“Mom,” I warn.
She chuckles. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to listen to anything I have to say. It’s not like I’m older or wiser or anything. But please, talk to her. Be honest with her. Tell her how you really feel.”
Oh yeah, because that’s so fucking easy.
By the time we pull into the hospital parking lot, my patience to see my girl has all but run out. I park the car in the first space I find before racing out.
“Just go,” Mom calls from behind me.
“Shit, I?—”
“Go, Kodie.”
Mom’s not old and frail by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, she’s in very good shape. She does yoga three times a week and walks with a group of friends. But even still, she’s no match for a professional athlete.
I look back, torn between waiting for her and getting to Sutton. But when she tells me to go again, I take off running.
Thanks to Casey’s message earlier, we both know what floor and ward Sutton is on.
Without looking back, I burst into the building and head forthe stairs. There is no way I can be contained in an elevator. I don’t need one; it’s only eight flights of stairs.
By the time I hit the top, my chest is heaving and sweat glistens on my skin.
Okay, maybe the elevator wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.
I step into the hallway, fighting to catch my breath and focus so I can read the ward names.
Finding the one I want, I take off running again, and in seconds, I’m rushing toward the nurses’ station.
“Sutton Rivers,” I force out through my heaving breaths. “She’s here, she?—”
“Kodie.”
Casey’s voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, and just for a moment, everything stops.
“Kodie, Sutton is right over here,” she says again when I don’t visibly react.
I pause, terrified to turn around. But time for hiding is over.
“Ko—” Her voice falters as my eyes lock on hers, the air between us crackling like a livewire. “S-she’s in here,” Casey whispers, pointing over her shoulder.
My legs move without instruction from my brain, my eyes holding Casey’s until I’m forced to look at the door behind her.
“Daddy,” Sutton cries from the bed.
She looks tiny in a huge hospital bed surrounded by stark white sheets.
“Peanut,” I breathe, taking both her hands in mine. “Shit. Are you really okay?”
I can tell from the raised eyebrow at my swear word that she is. But I need to hear it with my own ears.
“And no hockey bravado. I’m not your coach. I’m your father.”
She smiles softly at me. “I know, Daddy. My head hurts, but I’m okay. The hit wasn’t that hard, but I lost my balance, and—” Tears fill her eyes, her bottom lip trembling. “I should have beenable to catch myself.”
Lowering my ass to the edge of the bed, I pull her into my arms, holding her as tight as I dare while she cries.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of us. You scored your team’s only goal, and you’re okay. That’s all that matters, right?”
