“Of course.” The words sounded strained, as if she was having trouble speaking.
He exhaled, worried now that she hadn’t taken the news well.
“It’s fine, Sam,” she assured him softly. “Really.”
He was going to miss seeing her. “When you being released?” he asked, in order to keep her on the line.
“I … I don’t know yet. Soon, I suppose.”
Maybe he’d just space out his visits moving forward. “I’ll stop by the rehab center sometime … maybe later in the week.”
“Sure, that would be great.”
They said their good-byes and Sam slipped his phone back into his pocket. He set his half-eaten sandwich aside and, deep in thought, he leaned forward. If Rocco was going to worry about anyone getting hurt in this relationship, or non-relationship, or whatever the hell was happening between him and Beth, his friend should be more concerned about him.
Sam got through the rest of the day and noticed his crew went out of their way to give him space. Apparently, they recognized his mood wasn’t the best. Filling out the last of his paperwork, Sam headed home and then decided what he needed was a beer at The Dog House. He hadn’t been by his favorite watering hole since Beth’s accident.
He found parking on the street and Al, the bartender, raised his hand when he saw Sam.
“Hey, where you been?”
“Around.” Sam slid onto a stool, not looking for conversation.
Al didn’t bother to ask him what he wanted to drink. Sam was a good enough customer that the bartender already knew. Within a couple minutes of his arrival, Sam had a mug in his hand. He looked up at the big-screen television above the bar and listened to the commentator analyzing the previous weekend’s preseason football games. Sam liked football about as much as he did beer, and normally what the pros had to say riveted his attention.
Not so this evening. Again and again, Sam’s thoughts went back to Beth in that care facility, listening to her iPod. Before he’d left, Beth had told him the title was ‘Courage’. He didn’t remember the composer’s name, but apparently it was one of those classical compositions she liked so well. Definitely not his thing. Though that was unfair, seeing that he had never heard it.
Cherise slid onto the stool next to him. “Sam, been missing you,” she said and slid her arm down his back. She hung around the tavern and liked to think he had feelings for her. Sam didn’t.
“You working too hard, baby?” she asked.
He ignored her. “Not in the mood,” he muttered, doing his best to ignore her.
“I can make it better, you know I can.”
Sam shook his head, and despite himself, he smiled. “Not this time.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” The contrast between her and Beth was night and day. Beth was clean and fresh like springtime. Cherise was the last dregs of winter, her beauty fading, her appeal melting. His stomach tightened. He’d been away from Beth for less than twenty-four hours and already he missed her. All morning he’d been looking forward to her smile.
Cherise slid off the stool and rested her chin on the curve of his shoulder. “You call me if you need me, okay?”
He nodded, but he wasn’t going to. He knew what he needed and that was to see Beth.
Cherise drifted over to the pool table and started up a conversation with another of the regulars.
The thought of Beth sitting in the convalescent center alone, putting on a brave front, twisted his gut. He didn’t know where this relationship was going, but he was determined to be careful. Nichole was right to be worried. Sam had to be sure he wasn’t leading Beth on when he had no intention of getting romantically involved with her. He had to make sure she didn’t get emotionally attached to him. If necessary, he’d talk to Nichole himself and reassure her.
His phone rang and he saw that it was Nichole. He didn’t answer. Having her jawing at him held little appeal. After a few rings it went to voicemail. She didn’t leave him a message and he was grateful.
A minute later, Nichole sent him a text. Call me ASAP.
Sam stared at the message for several seconds before he typed back. Problem?
With Beth.
Again he studied the message, growing more irritated by the moment.
What kind of problem?
Call from aunt. Complication—life threatening.
Sam wasn’t sure what Nichole was telling him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He punched the button that would connect him with his best friend’s wife. Nichole picked up on the second ring. Matthew was screaming in the background.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Is Beth okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam demanded. “What’s wrong?”
Matthew’s wailing was making it difficult for Sam to hear Nichole, let alone make sense of what she was saying.
“Sunshine reached out to me about Beth.”
“She’s been released to the care facility, hasn’t she?”
“No,” Nichole explained. “That’s just it.”
Her words came jerky, as if she was bouncing Matthew on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort him so she could talk.
“Sunshine got word a blood clot has developed in Beth’s lung.”
“What?” Sam was stunned and nearly speechless. “I spoke to her earlier this afternoon and she …” He hesitated. He remembered she hadn’t sounded like herself and he’d assumed it was disappointment. Twice he thought he might have heard her take deep breaths, but at the time he hadn’t given it a second thought.
“It’s a dangerous complication, Sam.”
Sam leaped to his feet. He slapped a few dollars down on the bar and started toward the door.
“I’m on my way.”
“I can’t leave. Matthew is running a fever again and Rocco’s at work. I didn’t know who to call.”
“You did the right thing. I’m on my way.”
“If you’d rather not go …” Nichole said sounding uncertain.
“What part of ‘I’m on my way’ don’t you understand?” he shouted.
Nichole sighed. “Thank you, Sam. Once you see her, will you contact Sunshine? She’s worried sick.”
“Will do,” he said and disconnected.
Sam probably broke every driving law in the books getting to Providence Hospital. Once he arrived he hit the door with both hands, slamming it so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t shatter. He raced toward the elevator and repeatedly stabbed the button. When it wasn’t fast enough to suit him, he headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the floor where Beth’s room was. By then his heart pounded like a locomotive and his breath came in pants. He needed to be sure Beth was all right, barely understanding why it felt as if his own life was in danger.
Chapter 9
Beth
“Sam.” Beth breathed his name, unable to hide her surprise. He’d said he wasn’t coming and now all of a sudden he was here. He looked as if he’d run the entire way, his shoulders heaving with exertion.
Closing her eyes, Beth wanted to hide beneath the sheets. She looked and felt dreadful. When he’d phoned earlier to tell her he wouldn’t be by as planned, she was almost relieved. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. He must have sensed it, too, because he made a point of asking her if she was okay. It was later after the call that everything had taken a turn for the worse.
“What happened?” he asked, coming close to the bed. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly in his own, pressing it against his chest. She could feel his racing heart and tried to reassure him with a soft smile.
The oxygen tube in her nose was uncomfortable, but it helped to ease her breathing, which had become painful and difficult. “I have a pulmonary embolism,” she said, and because she didn’t know what that was when it was first mentioned, she added, “That’s a blood clot in my lung. Apparently, it isn’t uncommon when someone has a hip fracture.”
“This pulmonary thing is dangerous?”
“So they say.” Actually, she’d looked it up on Safari on her phone and learned more than she cared to know. She was being treated now and closely monitored, but this complication was likely to add four additional days to her hospital stay.