Brown-Eyed Girl (Travis Family #4)(61)

“He’s been solid so far,” Jack replied. “But if she goes downhill any further… he won’t take it well.”

“None of us will,” Joe said, and the group fell silent.

We rearranged a few chairs and settled in the waiting room. Joe and I sat on the sofa. “You sure you want to stay?” Joe asked me sotto voce. “I can have you sent home in the hospital’s private car. This won’t be over any time soon.”

“Do you want me to leave? Is it better for the family if there are no outsiders here? Just be blunt, because I —”

“You’re not an outsider. But you don’t have to suffer in a hospital waiting room just because I’m here.”

“I’m not suffering. And I want to stay, as long as it’s okay with you.” I curled my legs beneath me and leaned into his side.

“I want you here.” He cuddled me closer.

“What did you mean, the hospital’s private car?” I asked. “Is that a new service?”

“Not exactly. The hospital has what they call a VIP program for benefactors. The family made some donations in the past, and Dad left them a bequest in his will. So now if any of us comes to the hospital, we’re supposed to wait in a VIP room, which is stuck in some distant wing of the hospital, with people hovering over you every minute. We’ve all agreed to avoid the VIP treatment whenever possible.” He paused. “But I’d break the rules if you wanted a ride home in a town car.”

“If you’re not going to be a VIP,” I told him, “don’t try to turn me into one.”

Joe smiled and pressed his lips to my temple. “Someday,” he murmured, “I’m going to take you out for a nice, normal date. No drama. We’ll go have dinner at a restaurant like civilized people.”

After several long, quiet minutes, Jack said he was going to get some coffee and asked if anyone wanted some. The group shook their heads. He left and returned soon with a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming liquid.

Ella frowned in worry. “Jack, it’s not good to drink hot liquid out of those kinds of cups – the chemicals leach into the coffee.”

Jack looked sardonic. “I’ve drunk hot coffee out of Styrofoam for most of my life.”

“That explains it,” Joe said.

Although Jack sent him a warning glance, there was a betraying twitch at the corner of his mouth as he took his seat beside Ella. He offered her a pack of plastic-wrapped cookies.

“You got that from a vending machine, didn’t you?” Ella asked suspiciously.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Jack said.

“What’s wrong with vending machines?” I asked.

“The food is junk,” Ella replied, “and the machines themselves are deadly. They kill more people per year than sharks.”

“How could a vending machine kill someone?” Liberty asked.

“Fall over and crush them,” Ella said earnestly. “It happens.”

“There’s no vending machine in existence that could take out a Travis,” Jack informed her. “We’re too hardheaded.”

“I’ll vouch for that,” Ella said. Surreptitiously she took a cookie from the open packet and began to nibble on it.

I smiled and rested my head on Joe’s shoulder. His hand began to sift through the loose locks of my hair.

Abruptly, the soothing motion of his hand stopped, a new tension entering his body. Lifting my head, I followed the direction of Joe’s gaze.

Hardy had entered the waiting room, not seeming to recognize or notice anyone. His face was haggard and skull white, his eyes electric blue. He went blindly to the farthest corner and sat, his broad shoulders hunched as if he were trying to recover from a mule kick to the chest.

“Hardy —” someone said quietly.

He flinched and gave a little shake of his head.

A doctor had come to the doorway. Gage went to him, and they conferred for a couple of minutes.

Gage’s expression was unreadable as he returned. The group leaned in to catch every word as he spoke quietly. “There’s a complication with preeclampsia called HELLP syndrome. Basically the red blood cells are rupturing. Haven is heading toward liver failure and a possible stroke.” He paused and swallowed hard, his gaze meeting Liberty’s. “Delivering the baby is the first step,” he continued in an even tone. “After that they’ll give her steroids and plasma, and likely a blood transfusion. We’ll probably get some news in about an hour. For now, we hunker down and wait.”

“Shit,” Joe said softly. He glanced at the far corner of the room, where Hardy leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs, his head down. “Someone should sit with him. Should I —”

“I will, if you don’t mind,” Gage murmured.

“Go right ahead.”

Gage stood and went to the solitary figure in the corner.

I was surprised by Gage’s desire to sit with Hardy, recalling some of what Joe had once told me, that there was no love lost between the two men. Joe had been somewhat vague about the details, but he’d indicated that Hardy had caused some kind of trouble for Gage and Liberty. It seemed there was history between Hardy and Liberty – they had known each other growing up and had even been childhood sweethearts for a time.