THEY’D INTENDED TO STOP by her apartment just long enough for Kate to change clothes. But the second the door was shut, Kate turned to him and closed the distance between them. And once Kate was in his arms, Sam found he could no more stop himself from making her his than he could the first time they’d been together. Reeling from the wonder of it all, he matched her kiss for kiss and drank in the sweetness that was Kate. She moaned, soft and low in her throat, the softness of her breasts pressing against his chest, the scent of her perfume and the softness of her skin inundating his senses.
They made their way to the bedroom, kissing hotly all the while, and stretched out on the bed. Sam didn’t know quite how it had happened, but she had become so much a part of his world it was impossible to not imagine her in it. “It’s been hard as hell staying away from you the past few days,” he told her, wondering how it was possible for one woman to bring so much serenity to his life. But she did. She gave him hope that everything would be okay again, that he could be—and was—happy again.
And then she was on top of him, straddling him, pulling off his shirt, while he tugged off her jacket and unzipped her dress. They kissed and undressed, caressed and kissed, savoring every moment of pleasure. When they were finally naked they came together once again. He wanted to remember her just this way, with her honey-blond hair all mussed, everything she felt for him on her face, for him to see. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Kate whispered as he shifted her so she was beneath him. He didn’t know what it was about her, he just knew he never wanted to let her go. “Maybe we can make up for it now?” she whispered, kissing him again.
And she did. Arching beneath him. Sighing softly. Whimpering. Every touch, every kiss, every caress elicited a soft sigh, a quiver. By the time he found her, she had surrendered to his will completely. It wasn’t long before her body had yielded, too, shuddering uncontrollably.
“Now?” Sam asked, aware he couldn’t wait to be buried deep inside her.
“Now,” Kate whispered, letting him know she was lost in the pleasure, the wonder, of being together again, too. He lifted her hips and then they were one. Completely. Irrevocably. Climbing higher, faster, harder. Sweeter, slower, until the world fell away, and it was only the two of them.
SAM LEFT—reluctantly—at one, and Kate fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. She felt rested and refreshed when her alarm went off at six. She didn’t know what her future held, but she knew Sam would be in it. And for now, that was enough.
Joyce was already out in the hall when Kate arrived at the hospital. Noting her mom looked happier and more relaxed than she had since the ordeal had begun, Kate walked up to her. “How’s Dad this morning?”
Joyce shook her head in obvious exasperation. “Chomping at the bit. Not surprisingly, he wants out of this hospital. They’re getting him up to walk a bit for the first time now.”
Kate handed Joyce the sack of pastries and coffee she had brought from Isabelle Buchanon’s bakery. “I’m sure he’s liking that.”
Joyce smiled as they went to sit in the waiting room at the end of the hall. “You’re right about that. He wanted to do this yesterday. But they wouldn’t let him. They said he wasn’t strong enough yet.”
Without warning, there was a crash from down the hall, followed by yelling and people running. Kate had worked in a hospital long enough to recognize a code blue situation when she heard one. What she wasn’t prepared for was the sight of the code blue team running into her own father’s hospital room.
As they realized it was Mike’s life the staff was trying to save, Kate’s heart lurched and Joyce stumbled to her feet in a panic. The cup of coffee she was holding in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud and splattered everywhere as the lid flew off. The next instant they were both racing down the hall in the direction of Mike’s room. Mike was on the floor, not breathing or moving, his skin an awful bluish gray. Half a dozen doctors and nurses were bent over him, working hard to revive him. Joyce’s face crumpled and she let out a low keening wail as two more staff rushed in to assist.
Kate stared at all the activity around her father’s motionless body as she gripped her mother tightly. “He’s going to be okay, Mom,” she said firmly as the team transferred Mike to the bed and began to intubate him once again. Mike had to be. He was strong. He was vital. He would overcome whatever this setback was, Kate told herself firmly as they frantically worked to “shock” Mike’s heart back to life.
Joyce began to sob. “Oh, God. No…no…” she moaned as the first effort failed.
