Her Risk To Take (6 page)

C
al pulled up
outside the horse barn. It was eight AM and he’d spent the whole night sitting in a stinking jail cell, worried that as soon as Terry got out he’d gone hunting for Sarah. Cal passed her on the drive back home, already on her way to work. She’d assiduously avoided eye contact.

Cal had been released without charge as soon as his court appointed lawyer turned up. Apparently the sheriff hadn’t called her until six AM—a “communications error” according to Talbot. The lawyer—a young lady named Deanna Montrose—had urged Cal to file an official complaint, but he’d just wanted to get out of there and make sure Sarah was okay. He’d phoned to apologize and tell her to watch out for his stepbrother, but she wasn’t answering her cell. He’d hurt her yesterday and the look in her eyes when he’d lied and said he didn’t love her? It gutted him. But maybe it was for the best.

He dragged the first sack of feed off the bed of the truck, hoisted it over his shoulder. Did the same with a second bag. He turned and there stood Nat, staring at him with a wariness in his eyes he’d never seen before.

“What happened?” asked Nat.

“I got held up in town.”

“You go get drunk after you upset my sister?”

Cal narrowed his gaze. “
Yeah
, that’s what I did.”

Nat knew him better than that. He must have caught sight of the blood on his collar, or maybe the exhaustion in his eyes, and let it go. He grabbed two sacks out of the back of the trunk. “Snow’s coming.”

Cal looked up at the sky and saw the heaviness in the clouds. He didn’t mind winter. Some days he wished they’d get snowed in forever. “Yup.” He went inside the horse barn and dumped the bag in the feed room.

Nat followed him, blocked his way out. “She cried all night—right up until she snuck out to go to your cottage only to discover you never came home last night.”

Cal closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold wall. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

“So why are you?” asked Nat.

He clamped his jaws together, refusing to talk about it.

“Figure it the fuck out,” Nat bit out. They went back out to the truck to haul more supplies. “She’s loved you since you first came out that summer before we started high school.”

Cal swallowed and nodded. It had been the best summer of his life. Even having the twins follow them everywhere had been kind of cute. He’d seen a real family in action that summer, learned the value of hard work, and discovered he liked it. Nat had stood by him during the trial and afterward. Nat’s father, Jake, had even vouched for his character in court. Cal owed these people everything, and right now was doing nothing but causing them trouble.

“She’s my kid sister.” Nat pushed his hat to the back of his head. “I can’t stand to see her hurting. Not when she’s been through so much. Not when I know how you feel about her.”

Cal made a decision. It would be like driving nails through his skull, but he was doing it. He was leaving the Triple H and a woman who could have any man she wanted.

A huge ball of emotion clogged his throat. After a few months she’d forget all about him.

“Gotta go feed the horses.” He turned his back on his best friend and fought a surge of emotion that made him want to weep. He wanted to stay here. With every cell in his body he wanted to be part of this family, to love Sarah and raise babies together. But he’d seen how easy it was to hurt a woman. He knew Eliza had already suffered brutality at the hands of another man. He couldn’t increase the danger they faced. No man worth his salt would bring trouble to good people.

The only thing he could do to guarantee their safety was to leave.

*     *     *

Cal hadn’t come
home last night. Sarah ground her teeth. When she’d passed him on the highway he’d been wearing the same shirt he’d had on yesterday. She could only assume he’d slept in the truck rather than be anywhere near her, or gotten blind drunk, or—her heart gave a squeeze—spent the night with some other woman just to prove how little she meant to him.

To think she’d gone to the cabin, swallowed her pride, determined to talk—and knew with a feeling of shame that she’d have settled for sex just to feel close to him, just to feel like they weren’t actually over.

God.

She was pathetic.

Love
sucked
.

She pulled up in the parking lot of the hospital, forced a cheery voice as she spoke to the three-year-old cherub in the rear seat. “Here we are! Is Santa coming to daycare today, Tabby?”

The little blonde girl virtually quivered with excitement. She’d just begun to understand what Christmas was all about and was hitting the holiday fuelled with anticipation, excitement, and an overdose of silver glitter. Sarah got out of the car and opened the back door to unclip Tabby from her car seat. She lifted the little girl down. She looked so cute in her pink boots, tights and dress. She wore a white jacket with a fur collar and looked so much like her mother it brought a vicious ache to Sarah’s throat. She should stop feeling sorry for herself. Her love life was a train wreck, but so what? Becky had been her best friend in high school. At some point, the other girl had started spending as much time with Ryan as she had with Sarah and, although she’d been a little slow on the uptake, Sarah had eventually figured they were an item and she was the third wheel. Becky and Ryan had dated throughout the rest of high school and then they’d both attended Montana State. They’d gotten married the summer after graduation and Sarah swore she’d never seen two people happier or more suited. The wedding had been perfect. Their lives together had been perfect. The only time she’d seen them fight was when Becky was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d been pregnant with Tabitha and had refused treatment until the baby was born, but by then it was too late. She’d died not long after she’d first held Tabitha in her arms, and Sarah had thought for a long time she was going to lose her brother, too. Ryan had never really gotten over it, but he seemed to have pulled back from the brink of self-destruction. He was finally beginning to get to know his daughter, but Sarah knew he remained heartbroken.

She’d ached for him. Mourned with him. And done her best to fill in for a mother who had loved her little girl with her whole being. Sarah had made it her quest to fill Tabby’s life with the happy memories all kids deserved. It was the least she could do. She grabbed her medical bag and Tabitha’s lunchbox, and they held hands as they headed to the daycare attached to the hospital.

Looking after this beautiful little girl helped take her mind off her bruised feelings.

Sarah led Tabby through the long corridor and pressed the buzzer to get into the daycare. It was supposed to be staff children only, but they’d made special dispensation for her. Good job considering the shortage of doctors they’d had lately.

