Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(46)

“Heart…” she hiccoughed, “heart attack.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead into my knee. “Talk to me,” I croaked because my throat had closed. When she didn’t, I begged, “Please, honey, talk to me.”

“He’s… he’s alive, Laurie, but they… they’re worried.”

My body bucked with the sob and I barely felt my cell slide out of my hand. Though my hand knew it was freed because both my arms curled around my legs as I listened vaguely to Tate speaking while I wept.

“This is Tate Jackson, who’s this?” He paused. “I’m a friend of Laurie’s, you’re her sister?” Another pause. “All right, is there someone there with you?” Another pause. “Give him the phone.” Pause. “This Mack? Tate Jackson, friend of Laurie’s. What’s happened?”

I felt strong fingers wrap around my hand and then it firmly, but gently, guided me up and forced me out of the lounge and to my feet.

“Hang on a second,” Tate said into the phone. “Baby, put your wrap on and grab your stuff,” he ordered softly.

Automatically, I did as I was told. Once I had my stuff and slid my feet into my flip flops, he took my hand and guided me out of the pool area toward my room.

“Back,” he said into the phone. “I’ll get her sorted out and on a plane.” Another pause. “Yeah.” Another one. “Right, call back in an hour.”

We were at the door, he touched the phone and then slid my key out of my hand which I had held against my chest because most of my stuff was cradled in my arm.

“What’d Mack say?” I asked.

“Inside, baby,” he replied gently and opened the door.

I walked in and tossed everything but the can of pop on the bed. I put the pop on the nightstand and turned to Tate.

“What’d he say?”

“He’s in surgery,” Tate answered and I closed my eyes. “Babe, you need to get on a plane.” I opened my eyes.

“Right,” I whispered.

“Get in the shower,” he ordered.

“Okay,” I whispered, dutifully starting toward the bathroom.

Tate headed to the door but I stopped him when I called his name.

“Tate?”

He turned and looked at me.

“Did Mack say…” I swallowed. “How’s Mom?”

“Hangin’ in there,” he lied.

“Tate,” I whispered, wrapped my arms around my middle and Tate’s long legs had him in front of me in what seemed less than a second.

His hands settled on my neck right where it hit my shoulders. “She’s not good.”

I fell forward so the top of my head was against his chest.

“He’s the strong one,” I whispered to the floor.

His hands gave me a squeeze. “Laurie, get in the shower.”

My head tipped back and I looked at him, holding myself up with hands planted in his abs.

“Of all of us,” I was still whispering.

“What?”

“He’s the strong one of all of us,” I explained and the tears started to fall in such great waves I didn’t know where one stopped and the next began. “We… we… girls. His girls. We fall apart,” I finished, a loud sob tore up my throat and it sounded only slightly less painful than it felt.

Then I was in Tate’s arms.

* * * * *

“Laurie, baby, wake up,” I heard Tate call and my eyes opened.

We were on a plane and I was snuggled into him, head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his stomach.

I tilted my head back and looked up at him.

“We’re landing, we need to put the seatbacks up,” he told me quietly.

“Right,” I whispered and pulled away, pulled my hair out of my face and sat up.

Tate was on that plane with me for reasons known only to Tate. All I knew was, he managed to get me into the bathroom at the hotel and then he disappeared. By the time I was out of the shower, Betty was in my room, my clean clothes from the laundry folded on my bed. She coaxed me through my makeup and blow drying my hair drill and I dressed in an outfit she chose for me. She packed for me while I was doing this, grabbing my makeup and hair brush when I was done.

Then there came a knock on the door and, like I was a celebrity, Betty shoved my sunglasses on my nose and I was whisked from my room by Ned who guided me into a big, black Ford Explorer that had Tate at the wheel.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked Tate after Ned tossed my bag in the backseat.

“I’m your ride,” he replied and then we were off and I barely got a chance to wave at Ned and Betty who were both standing outside my room.

“Whose SUV is this?” I asked once we were out of Carnal.

“Mine,” he answered.

I looked at him. “You drive a Harley.”

“Not big on puttin’ bad guys on the back of my bike when I hunt them down, Ace. Fucks with my street cred.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, turned to face the road, black thoughts assailed my brain and I fell silent.

I found out after the silent ride but somewhat hair raising drive to Denver International Airport (I would understand much later that this was because my plane was leaving and Tate didn’t have a lot of time to get me to it) he wasn’t just my ride. This was because he didn’t drop me off. He parked in short term parking, guided me to the ticket counter, we checked my bag and got two tickets (though I didn’t know that) and we both got in line to go through security and throughout almost all this Tate had two bags, mine in one hand (my hand mostly held in his other), an overnight bag slung over his shoulder but I was too out of it to notice it was his.