The Quietest Shop on Main (Shops on Main #3)

Chapter 24

24

W hen Skyla started to come back into consciousness again, she didn’t recognize any of the sounds around her. Beeps, hushed voices, and tapping noises were strange to her ears.

Her nose twitched with the smell of a strong disinfectant while her fingers flexed against something scratchy. When she moved her hand, something tugged higher up on her elbow. It created a pinching sensation that made her situation a little more clear.

“Ow,” she whispered, and immediately the voices went quiet.

“Miss Bowen?” a feminine voice asked. “Can you hear me?”

Skyla’s eyes were still struggling to cooperate, just like earlier, but she twisted her head from side to side. “I…” Light flashed when she managed to flutter her eyelids. “So heavy…”

Something warm landed on her brow. A hand, perhaps?

“That’s perfectly normal after a head injury,” the voice continued.

More light, painful this time, hit her eye when the woman lifted Skyla’s eyelids for her. Skyla groaned and tried to pull back.

One eye closed, and the hand moved over, lifting the other lid. “Take a minute,” the woman said. “Your body has been through a trauma and might need a little time to focus.”

Skyla worked on opening her eyes again, the fluttering becoming a little easier. “Where am I?” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry and itchy. The fluttering turned into blinking, and finally Skyla got her eyes to stay open for a few seconds at a time.

The blinking continued, but now she could actually see her surroundings. Her heart jolted. She was in the hospital.“Dalton,” she breathed, turning her head a little too quickly. A middle aged nurse met Skyla’s gaze. “Dalton and my grandfather,” Skyla asked again. “Are they here?”

The woman gave her a sad smile and shook her head. “No. No one other than that handsome officer.”

“Handsome officer?” Skyla blinked a few more times. “Oh. Grady. Montoya.”

The nurse smiled. “I’m not sure of his name, but he hasn’t left since they brought you in.” She turned and looked at a series of machines. “I need to let the doctor know you’re awake.” She leaned in just slightly. “If the officer is out there, I’ll be sure to let him know too.”

Skyla could only nod. Her mind was quickly catching up on everything that had happened in the last…how long had it been? How long had she been unconscious?

Her breathing grew shallow and frantic as she realized she had no idea how long she’d been at the hospital, or where her phone was or if Dalton even knew she’d been hurt. And what about Grandpa? Could he even get to the hospital? Had he been hurt on the boat?

“Skyla?”

Skyla turned to the familiar voice, withGrady’s smooth tones.

His eyes widened when she met his gaze, apparently reading something in her expression. “Hey,” he said, coming in the door fully and moving quickly to the bedside. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need me to find that nurse?”

Skyla shook her head, then closed her eyes when it made her brain feel like it was rattling. “No,” she breathed, her eyes still closed. She forced them back open. She’d been unconscious long enough. “Dalton?” she rasped. “Grandpa?”

Grady sighed and took Skyla’s hand, pressing it between his own and causing her to realize just how cold her fingers were. “They just got back to land about ten minutes ago. Dalton got one of my messages, and they’ll be here soon, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Grady grinned. “Hey, it’s what I do, right?” His smile fell. “Are you ready to tell me what happened? Why were you at the shop so late?”

Skyla blew out a breath. The longer she was awake, the more she was starting to realize how much her body hurt. It wasn’t as all-consuming as it had been when she’d woken up at the shop, before managing to call Grady, but she still ached as if she’d been through a hard workout.

“Hey, it’s alright?—”

“Miss Bowen?” Another female voice interrupted the conversation.

A woman in a white coat entered the room.

“Hello, Officer Montoya,” the woman said with a firm nod. She turned herself back to Skyla. “Miss Bowen?” The woman smiled. “Good to see you awake.” She tapped on the tablet she held and came farther into the room, Grady backing up to give the doctor space. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

The tablet landed on the edge of the bed, and the doctor pulled out a flashlight, checking Skyla’s eyes.

“I’m achy,” Skyla admitted. She shifted a little. “But fine.”

“You’ve got a pretty nasty gash on the side of your head,” the doctor said gently, probing the area. “It took four stitches to close.”

Skyla’s eyes widened.

The doctor continued on as if it were something as bland as the weather. “Between that and the fall you took when you were knocked unconscious, I think being achy is a blessing. It could have been much worse.”

