Page 138 of On the Power Play

Delia tried to see the gauze but couldn't make her head move far enough. She glanced up at the clock. Quarter to nine. Before she could announce her current state of starvation, Mary turned and lifted a bag from the chair next to hers. "Tony couldn't come since he's not family, but he had Kels drop off a breakfast bagel." She winked.

Delia sighed and sank back into her pillows. She doubted Tony would’ve made the effort to come by even if he could’ve visited, but the thought definitely counted for something. "I've always loved Kels." Mary handed her the bag, and she pulled out the sandwich. She'd almost fully unwrapped it when she paused, her eyes widening.

"Yes, they have toothbrushes here," Mary said dramatically.

Delia grinned and tore off the rest of the paper. Her senses lit up like a Christmas tree as she bit into the just slightly soggy bagel, her teeth sinking into herby cream cheese, crispy bacon, and scrambled egg. She wanted to groan with pleasure, and that immediately made her think of Jack drooling over his steak in his hotel room. She shot up in bed and winced. "Jack?" His name came out a garbled mess, but somehow Mary still understood.

"I phoned him last night. He's?—"

Delia's door swung open, revealing her morning nurse with an annoyed expression. "Your boyfriend won't take no for an answer." She moved to the side and Jack stalked into the room with energy like a caged mountain cat. Wild and desperate. "For the record, visiting hours start at nine, not eight fifty." She gave him one last disapproving look, then closed the door and left.

Delia could barely breathe through the frantic beat of her heart. When she tried to say something, she realized she'd stopped chewing and her mouth was still full of bagel. She hurriedly finished her bite and wiped the cream cheese from the side of her mouth. After she swallowed, she met his eyes. He was still standing there at the foot of the bed. Staring at her. "You're here?"

It didn't seem possible. He must've gotten on a plane the second she crashed.

Jack let the backpack slide off his shoulder. He looked over at the chair next to Mary, but Delia held out a hand. "No. Sit here. Please." She patted the side of the bed Mary had just vacated.

He dropped the bag and rounded the bed, then sat so close she could smell his deodorant. His real kind that time, not the Edmonton travel version. The clean scent made her skin buzz.

Jack ran his hands over her, gentle and probing, like he was searching for anything the doctors missed. "That's the cut?" He fingered the edges of the gauze.

Delia nodded as much as she could without inciting another pain spike. "All stitched up."

"Where's Bryce?" he asked.

Mary pointed to the door. "He's down the hall. Just got the X-rays back. He has a broken wrist." Jack blew out a breath.

"I think I owe him an apology." Delia laced her fingers in his, remembering the conversation she and Bryce had on the way to the car.

"Why?"

"I might have been giving him crap about being too uptight."

Mary folded her arms over her chest. "I told you it meant he was good at his job."

Delia had gotten the rundown after the stitches when she was too full of adrenaline and nerves to fall to sleep immediately. From the sounds of it, she owed Bryce more than an apology. Probably a steak. And her firstborn child.

Jack reached out with his free hand and tapped her sandwich. "You should finish eating."

Delia snapped her mouth closed. She'd been talking that whole time with chive breath.

When she didn't move, Jack pushed it closer. "Don't make me chew it for you and feed you like a baby bird." He looked just serious enough, Delia relented. She took another bite and offered it to him. He shook his head. "I already stopped for food. Had to kill some time." He ground his teeth, and Delia fought back a smile.

Mary started asking him about the flight over, and soon they were chatting about how much they hated drink services on overnight flights. By the time they'd agreed that no lights or announcements should be made between the hours of midnight and five, Delia's stomach was full. She handed Jack the trash, then nudged him. "I need to go to the washroom."

Jack moved out of the way and held onto her waist as she padded in her hospital socks to the toilet. "Do you need me to stay?"

She balked and shooed him out of the room, then regretted it as she swayed a bit trying to pull up her gown. She made it onto the toilet safely, then cleaned up and opened the door. Jack was there waiting to walk her back. As soon as she was settled, he spread out her blankets and sat back at her side. His hand rested over her leg just under her knee, and suddenly she wasn't thinking about Bryce or the accident or the fact that she’d been in such a rush, she’d forgotten to brush her teeth in the washroom.

She was wholly focused on the man sitting next to her. The man who'd flown across the country overnight to make sure she was okay. The man who offered to stand next to her while she peed.

"What happened to the cow knuckles?" he asked, his voice low.

Delia's lips twitched. "My mom probably lost it when she woke up this morning and saw a pot of raw bones on the stove."

"She hasn't seen you yet?"

"No. She's still sick. I told her to hang tight since I was being discharged in a bit." Delia thought back to the conversation she had with Jack before the onion debacle. "You have practice. Right now." She looked too fast at the clock and sucked in a breath at the sharp pain in her shoulders.

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