I jump to my feet and glance at Zander, who’s standing up beside me, deep concern etched on his handsome face. He touches my elbow, gives it a little squeeze to let me know he’s there for me, and he can’t know how much I appreciate that.
I listen to my mother and try not to panic. She’s assuring me Dad is okay, but until I see him myself, I won’t stop stressing.
I end the call and Zander is waiting for me to talk. “Dad was in a car accident,” I blurt out. “He’s at General Hospital. Mom is with him but he has to go in to surgery. His arm or shoulder is messed up. I need to go.”
“I’ll take you,” he says without hesitation.
I pause for a second. We’re closer to the hospital than to my place, so going back to get my own car will take time I don’t want to waste. “Okay, you can drop me off,” I say. Ill figure out how to get home later, once I’ve seen my dad.
“Daisy, time to go,” Zander calls out, his voice tight.
I take a step, and my knees go weak.
“Whoa,” Zander says, and captures me. I’m obviously more worked up than I thought.
Daisy comes skipping over, but when she sees me, her face drops. “What’s wrong?”
“My father is hurt,” I say. “I need to go check on him.”
We make our way back to the car, and Zander’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he moves through late-Friday traffic. We reach the hospital, and I open the door.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll text you later to let you know how he’s doing.”
Before he can say anything, I close the door and hurry inside. I go to information, find out where my dad is, and take the elevator to the fourth floor. Mom is in the waiting room when I arrive.
“How is he?” I ask.
Mom stands and takes me into her arms. “He’s going to be fine, Sam. The air bag deployed but his door crumbled. His arm got twisted up, and he needs surgery to make it right.”
The ice cream sours in my stomach, and Mom guides me down into the uncomfortable waiting room chair. “What happened?”
“Some drunk driver ran a red and smashed into your father’s car, driver’s side.”
“Oh my God,” I say, the room spinning around me. I can’t imagine ever losing my dad. He’s been there for me my whole life. What if I’d lost him before ever giving him the grandkids he so desperately wants?
I settle into the chair and grab a magazine, but I can’t focus on anything. Beside me, Mom knits on her scarf, and every now and then casts a glance at the television.
After a good hour of sitting, I stand and pace. “Is there anyone we can talk to, ask how things are going?”
“I’ll find out for you,” a very familiar man’s voice says from the doorway.
I turn, and my heart jumps into my throat when I find Zander standing there.
Without questioning it, I run to him, and he puts his arms around me, squeezing tight. I fight tears and press my face into the crook of his neck. We hold each other for a long time and when he lets me go, I turn to see Mom sitting there, a small smile on her face.
“Mom,” I say. “This is Zander Reed.”
“I know very well who he is,” Mom says.
“Zander, this is my mom, Mary Peters.”
“Mary,” he says, and walks up to her. “I’m so sorry to hear about the accident. I got here as fast as I could.”
“I see that,” she says.
Zander turns to me. “I dropped Daisy with Quinn. She sends her love.”
“Thanks. Daisy is Zander’s daughter,” I explain to Mom.
“Oh, you have a daughter, how lovely. We love children. Can’t wait for grandkids.”
Zander gives me a sidelong glance. “Sam is young. Lots of time for that,” he says.
“Mom, Zander and Daisy will be joining us for the BBQ next weekend. If you’re still planning on having it.”
“Of course we are. A broken arm won’t keep your father down.”
“Speaking of that, why don’t you go have a seat. I’ll get us all coffee and see if I can find anything out.”
“Thank you,” I say, and he brushes his thumb along my cheek before disappearing.
I exhale loudly and sit, staring at the ceiling.
“I believe it’s your father’s heart we should be worried about,” Mom says, and I sit up.
“What’s wrong with his heart?”
She chuckles softly. “When the Hard Hitter shows up for the barbeque, your father’s going to have a heart attack.”
“Oh,” I say, and laugh with her.
“How did you two meet?”
“You remember my friend Quinn? Zander is her brother, and his little girl needed some speech therapy. Wait until you meet her, she’s adorable.”
“Sounds like you really like her.”
“I do. Zander is so good with her.”
“And where is the child’s mother?”
“Not in the picture, sadly.”
“Sad indeed.”
I lean back again, and think about how hard it must have been for Zander to have his mother walk out without so much as a backward glance. He’s been through a lot, which makes me want to take care of him all the more.
He comes back with three cups of coffee and hands them out. He sets a bag with sugar, creamers and stir sticks on the table. “All they could tell me was that he was still in surgery.”
I nod, and he takes a seat beside me. Mom continues to knit, making small talk about hockey. Since I don’t follow the game, I’m unable to join the conversation, but Zander seems quite impressed with her knowledge.
One hour turns to two, and as the third hour approaches, a man dressed in scrubs pokes his head in. We all jump to our feet.
