A Risk Worth Taking (23 page)

I
stared down at her, taking in her half smile and closed eyes. “I love being the
one to make you look like this,” I whispered, my face only inches from hers.

“Mmm.
Ford, I love you,” she replied.

The
second the words were out, she froze. My hands stilled in surprise and before I
could react, she was scooting out from underneath me, her eyes opened wide in
horror. I had no idea what to say. It wasn’t a phrase I’d expected to hear from
her. Ever. Though, now that I’d heard it, a slow wave of warmth was spreading
over me, and I couldn’t deny how ridiculously giddy it’d made me that she’d
said it. That she meant it.

When
I didn’t say anything, Summer jumped to her feet, adjusting her shirt and
running a hand through her hair. “Shit—I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came
from. I didn’t mean—Forget I said that.” Her face was three different shades of
red as she tried to recover from the unintentional slip.

I
climbed to my feet, knowing I needed to say something to make this right. And
not just for her, I realized, but for me. I
wanted
to say something
back.

“Summer,
wait.” I caught her hand just as she turned away and pulled her back to face
me.

“What?”
Her expression was tight as if she’d braced herself.

I
used my free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. I wanted to see the look in
her eyes for this one. I wanted to remember this moment. “Did you mean it?”

Her
face reddened another shade and she bit her lip. It took her a long time to
answer, or maybe to decide how to answer. When she did, her shoulders sagged in
some version of defeat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re leaving.”

“It
matters for right now,” I said.

Her
expression told me she wasn’t convinced. I took a deep breath. There was a
strange fullness in my chest right over my heart and I knew that although she’d
had the guts to say it first, I felt the same. Despite the fear, I pushed on.
“It matters because … I love you too.”

“Ford.”
Her eyes filled with tears.

I
recognized that look and the argument that would follow. I pressed on without
giving her a chance. “No matter what happens after this, you’ve changed me,
Summer. I love you for that and for the fact that not once have you asked for
that change. What we have, what we are, is beautiful. Don’t ruin it by worrying
about something that hasn’t happened yet. This moment right here is ours. Let’s
take our moments.”

She
blinked and when her eyes opened, they were clear and shining. Slowly, she
reached up and wound her arms around my neck. “All right,” she said softly.
“Let’s take our moments.”

When
she smiled, I saw the way she had to work at it. I knew the feeling. Letting
the love in was a scary choice. One I’d choose over and over again if it meant
holding onto this feeling. Holding onto Summer. The only thing better was
feeling her hold onto me.

Summer

"After a
good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations."

—Oscar Wilde
,
A Woman of No Importance

The
sight of your father standing over your bed in the middle of the night is weird
at best, creepy at worst. I barely held back the scream that bubbled in my
throat when I opened my eyes to the sight of him bent over me and shaking my
shoulder to rouse me.

“What
…?” I began, closer to sleep than awake.

“Wake
up, honey,” he said. His voice was oddly gentle. That, more than anything, let
me know something was up. Something serious.

“What
is it?” I asked.

“It’s
your mother. She was in a car accident. We need to go.”

I
threw the cover back, six different types of alarm bells sounding in my head.
Panic shot through me as my feet hit the chilly hardwood. “Is she okay? Is
she—?”

“She’s
stable. That’s all I know. Can you throw some clothes on?” He backed off to
give me some room as I rummaged in the darkness for the jeans I’d thrown aside
earlier.

I
went to the closet and ripped a shirt off the hanger. “I’ll meet you downstairs
in five.”

He
was already out the door, his boots creaking down the steps as he went.

The
house was dark and quiet as I descended the stairs. I found Dad in the kitchen
with Mazie, a low lamp sending a single beam of light across the tiled floor.
It felt much later than one thirty—the time advertised on the oven as I
passed—but on a work night in the middle of harvest season, most of us crashed
by ten or so. Waking any earlier than sunrise left me feeling a little muddled
on a normal night. Right now, my brain was mush—nothing made sense. What was my
mother doing in a car in the middle of the night, anyway?

Mazie
handed Dad and I each a full to-go cup before pressing Dad’s keys into his
hand. I noticed it shook slightly as he took them, and my chest hurt to see his
worry displayed so obviously. It made my heart break for him all over again.

“You’ll
call everyone?” Dad asked as Mazie ushered us out the door.

“I’ll
call everyone,” she promised. “Now go.”

