Storms Over Texas Read online

  When he turned back around to face her, she ignored him and strode from the room.

  She raced down the hospital hallway and stopped at the desk to alert the staff about what had happened. And then she fled to the elevator, desperate to get out of this place.

  When the doors closed, she breathed a sigh of relief that no one else was there. Leaning against the wall, she abandoned the brave front she’d tried so desperately to put on and sobbed, stuffing her fist into her mouth so no one could hear her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two days later, Jake was sitting up in his hospital bed when Sarah Wainwright entered his room. She looked all business as she stood stiffly, clipboard in hand.

  “Hey there, Sarah.”

  “You gave us quite a scare. But you’re doing better now, Jake. You really are. The hospital staff adores you—claims you’re the ideal patient, except for the notorious water pitcher incident, of course.”

  He looked away, embarrassed she’d gotten wind of his outburst. Rachel hadn’t been to the hospital to visit him since then. That was probably the one thing the two had in common: a stubborn streak.

  “They’re talking about releasing me tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I hear. It looks as though you’ve done everything required.” She peered down at the technology device in her hands. “You’ve consulted with the doctor about the upcoming surgery on the ankle; you’ve had a session with the hospital physical therapist; you’ve gotten set up for getting crutches . . .”

  “I’ve done everything the hospital has asked me to. I’m ready to bust out of here. I need to get back to working again.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she set down the iPad. “You’ll need to make other arrangements for running the bar. You get that, right?”

  “I can’t—”

  She cut him off before he could continue. “That incision along your rib cage will take a while to heal. You can’t rush things like this. Now you claim to have spoken with the surgeon, but you do know that even after they operate on that ankle, which, by the way could take weeks since they have to wait for the swelling to go down—”

  “You sound like Rachel. I know what I’m up against, Sarah. I’m in no mood for a lecture.”

  “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, Jake, but I can’t. That would be irresponsible. The fact is that you’ve got a long road ahead of you. After the surgery on your ankle, you’ll need to be on crutches for months. And it’s probable that once the ankle heals, you might need to walk with a cane. There’s no way you can return to work now—at least, not for a while. These things take time. You have to be patient. And you can’t do this all on your own, Jake. You’re going to need help.”

  His head pounded as he listened to her drone on and on. While none of this was news to him, hearing it all at one time proved overwhelming.

  It seemed like everyone was hellbent on giving him the worst-case scenario. This was his body they were talking about. Who was to say how long it would take him to heal? Maybe he’d set some sort of record and bounce back more quickly than anyone anticipated.

  She crossed her arms and looked away. “Mama and I got to talking. We’re worried about you going home to an empty house.”

  “I’ve been on my own for decades, Sarah. I can manage. Don’t turn me into some charity case.”

  “We just don’t like the idea of your being—”

  “Don’t, Sarah. I mean it.”

  She frowned, and he regretted being so difficult. But the thought of being around people—even well-meaning people like Sarah— when his life had been turned upside down wasn’t setting well.

  Anger rumbled up inside him like a volcano, spreading itself like a clawed hand grasping deep inside his gut, twisting him into pieces. He didn’t deserve this shit—didn’t deserve to have been put through the ringer like this. But there was no way in hell he’d admit how tough this was. Not even to Sarah.

  He was sick of it all—sick at the god-damned white walls, the stupid floral scrubs the staff wore to create an atmosphere of cheerfulness when the place was nothing but a place where people muddled their way through whatever ailed them. If he heard one more time how lucky he was to have pulled through, he was going to scream.

  To his relief, Dr. Jennings strode into the room, ducking his head as he made his way through the door. Walking over to the opposite side of his bed where Sarah stood, he extended a hand, his grip form. “It looks as though you’re on the mend.”

  He began examining Jake, jotting down some things.

  “What’s the verdict, Doc? Are you going to let me bust out of here?”

  “Everything seems to check out. We’ll probably release you in the morning. I’ll be back around ten tomorrow to look in on you. Provided you continue to improve, I’ll sign the release form then.”

  Sarah glanced up at the doctor, her eyebrows narrowing. Clearing her throat, she spoke. “I’m surprised you’re releasing him so soon.”

  “He’s done everything we’ve asked. It makes little sense to keep him here any longer.”

  “But Jake lives alone. He doesn’t have anyone to—”

  The doctor frowned, jotted down a few more notes, and headed toward the door. “I’ll drop by around ten tomorrow to see how you’re doing, Jake. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  “I still think it’s too soon to—”

  “May I see you in the hall, Nurse Wainwright?” The doctor’s tone was crisp, and Jake realized the medical folks were about to come to blows.

  Sarah folded her arms, glared at the doctor, and replied, “Of course. Excuse me, Jake. I’ll be right back.” She raced out the door, the doctor well ahead of her.

