Kicked (17 page)

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She turned to me. “Very nice to meet you, Trent. Take care of Cordy, and I’ll see you both bright and early.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She reached up and patted my cheek, a warm smile on her face. “Charmer.”

Charlie rose from his seat. “I’m charming too, you know.”

Mrs. Trapper laughed and shooed him out the door ahead of her. The room fell silent except for the steady breaths of Cordy’s father and the noise from the nurse’s station.

“He’s so stupid.” She looked up at me, tears suspended at the corners of her eyes. “I told him. His doctor told him. Everyone told him to stop drinking. He never listened.”

I sat behind her, perching on the foot of the bed, and wrapped my arms around her. She let me pull her against my chest, giving me a trust I didn’t deserve.

We sat silently for a long while. I’d never felt content, not since the day when I’d let her go. But when she was in my arms, my heart was at ease.

Eventually, a nurse walked in and checked on his IV. “You two should get some sleep. We’re monitoring him just fine. That sofa over there pulls out into a bed, and this chair is far more comfortable than it looks.” She took his blood pressure and vitals while giving me instructions on how the pull-out bed worked.

I got it all set up and motioned for Cordy to lie down. The nurse brought some pillows and a blanket.

Cordy gave her father’s hand one more squeeze before walking to the makeshift bed. “I can sleep in the chair. I don’t mind.” Her voice was quiet, fatigue and fear dragging her words down.

“It’s not a problem.” I put my hand at her lower back and guided her to the couch. “Go ahead and get settled.”

She sank down and kicked her boots off.

“I’ll try not to come in too much.” The nurse made a few notes on her clipboard. “But call if you need me.” She hit the light on the way out, leaving only the soft glow from the heart rate monitor.

I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped down to the white t-shirt underneath. Setting my shoes to the side, I lowered into the chair Charlie had occupied. The vinyl seat was cracked along the edges—showing wear like a lot of the items in the small hospital—but it was bearable. I fidgeted around until I got comfortable and could still keep an eye on Cordy across the room.

She rolled to her side. Then, after only a few moments, she rolled to her other side and faced me. I couldn’t see her well in the dark, but I could sense her eyes on me.

“Trent?” Her voice was thick with tears.

I sat forward to get a better look at her. “Yeah?”

“Do you really think he’ll be okay?”

I stood and walked around the bed to her. Kneeling next to her, I stroked the soft strands of hair away from her face. “I don’t know, but I’m going to hope for the best.”

She trembled as she searched my eyes, looking for reassurance.

I ran my thumb along her soft cheek. “But I can promise you that I’ll be here for you. No matter what. Whatever it takes. Okay?”

She nodded, never breaking eye contact.

“Get some sleep.” I kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment as I took in the scent of her hair. When I rose, she took my hand.

“Stay?”

I stilled.

“I mean, could you, um, sleep here with me?”

She already possessed my heart, and I would never deny her any comfort I could give.

“Sure.”

She scooted all the way to the back of the small bed, giving me just enough room to lie down beside her. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot, but I would have lain on a bed of hot coals just to be close to her.

“You have enough space?” I put one hand over my heart and the other behind my head.

“Yeah.” She tossed the blanket over me.

She shifted next to me, her body grazing mine. I wanted to pull her against me, but it wasn’t the time or the place. She seemed to find a comfortable spot and let out a sigh, her breath tickling the hair on my arm.

“Good night.”

“Night.” I glanced at her, but her face was shadowed.

“And, thank you.” She placed her hand on my bicep and gave me a soft squeeze. “For staying. It means a lot.”

“I’m happy to do it.”

She let her hand fall so that it only just touched my arm. After a few deep breaths, she began to relax. Fifteen minutes later, she was asleep.

I finally spoke the words I’d wanted to say when she’d thanked me. “I love you, Cordy. I’d do anything for you.”

It had been a long morning of doctors, tests, and bad results. Cordy’s father had been awake and lucid the entire time, though his mood soured more each hour he went without a drink.

“I just want to go home.” He sat up and pulled the heart rate monitor off his finger.

“That’s not a good idea, Mr. Baxter.” Dr. Edgars shook his head. “Your liver function is so low that any further alcohol is only going to cause more permanent damage.”

“I won’t drink. I just don’t want to be here.” He put his feet on the floor, but paused before standing. “Where are my pants?”

“Dad.” Cordy put her fists on her hips. “You aren’t going anywhere until the doctor says so. Lie down and listen to what he has to say.”

“But Cordy, I don’t need him to tell me to quit drinking. I get it. I’ll quit.”

She shook her head, clearly not believing a single word he said. “No, you need help. Real help.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “From where? I can hardly afford to eat, much less go to some goddamn rehab or whatever you and that doctor have been cooking up all morning.”

“Dad—”

“I need my pants.” He was just as stubborn as his daughter.

“Lie down right this minute!” Cordy’s voice had changed from cajoling to commanding in a second.

“You’d better listen to her, Frank.” Mrs. Trapper had been sitting in the comfortable chair, watching the scene just like I had.

He scowled, but when faced with the brunt of Cordy’s anger, he caved and sat back in the bed. “Women always telling me my business,” he grumbled and snapped the heart rate monitor back onto his finger.

