Author: Jaci Burton

THE SHRILL RING OF HIS PHONE MADE GAVIN WISH HE had turned it on vibrate. He rolled over and shoved his head under the pillow. Still, the sound wouldn’t go away.

Goddamn it. What the fuck time was it anyway?

“Gavin, your phone is ringing.”

He heard Elizabeth’s muffled voice next to him.

“I’m ignoring it. They’ll go away.”

“It’s rung three times already. Might be important.”

“It’s probably some drunk dialing the wrong fucking number.” He was tired, he was snuggled up against his warm woman, and he didn’t want to be bothered.

“Or it could be important.”

He sighed, threw the pillow off his head, and fumbled around in the dark, trying to gather his bearings and find the damn phone, finally locating it on the nightstand.

Elizabeth’s nightstand. Oh, yeah. He was at her condo.

He blinked his eyes and tried to open them enough to read the missed-call register.

He shook off the dregs of sleep when he read the name.

“Fuck. It’s Jenna.”

Elizabeth turned on the light while Gavin dialed. She slipped beside him and rubbed his back.

She looked as concerned as he felt.

His stomach clenched. Something was wrong.

“Hey.” Jenna answered on the first ring.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Dad. They think he had a heart attack.”

Gavin swung his legs over the side of the bed, his heart sinking to his stomach. A hundred kinds of dread filled his head. “How bad is it?”

Elizabeth was right behind him, her body a lifeline. He was drowning.

“Don’t know yet. He’s at Barnes Hospital.”

Swallowing panic, he said, “I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

Her voice sounded shaky. “Did you get hold of Mick?”

“He’s on the way, too.”

“How’s Mom?”

“A mess, but trying to pretend she isn’t.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Gavin. Just get here.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He clicked off the phone. Elizabeth was already off the bed, grabbing Gavin’s clothes.

He lifted his gaze to her. “They think my dad had a heart attack.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She came to him and sat on the bed, wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, God, Gavin. I’m so sorry.”

He took a few seconds to absorb her warmth, her comfort. Then he pulled back.

“How bad is it?”

“They don’t know yet. Everyone’s been notified. I’m going to meet them there.”

He got up and pulled on his clothes. Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her clasped hands. “If there’s anything you need me to do, anyone you need me to call, just let me know.”

“Lizzie.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes?”

“I need you. Come with me?”

Silvery tears drifted down her face. “Yes. Of course.” She leaped up and went to get dressed.

GAVIN HATED HOSPITALS, HAD SEEN HIS SHARE OF them—at least the emergency room part of them—for injuries over the years. To Gavin they signaled the possible end of his career.

Right now a hospital meant something entirely different. He didn’t want to think about what might be going on with his dad. His father was a rock, the lifeblood of the Riley family. James Riley had always been invincible and indestructible. He was the strongest man Gavin had ever known. Nothing could topple him.

He was only sixty-five. Too young for a heart attack, right? Sure, his dad had put on a little weight over the years, and his mom’s cooking wasn’t exactly on the low-fat side of things. And maybe exercise wasn’t his father’s favorite thing. He liked to put his feet up and watch sports when he was home. Though he hustled plenty at the bar. And he played basketball with them when they came to visit. And he was always outside doing things.

Okay, maybe Jenna did a lot of the hustling these days behind the bar. Dad was slowing down more and more, hanging out with the customers, chatting them up, doing a lot of the PR work. They’d hired cooks and waitresses so Mom and Dad didn’t have to do so much of the labor intensive work anymore. And Mom still taught dance classes part-time, so she was always running around and staying busy. When she was at the bar, she supervised a lot of the staff and kept her fingers in the cooking. Dad . . .

Shit.

Elizabeth grasped his hand as they got out of the car and headed through the ER doors at the hospital. He shifted his gaze to hers, and her smile strengthened him. Walking in with her beside him helped. He didn’t want to do this alone.

“He’s going to be all right. You have to believe that. If you go in there with the look of doom you have on your face now, it isn’t going to help.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

He lifted his chin and forced the fear away.

The doors slid open, and the disinfectant smell hit him first. Then the crowd of people with their expressions of worry, exhaustion, and utter despair made him wish he could turn around, go home, and pretend this wasn’t happening.

Elizabeth tugged his hand and went to the information counter.

“We’re here for James Riley,” she said.

The woman typed something on her computer. “He’s in Room 14A. Cell phones must be turned off. Go through the doors to your left. Press the button on your right and give the patient’s name. They’ll buzz you through, and you can ask for directions to his room at the desk there.”

“Thank you,” she said and pulled Gavin along. They got through the security door and to another desk.

What would he have done if Elizabeth hadn’t been there leading him through this crazy maze of doors and hallways that zigzagged this way and that? They finally found the room. Mick and Tara, Jenna and his mom were standing outside. Elizabeth let go of his hand as he stepped up to his family.

