“HELLO?” LUCY ANSWERED the phone while Tatum hunted for the remote control. “What’s wrong, Aunt Imogene?”
A chill settled in Tatum’s stomach. She flipped off the television and stood, suddenly too antsy to sit still.
“Which hospital? Glenn Oaks? Okay.” Lucy’s gaze met Tatum’s. There was a long pause. “I’ll come get you...Yes, she’s here...What?...I’ll tell her.” She hung up her phone.
“Spencer?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Lucy took her hands. “He’s okay.”
“What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Don’t freak out, okay? He was stabbed—”
“Don’t freak out?” she repeated. He’d been stabbed.
“It could be nothing, Tatum, really. He’s in stable condition.” Lucy stood, hurrying to the door.
“Nothing?” she asked. “You said he was stabbed.”
“I’ll let you know...” She paused. “He...he said for you not to come.”
Tatum frowned. “Oh.”
“I need to take Aunt Imogene. She can’t drive on the ice, too jumpy,” she said, hugging her. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.”
Tatum nodded, feeling numb. “Okay.”
Tatum stared out the front window, watching as Lucy and Mrs. Ryan piled into her car and drove off.
He was hurt. In a hospital. But he was in stable condition. Stable enough to tell her not to come. She hugged herself, hating how cold she felt.
If he didn’t want her there she shouldn’t go. He had a good reason.
She started cleaning up the mess she and Lucy had made in the kitchen. But once the kitchen was sparkling, there was still no word on Spencer. She texted Lucy, asking for an update, but she didn’t get an answer.
Lucy would call her if it was bad. She’d call, period, wouldn’t she? She’d know Tatum was worried.
But since Lucy wasn’t texting her, she did a load of laundry and straightened the living room.
An hour and a half ticked by before she couldn’t take it anymore. She put on her thick black coat, tugged on mittens and a hat, and climbed into the SUV. She plugged Glenn Oaks Hospital into her navigation system and drove, slipping along the icy roads. The closer she got, the more she shook. Which didn’t help with driving on the icy roads.
When she rounded a corner, her tires locked and her SUV slid. But she relaxed, stayed calm and kept control. She recovered and came to a stop at the red light. As she rested her head on her steering wheel, terrified of what could have happened, she heard the screeching of brakes and looked up.
A truck slid across the intersection and plowed into her passenger side.
She barely had time to register what was happening as her SUV was forced across the road and slammed into a lamppost. Her head smacked the driver side window, cracking the glass and making her see stars. A horn was honking, but she didn’t know if it was hers or the truck’s. All she knew was it wouldn’t stop.
She sat there, stunned, a warm stickiness running down the side of her face.
Her phone vibrated then, but she was too dazed to reach for it.
Someone knocked on the window. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just...hit my head.”
“We called 9-1-1,” the person said, trying to open her door. “Door’s smashed in.”
“I’m okay,” she said again. She tried the door handle, but the door wouldn’t move. “I’ll climb over.” But then she realized her passenger side was crumpled in on itself, the hood of the truck firmly embedded.
A young man tried to open her door. “You might want to stay put. In case you hurt your neck.”
“I really think I’m okay,” she said, trying to unbuckle her seat belt. She pressed the button but nothing happened. “My belt’s stuck.”
“Must be connected to the car’s computer,” the man said.
There were sirens.
“Just sit tight.”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” she said, laughing softly. She reached up, feeling along her hairline. She winced, pulling back blood-covered fingers.
What an idiot. Spencer had told her not to come—probably for this very reason. Lucy had told her he was stable. But no, she just had to see for herself. And now this. She rested her head against the seat back.
Her phone vibrated again and this time she reached for it. Lucy.
Spencer’s fine. Stitched at the scene and back at work. See, no worries. Want to finish the movie?
She laughed then, which made her head hurt.
“You okay?” the man asked.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, though she doubted he could hear her over the blare of the sirens.
