IMPACT: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (52 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Madeline

My phone buzzed. I didn't even look at it before I threw it into a heap of laundry in the corner and fell back into bed.

Then I sat right back up again and went to retrieve it.

It was still buzzing. I stabbed the button breathlessly. "Mom?"

"Did I wake you?" she asked.

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "It's okay," I said. "Just have a wicked Ambien hangover."

"My poor girl," she clucked.

"I'm okay, Mom. I really am. What's up? How's Mike doing?"

"He's actually right here, honey," my mom replied. "He was the one who told me to call."

I felt ice water flow in my veins. "Is everything okay?" I asked tightly, praying my voice wouldn't betray me.

I heard Mike's voice, low and tired. My mom must have covered the receiver because I couldn't make out the words. She had been staying at his house ever since Rane's accident. Mike was completely occupied with keeping vigil over his son's bed, and my mother had busied herself caring for him. I had barely seen her since that day we bought her wedding dress a month ago. 

"Everything is...wonderful, actually."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and gripped my phone tightly. "Yeah?"

"Rane woke up yesterday."

I tried to stifle the sob, but it tore loose from my lips before I could catch it. Every emotion that I had been trying to keep bottled up over these past three weeks came rushing to the surface. All the love, all the confusion, all the fear, all the frustration suddenly broke free in a storm I couldn't control.

"Maddie? Maddie, honey?" My mother's tinny voice echoed out of the speaker. I hadn't even realized I dropped the phone on the bed.

"I'm here," I choked.

I heard her hand slide across the receiver again and her muffled voice ask something. Mike's rumbled reply was quick and unenthusiastic.

"Maddie," my mom's voice came back. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Fear gripped my heart. I shook my head. "I'm just relieved. For Mike. And Keir."

"Madeline…" It was the same gentle warning that I remembered as a kid.

I shook my head, pressing my lips tightly together. "Mom… Please…"

"I know you and Rane were spending a lot of time together, before the accident. I'm not blind, and what I do miss, I know from Mike. And Keir." She paused and I heard Mike add something. "…that too, yes. We saw the video, Mike and I. It was beautiful work, by the way. From both of you. We're so proud of our talented kids."

"Thanks," I said mechanically, filled with dread. Here was the conversation I had been waiting for. I knew it was coming. There was no way I could sidestep it. I stood stock still in front of the oncoming train.

  I could hear my mother lick her lips before she continued. "But any idiot watching that video could see that you guys have chemistry. It goes way beyond just performing. You're a good actress, Madeline." She paused and her voice took on a note of mischief. "But you're not that good."

I barked out a hysterical laugh that turned into a sob. "I think that is the first time you've ever said something like that."

"And I couldn't be prouder to say it. Because you're a grown-up now. You don't need my constant cheerleading anymore, Maddie," she said. "You can stand on your own two feet, make your own choices." She dropped her voice. "Trust your own gut. I trust you, too."

I nodded, feeling simultaneously heavy and rooted and like I wanted to float away. I held my breath, waiting for her to change her mind. To chide me, to hang up in disgust. I waited for Mike to grab the phone from her hand and curse me out for being the reason his son fell that day.

I waited, drowning in guilt, for them to push my head all the way under.

"Maddie, are you there?"

I opened my eyes, blinking. "I'm here."

"Honey, did you hear me?"

"I'm...I'm not sure I did."

"Rane's awake, baby."

"I know," I whispered, clutching the phone. "What should I do, Mom?"

"Go to him." My mother's voice was firm.

I swallowed. "Really?"

"Does he make you happy, Maddie? Does he treat you right? Do you love him?"

There was no way I could lie to my mother. She always knew what was best for me, even when I couldn't see it myself. "Yes," I breathed. "To all three. Yes."

She exhaled. "He's awake. He'll want to see you. Go see Rane."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rane

The doctor kept fading in and out. I didn't know how Keir and my father could understand a word he was fucking saying.

Words floated past me. Words like, "therapy, programs, schedules, rigorous."

It made me fucking exhausted just thinking about it.

"Did you hear that?" My father's voice snapped through the haze of the tranquilizer.

"No," I muttered. Or maybe I didn't. My lips didn't seem very well connected my brain.

My father's face appeared above mine. "Wake up, son!" he barked at me. "The doctor just gave us the game plan."

"Fucking hell," I muttered.

"Tell me again," I heard Keir order the doctor. He looked at me sidelong and then ducked his head to peer at my chart. "How many sessions a day?"

"You do remember I told you to butt the fuck out of my life, right?" I called to him. But he ignored me and furrowed his brow and nodded at the doctor.

My dad was oblivious to the friction between Keir and me. He sat on the edge of my bed, smiling like a goddamned maniac.  "You're going to be fine, Rane! Isn't that good? You're going to need a lot of physical therapy, but if you work hard, you're going to be okay. You'll be able to walk, you'll be able to play. You just have to do your therapy."

"Okay, I get it," I groaned, trying to sit up and failing. "Spare me the lecture."

I closed my eyes. I didn't understand how I was supposed to fucking do anything when I couldn't even seem to keep my eyes open. Once more, I wished I had kept sleeping, because ever since I woke up, I was exhausted. I'd never felt this tired in my life, not even after three-day benders on the road with Ruthless. Nights I spent sweating out my soul on stage.

On stage.

My eyes snapped open and I looked down at the pincushion masquerading as my hand. It was completely shot. Even in the haze of all the painkillers, I could see that clearly.

