High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 13

Thirteen

Jillian

“Her name was Macy.”

I’m not sure what drives me to bring up my daughter now.

The sweat is still drying on our bodies, lying in my bed, tangled together in the afterglow of seriously hot and absolutely mind-blowing sex, but I put it out there. Maybe it’s the strength of his body cocooning me, shielding me, making me feel nothing could possibly touch me.

Perhaps I needed that feeling of postcoital security to rip open the deepest wound my soul will ever know, to bleed the grief that lives there.

I note he doesn’t ask or push me for more information than that. He simply holds me, his grip on me perhaps a little tighter, as if he realizes I may well come apart otherwise. His kind silence gives me a chance to do this at my own pace, and because of that, I give him more than I would anyone who would ask.

“She made the sun rise every day from the moment she was born.”

I turn my face into his chest and smile my memory against his skin, even as I feel the first tear slip from my eye.

“She had this halo of red curls, and bright blue eyes that smiled all the time. The happiest child I’ve ever known. She was small for her age but her personality was big enough to make up for her lack in height. You would’ve expected her voice to be sweet and high-pitched, but instead she sounded like a jazz crooner, her sound was mellow, almost smoky, but when she turned up the dial, she could produce volume like a foghorn. But then as a reminder she was just a little girl, she had this cute little lisp, and a stubborn inability to say animal .”

I sniffle as I picture my daughter, clear as day, the shoulder strap of her favorite OshKosh B’gosh bib overalls hanging off her narrow shoulders, a streak of dirt on her cheek, and an infectious grin on her face as she helped me weed our vegetable patch.

My last living memory of her.

“She was five,” I continue. “She was helping me in the garden. I’d just gone to turn off the water hose on the side of the garage and was so sure I’d latched the gate.”

Wolff makes a guttural sound coming deep from his throat, but to his credit, he doesn’t comment.

“I don’t think the delivery truck driver ever saw her. A neighbor across the street said he saw Macy dart into the road from between two parked cars, but it was too late to do anything about it.”

I may not have seen it back then, but I realize now my daughter’s death must’ve had a major impact on more lives than just mine. Macy’s father, of course, but also Jeff across the street, the UPS driver, and my next-door neighbors, who came running outside when they heard me scream. I’m sure that horrific scene left an indelible impression on everyone who was there that day.

“She died six hours later in the hospital. I lost time…after that. I can’t even remember her funeral, but I remember exactly how she looked, and what she was wearing that day when she ran into the street.”

He hugs me a little tighter and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head.

“Wait here,” he mumbles.

I instantly miss the warmth of his body and the security of his arms when he slips from the bed. I reach down and tug up the covers to make up for the loss, but Wolff is back just moments later with a glass of water and a box of tissues.

I sit up and take some tissues to mop my face. Then I grab the glass he offers and take a sip before setting it on my nightstand. When I lie back down, his arms come around me, tucking my back to his front.

“You’d think after almost eight years it would get easier to talk about it,” I muse out loud. “That I’d get over my aversion to hospitals.”

“Don’t see how it could,” he mumbles behind me. “I imagine that kind of loss stays the same, no matter how much time passes.”

For a moment I well up again; his words of understanding mean more than empty condolences could.

“True.”

“Your daughter would’ve been thirteen now?” he asks.

I appreciate that after telling him about my daughter, he doesn’t shy away from asking about her. People generally avoid the topic, either thinking it would be difficult for me, or simply uncomfortable dealing with grief in general. Ironically, trying to pretend she didn’t exist is more painful than remembering she did.

“Almost. Her birthday is in June.”

“So twelve. Close to Hayley’s age,” he observes quite perceptively. “Is that why you’re drawn to her?”

I turn around in his arms so I can look him in the eyes.

“I’m sure that’s a big part of it. I’d like to think Macy might have developed the same kind of courage and survival instincts. She definitely had the same adventurous spirit,” I share, looking into his warm eyes shimmering in the dark. “But also, because I know what it’s like to have your entire world ripped away from you, leaving you feeling utterly alone.”

“And despite your dislike for hospitals, you show up trying to make sure she doesn’t.” His smile is soft.

I shrug. “It’s a small price to pay.”

He hums an acknowledgement before asking, “How was she doing today?”

I haven’t had a chance to tell him about today’s developments so I fill him in on what Sheriff Ewing told me. Wolff doesn’t look surprised when I mention the suspected sabotage of the plane.

“I’d been wondering if maybe the girl was hiding because she saw or heard something,” he shares. “Something that scared an eleven-year-old enough to brave the wilderness in a snowstorm.”

“She seems to be responding to Nugget, but still not communicating, so I guess that could be trauma or fear.”

“Or both,” he suggests. “Either way, I have a feeling she’ll keep mum unless she feels she can completely trust someone. At this time, you’re the most consistent person for her, so keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I told her I’d be back in the morning.”

“Good.” Wolff presses a kiss against my forehead and rolls on his back, tucking me to his side. “Let’s get some sleep.”

I put my hand on his chest and hook my leg over one of his. Then I close my eyes and try to remember the last time I went to sleep cuddled up with a naked man in my bed. I know for a fact it’s been longer than eight years, since Chris was never a cuddler, and neither am I.

Or so I thought.

Wolff

“You’re whistling.”

I turn my head to find Fletch glaring at me.

“I’m aware,” I finally give up on the mini stare-down he challenged me to.

“It’s fucking annoying,” he grumbles.

“He probably got laid last night,” Jackson pipes up as he hands me a two-by-four he just cut to size for the new door opening I’m framing. “His truck didn’t show up until this morning. And for the record, I’d be fucking whistling too if I got some action.”

“You got laid?” JD walks in, carrying a sheet of green board.