Her heart thudding heavily in her chest, Kate held her mom all the tighter, aware if ever her parents had needed her to be strong and in control it was now. “Dad’s going to be okay,” Kate repeated, moving her mother away from the door and all the frantic activity inside her father’s hospital room.
He was going to be all right. He had to be.
SAM HAD JUST STEPPED OUT of the shower when the phone rang. Whistling, he went to get it. “Oh, God. Sam,” Kate said, obviously crying on the other end.
Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. He strained but couldn’t understand a single word she said. “Where are you?” he asked, every protective instinct he had coming to the fore.
“The hospital.”
Knowing Kate wouldn’t have called unless she had wanted him with her, Sam said, “I’ll be right there.”
Two minutes later he was dressed and on his way out the door. Ten minutes later, he was headed up to the room where Mike had been the night before. The door to the room was shut. Joyce was seated in a chair in one of the family-doctor conference rooms opposite the reception area. John and Lilah McCabe were hovering over her. Their backs to him, they hadn’t seen him come in. Instead of being with her mother, Kate was standing alone in the reception area, at a bank of windows overlooking the hospital parking lot. She had her arms folded tightly in front of her, a tissue crumpled in one hand. Sam could see she was still crying. Hoping this wasn’t as bad as it looked, Sam crossed to Kate’s side. “Kate?” he said softly, touching her shoulder.
Kate turned and looked at him. “Oh, Sam,” she said, and burst into tears.
Instinctively he put his arms around her and cradled her close. “What happened?” he asked. He had called the hospital upon rising that morning to get an update on Mike’s condition, and he had been doing fine, after a good night.
Tears flooded her eyes. She looked up at him, her expression disbelieving, her fingers clasping the front of his shirt. “He was fine when I got here.”
“And then…?” Sam asked, remembering without wanting to how quickly and unexpectedly Ellie had gone downhill at the end. Even though they’d known for months her condition was terminal, her death had caught them all unawares, left them reeling and in shock, left them looking the way Kate was looking now. Mike hadn’t been terminal. Mike had been recovering.
Kate shook her head. New tears flooded her eyes and without warning she began to sob, harsh, racking sounds that seemed to come from her very soul as she laid her head against his chest. Her grief was so intense and devastating, he knew what the outcome had been even before she told him. “It happened when they got him up to walk…”
SAM HAD THE DIFFICULT task of rounding up all five of his boys, taking them into the family room, sitting them all down on the sofas, and telling them what had happened to Kate’s father. Will stared at Sam as he shot to his feet. “This is some sort of sick joke, right?”
Sam understood their shock. He still could hardly believe it himself. His four younger sons would and did feel for Kate, but they hadn’t really known her father. Will had. And despite all the friction that had gone on between Will and Mike Marten, Will was taking it hard. Sam stood and moved toward Will, his arm outstretched. Putting his arm around Will’s shoulders, Sam repeated as calmly as possible, “Coach Marten died this morning.”
Will backed away from Sam, angry and upset. “He was supposed to be all right! Gus told us at practice yesterday Coach Marten’s surgery went great!”
“It did, but…” Sam paused, not sure how to explain a fate no one had anticipated. He looked at the stricken expressions on his sons’ faces. They’d all thought, for the time being, anyway, that death was behind them. “There were complications,” Sam said finally, feeling himself begin to choke up, too. The autopsy might tell them more, but right now all the doctors knew for certain was that Mike Marten’s heart had abruptly begun beating very fast and then given out entirely. The medical team had done all that they could to revive him, but nothing could bring Mike back. He was gone, and his wife and daughter, and indeed the entire community, were devastated by the loss.
Lewis rubbed at his face with the back of his hand and looked at Sam anxiously. “Kate must be really upset.”
Yes, Sam thought, she had been.
“Did you talk to her?” Brad asked, concern on his face.
Again, Sam nodded. “She called me this morning, after it happened, and I went over to the hospital to see her.”
“Is she there by herself?” Riley asked, concerned.
Sam pushed away the mental image of Kate’s devastated face. “She’s with her mother and family friends.” It had been hard as hell leaving her, but she had insisted he go and tell the boys what had happened while she and Joyce began to deal with the formalities of Mike’s death.
