Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(64)

I give her a smile as I dry my hands. “Thanks. I’ll be back soon.”

I leave the nursery and head to the nurses’ station. It’s not a surprise to receive a call there while I’m in the nursery. I keep my hospital-issued phone off when I’m in there so as not to disturb the babies.

I step into the U-shaped station, which sits between the nursery and patient rooms. One of the phones has a receiver sitting on the countertop, so I assume that’s my call. I pick it up and answer, “This is Gracen Moore.”

“Gracen, it’s Josie.”

“Hey,” I say brightly, happy to hear my friend’s voice. We haven’t had a lot of time to get together lately between our opposing shifts and such. “Want to grab some lunch today?”

Her voice is calm and assured as she says, “Lilly is on her way into the ER. She took a fall and cut her lip. She’s fine, but she’s probably going to need some stitches. I’ll be able to evaluate her as soon as they get here.”

Took a fall.

Cut her lip.

Stitches.

As a nurse I know this is not the end of the world. As a mother, this means my child must be dying. “Oh God,” I moan.

Josie’s voice rings clear and confident. I expect she talks to many frantic parents this way. “Gracen, she’s fine so you need to calm down.”

“How can you possibly know that?” I snap with hysteria tinging my voice. “You haven’t even seen her yet.”

“Because I talked to Marek on the phone. He tried to call you but your phone was off, so he called me.”

Marek says she’s fine. What could he possibly know? He’s been a dad for all of six weeks. I’m quite sure he doesn’t understand the severity of her injuries.

“I’m on my way.” I set the receiver back down onto the phone and mutter to whoever is sitting there and listening, “I’ve got to go down to the emergency room. My daughter’s being brought in.”

Someone says, “I hope she’s okay,” but I don’t even respond because my thoughts are wholly occupied with Lilly and how badly she’s hurt.

Bypassing the staff elevators, which tend to run quicker than the regular ones, I hit the emergency stairwell and run down the four flights of stairs to the emergency room on the east end of the hospital. I jog as quickly as I can through the hallways until I punch through the double doors that lead into the bay that holds all the rooms around the perimeter. This hospital is pretty state of the art, and gone are the curtained rooms that one normally associates with an emergency room. Instead frosted glass walls partition each patient’s room, giving a light, airy feeling, but allowing privacy as required by law. I look around frantically for someone to make eye contact and tell me where to go. I get nothing in return because everyone is busy.

“Can someone tell me where Lilly Moore is?” I call out.

A nurse sitting in the center station lifts her head to look at me, but before anyone can respond, Josie steps out of one of the rooms to my left. I bolt toward her and she intercepts me before I can make it to the door.

“She’s fine but a little upset,” Josie says softly, perhaps trying to reassure as well as warn me. “It would do your daughter a world of good if you can wipe that terrified look off your face.”

It takes a moment for me to absorb what she says, but it finally penetrates my fog of worry.

I take a deep breath and give her a half-assed smile. “I’m okay. I got this.”

Josie studies me for a moment and seems to like what she sees on my face before she turns to enter into the room. I follow her in, but I’m not prepared to see blood all over the front of my child’s shirt.

“Oh God, baby,” I murmur sympathetically as her eyes come to mine. They fill with tears that immediately spill over, travel down her face, and soak into the bandage that’s pressed over the top of her mouth on the right.

I can’t see the extent of her injury, but my clinical curiosity doesn’t matter. I need to reassure my daughter and make sure Lilly knows it’s going to be okay.

I walk to the side of her bed, not even glancing at Marek, who stands on the other side. My hand goes to Lilly’s forehead and I brush her hair back as she blinks at her tears. Her lower lip peeks out from the bandage, and it quivers with emotion.

“Hey Lilly Bug,” I say lightly. “Looks like you got a boo-boo, huh?”

More tears spill over the edge of her eyes as she nods. When I hear a tiny sob tear free of my daughter, my heart is shredded.

I lean over the bed and brush my lips gently against her forehead, then I start to hum one of her favorite lullabies. It was always guaranteed to put her to sleep at night, and I hope it provides some measure of comfort now. Lilly takes a shuddering breath.

“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur. “We’re going to get you fixed up, and then Mommy is going to take you home, okay?”

I lift my head so I can look at her, and to my relief, she looks a little more confident as she nods at me once again.

I keep stroking her hair, but I manage to lift my gaze up to Marek. “What happened?”

“I thought it would be fun to take her ice-skating,” Marek says softly, and I can hear the regret in his voice. The fact he’s feeling guilt and my daughter is in the emergency room bloodied and in pain makes me incredibly angry.