Trent spent a few more minutes chatting with his father, but the medicine in the drip was already doing its job. When Mac’s eyes fluttered shut, Trent exited the room and left the hospital.
In a small town like Jackson Hole, the long-timers all knew each other. The woman at the hotel desk was a classmate of Trent’s. He gave her a tired smile. “Hey, Janine. Bryn checked in a little while ago, right? And she told you Dad’s in the hospital?”
“She sure did. Poor thing looked beat. And you don’t look so hot yourself.”
He shrugged. “We’re going to take turns sitting with him. If you’ll give me another key to the room so I won’t bother Bryn, and a take-out menu from anywhere—I’m not picky—I’ll owe you.”
He made his way down the hall and around the corner to the room Janine had indicated and swiped the key in the lock. The curtains in the room were closed, and in the dim light, he could see a Bryn-shaped lump in one of the beds. His body tightened. He was determined to have her, even if she had lied. But it would be on his terms. He would be in control. With a low curse for his own conflicted emotions, he kicked off his shoes, collapsed on top of the covers in the opposite bed and closed his eyes.
Bryn awoke to the smell of pepperoni pizza. Her stomach growled.
Her eyes snapped open when Trent’s unmistakable voice sounded from close at hand. “The doctor said we could come back at four. I left you a few slices.”
She sat up, carefully keeping the sheet at a decorous height, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, deeply regretting the fact that her pants were three feet away on a chair. The covers on the adjacent bed were rumpled, indicating that Trent had napped, as well.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had been naked and panting in this man’s arms. Now she could scarcely meet his gaze.
She licked her lips, faint with hunger. She had only picked at her breakfast before Mac collapsed. “Close your eyes.”
“No.”
His answer took her by surprise and she looked at him head-on. Dark smudges under his eyes said he was in no better shape than she was, but he no longer looked furious.
She frowned. “Then hand me my pants.”
“No.” A faint grin accompanied the negative.
She crossed her arms over her chest, in no mood for a confrontation. “A gentleman would have gotten his own room. You’re rich enough to buy the whole hotel. So why are you here?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Because this is where you are.” He paused and winced. “I have a temper, Bryn. You know that. But what happened with Dad this morning wasn’t your fault. You acted swiftly and responsibly. No one could ask for more. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
His unprompted and uncharacteristically humble apology should have made her feel relieved. But she didn’t deserve his absolution. “It was my fault,” she said doggedly. “I never should have mentioned Etta.” She had wanted to find out if Mac was aware of the letters. And she was as much in the dark now as before.
“What made you want to talk about our dearly departed mother?”
The macabre humor made her frown. Did anyone really know if Etta was dead or alive? “Well…” She cast about for an explanation that didn’t involve the damning letters. She would have to share their contents with Trent, but not yet. “It occurred to me that some of Jesse’s troubles could have stemmed from her leaving you all at such young ages. But you and Gage and Sloan turned out okay.”
His expression hardened. “We were older. We understood what she had done and why. We didn’t weave any fairy tales about her coming back. At least not after the first few days.”
“You were eleven, Trent. An age when a boy still needs his mother.”
He shrugged. “We had Dad. And if Etta cared so little about her family that she could simply walk out, we didn’t need her or want her.”
Her heart bled for the stoic little child he had been. He wouldn’t even refer to her as Mother. “And Jesse?”
“Jesse was different. He was only six. He cried every night for a month. We all took turns sleeping with him so that when he had nightmares, we’d be there to comfort him. He liked Gage the best. Gage would tell him stories about places all over the world…about the adventures the two of them would have one day. Jesse loved it.”