Eight Years Gone, page 20
She shook her head again, sighing when nothing she said felt right. Their relationship had been stiff and strained for such a long time—even before Logan’s death.
Determined to do better, she gently cradled his hand in both of hers, willing him to feel her presence.
“I’ve been working with Aunt Maggie at the shop.”
She wrinkled her nose at her next poor attempt at a one-sided conversation. “I imagine you already know that. But maybe you don’t know that I run the business side of Simplicity. I finished school and got my business degree.”
She glanced toward the city lights through the big window. “We saw your new billboard in Scranton. It looks really good. All of your patients and colleagues will be waiting for you to get back to the clinic. So many people need you, Dad. You’re so good at what you do. No one knows what to do with hips and knees better than you.”
She looked out the window again. “I should tell you that Jagger’s back. I think I always knew that he would come—like an instinct, I guess.”
She stroked her father’s knuckles with her thumbs. “I know you never thought he was good enough, but maybe he’s always been too good for all of us. He could go anywhere and do anything, but he came home. He wants to be with me.”
Her gaze wandered to the machine monitoring her father’s heart, ensuring that her words weren’t upsetting him, even when she wasn’t certain he could hear her.
“He’s working with Todd at the dojang and for some super-exclusive security firm. We’re building a life together in Preston Valley.” She stared at her father again. “I love him, Dad. I always have. When you wake up, when you’re strong enough—”
The door slid open behind her.
She turned, surprised to see Jagger standing next to Charlotte.
He sent her a small, sad smile as he walked to stand by her side. “How are you doing?”
She shook her head, still waiting for the tears that wouldn’t come. “Look at him.”
He nodded, settling his hand on her shoulder. “We should let him rest.”
She hesitated before she nodded because she didn’t want to leave her dad when he needed her the most. “Okay.”
“You can come back and visit in the morning,” Charlotte added.
Grace opened her mouth to tell Charlotte she wasn’t going far, but she nodded again.
Gaining her feet, she moved to the upper half of the bed, bending closer to her dad’s bandaged head. “We have a lot to talk about, so you need to wake up.”
Touching her fingers to her lips, she carefully brushed his cheek. “I love you. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Jagger reached out his hand to her.
She grabbed it, holding on tight as she walked out with him, looking over her shoulder, willing her dad to open his eyes before they disappeared from his sight.
Jagger settled his arm around her shoulders. “What do you say we head down to the cafeteria for something warm to drink? Maybe we’ll find something to eat too.”
Food was the last thing on her mind. “I want to stop by the bathroom first.”
“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head as they stopped by the women’s room. “I’ll wait here.”
She nodded, pushing her way into the bathroom, stopping as she passed the large mirror, staring at her face—her chin, just like her father’s.
Turning on the sink, she locked eyes with herself in the glass. “He’s going to wake up. He’s going to be okay.”
Terrified that even as she said so, it might not be true, she put her chilly hands under the warm flow of water and allowed herself to tremble as she’d needed to for the last few hours.
Jagger clenched his jaw as he leaned against the wall outside the women’s room. He’d only ever felt this helpless once before, which was something he could do without. Everything about this situation sucked.
He’d stood by Grace’s side while Paul had given them an update on Steve’s condition, but he’d still been shocked to see the invincible Steven Evans in such bad shape.
Steve had always been larger than life. Now the world-famous doctor would be lucky to make it through the night.
He steamed out a breath as he glanced toward the bathroom door.
Grace was doing all she could to stay strong, but he knew her well enough to understand that she was barely keeping it together.
When she’d turned to look at him in her father’s room, her cheeks had lacked any color. Her hands were ice-cold, and her eyes were huge and haunted. He doubted she recognized that she was in shock.
It turned his stomach to imagine she’d looked much the same when she fell apart in Aunt Maggie’s driveway eight years ago.
But this time Grace wouldn’t go through whatever this would be without him. He would be here for her the way he hadn’t been after they lost her brother—the biggest failure of his life. He’d done a lot of things wrong, but never anything more wrong than that.
He stood straight when Paul walked his way, studying the man dressed in khaki slacks and a white button-down that accentuated his grim brandy-colored eyes and the ghostly pallor of his skin. “How’s Steve doing?”
“About the same. Stable but extremely critical.” Paul reached into his pocket, handing Jagger a set of keys. “These are Steve’s. I know he would want you and Grace to stay at his place and be comfortable.”
Jagger pocketed the set, even when he wasn’t sure that Steve would want him in his house. But the complications of the past would have to be sorted out later. The only thing that mattered was what Grace needed now—and that was a quiet place to get some sleep, catch her breath, and have a solid meal.
When Grace got upset, her appetite was the first thing to go. He’d be damned if she would lose a shit-ton of weight again. “Thanks.”
Paul looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Grace?”
“In the bathroom.” He waited for Paul to meet his gaze again. “How do you think this will go? What are Steve’s odds?”