What was she doing? She’d dropped everything to get to Spencer—after he’d told her not to come. She was doing exactly what she didn’t want to do. Getting too involved, too attached. And now she was bleeding and trapped in a car because of it. I’m an idiot. An idiot whose head was throbbing.
The paramedics managed to pry open the back door to reach her. One assessed her injuries, strapping a large foam brace around her neck before they helped her out of the passenger side. The firefighters had to cut through her seat belt and force her seat back to get her out. By then, her head was definitely hurting.
“How do you feel?” the paramedic asked.
Embarrassed. I sort of hate myself right now. Pathetic. “My head hurts.”
He nodded. “You knocked your head pretty good,” he said. “Might need a few stitches.”
Stitches? She closed her eyes.
“I need you to stay awake for me,” he said. “Just in case you have a concussion.”
And a concussion? “Okay,” she said.
“Can we call anyone?” he asked. “Next of kin?”
She swallowed. “Nope.”
He blinked. “You sure?”
She tried not to glare at the man. “Believe me. I’m sure,” she said. She had no one.
The ride in the ambulance was short—she’d almost been there when she’d had her accident. When they arrived in the emergency room, she answered the same questions over and over, had ten different people shine penlights in her eyes, made her touch her nose, walk a straight line and had her head x-rayed.
She had a concussion. And needed eight stitches behind her ear, which was swollen and sore.
“I’m going to have an elf ear for Christmas,” she said to the ER nurse. “How festive.”
“You’d look pretty no matter what,” the woman said, smiling. “I’m Aileen. If you need anything, just holler. I’m your nurse. Okay?” She handed her the remote control. “You’ll be staying with us for a while so might as well find something to entertain you.” Aileen pulled the curtain back. “So I can keep an eye on you. No sleeping, okay?”
“Okay,” Tatum said. She flipped channels. She couldn’t feel her incision; it was numb. But the rest of her wasn’t. Now that she wasn’t trapped in a vehicle, in immediate peril, her brain decided to replay all the times she’d been hurt. Not stitches or concussion hurt, but brokenhearted and defeated hurt. Her father’s desertion, her mother, Spencer, Brent... How many times did she have to fall flat to learn to stay on her guard?
Her divorce should have liberated her.
Sleeping with Spencer should have empowered her.
She was in control now. And somehow she’d forgotten that.
No matter what truths had come to light about Spencer and their past, she was still antirelationships. She didn’t have the strongest evidence that loving someone was a good thing. The crisscross cuts and angry coloring of her right arm was example enough.
No more pretending things hadn’t gotten way out of hand with Spencer. She only hoped she was strong enough to end it.
She aimlessly flipped the channels, unease and nausea setting her stomach on edge. News. Sports. Travel shows. It’s a Wonderful Life. She stopped, knowing George Bailey’s tale would cheer her up. With any luck, she’d be able to go home by the time the movie was over. If she was really lucky, she’d look into getting an earlier flight to California.
* * *
“SPENCER,” HE ANSWERED his phone, eating another of Tatum’s cookies. He’d been back at work for an hour, closing out two files, and four cookies. And every time he took a bite, his mind drifted to Tatum. Her smile. Her laugh. Her tongue licking icing off the spoon. It was a good damn thing he was at his desk tonight, because he’d be shit in the field.
“It’s Jared.” It was hard to hear his cousin over the background noise. “I just heard. Is she okay?”
“At work?” Spencer asked. “I can barely hear you.”
“Is Tatum okay?” Jared repeated, enunciating.
Spencer sat forward, a knot forming in his throat. “As far as I know. Unless you know something I don’t know?”
“Aw, shit,” Jared sighed. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” Spencer asked. “What the hell do I not know?” He stood, staring around the station, his panic building.
“Tatum was taken to the emergency room—”
“Why?”
“Car accident.”
Jared’s words ripped the air from his lungs—more effective than a gut punch. The roads were ice slicks. Even with his four-wheel drive, he struggled. Tatum hadn’t driven in these conditions in years—that was the reason he’d told her not to come see him. That, and there was no point. He was fine.
