Jarrett didn’t talk about his love life. Ever. The four friends had a tacit agreement to never mention it. Back in college he’d told them he’d only ever loved one woman in all his life, but she’d married another man. That Jarrett would bring it up now was huge. And the pain in his expression, as wounded and raw as ever, was a chilling testimony.
“Even if you don’t care about your own life,” Jarrett said, “do you want Brooke to hurt like this?”
“You know I don’t.” Cole’s shoulders sagged, exhaustion drenching him like an ocean wave. “But I’ve got all these crazy followers. Brooke will never be safe with me.”
“You’ve been in the limelight for ten years. Maybe it’s time to step out of it,” said Jarrett. “Finn did it. No one’s interested in his private life since he’s happily married. You could do the same thing.”
“But our stock values might drop.”
“We’ll be fine without our green-armed cowboy making the news all the time.” Jarrett rolled his eyes. “This week, Finn ramped up the noise about the voice command climate control. Bran’s developing a new line of video games for sighted players, using blind gaming protocol. Parts of the game, the screen goes black, and the gamer operates by audio cues only. The website hits are already off the charts.”
Cole knew his argument was lame. He’d enjoyed the fame for himself as much as for what it did for Phantom Enterprises. Could he give it up?
His watch beeped with an incoming message. Mack had brought in three more of his security team in a vain attempt to keep the press outside.
“You know what? I think you’re right.” Cole said. “I might like having some privacy. That’s probably why I spend every weekend at the ranch.”
Jarrett smiled and clapped him on the back. “Don’t you have some flowers to buy?”
Cole reached into the cooler and took out the two largest arrangements, carrying them to the front of the shop. “Sherry,” he asked the middle-aged woman behind the counter, “would you mind trading some flowers between these two arrangements for me? I want to switch all the pink flowers out of this one for the red roses in the other one.”
“Sure, Mr. Miller.” Her hands trembled as she worked. “I’m sorry about your wife. My whole Bible study group is praying for her. They aren’t going to believe I saw you in person.”
“Thank you, Sherry,” he said, ignoring Jarrett who elbowed him in the ribs.
When he’d paid, he handed her a rose and made Jarrett take a picture of them together on her cell phone.
Jarrett laughed as they left the shop. “She didn’t even recognize me. She probably thinks I’m your bodyguard.”
Cole made a detour through the emergency waiting room and interrupted Trudy’s consultation.
“Excuse me, but this’ll only take a second. Trudy, I’m sorry for behaving so badly earlier today.” He presented her with the bouquet that included the pink flowers. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Miller.” Her face bloomed red as she eyed the huge arrangement on the low counter. “I heard what happened, and I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for being upset.”
“Yeah,” the grey-haired man at her desk piped in. “That was horrible! I hope they hog-tie that guy and lock him up forever.”
“I heard they took him to Central Hospital,” said Trudy. “I’m glad they didn’t bring him here.”
“You be nice to Trudy,” Cole warned the man. “She’s had a rough day.”
“I promise.” The man nodded solemnly.
Another text came in on Cole’s watch, this one with Brooke’s new room number. His heart thrummed against his breastbone. “I’m going up,” he told Jarrett. “I hope I don’t say the wrong thing.”
“Ha! That’s inevitable with you.” Jarrett gave his shoulder a friendly shake.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“If I’m right—and I usually am—she’ll love you anyway. You’re a lucky man, Cole. Go convince her she’s a lucky woman.”
He expanded his lungs to full capacity, working up his courage.
“And Cole,” Jarrett added. “Congratulations! You’ll be a great dad!”
CHAPTER 24
White acoustic tiles whipped past overhead, too fast for Brooke to count. Around corners, down hallways, onto the elevator. Every part of her body was hurting, like she’d been dropped from two stories up onto a pile of sharp metal. But her belly hurt the most. Whatever drugs they had given her were wearing off, fast.
Her hands slid down, missing the firm roundness that meant her baby was safe inside her. Though some stranger with M.D. on his tag had informed her they had safely delivered her daughter, she sensed something was wrong. She’d begged to see her baby, but it hadn’t happened. Surely, if the baby had been alive and healthy, they would’ve brought the infant to her. Who cared if her blood pressure was still low? She had to see her baby… to know the truth!
The orderly shot a glance her direction before checking his cell phone and tapping on his screen. The bell dinged and the doors opened. Gliding down another maze of hallways, she read a sign as they passed, Surgical Recovery Unit. Why wasn’t she in the maternity ward? Women who had C-sections didn’t go to the surgical wing, did they? Not if their baby was born alive?
Tears leaked from her eyes.
Where was Cole?
She wanted to talk to her sister. And her mom. Did they even know what had happened to her?
At last, the bed glided through a doorway into a room. Two more women came into the room and lifted the sheet underneath her, hefting her onto another bed. She clenched her teeth against the agony, refusing to cry out. She felt like she was dying. Maybe she was. If her baby was dead, she didn’t want to live anyway,
“Hi, Brooke. I’m Tessa. I’ll be your nurse until the night shift.”
Tessa jostled her around on the bed and stuck a scanning device against her forehead. As Tessa wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Brooke’s arm and pressed her fingers against her wrist, she chatted inanely about her vital signs improving, as if Brooke cared.
“I want to see my baby,” Brooke croaked.