  Jake smirked, aware that Sarah Wainwright was one of the most opinionated individuals he knew. And while this Jennings guy appeared to be pushy, he was in for a surprise. This woman was no shrinking violet when it came to giving her opinion. Dr. Jennings was in for a rude awakening.

  He leaned back in the bed, staring out the window at the beautiful sun-filled day. Today would have been a good day for a motorcycle ride up into the hills. But his bike had been totaled and God only knows when he’d be able to get back on his feet. His mood soured as he considered that quite possibly, his best years were behind him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kendall Jennings crossed his arms and stood, legs spread, preparing to give Sarah Wainwright a lecture. If she thought for a second that he’d be talked out of releasing Jake Crenshaw tomorrow morning, she was dead wrong.

  Glaring at him, her lips pursed together, hands splayed across her hips, she spoke. “I don’t see what the big hurry is to release Jake. It’s not as though the hospital is bursting at the seams with patients. What harm would it do to allow him to stay a few more days?” Her gray eyes blazed as she spoke, and it was all he could do not to chuckle. Whether she knew it or not, she was sure pretty when she got all riled up like this.

  But Jake Crenshaw was his patient, and he refused to let Sarah talk him into letting the man stay another day. For patients with poor health care coverage, every day in the hospital added up quickly. Sadly, Jake was one of those patients with substandard health care coverage.

  “The patient has done everything we asked him to. I’m releasing him tomorrow.”

  When she stared down at the floor, he felt frustrated she’d become so upset about this. His initial inclination was that she’d give in and let this thing go. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Jake’s not in a good place. He just ended a three-year relationship with his girlfriend. He’s always been good at masking his emotion, so most people probably don’t notice how upset he is. But I do. If you release him before he’s ready, you’ll put him in harm’s way. Not intentionally, of course. But you will.”

  Clearing his throat, he chose his words care
fully. “There’s no reason for me to keep him here. If you’re so concerned, perhaps you should arrange for someone to stay with him when he gets home.”

  But what he considered to be a helpful comment appeared to rile her up. She glared at him, and her eyes narrowed. “Fine. Maybe I’ll take care of him myself.”

  “Now, how are you going to manage that when you work here full-time?”

  “Maybe I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” After she made the pronouncement, she fisted her hands and plunged them into the pockets of her scrubs.

  He began rethinking his decision, aware Sarah probably couldn’t afford to take time off. Several weeks back he’d heard her talking to one of the nursing assistants about her son’s frequent bouts with asthma. As a single mother, she probably couldn’t afford to use up any more of her sick days.

  She was staring down at the floor now, and he decided to reevaluate his decision. “I’ll talk to Jake again. I’ll explain that I need to make sure someone will be with him before I can release him.”

  “Thank you—”

  “But that someone won’t be you, Sarah. I need you here. So do your patients.”

  “I really can’t afford to take any more time off work, anyway.” She looked at him, and before long, her mouth tugged at the corners. “It appears I’ve misjudged you, Dr. Jennings.”

  He quickly corrected her. “Kendall—call me by my first name.”

  “Kendall, then.”

  The relief on her face amused him. He decided to joke with her. “So, I guess maybe now you don’t think I’m the arrogant prick everyone around here says I am?”

  She frowned and began stumbling over her words. “Oh, no, I never—”

  Checking his watch, he began walking back down to Jake’s hospital room, wondering if he’d dug himself a hole. Should Jake not agree to have someone stay with him, he’d be hard-pressed to keep him here. And judging by the way Jake was chomping at the bit to get out of here, he’d be furious if they didn’t release him.

  He could hear Sarah’s brisk footsteps behind him, and when he whirled back around, they nearly collided. “Is there something else?”

  “I, um, I was just thinking that you’re a very kind man. You don’t always come across that way, but then, I think you rather like it that way—like people to think you’re . . .”

  “A hard ass?”

  She shrugged and dipped her head. “No, I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Can we keep this between us, Sarah? Can I count on you not to announce to the world that I actually have a heart?”

  He turned back around and started down the hall, wondering if Sarah Wainwright was watching him. Too bad he didn’t fraternize with his staff. If he did, he’d ask her out.

  ~ ~ ~

  That evening Rachel made her way down the hall to Jake’s hospital room. After days of not speaking to each other, he’d called to apologize for behaving so badly.

  When she got to his room, the door was ajar. “Jake?”

  “Come in.”

  She entered the room to find him sitting up in bed. He’d swapped out the hospital gown for a chocolate colored Henley shirt and pale gray sweatpants. Unlike the other day, his hair was combed, and he’d shaved. Although there were still dark circles under his eyes and a few strands of gray hair were noticeable near his ears, he looked as though he was partially on the road to recovery. But his eyes were slightly clouded, and she wondered if he was still in a great deal of pain.

  “Hey . . .” She hugged him, but he bristled. She backed away, disappointed he continued pushing her away.

  “I’ll be busting out of here in the morning. I figure they’ll release me around ten. Adam and Nathan are coming to get me.”

