Page 52 of The Hard Hitter

“It’s not that. I just want you to be sure. Have kids for you, not for any other reason.”

“I do want kids…eventually,” I say, and then drop the subject when Mom comes back into the room. A few more hours pass and a nurse comes by to let us know Dad has settled into his room.

“I’ll be here waiting when you get back,” he says softly into my ear.

“Thank you.”

I put my arm around Mom and we follow the nurse to the room Dad is sharing with another patient. He’s groggy when we reach him but alert enough to know who we are.

His arm is bandaged and hanging from some contraption. Things look dire, but I remind myself it could have been so much worse.

“Dad,” I say and kiss his cheek. “How are you?” Stupid question, I know.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says. He glances heavenward. “He’s taking care of me.”

Mom settles on the other side of him. “You scared us half to death.”

“How is the other driver?” he asks, and isn’t that just like Dad, always worried and taking care of everyone else. At the end of the day, Zander is a lot like my father.

We talk for a few more minutes, but he’s tired from the surgery and drugs, so we give him a kiss and make our way back to Zander. He jumps up when he sees us.

“How is he?”

“He’s going to be just fine,” I say.

“Glad to hear it. Mary, can I drive you home,” Zander asks, and once again my heart pinches at his consideration. “I can pick you up tomorrow to come back and get your car.”

“I cabbed it here. I was in no shape to drive. I can cab home.”

“I won’t hear of it,” he says.

Mom opens her mouth to protest but I cut her off. “Forget it, Mom. He’s bossy and argumentative, and always wins out in the end.”

“It’s true,” he says, and Mom laughs.

“In that case, I’ll save my breath. Let’s go.” She walks out the door and heads to the elevators. Zander puts his arm around me, and I thank him as we follow behind.

We step into the warm night and Zander takes us to his car. I settle Mom in the front and I climb into the back.

“Where to?” he asks, and I give him directions. Half an hour later, we’re at my childhood home, and Zander and I see that Mom gets inside safely. Once she’s settled, I put the kettle on to boil for her nightly tea, give her a kiss and promise to call first thing in the morning.

Exhaustion from a long night, combined with stress, pulls at me as we climb back into the car.

“You’re beat,” he says.

“I am.” I’m not about to deny it.

“You never even had dinner.”

“You’re right. I never thought about that.” The last thing we had was ice cream. “Did you eat?”

“No, but Quinn said she’d feed Daisy, and since I didn’t know how long I’d be, she’s keeping her overnight.” He reaches across the seat and squeezes my leg. “Why don’t we go back to my place? You look like you could use a good long soak in the hot tub, and I can whip us up something to eat.”

“You’re tired, too. Let me order food in.”

“Do you like Italian?”

“Carbs, only my favorite,” I say, and he laughs.

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