I blew out breath after breath. Quinn must be going crazy. I started the shower to get my ass in gear. I had to take care of my girl.
“He’s in surgery,” Liam said. “Mom said something about a blockage, and if Trevor wasn’t there, my dad wouldn’t be alive.”
“Trevor?” Surely he couldn’t be talking about the same boy who was related to Sloane. What would he be doing on the Thompson farm?
“Some guy on the basketball team my dad just hired. Look, Quinn is a mess. When you’re finished at the farm, make sure you get over to the hospital. She’s going to need you.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. “I’ll wrangle some guys and take care of the horses. I’ll have my mom head to the hospital to see if she can help in any way. Maybe the farm store?”
“Nah. My mom hadn’t opened the store. All this happened about four thirty this morning in the horse barn. Quinn and Trevor found him. I gotta go. I’m at the airport. I’ll see you soon, and thanks, man.” He hung up.
I stood idle for a minute, my brain scrambling to figure out who else I could get in addition to my brothers. I knew just the person to call.
On the first ring, Coach Dean answered. “Maiken?”
“Coach, Mr. Thompson had a heart attack this morning. I need some guys to help me feed the horses.” I imagined we might have to clean out the stalls too.
“Dear God,” he mumbled. “Fill me in.”
I gave him the rundown as I knew it from Liam. When I was done, I told my mom what had happened, rounded up my brothers, and we piled into the Suburban and headed to the farm.
Coach Dean was meeting us there with guys from the basketball team. We had more than enough hands to bang out the chores and ensure the animals were taken care of.
Four hours later, after back-breaking work, a hot shower, and a quick burger, I was rushing into the hospital. Coach Dean had spoken to Mrs. Thompson while we’d been at the farm, and he’d learned that her husband had to have open-heart surgery. She hadn’t known much more at that point.
I hurried past people walking by and down to the bank of elevators. Mrs. Thompson had told Coach she was in a waiting room on the fourth floor.
I stabbed the button for the elevator and checked my phone. There was still no response from Quinn. I was going nuts with worry, and I was jonesing to get my arms around my girl.
When the elevator doors opened, I practically flung myself into it. I bounced on my feet as the car traveled slowly up one floor then two. When the bell finally dinged, I was ready to pry the doors open with my bare hands. Suffocation took on a whole new meaning as I waited for the door to open. When it finally did, I tore out of the car, searching in one direction then another for any sign of the lounge or waiting room.
A short lady in scrubs hurried by.
“Waiting room?” I asked.
She pointed ahead of her. “Around the corner on the right.”
My feet clobbered on the floor, sounding like Apple’s hooves on concrete, as I flew in that direction and into a stuffy, filled room. The tension was thick, and the sadness was so soupy, I again felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Visions of my own dad danced before me. But when I laid eyes on the girl with butterscotch hair, I faltered to an abrupt stop.
Some big blond dude, who looked more like a wrestler, had his arm around Quinn, consoling her as she snuggled against his chest. What had my insides in a huge knot was the way he was rubbing her arm and resting his chin on her head like he was the love of her life.
Breathe, man. This isn’t the time to show your jealousy. This definitely isn’t the time to lift the dude and throw him out of the room, not with Mrs. Thompson crying next to Coach Dean.
When Quinn’s mom cleared the tears from her eyes, she jumped up and smothered me in her arms. “Thank you. You’re such a good boy.” Her heartbeat was off the charts. “Liam told me you took care of the animals.” She eased away, regarding me with puffy, red eyes and splotchy, ashen skin.
“Maiken?” Quinn’s voice was raw and cracked. The pain in her voice felt like daggers in my chest. She dashed away tears from her swollen eyes as she stood next to her mom on shaky legs.
I hugged her to me, wanting desperately to take away her pain. I smoothed a hand down her mud-coated hair. It was a knot of tangles, and the funk of the farm burned my nose.
Smell or not, I didn’t care. “I’m so sorry, baby.” My own tears sprang free.
She bawled and shook as she held me as tightly as I was holding her.
Coach Dean gave me a weak grin as he consoled Mrs. Thompson, while Trevor sat like the Lone Ranger. His expression was a mix of pain and sadness.
I continued to soothe my girl as her cries became muffled. I wasn’t leaving this spot for anything. I wasn’t leaving her until I knew she was okay. She was mine to console, protect, cherish, and love. My heart was hers to keep forever.
She lifted up her head, blinking long, wet lashes. Her amber gaze was crestfallen, yet it contained so much love. “I can’t lose my dad.”
The word dad sent me back to the day Mom had broken down in a heap of tears. “I know, babe. I know. I love you,” I whispered. Emotions clogged my throat as I dashed tears from her beautiful face.
I knew he had to have emergency open-heart surgery, but I wasn’t quite sure what the prognosis was at that point, and I was afraid to ask, afraid I would set in motion another round of tears from both Quinn and her mom. Regardless, I didn’t think I could speak anyway.
Mom always said, “Sometimes no words are needed. You have to just listen and be there for a person.”
I helped Quinn to a chair next to her mom. I needed to sit, or else my legs would give out. Quinn’s pain was my pain. Quinn’s sorrow was mine too. Everything she was feeling, I could feel as strongly as her. Dad’s death was front and center, and the memories of that awful day were suddenly wreaking havoc on my psyche.
Trevor slid over to the chair next to mine. “Hey, man. I’m Trevor.”
“Maiken. Thanks for taking care of Quinn.”
“Anytime,” he said. “She’s a great girl.” He was smitten with Quinn. I could hear it in his voice and see it written all over his face.
She’s all mine. So don’t get any ideas. “The best.”
Silence filled the ten-by-ten room, which had stark white walls, two posters of medical information, and a TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner, which was as dead as the eerie quietness.
“The doctor should be in anytime,” Mrs. Thompson said. “What’s taking so long? Surgery should’ve been done by now.”
I wasn’t knowledgeable on how long open-heart surgery took, but it had to be hours.
Just then, a short man in scrubs came in, taking off his cap. His expression was blank.
Mrs. Thompson and Quinn jumped up at the same time.
“Dr. Fleming,” Mrs. Thompson rushed out. “Is my husband okay?”
Quinn held her mom’s hand. Both of them were tense and breathing heavily.
I said a silent prayer.
“Your husband is out of surgery. Initially when we spoke, I thought he had two blocked arteries, but we found a third. We had to do a triple bypass. He’s in ICU. He should be awake shortly.”
“So he’s going to be okay?” Quinn’s voice cracked.