Authors: Abby Niles
Tags: #sports romance, #romance series, #Romance, #storm chaser, #MMA, #Contemporary Romance, #MMA fighter
“I’m sure she’s fine, Mac.”
“She fucking speeds ahead of these damn things to warn the people in its path. What if she doesn’t get out? We barely did the last time.”
Had she called while he’d been sparring with Lance? Had he fucking missed her call? He frantically searched for his phone.
Lance must have picked up on what he was looking for, because he reached over onto a side table and handed it to him. The phone trembled in Mac’s hand. No missed call. No text. Nothing.
Oh, God. What if he’d already lost her? What if the last time they spoke had been the last time they would ever talk to each other?
Just as he was about to press the number to autodial her, his phone rang and her name appeared on the screen. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “Where are you?” he demanded as soon as he answered.
“Mac?”
It was difficult to hear her from all the static filling the line—that, or howling wind. Something was also pounding in the background. Goddamn hail. She
was
near that deathtrap.
“Mac? Can you hear me?”
“Gayle?”
“Listen, you must know about the tornado by now. We’re not near that one. About fifty miles away.” There was a loud
pop
and a muttered, “Shit. Just wanted to let you know I’m—Rick! Watch out!”
Screeching tires sounded. Scrunching metal, screams, and muffled groans of pain.
“Gayle?” No response. “Gayle!” he yelled, his heart pounding hard.
What had he just heard? Had a tornado just taken out the SUV?
Terror quaked his body as his gaze snapped to Lance, who was standing ramrod straight, paler than usual.
“Gayle, please, baby, say something. Anything.”
But all he heard was the long, strident blare of the car horn.
A
lmost seven hours later, Mac rushed into the hospital in Fort Smith, Arkansas. Seven of the longest fucking hours of his life. He couldn’t catch a flight because the storm system had caused delays everywhere. Driving had been the only option.
The only information he’d gotten was what someone on the scene had told him after he’d stayed on the fucking cell phone yelling her name for what had felt like an eternity. An unfamiliar voice had finally answered him—a chaser from another team. They’d been driving behind Gayle and Rick when they’d wrecked. They were on their way to a chase target and got caught in a severe storm.
According to the guy, the wind had been intense and knocked a tree down in the road. Rick had swerved to miss it and lost control, careening down an embankment. The people behind them said the SUV had flipped about four times before landing hard on its hood. Both Rick and Gayle had been knocked unconscious. Because of the storm, it had taken a while for emergency crews to get to the accident. Once they did, the Jaws of Life were needed to rip open the car.
Rick, by then, had been awake. He hadn’t sustained many injuries—just a few lacerations and a broken arm. Gayle was another matter. All they could tell him was she still hadn’t regained consciousness when the ambulance had finally left.
After that, the doctors had taken over and fucking HIPAA kept him from finding out anything. And Rick wasn’t answering Gayle’s fucking phone.
When he and Lance finally got to the hospital, Mac sprinted up to the front desk. “Gayle Matthews.”
The woman typed on the computer. “She’s in room 350.”
She’d been admitted. He rubbed his forehead. “Fuck.”
Lance rubbed his shoulder, but Mac knocked him off. He really wasn’t in the mood for any comfort right now. He raced to the elevators and punched the button. What the hell was going to be waiting for him up there? She wasn’t in ICU. That was good. It had to be.
The elevator took its damn time reaching the third floor. The second the doors parted, he sprinted for room 350. As he passed the waiting area, Mac noticed Rick sitting there. Fury had him charging the man. “Why the fuck didn’t you answer Gayle’s phone? I’ve being going insane with worry the entire goddamn drive down here!”
Rick held up his good arm to stop him. “Her phone must still be in the SUV. I didn’t think to grab it. I just got in the ambulance with her. I didn’t realize until I got here that I had no way to get in touch with you. I’m really sorry.”
Mac inhaled a breath, trying to calm his fury. “How is she?”
“She looks worse than she is. She regained consciousness on the way to the hospital. She hit her head pretty hard, but the doctors don’t see any sign of a concussion. They’re keeping her for observation because of how long she was out, and giving her IV fluids for dehydration. She’s resting right now.”