“Doctor’s in with him right now,” his mother said as he pulled her into a tight hug.

He nodded. “Any more news?”

Mick shook his head. “We’re waiting to hear from the doctor.”

Mick glanced over Gavin’s shoulder at Elizabeth, frowned, and wrapped his arm around Tara.

“What’s she doing here?”

Gavin’s mother shot Mick a look. “Not now, Michael. Focus on your father.”

Gavin reached for Elizabeth’s hand and twined his fingers with hers.

“I can go sit in the waiting room.”

Gavin pinned her with his gaze. “I need you here with me.”

She nodded. “I’m here for you as long as you want me.”

The doctor finally came out. “We’re going to run some tests. It’ll be a while before I can tell you anything for sure.”

“Was it a heart attack?” Gavin’s mother asked.

Gavin and Mick put their arms around their mother.

The doctor nodded. “Yes. We’re going to examine the extent of the damage next. Once we run more tests, we’ll know. Why don’t you all go to the waiting lounge, and I’ll have someone come and get you after we’re finished.”

“Can I see my dad before you take him for the tests? I just got here.”

“That’s fine. Only for a few seconds.”

Gavin pushed through the sliding glass door, his heart dropping as he saw his dad, pale and hooked up to a bunch of beeping machines. His eyes were closed.

Gavin had never once in his life seen his father look so frail. He fought back tears and put on a smile as he walked in and took his father’s hand.

“Hey, Dad.”

His father’s eyes blinked open. “Hey, kiddo. Guess maybe I took on one too many home-improvement projects.”

Gavin slumped in relief. His father’s trademark sense of humor was still intact. “I blame the lawn mower.”

His dad laughed. “Damn thing. I’ll beat it yet.”

“That’s the spirit. You’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah, I am. Don’t you forget it. I’m not leaving you yet.”

“Didn’t think you were.” If he fell apart in front of his father, it would be the worst thing that could happen.

“Stay strong for your mother. She needs you and your brother most of all.”

Gavin lifted his chin and nodded. “You got it, Dad. Don’t worry about anything.”

A nurse came in. “We need to prep your father now.”

He squeezed his dad’s fingers. “Buck up. We’ll see you soon.”

His dad squeezed back. “I will.”

Gavin stepped into the hall and waited. When they wheeled his dad out, his mom gave him a kiss, then they all watched as he was taken down the hall. When his mother broke and fell against Mick’s chest, Tara and Jenna comforted her.

Gavin felt . . . lost.

They moved to a waiting area one of the staff directed them to, a room with a television and magazines. They sat in silence, all of them no doubt absorbed in their own thoughts. That lasted for about fifteen minutes before Gavin stood and started pacing the room.

“Mind not doing that in front of the television?” Mick asked.

“Since the TV is in the middle of the room, that’s kind of hard unless I leave the room.”

Mick gave him a pointed look.

“Tough shit,” Gavin said. “Deal with it.”

Mick stood.

So did their mother. “Boys, please. I have enough to deal with.”

Tara stood and pulled Mick back into a chair, whispered to him. He looked pissed. Gavin didn’t give a shit.

Elizabeth stood and linked her fingers with Gavin. “I’d love a cup of coffee. Go with me?”

He knew she was trying to defuse the brewing fight between Mick and him, which was probably a wise move. He didn’t feel like putting up with his brother right now.

Instead, he turned to Elizabeth and nodded. “We’ll be right back.”

No one acknowledged his comment, so he walked out the door with Elizabeth. She led him through the maze until they found a vending machine where they bought two coffees. They found a waiting area that was deserted, so they sat and sipped their coffee in the quiet.

“This is terrible coffee,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied, though he hadn’t even noticed the taste of the coffee. It was a caffeine jolt, so that was good enough. Not that he even needed the caffeine. He was wide awake and would stay that way as long as it took to . . .

To what? To cure his father? How long did it take to cure a heart attack? Was there even a “cure,” or did you just change your lifestyle and move on from there?

Shit. So much he didn’t know. He leaned over and laid his forearms on his knees.

Elizabeth rubbed his back.

“That feels good.”

“You’re doing a lot of thinking.”

“How can you tell? Are my brains leaking out my ears?”

She let out a soft laugh. “No. But you go really quiet when you do a lot of thinking. Want to talk about it?”

He sat up and faced her. “I don’t know anything about heart attacks. What’s going to happen now? Does he modify his diet and do more exercise, and then he’ll be fine? Or does he have to have surgery?”

“I imagine that depends on the severity of the blockage. If it’s not too bad, a change in diet and exercise might help him.”

“And if it’s more than that?”

“Then they’ll need to do more.”

“Like?”

“Angioplasty. Maybe a bypass surgery.”

He leaned back in the chair, took a long swallow of the toxictasting coffee, and studied her. “Since when did you become an expert on all things cardiac related?”