County
Hospital wasn’t far but the drive seemed to last forever. Dad and I didn’t
speak. I knew he was worried and wrapped up in his thoughts. We had such little
information to go on. She was okay. Stable, they’d said. I tried to focus on
that, and not on the way Dad’s forehead creased with extra worry lines or the
fact that this woman kept breaking his heart, albeit unintentionally this time,
but still … couldn’t she stop making him sad?

Guilt
washed over me for thinking that when she was possibly hurt. But the anger
rose, unbidden, right alongside the worry and fear for her well-being. I wanted
her to be okay. But I also wanted to be mad. I wasn’t sure how the two feelings
co-existed, but they did. And it made me feel all kinds of tossed around by the
time we pulled into visitor parking on the emergency side.

My
phone buzzed in my hand and I jumped at the unexpected vibration. I willed my
pulse to slow enough to breathe before answering it. “Casey,” I said. My voice
had a slight waver but at least there weren’t tears. Yet.

“What’s
the word?” His tone held a combination of sleep and worry. In the background, I
heard a car door shut and an engine crank. I tried not to let it affect me, but
the familiarity of his voice, the knowledge he was already in the car, it
comforted me—and threatened to break me down right here in the parking lot. I
swallowed hard.

“Not
sure yet. We just got here. Dad was told she’s stable, though.”

“Well,
that’s something. Hold the fort. We’ll be there in ten.”

I
faltered mid-step. “We?”

“Ford
and I.” He said it like it was completely obvious that Ford would be included
for something like this. It warmed me to see him becoming such a close part of
my family. To see everyone else accepting him so easily. I barely felt the pang
in my gut—my body’s way of not letting me forget this was all temporary.
Knowing he was coming eclipsed any amount of sadness.

“Thanks,
Casey,” I said, hurrying to catch up with Dad as we strode toward the sliding
doors. “And hurry.”

“We’ll
be there soon,” Casey said before disconnecting.

Inside
the lobby, I blinked over and over. It was lit up like a landing strip in here,
the bustle of uniforms amping up my stress level from the sheer energy of it
all. I followed Dad to the front desk and waited while he gave my mother’s name
to the nurse on duty. She gave each of us a sticker to wear with the room
number on it and hit the button for the automatic door behind her.

“All
the way to the end, take a left. Then it’s the third room on the right,” she
called after us.

“Thank
you,” Dad called over his shoulder, pulling me along.

When
I turned the corner and saw a group of EMTs standing outside her room, my
stomach dropped hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. I halted and
grabbed for the wall, the fear paralyzing me. Black spots danced in front of my
eyes, blocking out the entire left side of Dad’s frown as he turned back to me.

“Summer?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. “Summer, she’s fine. We’re almost there. Breathe,”
he added in a firm voice.

I
obeyed, sucking in air through lungs that were stuck. It sounded raspy but it
succeeded in putting all my organs back where they belonged. After a few more
labored breaths, my heart no longer felt lodged in my knees. I straightened but
kept one hand on the wall, taking tiny steps toward my mother’s room. Part of
me didn’t want to get there and see what sort of damage had been done.

“Yeah,
okay,” I said, feeling anything but.

What
if it was bad? What if she wasn’t okay? What if I never got the chance to
forgive her?

In
that moment I realized the anger at my mother wasn’t nearly as permanent as I
thought. She was my mother. The one person in the whole world I could be mad at
and say whatever I needed because at the end of the day, she would love me no
matter what. But that only applied if she was still around to love me. I needed
her to be around.

My
dad reached the door first, which was actually a curtain. The EMTs parted to
let us pass. I didn’t make eye contact with a single one of them. Instead, I
stared at the squares on my dad’s flannel shirt as I followed him inside.

The
room smelled like the rest of the place: sterile to the point of unpleasant. A
small counter with a sink lined one wall and a whiteboard filled with scribbled
names and numbers hung on the other.

“Dean.”
I heard my mother’s voice as my dad moved to her side, leaving me exposed and
giving me no choice but to look at her. I stood rooted to the spot as I took in
the sight of my beautiful, capable mother, laying bandaged in a hospital bed.

“Hey,”
Dad said. My parents shared a smile and he took the hand she offered him,
holding it lightly in his. Her other arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow and
in a sling that looped around her neck. Her right leg stuck out from underneath
the thin blanket. It too was wrapped in gauze from knee to ankle and propped on
pillows.

