She didn’t do well in the dark anymore.
She didn’t like strangers running at her.
Every instinct she had kicked in, and she turned to face her attacker and put up her hands. “Stay back.” The warning lacked the oomph she’d hoped for when her voice cracked.
The man kept coming. “What are you doing with my dad?”
She tried to hold on to the word dad, but panic short-circuited her brain. “Stay away. Don’t touch me.”
The man halted immediately, surprise and confusion lighting his eyes. He held his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. That’s my dad. Is he okay?”
She kept one hand up in front of her to ward him off and pressed the other to her temple, trying to make sense of reality and nightmare as his face changed to the one she feared and back to Mr. Crawford’s handsome son.
“Is my father okay?” His words found their way past the images assailing her mind and sank in. His sharp tone helped keep her rooted in reality, and she focused on his stunning blue eyes.
“He’s sick. V-very sick.”
Mr. Crawford needed her help. She tried to hold on to that thought alone.
The man took a tentative step forward. “Are you taking him to the hospital?”
“Y-yes.” She nodded and tried to suck in a deep breath to stave off the hyperventilating that threatened to make her dizzy.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she bit out.
“Let me help you get him settled in the car.” He took another step forward.
She sidestepped and moved away from the open passenger door to let him take her place.
With hardly any effort at all, he pulled Mr. Crawford across the back seat. “Hey, Dad. I’m home. Can you hear me?”
She managed to find her bearings and ran around to the other side of the car and situated Mr. Crawford’s legs and feet. She had a hard time meeting the other man’s eyes, but said, “Get in. I’ll drive.”
She closed the passenger door. So did he on his side, then they met in the front. She pulled the keys from her pocket and jammed the right one into the ignition before she remembered. “Shit. The front door is open.”
The man pinned her in his gaze. “Do not leave without me.”
She gave him a disgruntled frown and waited while he jumped out, rushed to close the door, then ran back. The second he was in the car, she stomped on the gas and backed out of the driveway, swung the car around in a tight turn, and raced down the road headed back into town.
The man turned in the passenger seat and studied his father. “What happened? Why is he breathing like that?”
“He called in a delivery order.” She took a cleansing breath, found some calm, though her heart still wildly pounded in her chest, and let the rest of what happened tumble out of her mouth. “He sounded really bad. I offered to take him to urgent care, but when I arrived to drop off the food and take him, he didn’t answer the door. I got worried, so I went in and found him lying in the hallway. He wasn’t really awake, but he managed a few words when I told him I needed to drag him out to the car. He helped me a little to get him inside. Then you showed up.”
He turned to stare at her. “Should you be driving in your condition?”
She breathed in and out in short pants. “I’m fine. Why? I’m fine.” She was totally talking way too fast. Her knuckles had gone white, so she eased off her hold on the steering wheel.
“You’re pale as a ghost.”
“It’s not easy to drag a man who outweighs me by fifty or more pounds out of a house and into the car,” she pointed out. True. But anxiety, a minor panic attack, and the nightmares filling her thoughts had far more to do with her current condition and state of mind.
She distracted herself by counting the reflective disk-thingies on the road.
He raked his hand over his head. “Damn. I don’t know how you managed.” He stared at his dad, then settled back in the passenger seat.
Because Mr. Crawford was her favorite customer, and she liked spending time with him when he placed a delivery order; she knew all about his favorite person. Little Emmy. His pride and joy.
Of course many of the pictures included Mr. Crawford’s son. Jon? She was pretty sure that was his name. Mr. Crawford was so proud of the businessman, who was the first in the family to graduate college and leave their small town and make it big in California.
And if memory served, he was moving back home.
“You’re Emmy’s dad. I’m glad you showed up when you did. He’ll be so happy you’re home.” Her brain started firing on all cylinders. “Mr. Crawford is head over heels for his granddaughter. He shows me pictures and tells me stories about her all the time.” Talking about mundane things distracted her from the panic she couldn’t control.
He glanced in the back to check on Mr. Crawford again. Nothing had changed in his terrible condition, but he didn’t seem worse. “I hope whatever this is, he gets to see her again soon.”
“He’s going to be okay.” She said it as much for him as she did for herself. She liked Mr. Crawford and looked forward to her visits with him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” She brushed her hair back from her face, then tucked her shaking hand between her knees and drove one-handed.
“Helping him. Taking care of him.” He wiped his hand over his face. “I worry about him out here all alone. It’s why I’m moving back. Well, part of why I’m moving back.”
“He told me you want Emmy to grow up the way you did.”
“I want her to know her grandfather, play on the ranch, learn to ride a horse, grow her own garden like my mother did, and spend more time in the fresh air than on her tablet.”
“She’ll get that here.”
His words did something to her. She relaxed into the pretty picture he painted of a little girl growing up on a ranch. It reminded her of how she was raised and what she wanted for her future.
She took the next turn and sent her passenger into the side door.
Jon gripped the handle above the window and held on. “Um, you might want to slow down just a bit. Not that I don’t mind the hurry, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”
“Don’t worry. I know these roads like the back of my hand.”
He stared across at her. “You grew up out here.”
“Born and raised. The McGrath place. Cedar Top Ranch, down the road the other way.”
Jon turned to her. “Is Drake your brother?”
She smiled thinking about him and how far he’d come this past year, how happy he was with Adria. “He is. Along with Tate and Declan, who run the ranch for the family now.”
“That makes you the little sister. Trinity McGrath.”
“Yep.” With three overprotective brothers. “And you’re Jon, right?”
“Yeah. I graduated a year behind Drake and one ahead of Declan, I think. Drake and I hung out sometimes. You were still just a little thing back then.”
She was surprised he remembered her at all. Her brothers didn’t like her chasing after them so much when they hit high school.
Jon checked on Mr. Crawford again, frowning when Mr. Crawford didn’t make a miraculous recovery they both wished for. “This is taking too long.”