Home > Songs for Libby(11)

Songs for Libby(11)
Author: Annette K. Larsen

“The light’s green,” I pointed out.

He faced forward and continued through the intersection. I could see him still thinking about the Sean situation and decided to change the subject myself. “We need boots too,” I blurted.

“What?”

“Cowboy boots. We can’t have hats but not boots. We’ll have to get both.”

“Do you know how much those things cost?”

“No.”

“It’s more than I’m willing to spend.”

“Killjoy.” I folded my arms, pretending to pout.

“Hey,” he said, raising one hand in surrender. “I’m more than happy to go with you and let you pay hundreds of dollars on stuff you won’t wear. I’m not going to stop you.”

“It would be an investment,” I deadpanned.

“An investment in what exactly?”

“Ridiculous life choices.”

“Ah.” The word escaped with a laugh. “Well, in that case, count me in.” He reached over and took my hand, casual as you please, and my ability to banter evaporated.

He held my hand the rest of the drive, steering one-handed like it was no big deal.

When we got to my apartment, he opened the car door for me, once again taking my hand as he walked me to my door. “That was a lot of fun.” I turned to face him, bracing myself for the doorstep scene.

“Yeah, it was.” He reached for my other hand, his gaze fixed on our entwined fingers. “If I try to kiss you, is it going to be awkward?”

My chest swelled in anticipation. Not even the reference to Sean’s disastrous kiss could distract me from the fact that Jonas had pretty much declared his intent to kiss me. “I really hope not,” I answered, my voice more airy than usual.

He gave me a half smile as he looked down at me and slid one hand behind my neck. The kiss he pressed to my mouth was sweet and lingered only a few seconds, but it made my whole body relax. He pressed one more small kiss to my lips before he pulled back, his thumb running along my jaw as he gazed down into my face. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said with a content smile.

My smile bloomed in response and I nodded.

He stepped back, his fingers grazing over my neck and my wrist. I wanted to reach for him again, to keep the feel of his hand in mine. Instead I let my hand drop away and reached for my keys, glancing back for one last look at his adorable face as I unlocked my door and slipped into my apartment.

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

As I readied for bed, I smiled, thinking over my evening with Jonas. The conversation. The dancing. The kiss. I wondered about his time in the army. He’d done several tours, but where had he gone and for how long?

I had just finished rinsing my face and was patting it dry when my phone went off. I turned to it, eager to see if it was Jonas. Instead Randy’s name lit up the screen.

My heart plummeted.

So much for having a happy ending to my day. I swiped to accept the call and stuck it to my ear as I went to find my shoes and keys. “What did he do this time?”

“We’re headed to the hospital.”

I jerked to a stop. “What?! What happened?”

“He’s unconscious.”

I hurried to the door. “How?!”

“He slammed a glass into the bar top and it broke. When it sliced into his hand, he overreacted, tripped, and slammed his head into the bar.”

I blinked twice, trying to absorb the insanity of that string of words, then shook it off. “What hospital?” I shoved my feet into shoes and flung my purse over my shoulder.

“Presbyterian.”

“I’m on my way.” I hung up and shoved the phone in my bag as I flew out my door, taking the stairs two at a time as I sprinted down to my car.

As I raced to the hospital, trying not to speed, my mind whizzed through the different possibilities. It could just be a little concussion, no big deal. He could simply be passed out from alcohol and the head wound would be inconsequential. He could have brain damage. He could never wake up. And what about his hand? Had the glass caused permanent damage? What if he couldn’t play again? What if….What if….What if….

I forced my breathing to calm, reminding myself over and over again that I couldn’t know anything until I got there.

 

♪♫♪

After frantically running around the hospital, trying to figure out where Sean would be, I was led to a waiting room where Randy was pacing the floor and talking on his phone. I gathered that he was trying to cancel or delay Sean’s engagements for the next week.

Looking around, it was clear that this was the swanky part of the hospital. Probably a VIP wing or something. Did hospitals have those? Either way, I was glad. Fewer people here. Maybe even better security.

“Mr. Michaelson,” a nurse said, trying to get Randy’s attention. He immediately hung up on whoever he’d been speaking with and gave her his full attention, motioning for me to join him.

The nurse looked at me, hesitant. “Is she…”

“She’s fine,” Randy insisted. “What’s going on?”

She gave me one more worried look before jumping into an explanation of Sean’s injuries. The glass had cut deep into his hand in several places and he had a concussion. “He’s conscious now, and he’s just coming back from x-ray if you’d like to see him.”

Randy sighed and then pulled out his phone. “You go, Libby. I’ve got fires to put out and he’d want to see you anyway.”

“Are you sure Mr. Amity’s security guy won’t have a problem with it?”

While the delay she was causing irritated me, I couldn’t help but appreciate her caution.

Randy pulled the phone away from his mouth to address the nurse. “She’s Mr. Amity’s best friend. She’s one of his emergency contacts and is on a first-name basis with all his security. Take her back, please.”

The nurse nodded and turned immediately to lead the way, walking quickly, any reticence now gone. “Sorry about that,” she said to me with an easy smile. “I just wanted to double check—”

“I understand. I’m glad you aren’t letting people run around up here. Thank you for protecting him.” I tended to be suspicious of most females when it came to Sean, but this woman looked like a mother with grown children, so I decided not to worry.

“I’ve only worked a case like this once before, and I have to be sure to remember the extra protocols. I do not want to be the woman who accidentally lets a journalist near him.”

The smile that crossed my lips surprised me.

“I’m Claire, by the way, and”—she gestured to a door—“this is our stop.”

Tucker stood guard outside the door, giving me a nod of acknowledgement before facing his eyes forward again.

Nurse Claire went on her way, but I just stood there, unable to make myself go in. Several times I tried, telling my feet to move forward. But I had to concede defeat, and instead sank down into the chair across the hall, bracing my hands on my knees as I tried to get a grip on myself. Knowing Sean was hurt was one thing. Seeing it was another.

A doorway down the hall opened and a young woman stepped out, closing the door carefully before coming to sit in the chair next to mine. She looked as ragged as I felt, so I did my best to give her a friendly smile.

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