“Summer,”
she said, and I drew my eyes from her injured leg to her face for the first
time. Around scrapes on both cheeks and a larger cut on her forehead with a
bandage over it, she was smiling at me.

I
burst into tears.

“Oh,
honey.” She raised her bandaged arm in a welcoming gesture. “Come here.”

I
stumbled my way to her bedside and let her pull me into a hug. I buried my face
in her neck, the familiar scent of her freesia perfume mingling with the
alcohol and disinfectant they’d rubbed on her cuts. The reminder of her wounds
combined with the comfort of her arms around me only made me cry harder. How
long had it been since she’d hugged me? Since I’d let her?

“I’m
all right,” she said, her uninjured hand stroking my hair as I dripped tears
onto the shoulder of her hospital gown. 

“Are
you?” I managed between sniffles. “Because all the emergency guys are standing
out there and I thought—I thought maybe you—I’m so sorry, Mom. For everything.
I don’t want to be mad anymore. I don’t want to fight. I just needed someone to
blame. But it’s not you. It’s not, I swear.”

“I
know, darling. I know. It’s okay. Those men were asking me about real estate
while they waited for my doctor to sign their drop-off papers. I’m fine,
really.”

I
sniffled again. “Real estate?”

“Yes.
One of them wants to buy a house and was asking me questions about pricing and
things. Nothing more,” she assured me.

I
sat up, perching on the edge of her bed so I could look at her. “You’re really
okay?” I asked.

She
smiled and it lit her face. “Now that you’re here, I’m more than okay.”

I
knew what she meant, but I needed to know about her physical health first. “But
you’re bandaged.”

“My
arm and ankle are sprained. My leg was cut when the glass shattered and needed
a few stitches. Otherwise, it’s just scratches and bruises.”

“What
happened?” my dad asked.

“Idiot
ran a stop sign,” she said. 

My
dad’s eyes tightened at the corners. “The nurse on the phone said alcohol may
have been a factor.”

My
gaze cut to him sharply. “You didn’t tell me that,” I said. I looked at my
mother questioningly.

“Not
me,” she said. “The other driver. That Danny kid you went to school with …?”

My
dad and I shared a look. “I’m going to kick his ass,” my dad said. My mother
looked at him in surprise.

“Dean,”
she scolded.

“There
are a select few circumstances in life where ass-kicking is perfectly
acceptable. This is one of them, so don’t give me any shit,” he said.

I
gave him my best smile. “No shit being given,” I said. “I’ll even drive you.”

“Summer,”
my mom said. “Both of you. We don’t repay violence with violence.”

“What
about stupidity for stupidity?” my dad said.

“I
think the Lord gave Grayson County all the stupidity it could handle in that
boy. Let’s not add to it.” my mother said wryly.

I
snorted.

The
sound of footsteps, heavy and rushed, squeaked against the linoleum hallway.
Deep voices spoke in hushed tones followed by the curtain being yanked aside.

“Cathy,”
Casey said, relief relaxing his features as he took in the sight of the three
of us huddled together. I saw the spark as he noticed my hand resting over my
mother’s.

“Hello,
Casey,” she said warmly.

“How
are you?” he asked. I moved aside so he could kiss her cheek.

“I’m
fine. Scrapes and bruises. Can’t say the same for my car, though,” she said.

He
grimaced. “I’ll fix it up for you, don’t worry about it.”

She
laughed. “I doubt it. The EMTs said it was totaled. The hood looks strangely
like an accordion. My windshield’s cracked and shattered. He got me good.”

“Do
we know who it was?” Casey asked, looking from my mom to me and back.

“Danny,”
my dad answered first, and he and Casey shared a murderous look.

“Asshole,”
Casey said. “I’ll kick his ass.”

“Get
in line,” my dad told him.

“Darla’s
fired up and ready to go if we want to make it a party,” said a deep voice from
the open doorway. Ford stood in front of the metal door frame, arms crossed
over his chest, eyes blazing at the mention of the person responsible.

His
jeans hung low on his hips from throwing them on without a belt. His T-shirt
had a coffee stain on the bottom hem, almost unnoticeable through the wrinkles.
I had a feeling he’d grabbed from the wrong pile of laundry in his haste to get
dressed. My heart did a little dance at the thought of him rushing to be here
for her, for me. I wanted to run my hands through his disheveled hair and plant
one on him right in front of everyone.

“Ford,”
my mother said, smiling at him. “It was very sweet of you to come.”

He
never took his eyes off me as he said, “You couldn’t keep me away.”