Skyla put a hand to her suddenly churning stomach.

The doctor put a stethoscope to Skyla’s chest. “Deep breaths.”

Several minutes later, the examination was finished, and the doctor picked her tablet back up. “You have a pretty decent concussion,” she announced bluntly. “I want to keep you a bit longer to monitor it, but otherwise, it’s just bruises.” She tapped her own temple. “You’ll need a follow up appointment with your doctor to remove the stitches. Take it easy for the next bit. No hard labor or lifting heavy things. The more rest you can get, the better.”

Offering Skyla a small smile, the doctor nodded at Grady again, then swept from the room, obviously in a hurry to reach her next patient.

It took Skyla a few minutes to wrap her head around everything. Not that the doctor had been rude, just…fast.

Slowly, her hand rose, and Skyla fingered the large lump on her head, lightly brushing the bandage that hid her stitches. She’d never had stitches before. Or a concussion. An inappropriate laugh bubbled from her lips. “I guess it’s a day of firsts,” she murmured.

“What’s that?” Grady asked, stepping back up now that the doctor was gone.

Skyla shook her head, automatically wincing. “Nothing. I’m talking gibberish.”

“So…” Grady trailed off, his head turning to look at the door.

Following his line of sight, Skyla frowned. Something was happening in the hall. Voices were growing louder, indicating some kind of commotion.

“Be back in a second.” Grady’s voice had taken on a serious quality, like he’d reverted to being an officer for the moment, not her friend.

She didn’t speak as he left, but the flash of the hallway when Grady ducked out was enough to have Skyla’s heart racing. “Dalton!”

“Faster,” John groused as Dalton pushed him down the hall of the hospital.

“The elevators are right there,” Dalton said, forcing his voice to remain calm. The man was wearing on Dalton’s last nerve.

They were both worried about Skyla, yes, but ever since the news that she was hurt, John had turned into a bear woken too early from hibernation.

Dalton could understand the concern, what he struggled with was being treated like an indentured servant to the elderly man’s every whim.

Dalton’s leg bounced as they waited for the elevator. His heart was in his throat, and every few seconds, it felt as if he could hardly breathe. Montoya had assured Dalton that Skyla was going to be fine. That she had a head wound, but would recover completely.

His nerves, however, weren’t so easily swayed as Dalton’s head.

“Can’t this thing go faster?” John complained.

“Almost there,” Dalton said.

John glared over his shoulder. “You don’t sound like a man in love.”

Dalton bit his tongue. Literally. He’d learned many times over the years that being cool in chaos was a gift, not a hindrance.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the door opened. “Here we go.” Quickly reading the signs, Dalton turned them to the left and walked as swiftly as he could without causing a ruckus on the floor.

“Stop, stop.” John smacked the arm of the wheelchair. “Stop!”

Dalton brought them to a stop, his eyes bouncing to the end of the hallway. “What do you need?” he asked quickly, the panic in his chest barely restrained.

“This stupid thing.” John began to try to rise. “I have to walk. Can’t let Skyla see me like?—”

Before Dalton could object, John leaned forward and crumbled, landing on his hip and shoulder on the tiled floor.

Curse words flew out of Dalton’s mouth as he pulled the chair back and out of the way and dropped to John’s side. He was so close. Just fifteen feet down the hall was the door that Dalton had been looking for. The one that held his heart.

All sorts of angry words were on the tip of Dalton’s tongue, and if a group of nurses hadn’t immediately surrounded them, he might have let them fly. This stubborn mule was going to get himself killed.

And then what would happen to Skyla?

The older man swatted at all the nurses surrounding him. “Just get out of my way,” he groaned. “Let me up. I gotta see Sky.”

Dalton sighed. What was he supposed to do now?

“Saunders.”

Dalton turned his head and let out another sigh. “Grady.” He stood and stepped back, the nurses quickly swarming the hole that Grady had left in the circle around John. “You’re still here.”

Grady shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

Dalton fought the urge to bristle. Skyla was his. He knew she was.

“Plus…” Grady made a face. “I have to take her statement, and she’s just barely coming back into consciousness.”

“So you don’t know what happened?” Dalton asked, his eyes going from the door to John, then back to Grady.

