Page 83 of Beat of Love
“Itwasmy fault,” she wailed, beating her fists into his chest.
He grabbed hold of her hands and held them tightly against his body as he whispered fiercely, “Hear me, Amelia. You swerved for ananimal. That is human instinct. Maybe a more experienced driver would not have swerved. Maybe. You don’t know. The important thing is — your mom woke up. She doesn’t blame you. Sheriff Wheeler doesn’t blame you.” He glanced at her siblings. “Do either of you blame your sister?”
Olivia placed her arm around Amelia’s back. “I don’t blame you, Mimi.”
Preston put his hand on her shoulder. “Me neither,” he whispered.
Stooping slightly, he peered intently into Amelia’s eyes. “See? The accident was horrible, Mimi, and very scary. I don’t dispute that. But it’s over. Your mom’s gonna be fine.”
Please, God, let her be fine.
“And y’all are fine.That’swhat’s important. Yes?”
She blinked several times, then nodded.
“There you go.” He pulled her in for a quick hug and dropped a kiss on her hair. “Now,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders,“I suggest you go to the bathroom and wash your face. You’ll feel heaps better afterward.”
“Okay.” Shoulders slumped, she shuffled across the floor.
His heart ached for her. Turning to Olivia, he softly urged, “Go help your sister, Livvie.”
Once Oliva closed the bathroom door behind them, Rafferty turned to Preston. “It’s okay not to be okay.”
The boy nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m … okay.” He gave a gruff laugh. “Now. Thanks for coming, Raff.”
“Anytime.” He stepped closer and scrutinized the boy. Except Preston wasn’t a boy anymore. The accident had stolen something from him. “And I mean it, bud. You need me, you call. No hesitation. Hear?”
Preston’s Adams apple bobbed several times. “I hear you,” he croaked. “Th-thanks.”
Gripping the back of Preston’s neck, he pulled the boy-man closer, pressing a brief, but firm kiss to his forehead.
And that’s when the teenager cracked, harsh sobs tearing through his lanky frame. “I th-thought M-mom d-died.”
His own nose burning from emotion, Rafferty maintained his hold on Preston until the boy stopped crying.
“Sorry,” Preston said, rubbing his face with his bent arm.
“Never apologize for how you feel, bud.”
Time passed slowly while they waited. The girls huddled on the bed. Preston slouched on the visitor’s chair. Rafferty paced.
And then she arrived.
22
Little less scary
Transfixed, Rafferty stared as she moved through the doorway, an orderly behind her,pushingher — he sucked in a breath — in a wheelchair. The white bandage wrapped around her head contrasted starkly against her auburn hair. And fuck, she wore a neck brace.
“Mom! You’re back!” Olivia called out and jumped from the bed, Amelia right behind. Preston joined his sisters, the trio crowding their mom and the orderly.
It was the grimace of pain across her face that ripped him from his stupor of seeing her injured and in a fuckingwheelchair, spurring him into action. “Give your mom some space,” he ordered, clearing a path to her bed.
The orderly leaned down and activated the brakes. “Let’s get you up,” the man said.
“I’ve got her.” He scooped Brandy-Lyn into his arms and placed her on the bed, drawing the light blanket over her legs — seeing her limbs exposed by the dreadful hospital gown bothered him tremendously — while supporting her back with his other hand. “Upright or flat?”
“Huh?”
