Smolder: The Wildwood Series (10 page)

He snorted. “Right. Of course you did.” They all left the big, ugly jobs to him. The big brother. The savior of the family. Wearing that responsibility all the time was a drag. He sort of hated it.

Fine. Most of the time, he
really
hated it.

“It scares me, Lane,” she admitted, her voice soft, her head averted. “What if something is really wrong with her?”

“Then we’ll help out and do the best we can,” Lane answered. That was all they could do.

“What if that’s not good enough?” She turned to look at him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Shit. He wasn’t good at this emotional stuff. He didn’t know how to comfort his sister.

“I don’t want to fall apart in front of her, Lane. That’s why I was trying to avoid this.” She turned away from him once more, staring out the window. “But you wouldn’t understand.”

Great. Now she was mad. Sad. The whole deal. He didn’t know what to say to her.

So he said nothing.

When Wren remained quiet for the next five minutes—completely unheard of for his overly talkative sister—he finally broke the ice.

“When we get there, I’ll do all the talking. You can be my moral support.”

She sent him a wary glance. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Tell me your concerns. Give me the rundown.”

So Wren went over everything again. Telling Lane about their mom looking pale all the time. That she was thinner and had lost her appetite. That she complained about not feeling good and was tired.

Lane had done some research on the web, though not much because any time he looked up symptoms on the Internet, he always ended up convinced someone was dying. He’d been a little calmer while looking up things about middle-aged women though. At least, he’d tried to be. “Maybe she has an iron deficiency. Or maybe she’s going through . . . menopause.” He wouldn’t doubt it. Wren had a way of overdramatizing things, and their mother was closemouthed about everything. It was like Wren went in the complete opposite direction.

Wren made a face. “I hope it’s that simple. But why wouldn’t she tell me if that’s what it was?”

“Maybe she’s embarrassed.” Hell, he had no idea. That’s why he wanted Wren with him. If the problem really was woman stuff, he wouldn’t know what to say. And he couldn’t bring Delilah into it, though he was glad that she’d offered to accompany him. Lane appreciated the gesture and all, but she didn’t need to deal with their family drama. Not that Delilah was a stranger to it.

Lane frowned. He hoped she wasn’t mad that he turned down her offer only to ask Wren to accompany him instead. Surely she understood. She’d been so agreeable when he’d had to leave her. Christ, he didn’t like thinking about it. Made his blood hot remembering what they’d been doing just before they were rudely interrupted . . .

Damn it, he needed to focus. Thinking about Delilah was dangerous. Distracting.

“I just hope Mom’s honest with us.” Wren hesitated. “She’s pretty good at keeping secrets.”

Yeah. She was. And so was their father. Their rocky relationship was something Lane had never really understood. They were a terrible example for what a healthy marriage should look like. The arguing, the cheating, the lies. All of it had messed with Lane’s head when he was younger. It had messed with all their heads, even though Wren and Holden seemed fairly well adjusted. But they were younger and Lane and West had always protected them the most.

Lane had also protected West, not that he’d ever tell his brother that. West preferred to think he was the macho, tortured one of the family who’d borne the rotten legacy of their parents’ crap relationship—and as a result, was incapable of having a normal one. But Lane was the true owner of that particularly shitty prize. West had found Harper, who’d turned his life around. Lane was still alone.

And he’d remain alone. It was easier that way. He cared for Delilah but he wasn’t relationship material. His job kept him too busy. His siblings demanded too much from him, and he was spent. Exhausted. He didn’t have it in him to romance Dee and treat her like a queen. But she deserved no less.

The moment he pulled his truck into the driveway, their mom greeted them, the screen door banging loudly behind her as she came out onto the front porch, waving wildly.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise!” she called as Lane and Wren exited the truck. “Two of my children coming to see me. I thought this only happened on holidays.”

Lane grimaced. Right. Always fun times at Thanksgiving and Christmas when the family was forced to be together. He freaking hated pretty much every holiday.

Wren made her way up the front steps, embracing their mom. The two women clung to each other, his mom’s cheek pressed against Wren’s hair, her eyes closed for a brief moment. It gave Lane plenty of time to study her, looking for those telltale signs Wren had mentioned.

Angela Gallagher did look a little pale. And there were more gray strands than golden brown in her hair. Other than that, she just looked like . . . his mom.