Kevin wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist. “Are we going to go to the funeral?”
Sam hugged his youngest close, able to guess what he was recalling. “You don’t have to go to this one,” Sam promised quietly, smoothing Kevin’s hair away from his face.
But as it turned out, Kevin wanted to go. He wanted to be with the rest of the family and to see Kate. So Sam let him. He knew it would help his family to be together at a time like this, and also probably help Kate to see them all there, supporting her, the only way they knew how.
KATE SAW THEM COME IN. Lewis first, looking hesitant but determined. Brad and Riley next. They caught her glance, gave her sad looks and encouraging nods, and then, heads bent respectfully, followed Lewis into the pew. Will was next. Even in the midst of his family, he somehow seemed to be apart from them. Emotionally. Mentally. And the look on his face worried Kate. As usual, Will was holding far too much in. Sam followed, holding Kevin by the hand, his face tense, stricken with sadness.
Their eyes locked. And Sam’s strength seemed to reach out to her from across the room. His understanding was all the fortification she needed. With a sigh, she turned back to the front of the church. Kate thought about how ironic it was that one of her dad’s last acts had been to encourage, in his own blustery way, her relationship with Sam. You knew I loved him, didn’t you, Dad? Kate thought as her mother reached over and squeezed her hand. But that didn’t stop you from worrying.
And that worry was a stress Mike hadn’t needed.
“WHERE’S WILL?” Sam asked hours later when he went into the family room to check on the boys. Although they had all done their best to hide it, they were all pretty upset. He knew how they felt. It had been hard, seeing Kate and her mom suffering that way.
Lewis looked up from the movie they were watching. “He went upstairs a few minutes ago. He said he was going to bed.”
Sam glanced at his watch. “At eight-thirty?”
Brad and Riley shrugged. They had no idea what was on Will’s mind. They did know enough to not bother Will when he was in one of his darker moods. “Can we go out for a while?” Riley asked, already getting restlessly to his feet.
“Yeah. Some of the kids were gonna meet down at the pizza place tonight and talk about what happened and stuff,” Brad said.
Sam figured it would help them to get out of the house for a while and be with their friends. “Just be home by curfew.”
They nodded and took off. As soon as they left, Lewis looked at Sam and said, “I think Will was kind of bummed out about everything that happened today.”
Kevin tugged on Sam’s shirtsleeve and looked up at him. “He looked like he was gonna cry. Only he didn’t.”
Sam nodded. Maybe Will just needed some time alone. It was understandable. He’d give him some time to vent his emotions in private and then go up and check on him later. Kevin tugged on Sam’s sleeve again. “I want you to come upstairs and stay with me till I go to sleep,” he said.
“I can do it,” Lewis volunteered quickly.
Sam knew he could. So did Kevin. That wasn’t the point. Sam turned to Lewis. “You’ve been pinch-hitting for me quite a lot lately, haven’t you?” he said quietly.
Lewis shrugged and looked at the floor shyly. “I know how it feels to be one of the youngest.”
Judging from the expression on his face, that meant under-valued and overlooked. And it was time that changed, too, Sam thought. He clasped Lewis’s shoulder in a one-armed hug. “I appreciate the offer as well as everything you’ve done for me lately. But I’ve got it covered tonight, okay.”
Lewis nodded, pleased his effort had been recognized, relieved not to be responsible for Kevin. “Okay. I’m going to go play on my computer and then go to bed.”
“Good deal,” Sam said, turning off the TV.
“Can you read me a book?” Kevin asked as he and Sam headed for the stairs, after Lewis.
“Sure,” Sam said, wondering how long it had been since he had done that for Kev—if he’d ever done that for Kev. He’d done it for Will, maybe even Brad. After that, it was always Ellie who had read for the kids.
Three chapters of the Winnie The Pooh book later, Kevin was asleep. Sam looked in on Lewis and found him sacked out, too. He climbed the stairs to the third floor, and knocked on Will’s door. There was no answer. Eventually he opened the door and went in. The room was dark. Sam made his way over to the lumpy figure in the center of the bed. The bedcovers were pulled up all the way over the pillows. Odd. Will never slept with the blanket over his head. But he had tonight, and when Sam pulled the bedcovers back, he understood why.