“I’m going to go see her.”
Mac left the two men in the waiting room and found Room 350. He walked in and froze, horrified at the bruises and lacerations all over her beautiful face. An IV was taped below her collarbone, and a large bandage was wrapped around one arm.
The lifeless hazel eyes that had haunted his dreams for the last couple of weeks formed in his mind. He blinked, shaking his head. Instead of Gayle’s usual bright smiling face, he saw the battered and bruised woman lying so still in a hospital bed—because she chased destruction, because she took her safety out of his hands. He couldn’t trust, couldn’t hope, that she would come out of her chases unscathed. Not with Mother Nature. It was unpredictable. He was going to lose her, eventually. He knew it.
Lifeless hazel eyes flashed before him again. Panic became crushing, stole his ability to breathe. He stumbled backward.
He couldn’t do this
.
He loved this woman so fucking much, but he couldn’t do this again. He would not lose another woman he loved to a tornado.
She’d survived the terror they’d gone through together, she’d survived this one, too…but how many chances did a person get to escape death?
This crash wouldn’t stop her. She’d be right back out there the moment she was able to. Leaving him to worry, terrified of seeing her like this again, about losing her forever. He just couldn’t.
He slowly backed out of the room, then spun and sprinted down the hall. As he passed the waiting area, Lance yelled after him, but he kept going—his only goal was to get the fuck away.
Once he had himself back in the truck, Lance slammed into the driver’s seat right after him. “What the hell are you doing?”
He shook his head. “I won’t go down this road again, Lance.”
“Give it a few days, Mac. If you leave right now, you’re going to regret this.”
“What I regret is coming back to Kansas. This place has never brought me anything but grief. Gayle knew I might not be able to hack it, we both knew this was possible. She won’t be surprised.”
Lance stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “All right. But this is on you, Mac. Not Gayle. That woman is perfect for you. And you’re letting fear of something you have no control over—that
no one
has any control over—ruin the future for you. Like I said, that is all on you.”
He breathed deep, the pain in his heart agonizing. There was only one thing he could do to keep it from being completely crushed. He had to allow it to tap out—surrender as he would in the cage when the only choice he had was between gracefully accepting defeat and leaving a broken man. He stared morosely out the window.
This opponent was bigger than him. Gayle deserved more than a man who’d only try to change her. Because now he didn’t think he could ever let her go out there again. He’d use guilt to make her stay, so he wouldn’t have nightmares of seeing her like this again, over and over.
And she’d grow to hate him for it.
Either way, their relationship was doomed to fail. Why put either of them through the agony? Better to leave now and accept defeat.
G
ayle stared out the window of her hospital room. So far, she had been able to pretend she was asleep so she wouldn’t have to face Rick, but it had now been three hours since she’d opened her eyes just in time to see Mac flee the room. She could no longer pretend.
He’d left. Just as she’d known he would. She cursed the sting attacking the back of her eyes. She would
not
cry.
“Gayle?”
Damn it, this was exactly why she’d pretended to be asleep. She barely had control over her emotions. No way did she want to talk about this. Or anything.
But none of this was Rick’s fault. So she blinked, plastered on a fake smile, and turned to him.
“Hey,” he said.
God, puppy-dog eyes. Really? She was feeling bad enough as it was, she didn’t need everyone else feeling bad for her, too. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you he would leave, and he did. Big shocker.”
“So you know?”
“Opened my eyes in time to see the man jackrabbit out of here like the coward he is.” Bitterness crept into her words, giving them a biting edge. She pressed her lips together. At least she hadn’t called out to him and begged him to stay. She’d saved herself a sliver of dignity.
“He was really freaked the hell out, Gayle. When he passed the waiting room, there was no color whatsoever in his face. When Lance called after him, he didn’t even slow down.”
And she’d known that. Given him the benefit of the doubt, and allowed him a freak-out session. He
was
entitled to one, after going through the hell he had.