  “I can easily drive you home, Jake.”

  “That’s not necessary. That’s a hassle having you drive back and forth from The Antelope.”

  Striding over to the window, she stared outside. With her back to him, she spoke. “That’s the thing, Jake. I—”

  “You did move out like I asked you to—right?”

  Whirling back around to face him, she folded her arms and told him the truth. “I didn’t move out yet, Jake. I thought maybe you’d want me to stay for a while—until you get on your feet.”

  Staring down at his ankle, still swollen and purple, he shook his head. “That’s completely unnecessary. Adam hired someone to work the bar for me, and he got one of his students to come clean my place. She was grateful for the extra money, so it worked out pretty well.”

  “But I could help—”

  “Let’s get something straight. This accident doesn’t change a thing. When I asked you to move out, I meant it. But since you’re so damn stubborn, I suppose you can stay a few days. But after that, you need to leave.”

  “You’re probably going to need more help than you think.” She touched his arm, but he jerked away from her. Bowing her head, she realized despite her wish the two remain friends, that probably wasn’t going to be the case.

  He cleared his throat, and this time when he spoke, his tone was a bit softer. “You don’t need to go to all this trouble, Rachel—seriously, you don’t.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  He gazed at her—a long, lingering gaze. “I know you like to rescue people, Rachel. That’s kinda how you roll. But please don’t turn into some type of social worker. That’s the last thing I need. I can take care of myself. I’ve done it since I was a kid. And honestly, all this fussing is suffocating me.”

  The remark stirred emotions inside her. She felt like a large cauldron had been brought to a boil, and Jake was tossing in every single obstacle life had thrown at him, bundling them all together, trying to stir the pot. It was difficult to know from the petulant expression on his face whether he was trying to force her to leave or trying to make her angry. Did he expect her to start an argument?

  She refused to be drawn into a fight. That’s probably what he wanted, but it was the last thing either of them needed. And in truth, neither of them was emotionally equipped to handle a heated discussion. Jake’s emotions appeared to be raw, and hers were damn close to getting there.

  His next remark sent her into a tailspin. “Did you ever wish you could go back in time and change something?”

  “All the time . . .” Blinking back tears, she couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “I should never have taken my motorcycle out in that storm. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have tried to answer my phone.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “You-You answered your phone the night of the accident?”

  “When I was riding my motorcycle, my phone rang. I was stopped for a red light so I pulled it out of my pocket. Biggest mistake I ever made.”

  He stared at her, and she swallowed several times. “Do-Do you know who the call was from?”

  “Nope. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than worrying about shit like that.”

  When he smirked, she felt a rush of relief. With luck, maybe he wouldn’t even bother checking the phone bill to see who the call came from. Truth be told, that particular call could have come from someone else.

  “I’ll let you get your rest now, Jake. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

  Striding over to the door, she left. As she made her way toward the elevator, she wondered when would be a good time to tell Jake that she’d been the one to make that call.

  The elevator door opened and she made her way inside, trying to imagine what the next few days would be like.

  Chapter 6

  On a hot July summer’s day, Jake leaned back in the recliner, trying to take the pressure off his ankle. Although it had only been a month since the accident, he had the sneaking suspicion that things would never be the same. The pins the doctor had put in his ankle were supposed to help, but h
e had doubts.

  The constant pain proved challenging. He hoped once he began physical therapy that things would return to normal, but the surgeon had expressed cautious optimism as far as his prognosis. The notion that he might walk with a limp for the rest of his life was something he couldn’t fathom.

  The housekeeper hadn’t shown up in over a week. Of course, had he allowed Rachel to stay for longer than a few days, the place would probably look a whole lot better.

  Hobbling about on crutches left him fatigued after a very short time. As adamant as he’d been about not using a wheelchair, it probably would have been a helluva lot easier wheeling himself about, picking things up, rather than trying to navigate the crutches while trying to clean the place.

  The house wasn’t the only thing in shambles. He hadn’t cleaned up in days. He’d stopped looking in the mirror days ago—unwilling to face up to how miserable he looked.

  He went to counseling twice a week. But he always played down the injury, reassuring the therapist that he’d be back to normal in no time. When Dr. Kincaid had broached the subject of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, he’d shrugged it off. If he told the guy how poorly he was sleeping and the handful of flashbacks he’d had since the accident, he’d never get released from the therapy sessions.

  The pain was tough to deal with. He’d numbed it with medication, but the pills wore off so quickly, he ended up supplementing it with alcohol. Good thing Rachel wasn’t here. She’d have come unhinged.

  When someone pounded on his door, he sat quietly, hoping they’d leave. But the pounding continued, and a woman’s voice hollered, “Let me in, Jake. I know you’re there.”

  “Go away, Rachel. I’m not decent.” He stared down at his boxer shorts, aware she’d seen him with much less on than this.

  She persisted. “I’m staying right here until you answer the door, Jake. I mean it.”