Will wasn’t in his bed. Probably never had been.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. He’d thought Will had learned his lesson. He certainly wouldn’t have figured Will would pick tonight to pull anything. Unless this was more than just a ruse to stay out all night without permission. Unless Will was running away. Swearing, Sam turned on the light and headed straight for Will’s closet. It was the usual mess, with belongings piled on top of belongings, with little actually hung up, and stuff crammed in every inch of available space.
His suitcase was still there, Sam noted with relief, as appeared to be most of his clothes. The only thing that looked to be out of place was his duffel bag, which was sticking out from beneath a stack of magazines and books and athletic gear. Sam went to push it back and heard the clink of glass upon glass. Frowning, Sam unzipped the bag all the way. And swore at what he saw.
He took the stairs down two and three at a time. Riley and Brad were just coming in. They looked in much the same glum mood as they had when they’d left. Which meant, whatever trouble Will was up to, he wasn’t sharing with them. “Did you guys see Will?” Sam asked hurriedly.
“No.” Brad and Riley traded perplexed glances. “Should we have?”
“Is his Jeep out front?”
They went to the window to look out. “Uh, no, it’s not, actually. Guess he went out.”
Sam checked the board for messages, and found no notes from Will.
“How come you’re so upset?” Riley asked.
“I’m worried about him,” Sam said. “So I’m going out to look for him. If he comes home in the meantime, I want you to make sure he stays here until I return. Got it?”
Brad and Riley nodded in unison.
Sam headed out to his truck. He couldn’t believe he had missed all the signs. They’d been right there in front of him. He should have suspected what was going on, but he hadn’t. And now Will was out there, driving, probably alone, and quite possibly drunk. Damn. Damn, damn, damn!
WILL DROVE AROUND for hours, wanting to be alone, unsure where to go. He hadn’t been this depressed since his mom died, and all he wanted was for the sadness and the sense of futility to go away. That had happened for a while, with Amanda.
Okay, so it was mostly the sex—or more accurately, the possibility of it—that had kept him from dwelling on the mucked-up mess his life had become the past year. But it had still been something to look forward to, the hours alone with his girl.
Since she’d been sent to boarding school, he didn’t even have that.
And now this. Will pushed away the memory of Coach Marten’s funeral, lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a long, numbing sip.
If he were lucky, by morning, he wouldn’t feel a damn thing.
SAM CHECKED every restaurant in town, the movie theater, the putt-putt place. He drove out to the lake, and spent an hour there, cruising around, looking for Will’s black Jeep. Nothing. It wasn’t at any of the campsites, or the place where the popular kids hung out. And all the while, he had one sharp image in his mind. Will, lying somewhere, drunk or dead. For the first time Sam had an inkling of what it had been like for Mike and Joyce Marten when they had lost Pete in a car crash, and knew, as a parent, just how they had suffered. To lose a spouse was hard enough. To lose a child…
Please, he prayed, let it not be too late. Let me find him….
WILL WAS SEATED at the top of the bleachers, half a bottle of whiskey in him, when he saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle move across the high school parking lot and then shine through the chain-link stadium fence onto the football field. He smiled crookedly as whoever it was passed right on through the double gates, just as he had, and drove along the hard surface of the running track until they were dead even with his Jeep.
His smile faded as he saw his dad climb out of the vehicle and head for his Jeep. Finding it empty, he watched as his father turned in the direction of the stands, and saw Will sitting in the shadow of the press box at the top.
Will swore as his dad mounted the steps two at a time. Unlike Will, who couldn’t wait to change into jeans and a T-shirt once they’d all gotten home from the church, Sam still wore his black suit pants and starched white shirt. He’d loosened his equally austere tie, but hadn’t bothered to take it off. There was just enough light from the moon up above, and the lights in the high school parking lot for them to see each other clearly. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Sam told Will grimly.