Paul sighed as he shook his head. “Trauma isn’t my scope, but he’s sustained a lot of damage.” He glanced around as he took another step closer. “The car creamed him—sent him up and over the vehicle’s roof.”
Jagger blinked his surprise. They’d been so worried about Steve’s current condition that the details of how all of this had come about hadn’t been a thought until now. “Do you know what happened?”
“Yeah, mostly.” Paul rubbed at the back of his neck. “Steve was wearing jogging clothes when they brought him in, so it’s easy to surmise he was out for one of his evening runs.”
Jagger nodded because everyone knew Steve had always taken excellent care of his body.
“When I got the call that they’d brought Steve in, I ran over from our place,” Paul continued.
Steve and Paul’s orthopedic center was just blocks from Philadelphia General.
“Eventually, I was able to pull one of the cops aside to find out what the hell was going on. Apparently, someone clipped a college kid who was riding his bike with their car. The kid flew over the handlebars. He wore a helmet, but it rang his bell and messed up his knee. Steve was helping the driver get the kid out of the road. The three of them were nearly to the curb when Steve suddenly shoved the kid and the guy out of the way. Steve got hit seconds later.”
Jagger steamed out a breath as he scrubbed at his jaw. This was going to crush Grace.
“From what I understand, it was an older woman—the person who hit Steve,” Paul said. “She said she didn’t see him until it was too late. It’s dark out there tonight with all the rain.”
“Damn,” Jagger said. “I’ll have to give the police a call and find out who’s working the case.”
“The cop mentioned that they would reach out to Grace, but I wasn’t sure of her contact information at that time. I had to call Steve’s assistant, Jade. It took us a few minutes to find the number for Maggie’s shop. By that point, the cop was gone.” Paul rubbed at the back of his neck again. “I know they were going to look at the cameras in the area for a better idea of what’s what.”
“What are Steve’s chances for a full recovery?”
Paul shook his head. “I’m an anti-aging doctor, Jagger.”
“But you have an idea.”
Paul sighed. “They’ve managed the blood loss, and eventually, his bones will heal. It’s the head trauma that has me worried. We need to get through the next forty-eight hours, but Grace needs to be prepared. The intracranial pressure’s a problem.”
Grace walked out of the bathroom, sending Paul and him a forced smile.
Jagger studied her, noting that her eyes were dry, but her shoulders were rigid, and her cheeks were still pale after her visit with her dad. “Here’s my girl.”
Grace’s lips curved again. “Here I am.”
“We should head to the cafeteria for something to eat.”
Grace shook her head. “If you want to go, I’ll stay here and wait for more news.”
Paul glanced at his watch. “I gave Jagger your dad’s keys.”
Grace frowned. “I can’t leave.” She looked at Jagger. “We can’t leave.”
Paul took her hand. “It’s well after ten, hon. There’s nothing more you can do for now.”
“This is where I need to be.”
Paul shook his head. “The best thing we can all do is get some rest. Doctor Hardy and Doctor Shed are still in surgery. It’s doubtful they’ll be able to talk to you before tomorrow morning. I’ll sit with Steve and call you if anything changes.”
Jagger stepped in. “Let’s get something to eat and catch a nap. We can come back in a couple of hours.”
Grace hesitated. “I told him I would be right outside.”
“We’ve already bent the rules,” Paul added. “They won’t let you see him again until eight a.m. This is going to be a long process, Grace. Your dad needs you rested.”
Jagger nodded when she looked at him. “We should listen to Paul.”
Grace sighed. “Okay. But just for a couple of hours.”
Jagger let his shoulders relax a little. He wanted Grace out of there, so he could fill her in on what he’d just learned about Steve’s accident—the fucking tragedy of it all. He didn’t want to mention it, but she would find out sooner rather than later, so he would tell her in his own way. “We’ll see you in a little while.”
Twenty-Three
Jagger drove Grace’s Sorento through the soggy streets of downtown Philly, remembering the route to Steve’s place easily enough.
He, Grace, and Logan had made the drive from Wakeview to the posh city condo several times during their high school years.
Tickets to professional sporting events, five-star dinners at fantastic restaurants, and exclusive parties with numerous well-known athletes filled more than a few of their weekends during the off-season.
The visits had become fewer and farther between after graduation—after Logan had stopped talking to his dad entirely and Grace had been stuck in the middle.
Eventually, the trips to Philly stopped altogether when Steve grew more frustrated with his son and started dropping hints that Jagger wasn’t good enough for his daughter.
Jagger made it through a yellow light, then stopped for the red up the next block. Glancing Grace’s way as the windshield wipers swiped at the rain, he caressed his thumb along her knuckles. “It’s just for a little while.”
She continued to stare out the window. “We should have stayed. Or I should have stayed, anyway.”
He shook his head. “You won’t be any good to him exhausted.”
She sighed as she met his gaze. “It doesn’t matter if I lie down. I won’t be able to sleep.”
He imagined that might be true, especially after he told her what he’d been holding off saying. But eventually, her body would give her no choice but to rest. He wanted her near an actual bed when she finally gave in.
