Standing His Ground: Greer (Porter Brothers Trilogy 2)

“Thanks, Shade.” Greer held his hand out.

“No problem.” Shade took his hand in a firm grip. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.” Greer felt his cell phone vibrate as Shade left. “Dustin sent us Logan’s room number. It’s on the bottom floor next to the ICU. He said Dr. Price arranged it so Logan will be able to see Holly when she comes out of surgery.”

He walked beside Sutton and Tate down the hall, finding Dustin sitting on the bed, talking to Logan. His nephew was pale, but the little boy was sitting up in bed.

Greer stood at the foot of the bed as Tate and Sutton hugged him. Then Sutton sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Daddy said Holly’s hurt, but he won’t let me see her.” He lifted tear-filled eyes to her. “Will you take me, Sutton?”

“I can’t yet. As soon we can, I will,” she soothed him.

He avoided meeting his eyes, keeping them on Sutton. “I got hurt, too, but I’m all better.”

“Yes, you are. Holly is, too. It’s just going to take her a little longer. Lie down and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep.” He started crying harder. “I don’t want to leave Holly again.”

Sutton lifted her eyes to the ceiling, not wanting to break down in tears.

Greer knew it wasn’t only being afraid of losing Holly again. He was afraid of dying, and Greer didn’t blame him. Grown men were afraid of it. For a child coming so close to death and discovering the fragility of life, they discovered it was unlike in cartoons and movies. It was overwhelming and traumatic to realize it involved pain and fear. Now, that was all he was remembering—the dark void. But when he remembered the beauty he had been reaching for, the fear would ease.

A knock on the door had them turning to see Dr. Price coming into the room.

“Holly’s out of surgery. When she comes out of the anesthesia, you can see her, Greer.”

“Me, too?”

“You, too. But just for a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Greer …” The doctor looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to say it in front of Logan, so Greer followed him into the hallway. “I don’t know how you … But I …”

“I didn’t do anything.” He stared meaningfully into the doctor’s eyes.

“You could help so—”

“I can’t help anyone,” he gruffly refused before clearing his throat, knowing what the doctor was asking. “It took a long time for you to get that fancy doctor degree, didn’t it?”

“Quite a few.” He nodded.

“I see you when you’re running through town in the evening. Even saw you in a couple of those marathons the town puts on. I used to be a runner, too.”

“I’ve never seen you running at the marathons.”

“That was when I was in middle school. Stopped when I went to high school. You want to know why?”

Dr. Price’s lips quirked. “Why?”

“Discovered I was a short distance runner. No one could beat me when I was sprinting. But when I ran longer distances, I got my ass whipped every time. I will always be a sprinter; you, on the other hand, can win the race.”

“Together we—”

“If you had to choose between running or being a doctor, which would you pick?” Greer cut him off coldly.

“Being a doctor.”

Greer narrowed his eyes on the doctor, giving him a silent warning. “That’s how I feel about running and my family. Nothing, and I mean fucking nothing, means more than my family. Get my meaning?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll have the nurse take you to Holly now.”

Greer could tell the doctor was peeved, but he didn’t give a shit. Holly would be furious if he didn’t mind his manners, though.

“Oh, yeah, Doc? Thanks for pulling Holly through.”

He paused, giving a self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t do anything. You did all the work.”

“I didn’t do anything. The Good Lord did it all.”

31

Holly carried the two wine glasses out to the front porch, holding one in the crook of her arm as she shut the door.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked as she handed Rachel one of the glasses.

When she shook her head, Holly took a sip of her wine, sitting down on the edge of porch next to her.

“It’s beautiful out here.” Holly tried to think of something to talk about with her sister-in-law.

Since her miscarriage, Rachel’s fiery personality had undergone a drastic change. She was so somber. The only time she exhibited any trace of emotion was with Ema.

Neither Cash, nor her brothers, knew how to help her. Even the weekly counseling sessions Cash had Rachel take with him weren’t working.

Taking another sip of her wine, she looked down into its dark depths, biting her lip. “Do you hate me?”

Rachel swung her head toward her at the sudden question. “Not once have I thought that.”