Grady chuckled and slapped Dalton on the shoulder. “Go to Skyla. I’ll see what Mr. Bowen needs. From the sound of his shouts, he can’t be hurt that bad.”

Dalton hesitated. It was clear nothing was broken, but Skyla might skin him for leaving her grandfather.

Still…he nodded to Grady and took off at a run before anything else could stop him. John was fine. Dalton needed to see Skyla, who obviously was not.

He pushed through the door a little bolder than he should have. “Skyla!”

A very bruised and barely conscious face turned his way. “Dalton,” she breathed, raising a shaky hand.

Dalton cursed under his breath and lunged for the bed. “Sweetheart, what happened?” He took her hand, being careful not to squeeze too hard. There was a huge lump and bandage at her temple, along with some bruising across her forehead. If it drained down her face at all, she would have a decent black eye in a few days.

He kissed her palm and cradled it against his chest, leaning over the bed and hesitating over whether or not he should touch her. “Where do you hurt?” he asked in a low tone. “I…can I touch you? Do you need medicine?” His jaw tightened. “Who did this? Did Grady arrest them, already?”

A small smile pulled at her lips. “I’m fine,” she assured him.

“You are not fine,” Dalton snapped. He closed his eyes and hung his head, trying to reign in his anger. “I’m sorry. I just…” He growled, opening his eyes. “Please don’t try to downplay this.” He felt tears prick the back of his eyes as he studied his little wounded bird. His fingertips seemed to have a mind of their own as they traced her cheekbones, then jawline. “Please say it like it is,” he rasped. “This isn’t okay, and I don’t want you to tell me it is.”

Skyla’s bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want you worrying over me,” she whispered.

He lost control of a harsh laugh. “From the first time you batted those beautiful green eyes at me, I’ve been worrying about you. You can’t take it back now.”

Skyla’s eyes flared. “R-really?”

“Really.”

She relaxed into her pillow. “I’ve spent my whole life trying not to make a fuss.”

“I think we’re well past that now,” Dalton said with a huff.

They smiled at each other for a moment, only to have Dalton’s worry come to life. “Dalton…where’s Grandpa?”

Dalton pinched his lips together and straightened from the bed. He ached over the loss of contact, but the question was going to be a tough one to answer. Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, under his suddenly itchy scarf. “Uh…he…” Dalton looked back at the door. “He had a little accident.”

Skyla gasped and immediately began to struggle to sit up. “What happened? Where is he? Is it bad?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dalton pressed against her shoulders. “You need to lay back down. You’re in no condition to be getting up.”

Skyla pushed his hands away. “Where is he?” she demanded.

Dalton blew out a breath, trying not to take her anger personally. “He fell when we were coming up the hall. The nurses were with him when I came in here.”

The incredulous look she gave him made Dalton feel like he was two inches tall. Dang, Grady for encouraging Dalton to ignore his instincts.

“Grady was there,” Dalton argued, though Skyla hadn’t said a word. “He said he’d take care of John so I could come check on you.”

Tears already poured down her cheeks and her hands clenched the hospital blankets on her lap.

For someone who was used to feeling like he was helping, this was new territory for Dalton.

He rubbed his forehead. “I’ll just go check on them, okay?” He turned, his gut twisting at leaving Skyla, but his original instincts had been correct.

She hadn’t shredded him with words. No, her tears had been enough.

Dalton’s job was to comfort a woman when she cried, not be the source of the tears.

He stepped into the hall. The chaos was gone, but Dalton had no idea where they’d disappeared to. He pulled out his phone, not daring to tell Skyla about losing her grandfather.

“Montoya,” Grady responded.

“Hey,” Dalton said. “Skyla is worried about John? Where are you?”

“One floor down. They’re checking out his hip. Probably just a bruise, but of course, they want to be sure.”

Dalton closed his eyes. “Right. Be there in a minute.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and headed to the stairwell. There was no point in waiting on the elevator. Dalton had nervous energy coursing through his veins, and he needed to burn it before he did something he shouldn’t…like go back into Skyla’s room and refuse to leave.

Then he might just kiss her until she quit being angry at him.

That one sounded fun, but Dalton didn’t even want to think about what the backlash would be.

Agreeing to take John on that boat was proving to be the worst decision Dalton had ever made.