Page 132 of Wild Side
Ford rolls his eyes.
“Sorry, I fall back on dumb humor when I’m stressed.”
He breezes past the discomfort. “We’re both willing to do anything for the people we love. For family.”
I swallow roughly. “You love Rhys?”
He chuckles now, one hand tugging at the ends of his hair as he messes it up. “I mean, we’re on the same bowling team.” He says it likeDuh,obviously. “Bonded by humiliation of having to wear those shirts West designed and a mutual hatred for that fucker, Stretch.”
A watery laugh leaps from my throat.
“And you. Rosie loves you, and I love Rosie.”
“So you love me by one degree of separation? I guess that means I love you back.”
We both chuckle, because what the fuck else do we do in this situation? And when those elevator doors open, we spring into action. I stride out into the ICU waiting room, bolstered by the feeling of Ford at my side.
Will is sitting in a green vinyl chair that is just a darker shade of the mint color on the walls. The walls are just a more concentrated shade of the color on Will’s face.
He’s slumped over, hands on his chin, elbows propped on his knees. Watery, red-rimmed eyes land on mine. “Oh good, you’re here.” The words spill from Will’s mouth on a relieved sigh.
But the middle-aged man beside him stands up. He’s wearing a lanyard that saystraining staff, and he starts talking to me like I’m some sort of interloper or trespassing fan. I see his lips moving, but the words don’t register until he tries to tell me the WPW isn’t allowing any visitors.
I cut him off before he can go any further.
“I’m not asking permission! Where the hell is my husband?”
The trainer stops and draws back, looking offended by my biting tone, but Will pulls my attention away. He speaks as he pushes to stand. “I’m so sorry, Tabby. This is all my fault. I misjudged?—”
“Will, I don’t care about that right now. Where is he? Just tell me where he is.”
“Getting a scan. They’ll come get me when he’s back. They think I’m his brother.”
I walk forward, effectively blocking out the man who thinks he’s going to keep me from Rhys, and squeeze Will’s shoulder. He looks so fucking stricken, I can barely handle it. “You did good.”
He turns his head down, the heels of his hands pressed against his forehead. “I didn’t. I did this. If I had been moreaccurate, he wouldn’t have adjusted his position to make it work, and… and I?—”
I crouch down, squeezing his forearms. “Hey, hey. Stop.” I give him a shake. “Fucking stop it. Don’t do that.” His big baby blues, swimming in tears, leap up to mine. “Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about blaming yourself for someone else’s health. And guess what? It will eat you alive and not change a thing. A million little things happened last night that could have had a million different outcomes. Maybe if he hadn’t moved, he’d have hit his head. Maybe if you had landed differently, it would have been your back.”
I shake him once again for emphasis. “Do not, under any circumstance, do this to yourself. It solves nothing. Now pull yourself up by the bootstraps. He’ll need his friend. Go and get some sleep. I’ll stay now.”
He gives me a nod on a shaky exhale. “Okay. But I’m not leaving.”
It’s then that a door opens, and a nurse pops her head in. “For Dupris?”
Will wipes at his face, nods in my direction, and does me a solid when he announces, “Yeah, his wife is here now.”
The woman smiles kindly at me. “Okay, Mrs. Dupris, you can come with me.”
I turn and give Ford a pointed look. He’s not an emotional person, but I want him to stick with Will and keep the WPW police off my ass. He picks up on my intention immediately and moves to sit one chair down from the other wrestler.
Then I turn and follow the woman back into the eerily silent ward. The only sound aside from my footsteps is the insistent beeping of monitors.
When she turns, I quicken my pace, that invisible pull I’ve always felt toward Rhys stronger than ever. I may not have all the answers, but I’m certain of one thing—if I can be with him,we’ll be okay. Together, we can get through anything. This much I know about us.
If everything life has thrown at us hasn’t been able to pull us apart, this won’t either.
I let out a whimper when I see him and rush toward the bed. His tan skin looks pale against the sterile white hospital sheets. His tall frame overwhelms the bed, and he belongs in something bigger, something plusher—something where I can bring him home-cooked food.