It took us all of three hours to completely gut Jackson’s bathroom this morning. Apparently, he didn’t waste any time once he’d made up his mind. He was waiting for me when I got back and roped me in as he’d apparently done with Fletch and JD, because they showed up ten minutes later.

I don’t have any special skills, but as Jackson pointed out, it was my idea and I live conveniently close. Aside from the fact Fletch has a thing for demolition, he and Jackson have gotten pretty close these last months. Both those guys went through hell and back serving their country, and bear the scars on their bodies and their souls.

JD is the handy one, he also owns a shitload of tools needed, and he did a lot of work on Dan’s house. Dan has his own project at home he’s working on today, but apparently, he’ll be here to tackle the plumbing when we get to it.

I’m ignoring the guys and concentrate on putting in the new door lintel. The basic layout of Jackson’s bathroom will stay the same with the sink and toilet in the identical location, but we are building the shower a little deeper than the bathtub was, which meant we had to move the door slightly. The roomier shower will allow for the addition of a corner bench we plan to build in.

The other addition will be a safety bar we’re anchoring to double studs. Jackson protested that none of those added features were necessary, but all it took was Fletch telling him not to be an idiot, and that was the end of the discussion.

While I work, my thoughts inevitably slide back to the woman I left warm and cozy in her bed this morning. I’m not usually one to spend the night, but there was no way I could’ve left her after she bared her soul to me last night. Not that I would’ve wanted to anyway.

It’s so rare reality beats the imagination, but I’ll be damned if Jillian didn’t blow every one of my fantasies clear out of the water.

“You’re fucking whistling again,” Fletch complains behind me.

It’s getting dark out already, and only Jackson and I are left when Dan pokes his head in the door.

“Looks good. When do you figure you’ll be ready for me?”

All the new green board is up, and taped, and we’ve just finished throwing on a sealing primer to dry overnight.

“Tomorrow,” Jackson answers him.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. When I see the call is coming from Wellspring Senior Living, I duck past Dan and step outside to answer.

“Wolff.”

“Hi, it’s Marcela at Wellspring…David Gentry asked me to give you a call. I’m afraid your mother had a bit of a tumble in the dining room at dinner tonight.”

My heart seizes in my chest.

“Is she okay?”

“Well, she was talking when EMTs got here. David went with her in the ambulance and I’m sure he will be in touch as soon as he knows something.”

“Where did they take her?” I ask, walking back inside.

“Logan Medical Center.”

“Thanks.”

With that I hang up and poke my head into the bathroom.

“I’ve gotta go. Family emergency. I’ll call.”

“Wait!” I hear Dan yell behind me as I stalk from Jackson’s cabin to mine.

He follows me into my place where I snatch up my truck keys, grab my wallet and my phone charger off the counter, and snag my coat off the hook.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Mom fell. She’s on her way to Logan by ambulance. Don’t know anything more.”

“Shit. Anything I can do?”

I shrug into my coat and stuff my wallet and phone charger into the pocket.

“Nah. I’ll be in touch when I know more.”

“Hope she’s okay,” he calls after me when I step out and jog to my truck.

Me too, brother. Me too.

The clock on my dashboard says it’s a quarter to seven, with a bit of luck I can be in Kalispell by eight. I crank the classic rock station and try to drown out my worries with loud music.

A call comes in forty minutes later when I’m halfway there, and I answer with a press of the button on my steering wheel.

“Yes,” I answer curtly, not recognizing the number but hoping it’s David with news about Mom.

“Is this Lucas Wolff?”

“It is.”

“Mr. Wolff, my name is Dr. Hannon, I’m the on-call orthopedic surgeon at Logan Health Medical Center. Your mother was brought in a while ago as the result of a fall. We were able to determine she suffered a displaced fracture of both bones in her forearm and she needs surgery to set the bones. Unfortunately, your mother is a bit confused at the moment, and I understand you have power of attorney for her?”

Confused? Mom?

“I do,” I answer him.

“Good. I’m going to need your verbal consent to operate on her.”

“You said she was confused? As far as I know my mother doesn’t have dementia,” I point out.

“Confusion can be a result of shock, or an undiagnosed UTI, sometimes dehydration will cause confusion in the elderly. Chances are she’ll be fine tomorrow, but at this point I’d prefer to err on the side of caution and get your okay.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m a little over half an hour away and I’ll sign whatever you need.”

“Check in at the nurses’ desk in the emergency department. They’ll have forms for you to fill out.”

When he ends the call, I take a moment to process the information, which comes with a bit of relief. I would think a broken arm—even one that requires surgery to fix—is preferable to a fractured hip or skull, but I’ll still spend the night in the hospital.

I quickly call Dan to give him an update and ask him to pass on to Jonas I likely won’t be there in the morning.

Next, I dial Jillian. Not that we made any firm plans, but I had hoped to drop by her place tonight, and I don’t want her to think I’d leave her hanging after spending the night with her.

She answers on the second ring and surprises me.

“How is she?”

“She needs surgery to set the bones in her forearm. How did you know?”

“Dan told Sloane, who called me. I wasn’t sure whether maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed, so I was waiting, hoping for a call.”

“You could never disturb me.”

Now I’m surprising myself. For someone whose always valued his privacy, I’m sure quick to give her free access.

“You’re on your way to the hospital?”

“Yeah, that’s why I called, I’m gonna stick around at the hospital, and am not sure how long that’ll be.”

“Of course,” she acknowledges immediately. “Do you want company?”

Damn, the fact she cares feels good.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I know you’re not a fan of hospitals, so I wouldn’t ask that of you. Especially after already spending the day in one.”

She’s quiet for a bit and for a split second I wonder if maybe I hurt her feelings. But then she puts my mind at ease.

“All you have to do is call if you change your mind,” she says softly. “I’ll be here.”

Yeah, feels damn good.