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Bryn took a deep breath, trembling uncontrollably. “I asked him a question about his wife. She left the family eighteen years ago. I never dreamed it would still be such a sensitive subject.” She stopped, choked up. “Has he suffered any lasting damage?”
The doc shook his head. “No. I want to keep him overnight for observation, but that’s merely a precaution. We did a number of tests, and everything looks great. He’s a strong old boy, and I predict he’ll be around to aggravate you both for a long time. The two of you can go in to visit him now. Room 312.”
The doctor excused himself. Trent glared at Bryn. “You stay here. I can’t take the chance that seeing you will set him off again.”
“But the doctor said—”
“No.” He was implacable.
She waited until he took the elevator and then followed him up on the next one. Hovering in the hall, she listened anxiously to hear Mac’s voice. Thankfully, he sounded a thousand times better.
Trent’s deep, resonant voice was so tender and loving, she almost burst into tears.
“How are you feeling, Dad.”
“Embarrassed.” Mac’s querulous reply might have made her smile if she hadn’t been so fatigued and overwrought.
Trent spoke again. “I’ll stay with you tonight. The doctor says he’ll release you in the morning. Apparently you passed all the tests with flying colors. Your ticker’s healing beautifully.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me what caused all this?”
There was a bite in Trent’s reply. “No need. I already know.”
“Bryn told you?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I wouldn’t let her come in.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, boy. Don’t be a complete ass. This wasn’t Bryn’s fault.”
“It sure as hell was. If that’s the kind of loving care she has to offer, we might as well go back to hiring strangers out of the phone book.”
“You know the doctor said I don’t really need anyone to take care of me anymore.”
“So send her home.”
Mac snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re gonna have to face facts, Trent. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Jesse lied to us.”
Trent’s voice was icy. “Then we need to get the kid out here, do a DNA test as soon as possible and find out once and for all.”
A nurse, bustling to enter the room, jostled Bryn’s shoulder and apologized swiftly. “I apologize, ma’am. I need to go in and take Mr. Sinclair’s vitals.”
Now Bryn would never know what Mac’s reply might have been. The conversation at the bedside turned to medical details.
Bryn slipped away and pulled paper from her purse to jot a note to Trent. She passed it to the nurse’s station. “Would you mind to give this to the visitor in 312 as he leaves? Thank you.”
Outside, the fresh air was a welcome relief. She was appalled at her own lack of judgment when it came to Mac. Why couldn’t she have left things alone?
She checked in to the small hotel around the corner from the hospital. Trent would know where she was. She’d left a note, after all. She wasn’t running away.
With no luggage or toothbrush, settling into her standard issue room was a short process. After a long call home to talk to Beverly and Allen, she eyed the beds. She was running on adrenaline and about five hours of sleep total. Wearing only her blouse and underwear, she climbed into the closest clean, soft bed and was comatose in seconds.
Trent prowled the hallway while an orderly gave Mac a sponge bath. The old man was at full speed already, bossing everyone around, and cranky as hell. But the episode had scared Trent badly.
He owed Bryn an apology. In his fear and upset, he had been harsher with her than she deserved. She had made a mistake. So what? It might have just as easily been Trent who blundered into a stressful conversation. He and his father butted heads often.
A nurse at the desk handed Trent a folded slip of paper. I’m at the hotel. Bryn. The doctor appeared at his side. “I’m going to give your father a light sedative so he’ll rest this afternoon. Why don’t you go get something to eat and come back around four? We’ll call you if anything changes, but he’s really doing very well, I promise.”