Pressing on the gas as the light turned green, he slammed on the brake when a pedestrian walked into the street. “Idiot,” he muttered, tapping the horn.
The man tossed up his hand in a quick wave, then kept jogging across to the curb.
Shaking his head, Jagger started moving again.
“He didn’t have the right of way.”
Jagger glanced at Grace again. “No, he definitely didn’t.”
“It’s ironic that my dad’s the one lying in a hospital bed because he would never have done anything stupid like that.”
Jagger exhaled a quiet breath as he gripped her hand tighter.
“I’m realizing I don’t even know where it happened.”
“On Chestnut Street.”
Grace looked at him.
“Paul filled me in,” he explained.
“There was an accident. He got hit by a car. That’s all Paul said. I didn’t think to ask about the rest.”
He nodded, even when this wasn’t how or where he wanted to tell her. But she needed the answers. She deserved them. “A college kid got clipped on his bike and flipped over the handlebars. Your dad and the driver were getting him out of the road. Your dad shoved them out of the way when the car came.”
He imagined the accident would make the news with all its gory details. It probably already had. He wanted to protect her from the truth, but there was no way to do so, so he gave it to her as gently as he could. “The driver hit him hard, Grace. He flew up over the car.”
She stared at him as her fingers went lax against his.
“It was an older woman who didn’t see him on the road. I don’t know if there have been any further developments. I’ll contact the police once we get settled.”
She swallowed as she looked out the windshield again.
“I’m sorry, Gracie. I’m sorry that any of this is happening at all.”
She said nothing as she let him go to clutch her hands together in her lap and close her eyes.
Damn it. Flipping on the blinker, he turned right for the parking garage beneath Steve’s building, using the fob on the keychain to open the gate.
Driving through, he pulled into one of Steve’s reserved spots next to Steve’s prized Jaguar on the second deck, then shut off the ignition. “Grace.”
“He was helping someone. He was doing the right thing. How does something like this happen when you’re doing the right thing?”
“I don’t know.” He released his seat belt, then hers, doing his best to pull her against him with the console between them, feeling her body trembling as she held herself rigid.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated because there was no way to make any of this better.
Her arms came around him. “I’m asleep, right? This is just a nightmare?”
He kissed her temple. “I wish it was.”
She eased back. “He’s going to be okay.”
He hoped to hell so, but Paul’s concerns weren’t far from his mind. “Let’s head upstairs and settle in for a little while.”
She nodded. “All right.”
Grace stood in the hallway on the twentieth floor of her father’s building, gripping her arms around herself, unable to warm up as Jagger unlocked the door.
“Here we go,” he said, opening the door wider for her to step in before him.
She hesitated, then went inside, breathing in the subtle hints of her dad’s cologne as she glanced toward the city views while rain trailed down the massive windows.
Jagger set down their bags and put the keys on the entryway table. “It looks like he redecorated.”
Long ago, the space had favored her stepmother’s tastes. Now the simple décor and easy class reflected her dad’s preferences. “I guess so.”
The familiarity of the space brought a confusing mix of comfort and sadness. Once upon a time, her brother had stood in this room. Once upon a time, there had been good times and laughter—or at least when Veronica had been out of town.
Things had been easier between her brother and father when professional sports and excellent food had been part of the equation.
Pieces of the past had happened here—happy moments that were long gone.
Jagger moved to the kitchen in the open concept downstairs, looking through the cupboards and fridge. “There’s not much in here. Fruits and vegetables for your dad’s juicing and a package of old-fashioned oats.”
She didn’t mind at all. The idea of eating anything made her nauseous. “I’m not hungry, but we can order something for you.”
“I’m all set for now.”
She absently nodded, wandering toward the small library—her favorite room in the luxurious home.
Stepping in, she hit the light switch, studying the large rugs on pretty hardwood, strategically placed plush couches, and the familiar abstract art on the walls—dramatic splashes of dark-blue paint. “Better,” she murmured.
Jagger stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist like he so often did. “How are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her head to look up at him. “All of this feels surreal.”
He sighed, kissing her temple. “It’s a little weird being here.”
“The view’s so pretty—so much the same. And that gorgeous deck. How many times did we sit out there, Jagger? How many times did we sneak out there after we knew everyone else had gone to bed?”
“Too many to count.”
She looked toward the fireplace and frowned when dozens of photographs caught her eye. “What’s this?”
Easing away from him, she moved to the sleek mantle, studying the pictures.
A smile ghosted her mouth as her gaze wandered over baby and toddler versions of herself and her big brother.
The blond boy and girl with big blue eyes grew older the farther she walked to the right: grade school, middle school, the shot of her beaming as she held up the first real camera she had been gifted on her eleventh birthday.
Her smile dimmed as she looked at Logan, grinning in his navy-blue and white Sheraton Prep football gear. Then there was a picture of herself and her brother at Syracuse—when things had been good before the relapse.