“But he hasn’t come back, has he?” she said evenly. “It’s been three hours. He hasn’t called, sent a flower, card, or even a text. I’m in the
hospital
, Rick. I’ve made concessions for this man from day one. I’ve been there for him—put up with him—through
everything
. The one time I need him, he runs away. I’m better off without the jerk.”
That’s right, girl. Stay angry. Keep angry. Then you won’t feel the pain.
But she was lying to herself. Mac
had
been there when she’d needed him. The night in the shower after the EF-5, and later, when they’d visited her hometown. He’d been her rock. She hadn’t had a rock since Sam died. Okay, so she had been there for Mac more. But his wounds were fresher.
And there she went—making concessions for him again.
Disgusted with herself, she rolled her eyes.
“How you feeling otherwise?” Rick asked, looking at her bandages.
Thankful he’d dropped the topic of Mac, she said, “Sore as hell.”
“Seen the doctor?”
“Few hours ago. She said they’d release me in the morning.”
But Gayle had no interest in returning home to face Mac. How much longer would he be in town? At this point, she wanted him to leave immediately.
So she could pick up the pieces.
Again
.
God, that road was so familiar. Fool that she was, she’d hesitantly started to believe all the heartbreaking roads she’d traveled until now had been in preparation for Mac—her final road, her final destination.
Wrong
. He’d been just another man aiming to come into her life and tear it all to hell.
She was so over men. Permanently. This time for real.
There, that felt better.
“The SUV is totaled. We’ll have to rent a car to get back home,” Rick said.
She shrugged. They could stay right here, for all she cared. “Were you able to salvage any equipment?”
“I haven’t really had a chance to look.”
“Probably should get on that,” she said.
“You’ll be okay if I leave for a while?”
She knew why he was hedging, not wanting to leave her alone because of Mac’s abandonment, and that made her stomach cramp. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
She always had.
Still, he hesitated.
“Rick. Go.”
“All right. I’ll be by later.”
Once he was gone, she leaned back against the pillows and returned her gaze to the window. She tried to concentrate on the side of the other building, counting windows, bricks, people coming and going, but her mind kept wandering back to those last seconds before everything had gone black—the desperation of phoning Mac so he would know she was safe, not wanting him to worry for one minute that she’d been involved in the large tornado. Knowing he’d be going nuts if he didn’t hear from her. Then the tree falling. Their car flipping. The pain. And the vague awareness that Mac was hearing every single second of it.
And, as the darkness had claimed her, she remembered wishing she had told him she loved him, just once. So he’d know. In case she didn’t wake up…
Now that she was, she was so glad she hadn’t.
God, that was messed up, but the damn truth.
A light tap sounded on her door and she turned to find Lance standing there. For a second, her heart stopped. The disappointment that pierced her was physically painful when he walked in…alone.
“How you doin’?” he asked.
“Banged up. But I’ll live.”
There was a long silence, then Lance hung his head. “He’s gone, Gayle.”
She’d known that, but she still wasn’t prepared for the punch to the heart or how it knocked the air out of her lungs. She forced a shaky laugh. “What did he do? Have you drive him to Little Rock so he could jump on the first plane to get away from me?”
“Gayle, it wasn’t you. You know that, right?”
Wow. He really had.
“Wasn’t it?” she muttered.
Lance pulled a chair beside her hospital bed. “I’m not going to defend him. Honestly, I wanted to knock his teeth out the entire drive to the airport. But, Gayle, I was with him when he got your phone call. I was with him the entire drive down here. And I’ve been with him the last three hours. As much as I believe he is making a huge mistake, in the span of seven hours I watched that man go from terrified, thinking you were in that huge tornado, to relief knowing you were safe, to petrified and insane with worry wondering if you were dead or alive after the crash, to running out of a hospital with all the ghosts from his past tearing at his heels. I just think he needs some time. He’ll come to his senses.”
She was already shaking her head. “I can’t, Lance. Don’t think I’m cold, okay? I have my ghosts, too. Mac knows that. He knew what leaving would do to me. I’ll never trust he won’t run out on me again. I can’t spend my whole life worrying he will. I can’t. Even if he comes to his senses, we’re over.”