Before Jamaica Lane (On Dublin Street, #3)(85)

I practically threw the cab fare at my driver and dashed out of the car, hurrying inside the main entrance of the hospital.

Please, please, let Nathan be okay. Please.

He was such a good man.

And Nate cannot take more loss.

As I hurried toward the main reception to ask after Nathan, his son’s voice called my name and I stopped, my eyes following it. Nate stood in the middle of the crowded waiting room, looking pale and haggard.

I moved toward him, drinking him in. The beard was gone, but the eyes were still dark, and now his mouth was pinched with worry. Sitting behind him were Sylvie, Cam, Cole, and Jo. Sylvie was tearing a Kleenex into pieces. She reminded me of a frightened animal, the way she kept staring round-eyed at the doors beyond.

‘Nate –’ I stopped hesitantly before him, not sure if I should hug him but wanting to. ‘Is there any word?’

He shook his head, his eyes bleak. ‘They took him into surgery. No one’s come out yet.’

Breaking, I took one last step toward him and wrapped my arms around him.

Nate instantly sank into my embrace, his strong arms locking around my waist as his head bowed into my neck.

We stayed that way for a while.

‘Nathaniel Sawyer’s family?’ a doctor called.

Nate and his mother quickly stood up from their chairs and hurried to him. I glanced around at Jo, Cam, and Cole before looking over at Peetie and Lyn, who had arrived a little while after I had. We’d been waiting for hours and hours, and now all of our expressions were the same.

Hopeful.

Desperately hopeful.

At the sounds of Sylvie’s sobs my lungs ceased to work and I watched in horror as Nate pulled her into his arms. Cam, his eyes hollow with grief, moved toward his friend. He rested a hand on Nate’s shoulder and Nate gave him a small smile, shaking his head.

Cam’s body slumped, as if with relief, and my lungs started working again. He strode back to us, running a shaky hand through his hair. ‘Nathan made it through the surgery. He’s stable.’

‘Knock, knock.’ I leaned around the hospital door, wearing a huge grin.

I’d left Nate to be with his mom and dad for the last few days, but on Monday I cut out of work to make visiting hours.

Nathan was alone in his room, watching television. He blinked in surprise at the sight of me and then smiled widely as I walked in. Having dealt with a very sick person, I was a master at schooling my reaction to the physical toll sickness could take. Nathan’s frame looked so much smaller as he lay in the hospital bed. His cheeks were drawn and there were a few more wrinkles around his mouth than there had been when I’d last seen him.

‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asked, sitting up, careful of the wires connecting him to monitors hooked up by his bed.

Laying the flowers I’d brought with me on the bedside table, I pulled up a chair. ‘I was worried.’

‘Pfft.’ He waved me off. ‘What’s a little coronary disease?’

I glared at him.

‘Aye, Sylvie didn’t think that was funny either.’

My lips twitched. ‘Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to be stern.’

‘Stern?’ He huffed. ‘Stern? I’m going to be on medication for the rest of my life and I have to cut out my favorite food. My entire life is going to be stern from now on. I don’t need stern from a pretty girl too.’

‘Fine,’ I agreed. ‘I won’t do stern.’ I glanced around the room in confusion. ‘Where is Sylvie?’

‘Och, I sent her home. She’s absolutely shattered. She wouldn’t leave me.’ He tutted. ‘Had to get my doctor to make her leave so she could get some rest. I’m going to pay for that later.’

I snorted. ‘I’ll bet.’

‘Nate’s downstairs getting coffee, if you were wondering …’

My gaze was sharp as our eyes met. ‘You know, don’t you?’

‘The two of you didn’t exactly do a bang-up job of hiding it when you came to visit. I am sad to hear it didn’t work out, though … Which begs the question … What are you doing here?’

I answered belligerently, ‘Is a person not allowed to be worried about another person?’

‘Aye, of course. You being a nice girl, I think you probably were worried about me and that’s appreciated, but I think more than anything you’re worried about my son. Which makes two of us.’ His brows dipped in concern. ‘He misses you.’

‘I miss him too,’ I confessed softly.

A throat cleared behind me.

Turning, I discovered Nate standing in the doorway, stirring a cup of coffee. He pinned me to my seat with the weight of his stare.

‘Nate.’ I finally found my voice. ‘I just wanted to stop by and see how Nathan was doing. I should get going.’ I stood up.

‘Nonsense.’ Nathan stopped me, gesturing to me to sit down. ‘There’s still half an hour left. Sit. Talk.’ He looked up at his son. ‘Sit down.’

Nate looked like he wanted to laugh as he casually took the seat beside me.

My eyes, with a will of their own, traveled over the long sprawl of his legs. Tingles hit me unexpectedly as I lifted my gaze to his hands, continuing to stir his coffee. He had beautiful, masculine hands – graceful, strong fingers that were callused from work and judo. The soft roughness of his hands had always felt wonderful. And the T-shirt he was wearing showed off his strong forearms. I looked quickly away from the thick vein that ran up his muscular arm. I’d licked the entire length of that vein with my tongue.