.” Cam hated it, but sometimes it was true.
Pure panic was written on Mitch’s face. “Look, man, just get me home. Please, it’s all I’m asking. I appreciate your help. I really do. But?—”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. “Can I at least talk to the surgeon?”
“What? No.”
“Come on. Let me talk to the surgeon for a minute, then I won’t have guilt about dropping you off. I mean, that way if you just die while you’re sitting there with the girls, I’ll know that I did everything in my power.”