“I’m Dr. McNeill, and George did just fine. We had to put a rod and a few screws in, so I hope he’s not planning to go through airport security anytime soon.” We laugh at that, but all feel a measure of relief. “He’ll be in recovery for a couple hours, and then he’ll be moved to his own room for overnight observations. Tomorrow, he’ll likely be able to go home.”
“Thank you,” Mom says, and for the first time since I’ve arrived, I notice how tired and drained she seems. The doctor leaves and we all sit again. “Why don’t you two go home. No sense in all of us sitting here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
“I’m staying too.”
She points a finger at Zander. “You, young man, are not meeting George tonight. We’ll save this surprise for the BBQ.”
He gives mom a strange look, and I explain the heart attack comment from earlier. Zander laughs, and Mom excuses herself to go find the restrooms.
Zander cups my chin. “You okay?”
“I am now. You didn’t have to come here, Zander.”
“Yeah, I did. You went white, Sam. I was worried about you.”
My heart pinches. “It’s just…Dad, you know?”
“I do know,” he says, and I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I’d be lost without him.”
“A girl needs her dad,” he says, and I put my arms around him and hold on tight.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue when Mom brought up grandkids.”
“She’s not very subtle, is she?”
I laugh at that. “Not a bit.”
“You have a tendency to blurt things out, too.”
“I am my mother’s daughter,” I say. I breathe in his scent and absorbs his strength as he continues to hold me. “The accident was kind of a wakeup call though.”
“How so?”
“When I thought it was worse, that I could have actually lost dad, it made me think about my life…where I’m at and where I want to be. I’m not sure I’m ready for kids right now, but maybe I should visit the clinic, see what I might have to do down the road to give Dad the grandkids he wants.” He stiffens slightly beside me, and I lift my head. “What?” I ask. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“It’s not that. I just want you to be sure. Have kids for you, not for any other reason.”
“I do want kids…eventually,” I say, and then drop the subject when Mom comes back into the room. A few more hours pass and a nurse comes by to let us know Dad has settled into his room.
“I’ll be here waiting when you get back,” he says softly into my ear.
“Thank you.”
I put my arm around Mom and we follow the nurse to the room Dad is sharing with another patient. He’s groggy when we reach him but alert enough to know who we are.
His arm is bandaged and hanging from some contraption. Things look dire, but I remind myself it could have been so much worse.
“Dad,” I say and kiss his cheek. “How are you?” Stupid question, I know.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. He glances heavenward. “He’s taking care of me.”
Mom settles on the other side of him. “You scared us half to death.”
“How is the other driver?” he asks, and isn’t that just like Dad, always worried and taking care of everyone else. At the end of the day, Zander is a lot like my father.
We talk for a few more minutes, but he’s tired from the surgery and drugs, so we give him a kiss and make our way back to Zander. He jumps up when he sees us.
“How is he?”
“He’s going to be just fine,” I say.
“Glad to hear it. Mary, can I drive you home,” Zander asks, and once again my heart pinches at his consideration. “I can pick you up tomorrow to come back and get your car.”
“I cabbed it here. I was in no shape to drive. I can cab home.”
“I won’t hear of it,” he says.
Mom opens her mouth to protest but I cut her off. “Forget it, Mom. He’s bossy and argumentative, and always wins out in the end.”
“It’s true,” he says, and Mom laughs.
“In that case, I’ll save my breath. Let’s go.” She walks out the door and heads to the elevators. Zander puts his arm around me, and I thank him as we follow behind.
We step into the warm night and Zander takes us to his car. I settle Mom in the front and I climb into the back.
“Where to?” he asks, and I give him directions. Half an hour later, we’re at my childhood home, and Zander and I see that Mom gets inside safely. Once she’s settled, I put the kettle on to boil for her nightly tea, give her a kiss and promise to call first thing in the morning.
Exhaustion from a long night, combined with stress, pulls at me as we climb back into the car.
“You’re beat,” he says.
“I am.” I’m not about to deny it.
“You never even had dinner.”
“You’re right. I never thought about that.” The last thing we had was ice cream. “Did you eat?”
“No, but Quinn said she’d feed Daisy, and since I didn’t know how long I’d be, she’s keeping her overnight.” He reaches across the seat and squeezes my leg. “Why don’t we go back to my place? You look like you could use a good long soak in the hot tub, and I can whip us up something to eat.”
“You’re tired, too. Let me order food in.”
“Do you like Italian?”
“Carbs, only my favorite,” I say, and he laughs.
“I’ll order from Luigi’s, it’s my favorite. I won’t get any garlic bread though. I’m not taking a risk of you not kissing me.”
I chuckle softly. “It’s going to take a whole lot more than garlic to keep me from kissing you.”
…from falling for you.