His sister had to be overexaggerating. He hoped.

“Lane.” His mom let go of Wren to draw him into her arms, and he went willingly, holding her close. That’s when he felt it. She’d always been thin, but right now she felt as light as a feather and her bones seemed downright . . . fragile. Carefully he pulled her away from him, taking her in as he kept his hands cupped around her shoulders.

“You okay, Mom?” He bent his knees a little so he could look into her eyes and she flushed beet red, shooing at him with a fluttering hand as she stepped out of his grip.

“Stop fussing over me. Is that why you’re both here? Did Wren call in the big guns?” She sent Wren a knowing glance. “Didn’t we already go over this?”

“Mom—” Wren started, but she shushed her.

“I’m fine,” she reasserted, turning away from them so she could open the front door. “Now, come inside and I’ll fix you two a glass of iced tea. It’s hot as blazes out here.”

Lane looked over at Wren, who gave him a
See what I mean?
expression. Maybe Wren hadn’t been overdramatic. Something could be wrong with their mom. But what?

“We’ll take you up on that offer,” Lane said as he and Wren both followed their mom into the house. He was immediately hit with the familiar smell, a bunch of varying scents coming at him all at once. A candle burning on a nearby table; the lingering hint of bacon from breakfast earlier this morning, no doubt; the dog that sat near the couch panting gently. Clearly he needed a bath. Oliver was old—he’d been around at least ten years, probably longer—and his muzzle was white, marring his otherwise shiny black fur.

Lane wrinkled his nose. Yep, and Oliver was a farter. Dog had the worst gas he’d ever experienced. He remembered moving out and being thankful that he wouldn’t have to smell that particular scent any longer.

“Hey, old boy,” he said to Oliver, walking over to him so he could give him a scratch on the head.

Oliver woofed at him in response, his tail starting to wag, hitting the bare wood floor with a loud, rhythmic slap.

“He misses you,” his mom called over her shoulder as she made her way to the kitchen. “He misses all of you.”

“Oliver? No way. He’s an old man who loves that all of the kids are gone,” Lane argued. “Now he gets all the attention from you and Dad.”

As he entered the kitchen, his mother shook her head, sighing loudly. “I was talking about your father, not the dog.”

Oh. Yeah, sure his dad missed them all. “He can pick up the phone too, you know,” Lane answered stiffly while Wren said nothing at all. This was an age-old argument that was pointless to discuss. “Where is he anyway? Is he here?” He went tense at the thought of facing his father. Of having to deal with him. They avoided each other as much as possible. The old man preferred to be alone most of the time and everyone else was just fine with that.

“He went on a fishing trip with one of his friends.” Mom waved a hand vaguely as she went to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea.

A friend? Their dad had no real friends. Well, he had a few. Guys who’d retired from Cal Fire right around the same time he had. Men who liked to grumble about the old times and drink beer as they sat in their fishing boats out on the lake, soaking up the early morning sun.

His dad was also incredibly selfish. He’d never been around when they were little kids, too busy with work, with his other girlfriends, with his shitty so-called friends who liked to drink and party.

All while their mom had sat at home, diligent and loyal, raising four kids essentially on her own. Talk about a shit life. He didn’t know how his mother had done it, and always with a smile on her face too. He’d watched over her, helped her out when he could, and had even stuck around at home for a while after he’d graduated high school, saving up money to go to the police academy. Finally, one day, he’d gotten lucky and the Wildwood County Sheriff’s Department offered to pay his way through the academy if he signed a contract to work for them for five years.

That had been well over five years ago, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Wildwood was his home. And seeing his mother bustling around her kitchen reminded him of that. Home. How he hadn’t been to see her in forever. How he wished they had a better relationship. How they could have a better relationship if he would just make the time to see her more often.

Lane and Wren settled in at the small kitchen table while their mother fixed them glasses of iced tea, leaving it plain for Wren and dumping in a bunch of sugar for Lane, just how they each liked it. No surprise that she still remembered. She was thoughtful and had taken good care of her children. And look how they treated her now.

Don’t feel too guilty. When their relationship started to fall apart and everyone tried to convince her to leave him, she wouldn’t do it. She chose her husband over all of you.

It was hard to remember that as he watched her. She looked so frail, so . . . alone. He didn’t like that.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said when she set the glass in front of him.

“Sit with us,” Wren practically demanded as she wrapped her hands around her glass.

