“Miss the plane, Brooke,” he pleaded softly, running a hand over her hair. He craved the feeling of her leaning into him. Yearned to hear the word “Yes” from her lips. “Let’s talk about this.”
A sound escaped her, part exhale, part sob. She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and met his eyes in a soldier-like way that left Keaton bemused. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to get home. I need to get back to my family.”
Another stab cut Keaton, this one dead center through his heart. She turned away, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. “I’m only asking for enough time to talk this through, Brooke, because I already think of you as family.”
A tremor passed through her small frame. Her free hand gripped the doorframe, and she turned back to him with the strangest expression, one he could only identify as a mix of agony and affection.
“It’s over, Keaton…” Her voice shook, but the words cut Keaton straight down the middle. “Let me focus on what matters.”
11
Brooke wandered down the hospital hallway toward the new room assigned to Justin on the pediatric floor of Shriner’s Hospital for Children, with two sodas from the vending machine in one hand, her phone in the other, and knots all through her stomach.
She stared at Keaton’s name in her contact list and chewed on the corner of her lower lip, which was swollen and sore by the time she gave up on making the call—for what felt like the hundredth time over the last month.
Turning into Justin’s room, she found Tammy in front of the IV pole, checking the monitor’s settings. Her sister glanced over her shoulder, and her gaze sharpened. “That was way too fast.” Her voice was lowered so she didn’t disturb Justin’s sleep. “You didn’t call, did you?”
Brooke’s mouth twisted in self-disgust. Instead of providing the obvious answer, she offered Tammy her favorite drink.
Her sister took the Dr. Pepper, then used it to point at Brooke. “You’re just making yourself miserable by dragging it out. It’s eating you up, Brooke.”
“I know.” She stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and paused at Justin’s bedside to gaze down at him. “God, I still see him as a baby when he’s sleeping. Did they say anything else before they brought him up?”
Tammy smiled down at her son and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Just that he was talking about gummi bear angels right before he went under.”
They both broke into laughter.
“One of the OR nurses saw me as we were coming up and told me it was another successful procedure. She said their other children have experienced an exponential improvement in their breathing capacity after the second treatment, something they haven’t seen to the same degree in adults.”
“Really?”
Tammy nodded, then shrugged. “No idea if that will continue to grow with the last treatment or not, but they’re hopeful.”
A giddy mix of excitement and relief jumped in Brooke’s stomach, and her eyes stung with happy tears. “Oh my God, think what that could mean for millions of kids with asthma. That’s so awesome.”
Tammy turned to Brooke and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re so awesome.” Her voice filled with tears. “He would never have had this chance if it weren’t for you. And I wouldn’t be halfway through nursing school either.”
“Hey,” she soothed, hugging Tammy back. “I love you guys. We’re family. We stick together.”
Tammy leaned away, smiling with tears sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed them away with the back of her hand. “We love you too. Which is why I want you to get on that phone and call him already.”
“I will,” she said, frustrated, then hedged with reservations, “…maybe…”
“Maybe? What’s this maybe? We’ve talked this out. We agreed you’d—”
“I know, I know.” She turned away, popped the top on her soda, and wandered to the window to look out over the lush green lawns surrounding the hospital. “I just…I wonder if it would just be better to leave it alone. I mean, it’s been, what, over a month? Five weeks? He’s probably forgotten all about it. Calling now and bringing it back up just to apologize seems…”
She released a frustrated breath and shook her head. Beyond smoothing over some hurt feelings, it seemed pointless. It wasn’t like he’d want to see her again after she’d explained. And even on the one-in-a-million chance that he did, her new job involved just as much travel as her last. They’d never be able to make something long-term work. Brooke just wasn’t sure if opening that door by calling without the possibility of something more was good for either of them. Then she realized how presumptive that was and got confused all over again.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” she said, agonizing over the decision the way she’d been agonizing over it for weeks—ever since she’d gotten the new job with an income to cover Justin’s procedure and didn’t need to abide by Jillian’s brutal, self-serving rules. “And I still don’t know what to say or how to say it or if it’s even something I should say over the phone.”
A beat of silence passed while Brooke worked over the conversation she wanted to have with him in her mind. But the thought of hearing that deep, rich voice over the line and not being able to see him or touch him… God, the pain ate at her. And it just kept getting worse as time passed instead of fading.
“You’re right.” The male voice sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s not the kind of conversation to have over the phone.”
Brooke’s heart thumped hard. She pulled a sharp breath and turned.
Keaton stood just inside the door to Justin’s room. He wore jeans and a black, hooded sweat jack