Cordy sighed and sat next to him. “What am I going to do with you?”

I leaned closer to Dr. Edgars. “Doctor, can I have a word?”

He clicked his pen and placed it in the pocket of his white jacket. “Sure.”

“Hey, Cordy, I’m going to get some snacks. Want anything?”

“Cheetos.” Her answer was decisive.

“Puffy or crunchy?”

She smiled. “Surprise me.”

The doctor and I walked into the hall as Cordy and her dad talked.

“What can you do for him?”

He shook his head. “Nothing if he’s unwilling. The cirrhosis will eventually kill him, and quickly, if he doesn’t stop drinking.”

“Is there a rehab you know of that would work?”

“There is one I’ve had some success with, but what he said was pretty much true.” He adjusted his glasses and frowned. “It costs money. Mr. Baxter doesn’t have any insurance, and I suspect he doesn’t have the income to cover it.”

“But if he did have the money, you know a good place, right?”

“Well, sure. There’s a place about an hour from here. It’s in the woods on a lake. Serene, isolated. A perfect place to kick any habit. They specialize in drugs and alcohol, but take all kinds.”

“Get the paperwork going. Do whatever you need. I’ll cover the costs. But don’t tell him or Cordy, okay? Just make something up like”—I tapped my foot—“like it’s a scholarship or something like that. I don’t know.”

He quirked a smile. “You’ve won an all-expense-paid scholarship to rehab. Like that?”

“Sure. Just make it believable.”

“I can do that. At least, I think I can.” He put his hands in his jacket pockets. “But why can’t I tell them you’re paying?”

“They wouldn’t accept it, and I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for her.”

“Right.” He nodded. “For love. I can certainly tell a lie about a rehab scholarship for that cause.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“No, thank you. Anytime someone saves a life around here, I appreciate it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

C
ORDY

T
RENT DROVE US BACK
to Billingsley late that afternoon. I tried to convince him to let me handle the drive back so he could rest, but he wouldn’t have it. I dozed as we left the hill country, the sun setting behind the treetops.

Dad had managed to luck up on a spot at a local rehab. He wasn’t too happy about it, but agreed to go and at least give it a try. I would be able to visit him in a month, and Trent had volunteered to come with me. As the world darkened, my sleepy thoughts focused on the man next to me.

He was so different than what I’d thought for so long. I believed him to be selfish and heartless. But the way he cared for me over the past day showed a depth of kindness and warmth that rocked my assumptions off their foundations. Maybe I’d been wrong about him.

His words at the restaurant flitted around my mind—about how he’d stopped seeing me because of his family. It hurt, but now that I was looking at it from a distance, I realized he’d never said that
he
believed I was beneath him. I’d stormed out before giving him a chance to explain. I reached over and took his hand.

He shot me a smile and laced our fingers together. My heavy lids closed again, and the stress of the day pulled me down into sleep.

“Cordy?”

I turned over and buried my head under a pillow.

Deep laughter and his voice again. “Cordy? We’re going to miss practice.”

Practice
? Something was off. My dorm room bed didn’t have enough space for me to roll over and stretch out. I pulled my head from beneath the pillow and blinked against the sun streaming into the room.
Not my room
.

“Shit!” I clutched the blanket to me and blinked the sleep away.

Trent stood at the foot of the bed, his hair wet as if freshly showered. And, sweet baby Jesus, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Dark hair dusted his broad chest, ran down the center of his hard abs, and disappeared into his athletic shorts.

I swallowed hard.

“Want me to take you back to your dorm so you can get ready?”

“I, uh.” I looked around at the room—dark wood floors, high ceilings, and a wall of windows looking out onto the city park. Elegant and understated, it was easily the nicest bedroom I’d ever been in. I still wore the sweater dress, but my boots were sitting by the door, and my belt was draped over a dresser. “How did I get here?”

“You were out by the time we got back. I figured it would be easier if you slept here.”

I glanced to the other side of the bed. It was still made.

He followed my gaze. “I slept in the guest room next door.”

“Oh.” Was that disappointment in my voice?

He walked around and sat next to me, his golden skin and light eyes making tension swirl in my stomach. “I called the doctor first thing. Your dad is doing better and is set to be released this afternoon. He’ll be transported straight to the rehab. It’s all taken care of.”

“Thank you.”

He took my hand. “You’re welcome.” He stared down at me for a few beats, and something in his look had my body buzzing. His gaze darted to my lips, and he stilled. The longer he looked, the more it seemed my lungs couldn’t get enough air. But he pulled his hand away and stood. “I, um, I’ve already set out some breakfast we can grab and go.” He walked into a large closet next to what looked like an en suite bathroom. He snagged a team t-shirt and pulled it over his head as he walked out of the bedroom. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

All the heat he’d stoked inside me dissipated and left me on edge.

I rose and took a tour of his marble bathroom with clear glass shower and soaking tub, then walked out the door and into the sunny living room. He leaned on the granite bar in the kitchen. A bagel, already slathered with cream cheese, sat at the ready along with a travel cup of orange juice.

“You can eat on the way.” He finished his coffee and placed the cup in the sink.