“I should fix something for dinner. I hadn’t planned on much other than a sandwich, but say you’ll both stay. Please? I’m sure I could drum something up.” She looked so hopeful Lane didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

He glanced at Wren, and she nodded her answer.

“We’ll stay,” he said, pointing at the chair that was next to him. “But you need to sit and visit with us first. Let’s catch up.”

“Give me a minute. Let me put this away.” She spun around, grabbing the pitcher from the counter and buzzing over to the fridge. Opening the door, she bent forward, sliding the pitcher inside before she stood quickly, slamming the refrigerator door with so much force it rattled. “Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and sharp.

That was the last thing she said before she crumpled to the floor.

Chapter Ten

“S
LOW DOWN
, W
REN
. I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Delilah paused, letting her friend babble on for a minute before she interrupted her again. “Your mom? Is she okay?” Her heart felt like it had crawled up into her throat as she listened. “What happened?” Delilah clutched her phone close to her ear, listening as Wren took a deep, sobbing breath. “You’re scaring me,” she murmured.

“It’s M-Mom. She f-fainted,” Wren stuttered out.

Now Delilah’s heart threatened to jump out of her throat, it was thumping so hard. “Where are you? Is she okay? Did you take her to the hospital? Where’s Lane?”

Wren blew out a harsh breath. “We’re at the emergency room. We went to see her, Lane and I. She was fixing us iced tea one minute and then collapsed on the ground the next. She woke up for like, a minute, and said she’d stood up too fast but then she passed out again. Lane couldn’t rouse her so he called for an ambulance.”

“Have either of you spoke to a doctor yet? Do you know her condition?”

“No. Not yet. We’re in the waiting room now.” A baby started to cry in the background, as if on cue. “This place is a nightmare,” Wren whispered. “I guess there was an accident on the lake earlier this afternoon so the wait is extra long.”

“Shit. I’ll come see you right now.” Delilah rose from her couch and slipped on her flip-flops before she went in search of her purse and car keys. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t mind? I called Harper but she’s out of town with her grandma.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Delilah found her purse in her bedroom, discarded on the floor. Her keys were on her dresser, and she snatched them up, making a face at her reflection in the mirror. She looked a wreck with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and mascara smeared beneath her eyes. Forget it. Who cared? She wasn’t going to the emergency room to impress anyone. “Lane’s still with you, right?”

“Yes.” Wren sniffed. “He’s getting irritated at me for crying too much,” she admitted in a low whisper.

“Men don’t like crying.” Especially Gallagher men. She recalled West wasn’t a fan of the water works either. “It makes them feel helpless.”

“Well, he’s being a jerk.” Wren sniffed again. “Holden’s on his way though. He should be here any minute.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s out of town. We can’t get a hold of him.” Wren’s voice was cold. Their father was never around. “West is out on a call and he’s not off shift for another few days, so he couldn’t make it if he wanted to. Though he did ask us to keep him posted.”

“Okay, hold tight. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” Delilah exited the house, locking the door before she darted to her car and got inside.

“Thanks, Dee. I appreciate it. I need someone who’ll hold my hand, not bite it off with every word,” Wren said irritably.

No doubt she was talking about her big brother. That was another thing Delilah remembered about Lane—he may deal with trauma and scary moments like any seasoned-professional cop, but when it came to dealing with his family, he clammed up and became angry. It was just his way.

And everyone sort of hated him when he acted this way.

Delilah gripped the steering wheel tight as she drove toward the hospital. She’d set him straight. Offer him comfort during his time of need. Guess Wren hadn’t been wrong when she’d voiced her concerns about their mother. Angela Gallagher was one of the strongest women she knew. She’d shouldered so much when her marriage became rocky. She was still shouldering it all these years later, and always with a smile on her face.

Hopefully Angela was okay. And Lane and Wren too.

Delilah didn’t know what she would do if there was a serious problem. Her mom was a friend of Angela’s. Long ago, when they’d all been kids, their moms had been very close. This wasn’t her family by blood but they felt like family to her. If something was wrong with Angela . . .

She didn’t want to think about it.

“T
HANK
G
OD YOU
’
RE
here,” Wren said the moment Delilah strode into the waiting room. She hopped to her feet, rushing to Delilah and giving her a tight hug. “It smells weird in here,” she whispered close to her ear.

