I was already reaching for the coat that I’d just hung up. “I’m on my way now. The emergency room, you said?”
“Yes, yes.” She sounded more distracted now. “If you don’t see us in the waiting area, ask at the desk. I told them you were coming.”
“I’ll be there.” I didn’t even say goodbye; I simply ended the call and reached for the door knob, pulling open the door and surprising Norton, who was on the other side.
“Whoa there!” He chuckled. Then, seeing my coat, he frowned. “I thought you were staying in tonight, dude. We were going to catch up onOzark.”
I shook my head and began to push past him. “Can’t. Sorry. I’ve got to go—” I wheeled around and stepped closer to him for a minute. “Something’s wrong with Willow. Her mother just called me. She’s in the emergency room, and she asked me—" My voice wavered. “I have to get over there. I don’t have time to explain it to anyone, but if someone asks, just tell them the truth. I’m at Keller. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I took off down the hall again. Behind me, I heard Norton call out.
“Got it, Lassiter. I’ll cover for you. Hope everything’s okay.”
Outside in the dark, I took off in a sprint in the direction of the hospital. At West Point, none of the cadets were allowed to have our cars any closer than a parking lot that was a couple of miles from the barracks. It made sense, usually: we didn’t drive to classes, and everything we needed was within walking distance on post. But at this moment, I wished like hell that I could jump in my Thunderbird and roar to the hospital in a matter of moments rather than huffing it uphill in the crystal cold air.
By the time I burst into the emergency room, causing all eyes to swivel my way, I was out of breath. As a cadet, I was in what would probably be the best physical shape of my life. But the shoes I had on were only meant for walking to class and occasional marching; they were not designed for the run I’d just made. Wearing a stiff wool uniform that didn’t have very much give didn’t help, either.
A quick scan of the waiting room told me that the Caseys must have already gone back to be with Willow. I tried to take that as a good sign as I approached the reception desk.
“Willow Casey.” I ground out her name. “She was brought in … I don’t know, just a little bit ago.”
The nurse sitting at the computer was an older woman with steel gray hair and air that told me she didn’t tolerate any nonsense. I’d learned through hard experience that Army nurses were tougher than some drill sergeants. This one leveled a glare at me over her glasses.
“Are you family?” she inquired crisply. “Only family members of patients are permitted beyond this point.”
I braced one hand on the counter and pulled myself up into my full height, working like hell to keep respect in my tone.
“Ma’am. She’s Coach Casey’s daughter. I’m . . .” I hooked a thumb toward my chest, but all of the ways I could have finished that sentence died on my tongue.
The father of the baby she’s carrying? The guy who’s been her best friend for the past four months? The man who’s probably hopelessly in love with her, even though he’s not admitted that to her or himself?
“… the quarterback,” I finish lamely. “And a friend of the family. I am—Mrs. Casey called me. She told me that she was going to leave my name—”
“Gloria.” A younger nurse in purple scrubs with white flowers on them hurried over from the other end of the reception area. “Gloria, he can go back. Mrs. Casey spoke to me before she and her husband went to sit with their daughter.”
Gloria didn’t appear to be pleased about this turn of events. “We have rules and regulations for a reason.” She eyed me up and down, taking in my uniform as her eyebrows rose. “I’d think you would understand about the rules and regulations, too, wouldn’t you, Cadet Lassiter?” Her eyes fastened on my name tag.
“Yes, ma’am.” I gave her the courtesy of a reply before I turned my attention to the other nurse. “Can you show me where to go? Please?”
She nodded and beckoned me toward the swinging double doors near the emergency room entrance—the ones markedAuthorized Personnel Only. Once I joined her there, the nurse touched her badge to the sensor, pushing the door open after we heard the click of the lock.
“Cubicle seventeen,” she murmured. Then, leaning a little closer to me, she added, “My husband is an assistant coach for the D line. I know John and Patty Casey well. I hope everything is okay with Willow.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”
Without any hesitation, I moved as quickly as I could down the corridor. Scanning the room numbers on the wall, I found seventeen. The door was open, so I stepped inside, taking a deep breath and preparing myself for the worst.
Coach was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Mrs. Casey sat in the chair next to the bed, holding Willow’s hand. And to my tremendous, everlasting relief, Willow herself was propped up in the bed. Her face was very pale, and her green eyes looked enormous. But when they met mine, I didn’t see the pain or grief that I had feared.
“Lassiter.” Coach nodded and gestured for me to come further into the room. I moved closer, going to stand on the other side of the bed from Mrs. Casey and reaching to take Willow‘s hand.
“Thank you for coming, Dean.” Mrs. Casey sniffed and managed a watery smile. “I know I must’ve put you through a lot of worry, but we didn’t know exactly what was happening until just now. We were eating dinner, and then—” An expression of what looked like guilt flashed across her face. “Um, we were having a discussion. When Willow stood up, she had a pain, I guess, in her abdomen . . . and there was bleeding. We didn’t know what to do or what was happening.”
“The doctor was just in,” Coach added. “It’s something with the placenta, I guess, but she’s going to be okay.” He gazed at his daughter, and in his eyes, I saw all the worry and fear that he must have lived through for the past hour or so. “She’s going to be okay.”
“It’s calledplacenta previa.” Willow spoke up for the first time since I’d come into the room. “Daddy’s right. I’m going to be fine.” She paused, and then added, “The baby’s fine, too. They did an ultrasound, and her heart is strong, and she’s moving around a lot. She doesn’t seem to be in any kind of distress.”
“Okay. Good.” I nodded, squeezing Willow’s hand. “All right. That’s good news. But what happens next? Can they do anything? Can they fix whatever’s wrong?”