There was no way I was ever going to be able to play guitar again.

My right arm was bandaged in a tight plaster cast with several pins holding the bones of my shattered right hand in place. "And what about my hand?" I croaked.

My father was already babbling over me. "The doctors say that's what saved you, Rane. You always had good instincts for this stuff. If you hadn't done something, you would have hit the back of your head on the outcropping that you landed on, but you twisted at the last minute and flung your arm out and landed on your side. That's what cushioned you from hitting your head. It's a fucking miracle, really."

I looked down at my shattered arm. "Doesn't look like a fucking miracle to me," I grumbled.

"Your other option was death," my dad pointed out. "I'd say this is the better option."

I tried to wiggle my hand and was a rewarded with a stabbing pain shooting up the side of my arm. "How am I supposed to get past this?" I growled.

"You just do," he told me.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Gentlemen." A pretty little nurse was standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow."

My father ruffled my hair the way he used to do when we were kids. "We are so glad to finally have you back, son," he said, his voice choking.

Keir looked like he wanted to say something, then closed his mouth and shook his head.

I kept my mouth shut long enough to see my dad walk out of the door
."
Keir," I barked.

My brother slowed to a stop, then turned, warily.

I glared at him. "Anything you want to say to me?" I growled.

Keir stood up straight and crossed his arms, then leaned against the doorframe. "Nope."

A flare of pain burst under my right eyebrow. "Really?"
Step closer when you say that, Bulldog. We'll see if I can still throw a punch with my good hand.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Except I'll see you tomorrow."

"Why are you even coming around if you're not speaking to me?" I demanded. "How about you stop wasting both of our time?"

For a moment, Keir looked like he wanted to finish the work the rock had started. "Because I don't give up on something just because it's hard," he snarled.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said.

"Didn't you hear those doctors? You're going to be okay. But you've gotta work at it, and that's always been your fucking problem. The second things get hard for you, you just let them go."

"Or my fucking brother makes a decision for me," I pointed out. "You do know that when I get out of here, I’m going to cave your fucking face in for that.”

Keir smirked. “Then you’d better do your therapy.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Madeline

The cool air off the ocean met the baking pavement, sending swirls of mist-like wraiths dancing along the ground. My headlights pierced the fog as I drove the silent, early morning streets. Without traffic, I reached the hospital far earlier than I had expected.

I grabbed the ticket from the dispenser and slid into the dark parking garage. There was a space right by the elevators, just waiting for me. I pulled in and threw the car in park.

I was twenty minutes early, which gave me time to think about what the hell I was doing.

Steam still rose from my travel mug, and from the mug I had poured for Rane. Black coffee, with an obscene amount of sugar. I hoped he still had a taste for it. I hoped he was able to drink it.

I hoped he was happy to see me.

I hoped he didn't blame me for his accident. I blamed myself enough for both of us.

I hope he remembered he said he loved me.

Sliding out of the seat, I nudged my door shut and set out. I had deliberately come during the earliest visiting hours available. I knew that Keir would be home at this hour, still sleeping off whatever he drank to fall asleep the night before. It was the perfect time to sneak in and see Rane in private.

Was I being selfish? The ferociousness of my desire to see Rane frightened me. It consumed me, propelling me forward with blind intensity, every heartbeat repeating his name,
Rane Rane Rane.
Let loose by my mother's support, I had barely slept last night, rehearsing what I would say, what I'd do when I saw him again. How I'd kiss him, gently, carefully, letting him take the lead. But once he took the lead, I knew nothing could hold us back. I would need to touch him, feel him under my fingers, hear the rasp of his voice in my ear as his breath caught when I slid down the length of him. I would try to hold back from hurting him, but I wondered if I could. Wild, ragged desire was already taking hold of me, leaving me breathless with anticipation.

But as I walked from the parking garage into the main foyer of the hospital, guilt slowed my footsteps down to a shuffle.

Pull yourself together.

Shades of Mad Maddie and her utter lack of self-control flickered in the background of my mind. I stopped and leaned against the fake-wood paneled wall, half-hidden by a potted plant, and slumped down.

Keir had made it frighteningly clear. He did not want me around. And if I came to see him today, Rane would fight him on that, I was sure.

And that's when everything would spiral downward.

Rane would have to choose between his brother and me. His band and me. His life and me.

To be with me, he'd have to give up everything.

He believed in moving on. He'd told me that a million times.  But could I let him do that? Could I be responsible for breaking up brothers, a band...a family?

Live your life.
Rane's words echoed in my head, but was I just telling myself what I wanted to hear?

Each step I took was a war inside myself. A war between my heart and my guilt. What I wanted versus the right thing to do.

Walking down that hallway. I could see partially into each room. Sometimes I saw nothing but a TV blaring. Sometimes I saw a laughing family gathered at the feet of someone unseen. Sometimes I made eye contact with someone crying softly in a corner.

Rane's room was quiet. No TV, no visitors. Just an avalanche of flowers. I knocked on the open door and waited for an answer, but only heard the soft sound of sleeping breath.

I should turn back now. Before he wakes up and sees me. I'm not strong enough to tell him we have to stop. I should just leave before he notices I'm here.

I can still do the right thing.

I turned on my heel, the sole of my sandal squeaking against the linoleum.

"Hello?" croaked a familiar voice.

And all thoughts of doing the right thing flew out the window. "Rane," I breathed.