Brown-Eyed Girl (Travis Family #4)(60)

Before I could finish, Joe leaned forward and kissed me. My fingers tightened on his arms in a bid for balance. I took an extra breath, another, my lungs striving amid a storm of heartbeats. The kiss turned stronger, more voracious, his mouth opening mine. Without breaking the kiss, he pulled me from the chair and pinned me against the counter, as if I needed to be held in place, restrained, and the hint of male aggression was wildly exciting.

“Joe,” I panted when his mouth slid to my throat, “I… I have a big bed upstairs, covered with… Italian linens and a hand-quilted silk cover… and feather and down pillows…”

Joe drew his head back to look at me, a dance of laughter in his eyes. “You don’t have to sell me on the bed, honey.”

He paused at the sound of a phone emanating from his discarded jacket. “Sorry,” he said, reaching for the garment. “I only get this ringtone when it’s family.” He began to hunt through the pockets.

“Of course.”

He pulled out the phone and looked at his text messages. “Christ,” he said, his expression changing.

Something bad had happened.

“Haven’s in the hospital,” he said. “I have to go.”

“I’m coming too,” I said instantly.

Joe shook his head. “You don’t have to —”

“Wait two minutes,” I said, already running to the stairs. “I’ll put on a shirt and some jeans. Don’t leave without me.”

Seventeen

It occurred to me on the way to the hospital that I might have been too pushy, insisting on accompanying Joe. Whatever was wrong with Haven, it was a family matter, and they might not appreciate having an outsider there. On the other hand, I wanted to help in any way possible. And more important, I wanted to be there for Joe. Having gained some understanding of how much the Travises meant to one another, I knew it would devastate him if anything happened to his sister.

“What does the text say about Haven’s condition?” I asked.

Wordlessly Joe handed the phone to me.

“Preeclampsia,” I said, reading the message from Ella.

“I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I have, but I’m not sure exactly what it is.” In a couple of minutes, I’d found a page on preeclampsia. “It’s a hypertensive disease. High blood pressure, severe water retention, and toxic buildup in the kidneys and liver.”

“How serious is it?”

I hesitated. “It can get really serious.”

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Life-threatening?”

“Garner is a world-class hospital. I’m sure Haven will be fine.” The phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. “It’s Ella. Do you want to —”

“Talk to her while I drive.”

I answered the call. “Ella? Hi, it’s Avery.”

Ella’s voice was quiet, but I could hear the stress threaded through her subdued tone. “We’re in the waiting room at the neonatal ICU. Are you and Joe headed over?”

“Yes, we’re almost there. What’s happening?”

“This morning Haven woke up with a headache and nausea, but Jesus, that’s routine for her. She couldn’t keep anything down, and she went back to bed. When she woke up this afternoon, she was starting to have problems breathing. Hardy brought her to the hospital and they checked her vitals and did some tests. Her blood pressure is through the roof, and her protein levels are triple what they should be, and she’s acting confused, which scared the shit out of Hardy. The good news is, the baby’s heartbeat is normal.”

“How many weeks before the baby is full term?”

“Four, I think. But she’ll probably be fine, even being born this early.”

“Wait. Are you saying Haven’s in labor?”

“They’re going to do a C-section. Okay, gotta go – Liberty and Gage are just walking in, and they’ll want an update.” The call ended.

“They’re doing a C-section,” I told Joe.

He swore softly.

I looked back at the Web page on the phone. “Preeclampsia is usually resolved within forty-eight hours after the baby’s delivered,” I said. “They’ll give Haven medicine for the hypertension. The baby will be premature, but she’s developed enough at this point that there probably won’t be any long-term problems. So everything will be okay.”

Joe nodded, looking far from reassured.

The waiting room of the NICU was furnished with clusters of blue upholstered chairs and small tables and a sofa. Harsh overhead lighting imparted a lunar whiteness to the atmosphere. The assembled members of the immediate Travis family were understandably tense and subdued as they welcomed Joe and me. Jack, however, summoned a hint of his usual humor. “Hi, Avery,” he said, giving me a brief hug, adding in feigned surprise, “You’re still hanging out with Joe?”

“I insisted on coming with him,” I said. “I hope I’m not barging in, but I thought —”

“Not at all,” Liberty interrupted, her green eyes warm.

“We’re glad you’re here,” Gage added. His gaze traveled from my face to Joe’s. “No news about Haven yet.”

“How’s Hardy doing?” Joe asked.