Will tilted his head at Sam, not knowing why he was so angry now, just knowing that he was. “Too little, too late, don’t you think?” Will asked sarcastically.
Sam’s lips thinned and hurt glimmered in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean it’s too late for you to be playing the dutiful father.” Will lifted his whiskey bottle at Sam in a silent go-to-blazes toast. “Go back to work. Go back to Kate. Go wherever the hell you want, but leave me the hell alone.”
“That’s enough, Will,” Sam said firmly.
“You may think so. I don’t.”
Will uncapped the bottle and, still holding his father’s eyes rebelliously, took a sip. “You can’t all of a sudden care what happens to me.”
The frown lines on either side of Sam’s mouth deepened. “That’s not true and you know it. I do care about you. I care about all of you boys.”
“Okay,” Will said as the whiskey burned in his stomach, “how many times have I missed curfew since January?” He tensed at Sam’s blank look. “See, that’s the difference,” Will pointed out, sadness flooding him again. “Mom would have known everything I’d done right and everything I’d done wrong on a moment’s notice, whereas you, Dad, don’t have a clue.”
Sam stiffened. As he stared at Will, he seemed to be struggling for patience. “I don’t keep score about things like that.”
“Wrong again,” Will corrected, his disappointment in his father deepening. Couldn’t he be honest once—even with himself—about this? “You know all sorts of things off the top of your head when it comes to your work. You just don’t know stuff about us kids because we don’t matter to you the way your company does.” Tears burned his eyes. Furious at the display of weakness, Will pocketed his bottle of whiskey and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
Sam closed the distance between them and reached over to touch Will’s shoulder gently. “We can talk about this at home, Will.”
Will shrugged off his father’s hand. “I don’t want to go home.”
Sam braced his hands on his hips. “You sure as hell can’t stay up here, drinking.”
“Yeah?” Will glared at his father and shot to his feet. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“I am.”
They tussled over the bottle. It fell through the bleachers and crashed to the ground below. Sam looked stunned at the violence, but Will shrugged. “Plenty more where that came from.” Unfortunately, he’d have to go down to his Jeep and reach beneath the seat to get it. He started down the steps. To his surprise, his legs were none too steady and now that he was up and moving, his head felt a little light and fuzzy, too. Holding on to the railing that separated the reserved section from the student section, Will moved unsteadily toward the bottom row of bleachers. Sam was right behind him as they crossed the track to his Jeep.
Will felt better, just knowing another drink was close at hand. He smiled drunkenly as he fished the keys out of his pocket. “Well, nice seeing you, Dad.”
Sam clamped a hand on Will’s shoulder before he could open the door, and spun Will around toward his vehicle. “You aren’t driving anywhere,” Sam said.
Will dug in his feet as they reached Sam’s truck, successfully slowing their forward motion. “Well, I’m not going home with you,” he said, beginning to struggle against his father’s pushiness.
Sam reached around Will to open the passenger side door and ordered in a voice as relentless as his grip, “Get in the car, Will.”
Will held himself stiff, refusing to bend his head, even in the slightest. “You just try and make me,” he threatened darkly.
Sam put one hand on the middle of Will’s spine, kept the other on his shoulder, and tried to shove Will into the SUV. So full of fury he could barely see, Will rammed his forearm into his dad’s stomach and spun away. Before his dad could regain his grip on him, Will threw a punch, catching Sam squarely in the gut. Swearing his frustration, Sam grabbed at Will again. They tussled, both of them cursing, Will kicking and shoving and yelling, and Sam gripping him and telling him to calm down. Will swung out again as hard as he could. Only this time, Sam was ready for Will, and he ducked and stepped neatly aside.
His target suddenly gone, Will tried to change direction and pull back, to regain his balance, but his body was not responding to his brain’s cues. He took a nosedive toward the truck door. Will had a brief impression of cold hard metal coming up to greet him before all went totally, blissfully black.
SAM MANAGED TO CATCH Will before his head slammed into the open car door, but he could do nothing to stop him from passing out. Nor could he rouse him from his drunken stupor— Will was out cold. Knowing there was no time to spare, he lifted him into his truck and drove straight to the emergency room at Laramie Community Hospital. The first person he saw as he parked beneath the covered portico was Jackson McCabe.