Delilah gave her a squeeze and then let her go, wrinkling her nose. Smelled like a combination of sterile hospital mixed with sweat. Gross. “At least it doesn’t smell like the dance studio after an afternoon full of classes.”

Wren laughed weakly. She was always complaining about the scent of smelly feet and sweaty girl bodies that permeated the air every single afternoon Monday through Friday. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Have you heard anything?” Delilah glanced around in search of Lane. She finally found him standing in the farthest corner of the waiting room, his back facing everyone and his cell phone pressed against his cheek. Clearly he was talking to someone, but who? Not that it was any of her business. “Has a doctor come out yet?”

“I don’t even know if they’ve gotten to her yet.” Wren’s gaze was full of worry. “A boating accident took precedence, and I don’t even know where she is! They won’t let us back there. Said it’s too chaotic.”

“Listen, she’ll be all right. I promise.” Delilah rubbed Wren’s arm, hoping she wasn’t lying to one of her best friends.

“Dee. What are you doing here?” Lane asked as he approached.

Delilah glanced up, her gaze going to his. She wished she could give him a hug, tell him it was going to be just fine and maybe even give him a kiss, but she did none of that. Instead she smiled at him, trying her best to convey all the emotions swirling within her with that one gesture. “Wren called. When she told me what happened, I said I’d be right here.”

“You didn’t have to do—”

“I wanted to.”

He clamped his lips shut, running a hand through his dark hair until it was gloriously messy. Ugh. Even when he was stressed out and worried, he was gorgeous. “I just spoke to one of the nurses and threw my weight around. Plus, I knew her. They’re letting me in there so I can at least sit with Mom while she waits for a doctor.”

Wren turned to Delilah. “See, I told you they hadn’t seen her yet.” She glanced over at Lane with tear-filled eyes. “Can I go with you?”

He shook his head, his expression grim. “It’s pretty crazy back there, what with that accident and how many were involved. Guess a speedboat crashed into a party barge and quite a few people were injured.”

“That’s awful,” Delilah murmured, earning a lingering gaze from Lane. She felt his eyes on her as if he’d physically touched her and she licked her lips, wishing he
would
actually touch her.

But he didn’t. Now was neither the time nor place.

“Take care of Wren for me, will you?” Lane asked, his voice solemn, his eyes dark as they stared into hers.

“I’ll stay with her,” Delilah said, earning the softest, sweetest smile she thought she’d ever seen from him. It made her knees wobble, and she locked them into place so she wouldn’t collapse like a swooning idiot.

“Thanks.” He nodded at Delilah, patted Wren on the shoulder, and then he was gone, zipping through the crowded waiting room and pushing through the double doors that led to the actual emergency room.

“We don’t know what’s wrong with her, Dee. She seemed perfectly fine. Her usual self, though she looked so frail. It scared me, how easily she fell to the ground. She just . . . crumpled. I’ve never seen anything like it. She hit that floor so hard. The linoleum is thin, and it’s just solid concrete foundation beneath it. I thought she hurt herself. I really did. Like, knocked herself out.” Wren was rambling, her eyes full of unshed tears, and Delilah said nothing. Just drew her friend into her arms and held her close. It was all she could do.

All she could offer.

“L
ANE
! T
HERE YOU
are.” His mother sounded relieved. And even the slightest bit . . . irritated? “They won’t let me out of this very uncomfortable bed. I told that nurse I’m fine and they should just let me go home, but she wouldn’t listen. Just gave me one of those condescending smiles before she took off.”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved at her nonchalant yet irritable attitude or frustrated. Maybe it was a combination of both. “Mom. You had a serious fall. You were unconscious. They want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

“They could give up my bed to someone else. I’m not hurt, and there’s a whole mess of people around me who were nearly killed out on the lake.” She shook her head with a wince, clearly beside herself. “It’s ridiculous, Lane. You’re a deputy. Tell them to release me so I can go home.”

“No.” He touched her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He could see the pain flare in her gaze. She was hurting and pretending everything was all right. “I’m not letting you out of this place until you’re thoroughly checked out by the doctor.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Where’s your father?”

Ah, crap. He didn’t want to tell her, but she deserved the truth. “We can’t get a hold of him.” His voice was tight and his anger was barely under control. It made him furious, how his father was never around when shit got bad.