They had a new Attending Physician starting on Christmas Day, poor soul. And as soon as Sarah finalized plans with the local family practitioner in Stone Creek, they were going to have to hire another one.

She kissed Tabitha goodbye, promising to pick her up at four sharp so they could get back in time for a big family supper. She’d see Cal then. They’d talk. Another wave of emotion hit. Maybe it would do them good to have a few hours apart. Time to cool off. To think about whether or not they had a future together as a couple.

Just because she loved him didn’t mean she was blind to his faults. Life wasn’t all flowers and love songs—and come to think of it, most love songs ended in a bitter twist.

She put her jacket and bag in her locker, pulled on her white coat and slung her stethoscope around her neck, took a deep breath.
Here goes
. She pushed through the doors, and into chaos.

Five miles beyond Stone Creek, County Hospital served a town of about fifteen thousand and a large, mainly rural community. They saw everything from dismemberment via farm equipment, gunshot wounds, car accidents, and the usual daily quota of aches, pains, fevers and childhood injuries.

She wanted to be busy. She needed the distraction. “Who’ve we got up first, Madge?” she asked the charge nurse.

“Mrs. Henriksson in exam one, Dr. Sullivan. May I say how very attractive you look today, girl? Is that for the benefit of our hot new orthopedic surgeon?”

Sarah shot Madge a wry look. She’d worn the red wraparound dress with her tall black boots as a way of bolstering her deflated spirits. She’d forgotten she was avoiding the attentions of one Reilly Spencer. She stuck her tongue out at the nurse she’d known for years. “Warn me if you see him,” she whispered.

“See who?” A deep voice spoke from behind her.

Sarah whirled.
Crap
. “Just a patient. How’re you settling in, Dr. Spencer?”

His eyes ran down her red dress before skipping back to her face. The guy looked genuinely interested. Considering she’d cried half the night and hadn’t slept a wink, she was surprised he didn’t run screaming through the big double doors. He squeezed her arm in an overly familiar gesture, and his warm breath stroked her ear as he leaned in. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“I will, thanks.” She moved away and shot Madge a glare over her other shoulder. She could imagine the nonsense the senior ER nurse was filling his head with.
Hasn’t had a date in years. Dedicated to her work and her family. Drudge.
Blah. Blah. How about getting hot and heavy with a very fine cowboy every night for the last several weeks, huh?

Her mood slumped.

She was off men. Definitely off cowboys.

She whipped through the curtain to exam one. “Mrs. Henriksson…”
Whoa, holy moly.
She assessed her patient’s face. One big purple contusion, topped with a broken nose. She cleared her throat as she read the chart. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Heather Henriksson raised a hand to her forehead in a self-conscious gesture. “I walked into a door.”

Sarah raised her brow, not in the mood for bullshit. “Did the door have fists?”

The woman looked away. Sarah noticed a small boy sitting on the floor beside the bed. He was maybe five. Wearing Spiderman pajamas. Crap.

“Hey, Buddy, what’s your name?”

The child looked down at the floor, and his mom reached out her hand. “This is Henry Junior.”

The almost desperate grip the mother kept on her son sent a little tug to Sarah’s heart. “And who brought you in, Mrs. Henriksson?”

The woman coughed and immediately hugged her ribs. “My husband dropped me off. He had to go run some Christmas errands.”

Making up for beating the shit out of his wife by buying a few presents and groceries? Or too ashamed to show his face?

“Do you have a headache?” Sarah asked. How could she not? Sarah had a headache just looking at her.

“My head hurts, yes.” Mrs. Henriksson touched her forehead.

Sarah examined her while the boy watched with big brown eyes. He made her think of Cal and everything he’d endured growing up. Dammit, no wonder he struggled with relationships. “Mrs. Henriksson, Heather, I’m worried you might have a broken rib and be concussed. We’re going to send you for chest x-rays and a CT scan. Is there someone who could watch Henry Junior for you?” Sarah pointed toward the little boy who tried to slide under the bed so he wouldn’t get noticed. How different he was to Tabitha, who strutted her pink glory like royalty. This kid wanted to be wallpaper. Her heart started to break. Then she started to get pissed.

“I want to keep him with me,” Heather Henriksson insisted.

“You don’t want me to call your husband?” said Sarah without inflection.

Eyes that were almost swollen shut flashed in alarm. She carefully shook her head. Sarah sat on the bed and took the woman’s free hand. She kept her voice low. “If your husband did this to you, Heather, you have to report him. You have to get out of that house before he kills you or your son.”

For a moment Sarah thought she was getting through to the woman. The opportunity was shattered when a deep male voice spoke from the other side of the curtain. Heather flinched away and the kid pretty much crawled under the bed as the curtain was flung back.

Henry Henriksson was a big man, with thick heavy shoulders, and a good-looking face. His eyes ran over their joined hands. Heather pulled hers sharply from Sarah’s grip.

“Mr. Henriksson?” Sarah stood and offered her hand to the man. She should be an actress. The top of her head came to his mid chest, but she wasn’t intimidated. “I’m Dr. Sullivan.”

The big man took Sarah’s tiny hand in his. She held on when he went to withdraw, and she turned his damaged knuckles to the light. “Ouch. Those injuries look sore, Mr. Henriksson. Would you like me to dress them?” She kept her eyes wide and her expression blank, but he knew she knew exactly what he’d done.

His gaze narrowed, and he dropped her hand. “Let’s go,” he told the woman in the bed.

“We’re not ready to release Mrs. Henriksson, yet.” Sarah made it a statement, not an option. “Your wife might have a concussion, and I think at least one of her ribs is broken. It’s going to take a few hours to run tests.”