His heart twisted and his throat dried up. “When?”
“A couple of hours ago. Sorry, Spence, thought you’d know—”
Spencer hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and ran from the police department. He pulled out of the parking lot, heading straight to Glenn Oaks Hospital.
The cop in him conjured up a variety of worst-case scenarios. Scenarios he didn’t want to see or worry about.
Keep it together, Ryan. He drew in a deep breath, reining in his emotions to analyze only the facts. And he didn’t have many. All the way to the hospital, no matter how much his truck slid on the roads, his thoughts were all Tatum. Was she okay? Was she hurt? Scared?
Dammit.
The truck slipped all over the road, so he kicked it into four-wheel drive and gunned it. By the time he reached the hospital, his fingers ached from his death grip on the steering wheel. He parked his truck and ran into the emergency room, flashing his badge.
“I’m looking for Tatum Buchanan.”
The nurse flipped through the list. “I’ll take you.” She stepped around the desk and led him past a row of curtained partitions. “She should be able to go home shortly. We just wanted to make sure her concussion isn’t too severe.”
That was good news. Not good enough to make him relax, but it was a start. “What happened?”
“Ice.” The nurse smiled at him. “We’ve had half a dozen accidents tonight and all of them were cars sliding on the ice. She was lucky, could have been a lot worse. The guy who hit her is in surgery.”
Spencer’s gut clenched. She was okay. She was okay. It would all be okay when he saw her. When he knew she was safe. It was hard to breathe.
“Aileen,” the nurse said. “The detective is here to see your patient, Tatum Buchanan.”
“Spencer?” He heard Tatum’s voice and turned. “What are you doing here?”
He stood frozen. She had a wide strip of gauze wound around her temple, her long blond curls pulled over her left shoulder. She looked fragile, small, in the bed. “Hey.” He moved to her without thought, pressing a hand along her cheek. “Where else would I be?” he asked, sitting on the side of her bed. “I would have been here earlier if I’d known.”
“I’m...I’m fine,” she said.
“That bandage around your head says otherwise.” His voice was garbled. She was okay. He reached for her, taking her hand in his. Feeling her, warm and soft, made it better. “Why were you on the roads?” he asked, willing himself to calm.
She swallowed, staring at their joined hands. “I...I needed something from the store.”
He frowned. “In the middle of an ice storm?”
“I didn’t know it was that bad.” Her voice was brittle. “Lesson learned.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He drew in a deep breath, focused on being calm. She didn’t know he’d been scared shitless. That the thought of something happening to her was... He swallowed, twining his fingers through hers. “You’re okay.”
She nodded, then winced.
He winced too, squeezing her hand in his.
“You didn’t need to come,” she murmured, softly. “How did you even know I was here?”
He needed to come. He had to come. He had no choice. And there was no way he was leaving. “Cop, remember. I’ve got connections.”
“Well, I’m fine. And you’re supposed to be working.” She tried to pull her hand from his, but he held tight. “Not babysitting.”
He held on to her hand, biting back all the words he wanted to say. But now wasn’t the time. She was in a hospital bed, for crying out loud. Not the best time to lay his heart on the line. It might be wrong to ask her to love him, but he had no choice. He loved her. He knew he always would.
“Miss Buchanan, once we get the doctor to sign off on your paperwork, you’re cleared to go.” The nurse smiled. “You shouldn’t be driving—”
“I’m pretty sure my car’s totaled,” Tatum teased, laughing softly.
He closed his eyes. He’d seen too many accidents and fatalities on nights like this. She was safe. And he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure she stayed that way. Seeing her here, wide-eyed and fragile, kicked his protective side into overdrive and his heart pumping. He cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll take her home.”
“Spencer—”
“I’m taking you home.” He couldn’t look at her, afraid she’d see just how close he was to breaking down. Whether it was his right or not, he needed to be with her.