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“He’s okay?” She’s not listening to me and my stomach does its own clenching.
“Baby, he’s going to be fine.” I lied through gritted teeth as we sped faster through lights and around cars. He was unresponsive by the time the medics got there. “I’m in the ambulance with him. I need you to let Kristen or Damien to drive you to the hospital.”
“I–I will.” Now who was lying, I heard her keys jingle as she reached into her purse for them.
“Taylor Jane Bryant, if you so much as get behind the wheel of that car I will take you over my knee the second I see you.” I would too. I would spank her ass within an inch of her life and not a playful whack intended for pleasure. I would make sure she was so sore she would remember my hand every time she got up to walk around. I’d had enough discipline in my life to rein it in and not be an abusive asshole. I would never hit her to hurt her but the control freak that brewed deep inside me roared to life and the only thing containing it was the steady heartbeat of her father from the back of the ambulance. His condition was tenuous at best and I was scared shitless.
29
Taylor Jane
“Dad! Daddy!” I ran into the emergency room, a lunatic on a mission. I had jumped out of my car and pumped my legs hard running inside. An orderly jumped out of my way and I pushed out and apology to get to my destination. My hair whipped my face tangled from the braid. I didn’t spend time inside hospitals if I could help it since my mother’s death. I didn’t have a phobia about hospitals, but the anxiety that coursed through my body was nearly crippling. The sounds of machines beeping and the smell of antiseptic burning my nose made my head spin. Getting an unexpected phone call in the middle of the day made my heart drop. What would I do without my daddy? My stubborn protector who was every bit as hard headed as Hunter.
“Miss! You can’t go back there!” A nurse from the desk in the emergency department stood up and came around the corner to stop me from running in the back. She held her hands up to stop me. I was prepared to barrel through her if I needed to. Not much had changed at Holy Trinity in the years since I was here last. I tried looking over her shoulder but it was useless. Short people got the–well, short end of things usually.
“My dad, Alan Bryant was checked in a little bit ago. He had a stroke, I think.” Word vomit followed with things like, I need to see him right now, what room is he in, and when can I talk to the doctor. Her hands were still up beseeching but I could be persuasive when I wanted. After all, I did convince Hunter to help me flip that house.
“Okay, I will get a doctor to come out and speak to you miss, but you need to wait here.” She pushed past the double doors eying me up and down in case I might be a runner. I thought about it, but I stayed put. Leaving me in the waiting room, my purse hung from my finger tips with my cellphone and keys clutched in my other.
“Please god, don’t let me lose my daddy.” I whispered to know one but me in the semi full room filled with several people who were involved in their own struggles, none I recognized from town. I called Kristen as I sprinted from the project house and raced in the car to get here. She yelled at me to wait for her, she had already been on her way to the house, but I hung up instead. My phone beeped with calls from Damien, but I hit ignore so I wouldn’t be distracted driving. I put my pedal to the floor racing to get here. I passed a cop car on the way but he didn’t even blink. I figured once I crossed the bridge into Poughkeepsie I wasn’t going to get pulled over. My chest hurt and I rubbed the bone between my breasts, the ache pinching my heart.
“Sweetheart.” The hoarse voice made me look up into wide eyes that looked as glassy and as tear stung as mine felt. My throat parched and my face drained seeing Hunter emerge from behind the doors. He grabbed me and held me up by putting his hand under my braid and cradling my head which he pushed down into his thick chest. My hands reach
ed up and my fingers clawed the worn cotton of his shirt, half-mad and half-relieved. I was hanging on by a thread and he was slowly stitching me back together one painful push of the needle at a time.
“My dad?” I was more wobbly than I wanted to admit as Hunter pulled me down the hall to an open room where we could sit.
Hunter lowered me down onto his lap and his hands roamed everywhere until they stopped on my cheeks holding my face to his as he spoke. Over his shoulder was an abstract print of blue and grey slashes of watercolor hung against the dirty white wall scuffed in places. I wondered if it was the same picture in every hospital because I felt like I had seen it before.
“Taylor Jane, look at me.”
“The painting.” Hunter glanced over his shoulder.
“It’s ugly honey, focus on me please.”
“Uh huh, daddy?” I asked in a daze needing to know how my father, my only parent was faring.
“He’s in surgery.”
“Stroke?” I asked but already knowing.
“Yes, but he’s getting a stent and should be okay. We’ll see him soon.”
“I don’t know what I would do without him.”
“You won’t have to find out, sweetheart.”
We sat in the silence of the room, me catching my breath and Hunter’s heart slowing down to a manageable thump–thump, thump–thump.
“Thank you, Hunter.” I mumbled into his neck now wet from my tears.
He pulled me back, his hand clutching my hair hard, but not enough to hurt me, just enough to get my attention. “Don’t thank me yet.” His voice growled as he shifted my body quickly. His anger was unexpected and I didn’t understand what had caused the shift in his mercurial mood this time.
“Hunter?”
“I am going to spank your ass raw for scaring the shit out of me. I asked you to not drive.” He pushed me down over his lap and like a zombie I didn’t move or resist.
“Oh.” I stared at the tiles on the floor, he wouldn’t actually hit me. Would he?
