The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,72

encouragement. “Yep. There you go.” They went through the door Bear had been eyeing for a while now, and the sharp scent of machinery mixed with bleach hit him.

Bear instantly recoiled, his eyebrows drawing together. He kept one hand on Rachel’s arm to keep them moving at a steady pace as they followed the nurse. She led them past several other rooms before stopping outside of one and gesturing for them to go inside first.

Bear’s alert was on high, and he scanned the room as he entered. Vaughan lay in a bed, one foot raised a little off the mattress, his eyes closed.

“Vaughan,” Rachel said, flying toward her husband. He opened his eyes, and Bear hung back, feeling very out of place.

The nurse came in with a doctor, and they started talking about the things they’d done. “We’d like to do x-rays,” the doctor said. “And an MRI. We want to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion, and depending on what we find, we might keep him overnight.”

“Overnight?” Rachel looked up, alarmed.

“…see him right now,” a woman said from down the hall. “Dad,” she called, and Bear knew that voice.

He nodded to everyone in the room and ducked into the hall to intercept Sammy. She spotted him instantly and came toward him at a jog. “Bear?”

“He’s in there,” he said, not sure what else he was supposed to say. Sammy didn’t slow or stop when she reached him. She brushed by him, her panic almost as palpable as the horrible scent hospitals all had. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t spray something citrusy or floral to mask the scent of death.

He heard Sammy asking questions, and part of him wanted to go in the room and be her support. The other half couldn’t even focus on her words, and his desire to get out of this hallway prompted him to walk away.

He was practically running by the time he made it outside, and he ducked around the corner and pressed his back into the brick behind him. He pulled in breath after breath, wondering why the only thing he could think of was the last time he’d been in a hospital.

His father had died here, fifteen years ago. Something Sammy had told him months ago crept through his mind, comforting him.

Everyone experiences grief in different ways, at different times. It can sneak up on you like a thief in the night when you haven’t cried for months.

“Or years,” he said to himself.

He wasn’t going to cry now either, but he did allow himself to miss his father for several powerful seconds. Then he went back inside and took the seat he’d been waiting in previously. He spent some time updating Ranger and Bishop on the situation, and they said they’d cover him at the ranch today.

On the family text, Ranger told everyone what was happening, and instantly, well-wishes for Sammy and her father came in from every Glover who had a smartphone.

Bear was overwhelmed with the outpouring of love he felt from his family. He’d felt like this several times in his life, most recently on his birthday. Everyone he cared about and would want to be at a birthday party for him had been there. After he’d finished kissing Sammy and telling her thank you, she’d led him to the pizza table to get dinner.

There, he’d found another batch of colored greeting card envelopes, and he’d enjoyed birthday wishes from the cowboys at Three Rivers, Seven Sons, and the other ranches around town. A week later, he’d gotten a card in the mail from Wade Rhinehart, and Bear realized Sammy’s reach knew no bounds.

He scrolled through his social media, just trying to kill time. He read the family texts again, but there was nothing new there. The minutes passed, and Bear was bored. After an hour, he got up and approached the reception desk. “Excuse me,” he said. “Can I get an update on Vaughan Benton?”

“Let me check.”

His stomach growled, and he thought he might be able to run and get lunch for Sammy and her mother, as they were probably hungry too.

“He’s gone to MRI,” the woman at reception said. “You can go back to the room and wait for him there.”

“Okay,” Bear said, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. Sammy hadn’t texted him, and he didn’t know what proper boyfriend protocol was. In the end, he pushed through the door and went down the hall to the room. He didn’t feel like air