The seven-year-old me would be giddy with excitement to be married to Rip Callahan. Who am I kidding? He’s everything, including my best friend’s brother. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean I can fantasize about forever with him. I’m an adult. We had sex, that’s it. This too shall pass and all that.
I feel the heaviness of the blanket as warmth surrounds me. His lips press against my temple. “Sleep, beautiful,” he says softly. Unable to hide any longer, I open my eyes to find him with his head resting against the seat, turned to face me. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“You called me your girlfriend.”
His hand reaches out and rests against my cheek. “You caught that, did you?”
“Do drunken hookups really count as a relationship?” I ask.
Something flashes in his eyes. “It wasn’t just a hookup.” There’s no room in his tone for arguments.
“We should, you know, just pretend it never happened. Just let it pass.”
“Let it pass?” He raises his eyebrows in question.
“Yes, in a few days, life will be back to normal. We were both under the influence of alcohol. It happens. No reason for either of us to feel guilty. You definitely don’t need to feel as though we need to be in a relationship because of it.”
“There’s no going back for me, Kenna. I was inside you last night. That means something to me.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Rip?”
He leans in close. His mouth’s a breath from mine. “I made love to you last night, McKenna. The details are a little fuzzy, but I remember enough. I remember feeling like I was finally home.” His eyes are soft. “I hate that I can’t remember every single second of our first time together.”
“It was a thing, but now it’s over. No harm done.” Except maybe to my heart. The way it’s beating frantically in my chest, it seems as though that forgetting won’t be an option for me. Not for a while, if not ever. I can’t believe we spent the night together and I can’t remember it.
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I don’t want it to be over.”
“Rip.” I sigh. “If this is some kind of weird sense of responsibility thing you have going on in that head of yours, you can drop it. We don’t have to make this a thing.”
“We do.”
“No, we don’t.”
“We’ll see,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
I don’t have the energy to argue with him, and I certainly don’t need every damn person on this plane involved in our private life. He’s not thinking clearly. I never want him to feel trapped like my father. I’ll give him some time to think about it, and once I see that Gramps is going to be fine, I’ll figure out how to navigate being friends who have seen each other naked.
Chapter 17
Rip
As we approach the entrance to the hospital, my hand on her thigh gives a soft tap, letting her know I’m here for her. Guiding our rental into the parking lot, I rush to grab the keys and my phone and catch up with her as she power walks her way to the main entrance. When we landed, we called to check on Harold. Agnes had informed us that the surgery went well, and they were admitting him to the cardiac floor.
Catching up to McKenna, I entwine my fingers with hers just as we’re entering the hospital. I wish there was something else I could do other than hold her hand and drive her to the hospital. I know her heart is aching at the thought of losing her grandfather. Her dream has always been to work side by side with him before he retires. She’s busted her ass to finish college early, only to be faced with the uncertainty of her grandfather’s future.
“Harold Dawson,” she says when we reach the reception desk.
“Are you family?” the lady behind the desk asks.
“She’s his granddaughter,” I answer for McKenna.
“And you are?”
“Her husband.” There’s no way I’m letting her go back there alone, and if they don’t think I’m family, they won’t let me. Boyfriend isn’t a good enough title in these kinds of situations.
“He’s on the fifth floor, the cardiac until. I’m not sure if he’s been assigned a room yet. Take that elevator”—she points to our right—“and the nurse at the desk will be able to help you.”
“Thank you,” I say, my feet already moving, guiding McKenna to the elevators. Once the doors close, I hit the number five on the wall and wrap her in my arms. She feels right.
“I’m so scared,” she murmurs into my neck.
“I know, I am too, but I’m going to be right beside you the entire time. Your gram said the surgery went well. He’s going to be okay.” She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she snuggles closer to me, soaking up the comfort I’m so desperately trying to give her.