“What happened?” Jackson asked as he dashed out to Sam’s truck.
Sam explained while Jackson checked Will’s vital signs and shone a penlight into his eyes. “If he’s had as much whiskey as you think, we’re going to have to pump his stomach,” Jackson said as an orderly rushed out with a stretcher.
“Do whatever you have to do,” Sam said, dashing the tears from the corners of his eyes. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Will.
Jackson went with Will and the nurses to a treatment room while Sam talked to the admitting clerk and gave his insurance information. Then there was nothing to do but wait. As he sat there, thinking about all the ways he had failed his kids, Sam wished he could call Kate. But he knew he couldn’t. She had just buried her father. She had enough to deal with without taking on his problems, too. Beside, this wasn’t her crisis, Sam thought fiercely. It was his. And it was high time he started dealing with it the way he should have from the very first.
An hour later Jackson came out to tell Sam what was happening. “He’s going to be okay.”
“Thank God,” Sam said, his whole body sagging with relief.
“But this could’ve had a very different outcome,” Jackson continued sternly, “if you hadn’t found him when you had and brought him in.”
Sam swallowed around the hard knot of emotion in his throat. No one had to tell him Will could very easily have died tonight, either from alcohol poisoning, or a fall. No one had to tell him what would have happened had Will gotten behind the wheel of his Jeep, and driven off, just seconds before he passed out. Sam’s eyes stung. “I’ll make sure he understands that,” he said hoarsely.
Jackson took Sam aside, acting as much family now as Will’s doctor. “I want you to do more than that. I want Will to undergo alcohol counseling, and because he’s under age, the program requires you, as his parent, to take the classes with him.”
Feeling too choked up to speak, Sam nodded his consent. He didn’t care what he had to do. He just wanted his family happy, healthy and whole again. That wasn’t going to happen unless he made it a priority and took the necessary steps.
“I’ve already talked to Will about the foolishness of his actions, but you need to speak with him, too, Sam.”
Jackson took Sam back to the treatment room. Will was lying in his hospital bed. He had an IV in his arm. Tears streaked his face. His gown was stained with the charcoal solution they had pumped into his stomach. He was pale and sweaty and his hands were shaking. “We’re going to release you in a few minutes,” Jackson said.
“I don’t feel very good,” Will said.
Jackson looked as if he had expected as much. “You’re not going to feel too great tomorrow, either. You’re going to have a headache, an upset stomach and cramping in your arms and legs from dehydration.” Jackson looked from Will to Sam and back again. “I’ll let you and your dad talk while I fill out the paperwork so you can go home.”
Jackson shut the door to give them some privacy and Sam pulled a chair up next to Will. “You really scared me, Will.”
Will refused to look at Sam. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“I found the duffel bag in your room. I know you’ve been drinking for some time. Is it because of Mom dying?”
“It’s everything. It’s her. It’s Coach Marten. I don’t understand why this stuff has to happen. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not. But that doesn’t give you or me permission to self-destruct. We’ve got to stop running away from the painful stuff and be there for each other. Do you think you can do that?” Sam asked.
He wanted Will to say yes. Instead, there was only silence.
Sam rose and perched on the edge of Will’s bed, and forced him to look at him. “Listen to me, Will. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I love you and I want to help you. I know I haven’t been the kind of dad you wanted or needed this past year. Hell, maybe I’ve never been there for you the way I should. But it’s not too late—”
“Yeah, it is,” Will said, crying.
Sam took Will by the shoulders, forced him to look at him, and tried again. “Don’t you understand if I lost you it would break my heart? I love you, and I want to help you. But you’ve got to let me.”
Will gripped Sam, hard, and broke down in his arms. His body shook with harsh, racking sobs.
“Do you hear me?” Sam said, hugging Will all the harder. “I love you. And starting now, I am going to be there for you every day, every night.” Sam didn’t know how, he didn’t care how long it took, but his son was never going to feel this alone again.