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“Fair enough.” He curled an arm around her. “Do you want some coffee?”
She shook her head. “I walked past the machine earlier. It needs a good cleaning. The smell of it turned my stomach.”
Cutter led her over to a padded bench and sat her down. “I doubt you’d find anything appetizing right now.”
“No,” she confirmed, casting her worried glance to the double doors beyond the waiting area. “I don’t know what’s taking so long. I’ve been here nearly two hours. The paperwork kept me busy for a while, but…”
“You want information. I understand. But they’ll fill you in once they have answers. For now, no news is good news.”
She nodded, trying hard to believe that. “Talk to me about something else. Anything else. I need my mind off this or I’ll just keep imagining the worst-case scenarios.”
“Yeah. Um…” But Cutter shook his head blankly.
“You never said whether you’re coming to the fall market at the church on Friday evening. We could still use a few volunteers to help us set up and break down.”
He hesitated a few seconds too long. “I don’t know. Brea, I need to tell you—”
“Ms. Bell?”
She turned to find a familiar woman in green scrubs. Her face looked grim. “Dr. Gale. I didn’t realize you’d come in. How’s Daddy?”
“That’s why the attending physician called me. Your father is going to need more bypass work.”
Her jaw dropped. Her heart fell. It wasn’t the worst possible news…but it was close. “Why?”
“Back in July, the insurance company chose only to bypass the left anterior descending artery. They merely cleared us to stent the others with blockages, despite my recommendation otherwise. Since then, a blood clot has formed in his right coronary artery. We’ve just completed all the tests to confirm. Time is of the essence, so we’re prepping now.”
“You’re doing the surgery this morning?” Her head told her that waiting any amount of time with a blood clot in Daddy’s heart was incredibly dangerous. But all she could think about was her father going under anesthesia again for a risky procedure he might not survive.
What if she never got to say goodbye?
Dr. Gale’s face softened as she took Brea’s hand. “We don’t have a choice.”
Cutter slipped a supporting arm around her. “We understand. I know you’ll keep us advised. When will you get started and how long do you expect the surgery to last?”
The surgeon glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ll be starting in the next thirty minutes. The surgery should last three to four hours, depending on complications. As soon as we know more, someone will speak with you.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Brea managed to mumble, but she felt her legs crumpling beneath her as her head swirled in a dizzy spin.
“Whoa.” Cutter caught her and helped her back to the bench, sitting her on his lap. “Are you okay, Bre-Bee?”
“Overwhelmed,” she managed to say. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
“You should call Mrs. Collins.”
“I can’t wake Jennifer up in the middle of the night.”
Cutter gave her that patient expression he often flashed when he had to explain something she should already know. “You should. She’s your father’s…girlfriend, for lack of a better word.”
He’d suggested that before, but she’d never seen any evidence of that.
“I…” She shook her head. “No.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. A few weeks back, when you went to that concert in New Orleans with the girls from the salon and stayed the night?”
“I remember.”
Cutter was not about to say what she thought he would. Please. Please…
“You’re going to make me say that she spent the night, are you?”
“She wouldn’t.” Brea shook her head in disbelief. “And Daddy wouldn’t—”
“Yeah, he would. He’s a man. They’re both widowed. I’m sure they’re lonely. I think they care about one another. It’s not like they randomly hooked up after a swipe right on Tinder.”
She winced. Cutter was right…but they were talking about her father. Having a sex life. She’d always viewed him as perfect, above reproach. She’d idolized him, worshipped him. To find out he was only human seemed both obvious and foolishly crushing.
Then again, she knew how tempting the flesh could be. Every single night, she held her finger over the screen of her iPhone, aching to press the button and call Pierce. She’d missed his gruff smile, his scent, his guttural grunts as he filled her, his unexpected tenderness, the rasp in his voice when he called her pretty girl…
“Hey.” Cutter snapped his fingers. “Where did you go?”
Should she tell him everything? Brea had agonized over this a million times in the last month—and still had no answer. At first, she hadn’t confessed her feelings for Pierce to Cutter because he’d been too angry to listen, and she’d been so sure that she and Pierce would never last. But as the days passed and the rugged sniper haunted her, as her body hungered and she’d begun to crave just having him near…