She sighed. It was a knowing sound. A sad sound. “He said he’d have bad cellular service where he was going.”

More like he was ignoring all of their calls. Lane had left him a perfectly polite, perfectly scathing voice mail message and didn’t expect a return call. Old bastard probably wasn’t even checking his damn phone. He was too busy being selfish and drinking himself into a stupor, like he usually did when he made an escape.

“I’m sure he’ll show up eventually,” Lane said. Because his dad always did, like a bad penny—and what the hell did that saying mean anyway?

“Yes, he will.” She smiled as if trying to reassure him. Man, she blew him away. “In the meantime, let’s find a doctor so I can get back home. I’m hungry for that sandwich.”

“Mom, don’t worry about the sandwich. If you check out okay, I’ll take you to dinner.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, we should go to the BFD. I haven’t had a hamburger from there in so long.”

“I’ll take you there then.” He patted her arm, glancing around the crowded room. There was a curtain up on one side of the examination table and bed but that didn’t allow for much privacy. People were coming and going, nurses constantly buzzing by. Lane figured they were in for a long wait.

“Is Wren okay? Where is she?” his mom asked.

“She’s out in the waiting room. They wouldn’t let her come back here. It’s too crazy,” Lane told her.

Her face fell. “She’s out there all alone? That’s not right. You go back and sit with her. I’ll be fine here by myself.”

She probably told herself that a lot, considering she spent a lot of time alone. No way was he leaving her. That would make him as awful as his father, and he didn’t want anyone to draw comparisons. “Delilah showed up a few minutes ago. She’s with Wren so she’s not alone.”

“Aw, Delilah. I adore that girl. She’s always had a thing for you.” Lane was struck silent by his mother’s statement, but she didn’t appear to notice. Just kept on talking. “I know she went out with West, but that was never meant to be. I always thought you two were better suited for each other.”

He snapped his jaw shut. Was she for real? “Why did you think we were better suited?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “She seems to understand you when no one else can. Leave you be when you want to be left alone and get up in your face when you need someone to help you snap out of a funk. A girl who’s so intuitive to your every mood? You don’t let her go.”

“I never had a claim on her in the first place,” he muttered, stunned by what she’d said. Was that true? Was Delilah intuitive to his needs?

“Well then, don’t you think you should stake your claim? You’re getting too old for this I’d-rather-go-it-alone business, Lane. You need to find a nice woman who will make your life brighter just by smiling at you. Look at your brother. He’s gone and found the perfect woman for him. West and Harper.”

Lane had never believed he would find the woman of his dreams. He’d never even had dreams of a lifetime with one woman. He definitely didn’t want to get married—the best example he had was a sorry mess of a marriage that somehow still endured.

So why did the thought of Delilah being the one for him make his heart ache? And not in a bad way?

“Mrs. Gallagher.” A female doctor appeared, a pleasant smile on her face and a file in her hand. “So nice to see you again.”

Again? Lane glanced at his mother. She merely smiled serenely and nodded. “I hate to bother you, Dr. Knoll, but you know how it is when you have overprotective children who think you’re on your deathbed.”

Dr. Knoll turned her attention to Lane, thrusting her hand out toward him. “Gina Knoll. Nice to meet you.”

“Lane Gallagher.” He shook the woman’s hand. She had a pleasant, soothing aura about her. Dark-blond hair, kind blue eyes. She was tall and thin, her body encompassed by the white coat she wore. “And what do you mean by ‘again’?”

“Ah, your mother was brought in here, hmm . . . ” Dr. Knoll opened up the file, her gaze narrowing as she read it. “Two months ago. Racing heart, dizziness. Thought she was having a heart attack.”

“Mom.” He turned to her, his tone accusatory, but he couldn’t help it. In typical fashion his mother waved off his concern with fluttering fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was no big deal. We blamed the summer heat.”

The doctor ignored their conversation and asked Lane to step back so she could take his mom’s vitals. He moved out of the way, watching carefully as his mother chattered on and Dr. Knoll examined her, taking notes in the file, her expression neutral, her demeanor pleasant.

All the neutral pleasantries were making Lane antsy. Wren and West were blowing up his phone, but he ignored them. He’d told them both he’d text them as soon as he knew something and so far, he didn’t know squat. And he was still pretty pissed that his mother had been in the emergency room before yet never told anyone. Not that they all talked on a regular basis.