Page 47 of A Very Merry Matchup
When I slip my right hand inside, her slender hand squeezes back. “Thanks for coming with me, Beau.”
I lift our joined hands and drop a kiss on her knuckles. “Honey, I’m right where I want to be.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Oh there’s no place like the hospital for the holidays...
Ivy
Takes us about forty-five minutes to get to the front entrance of the hospital in Iowa City. I’m glad that Beau drove. Partly because the truck handled the snowy roads better. Mostly because I’m not here alone.
“Text me his room number once you get it,” Beau says. “I’m going to park and let my parents know we made it.”
I nod and shut the door. When I step past the sliding glass doors I see a reception desk. Doesn’t take long for the middle-aged woman who looks as thrilled as I am to be here today to track down my brother’s location on her computer.
“Looks like he’s still in surgery,” she says, handing me avisitor sticker to put on my sweater. “Surgical waiting room is around the corner. They might have more information for you at their check-in desk.”
They don’t. All they can tell me is, “The doctor will be out to give you an update as soon as he can.”
I’m just taking a seat when a text from my mom pings through.Anything???
I message back.Still in surgery. That’s all I know.
Who’s Abbey?
Did Mom miss thethat’s all I knowpart? I take a deep breath. My mom has a way of bringing out the twitchy side of me on a good day. Considering I’m sitting in a surgical waiting room with very little information about my brother’s condition on Christmas Day, I wouldn’t label this a good day.
I take a few more deep breaths before I respond.I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.
When I look up from my phone, a doctor in green scrubs with a black surgical cap covered in little red Santa hats is walking toward me. “Are you with Jordan West?”
I stand and nod. If he assumes I’m this Abbey person, that’s on him. Iamwith Jordan West.
“Everything went fine. We were able to fix the breaks without any complications. He’ll need some rehab, of course.Lots of physical therapy. But he should almost get full use of his elbow eventually.”
Almost? Eventually?Those two words didn’t sound promising for a professional hockey player. “How’s Jordan handling everything?”
“He’s still a bit groggy, but you’re welcome to see him now. He’s in bay four. Once he’s cleared by the anesthesiologist and fully recovered, we can discharge him home.”
Home? Home where? Pittsburgh? I still don’t even know why Jordan’s here at a hospital in Iowa. But the doctor’s already walking away. I text Beau a quick message as I find directions to bay four in the postanesthesia care unit.
A nurse is unhooking an empty bag of IV fluids when she spots me and motions me closer past the partially closed curtain surrounding Jordan’s stretcher. “You can come in.”
I step closer to see my brother wearing a giant cast on his left arm. His groggy eyes widen a fraction. “Ivy? What in the world are you doing here?”
“You know how much I love hanging out at hospitals on Christmas. No cheerier place to be.”
“Did Mom call you?”
“What do you think?
He closes his eyes with a long sigh. “I wouldn’t have messaged her if I knew she was going to make such a big deal out of it. You don’t have to stay.”
“Jordan, you’re my brother and you just had surgery. Of course I’m going to stay. We’re family.”
He blinks a few times, his lips tugging in an uneven smile. I know what he’s thinking. We’re not exactly the type of family that drops everything to rush to each other’s side on Christmas. We’re more along the lines of a family that textsMerry Christmasto each other on Christmas—if we’re not too busy. “What are you doing in Iowa? How did you break your arm?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he says.
