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“No, but—”
“So, you’re not a family member.”
Shit. This was going sideways faster than the last bend he’d taken before his crash. “No. I just…” Wyatt stood back. “Look, Regan and I were on a date when she got called in here. I have no idea who she’s seeing or why, but I can’t leave her stranded.”
“I understand that, but aside from the fact I don’t have any information to give you, I wouldn’t be able to if I did. You’re not a family member. I’m sure you can appreciate my dilemma.”
Wyatt wasn’t the kind of guy to pull the celebrity card. And he wasn’t even sure she would know who the hell he was. But he had a feeling in this instance it wouldn’t do him any good and he’d only come off looking like an asshole.
He fingered his cell. He could call Regan, but there was a part of him that knew she’d ignore it. Not to mention it was in bad taste to disturb her when something obviously had gone so wrong.
“Okay, thanks.” He turned and walked back to the main entranceway. He would sit his ass down in the lounge and wait. Not exactly an enticing prospect, but what choice did he have?
He dropped into a seat facing the elevators and was just about to get comfortable when he heard his name.
“Wyatt?”
He turned around and spied a man juggling coffees, a set of car keys, and an overnight bag. Tall. Dark curly hair with silver at the temples, and shoulders as wide as the Grand Canyon. Brad Bergen. The guy was a few years older than Wyatt and had been a mean son of a bitch on the football field. Along with Nash Booker and Wyatt’s brother Hudson, he’d helped their hometown Cannons win State their senior year.
A good-looking guy, he’d always been up for a good time. He played hard and partied harder. And right now, Bergen looked like shit.
“Hey.” Wyatt crossed the lobby, and suddenly things began to turn in his head. Brad’s eyes were red rimmed, the lines on his face pronounced. He hadn’t shaved in more than a few days, and his clothes looked as if they’d been slept in. He looked like a man who’d been put through the wringer, and since he was here, at a facility that dealt with sick children, things couldn’t be good for someone close to him.
Regan had to be the connection.
Unease filled Wyatt, but he masked it, offering a simple smile and taking the bag from the other man so he could balance the three coffees without spilling anything.
“I heard you were home, Blackwell. Ran into Booker a few days ago.” He frowned and looked around. “What are you…do you know someone in the hospital?” Brad sounded tired, and his shoulders slumped a bit. He looked like the weight he carried was about to do him in.
“No. I…was with Regan Thorne, and she got a phone call.” Wyatt watched the man closely. “I dropped her off and went to park my truck, but I don’t know where she is, and the cutie at the admission desk won’t give me any information. Which I get. So, I’m just going to wait here for her.”
A pained expression crossed Brad’s face, and he sighed heavily, pointing to the elevators. “I’ll take you to her. She’s with my wife and son.” His voice cracked. “Patrick is… He’s not well.”
Wyatt’s heart sank, and he had no idea what the hell he was walking into. He thought that maybe this solemn, intimate family gathering wasn’t exactly the place for him to be. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Please, come up.” Brad took a step forward. “Patrick’s a huge fan. I think you could make this all a bit better. At least for my kid.” He didn’t wait for a response but headed for the elevators.
Wyatt followed him, and they made their way to the fifth floor. Once again the ward was painted with bright, cheerful colors that were meant to soothe. But there was a sadness hidden among the colors. It permeated the air, and he felt it in his bones. It was always the same. Every time he stepped foot in a hospital. And he didn’t think there would ever come a time when it wouldn’t.
They passed the nurses station, and by the time they reached the end of the hall, his steps were heavier, his chest tight. He glanced at Brad, but the man had put on his game face, and when they rounded the corner, Wyatt spied Regan with another woman. Tall and lanky, with straight red hair just touching the tops of her shoulders, she looked familiar. When she glanced up, Wyatt faltered.
Gwen Reynolds. Right. She’d married Brad Bergen.
She’d babysat him when Darlene or Hudson hadn’t been around. She’d been his math and chemistry tutor. And he’d had a crush on her for years. Right up until she graduated and left Crystal Lake behind for college in the South.
“Wyatt?” Her pale lips barely moved when she spoke, and she took a step toward him, confusion warring with the welcome in her eyes. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she closed the space between them in seconds.
He enveloped her in a hug and felt how she trembled against him. “Been a long time, Red.”
She squeezed his shoulders and stepped back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called Red.” She sniffled and blew out a long breath, glancing between him and Brad. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s here with me.” Regan’s voice was low, subdued.
“Oh.” Gwen’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have called you, Regan.” She looked at her husband, voice trembling. “This could have waited. I just… This is a new doctor, and…”
“Don’t be silly. As Patrick’s family doctor, I’m happy to be here and help you through this process. I told you last week, you can call me anytime for anything.”
A throat cleared behind them, and all four adults turned as an older
