Dave’s parents were sitting at an angle across from Walker and me. Their hands were clasped together. His mother had finally fallen into a restless sleep with her head against her husband’s shoulder after the hospital had given her something to relax since she was so distraught. Jenny was dozing in another chair with her mother flipping through magazines at her side.
“Here,” I said softly.
Walker lifted his head, his eyes catching mine. “Thanks,” he said gruffly as he took the coffee from me.
I fished the sugar and creamers out of my pocket and held them out on my flat palm. “I didn’t know if you wanted sugar or cream.”
The barest hint of a smile flashed across his face as he shook his head. “Neither, but thank you.”
Without thinking, I rested my palm on the center of his back, rubbing it in a slow circle.
Walker looked over again. “Thanks for being here.”
“Of course.”
I had to admit this was all rather strange. Walker and I’d been deeply intimate hours earlier. And yet, somehow these last few hours that had passed together, I felt closer to him than I’d felt to anyone outside of my family. Ever. It was a different kind of closeness. Witnessing someone in a state of worry and concern and having them allow you to be there in quiet support was intense.
Walker took a long swallow of the mediocre coffee. “If you’d rather head back to the hotel and get some sleep, I understand.”
I took a sip of my coffee before shaking my head. “I wouldn’t sleep anyway. I’d rather be here.”
He held my gaze for a few beats before dipping his head in a nod. “Thank you,” was all he said in return.
With the television in the corner of the waiting room rumbling on whatever news they had to discuss at this hour, Walker and I waited together. I didn’t know how much more time passed before the doctor came into the waiting area.
It felt as if we’d been collectively wrapped in a cocoon of worry and concern. The appearance of the doctor jolted all of us into an edgy wakefulness. Walker stood quickly, along with Dave’s father. He turned back to give a gentle squeeze to Dave’s mother’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear. She stood just as Jenny jerked awake and staggered up from her chair. Jenny’s mother steadied her and crossed the room with her.
We’d seen this doctor earlier when he stopped in to let us know Dave was stable, and they were going to assess what was going on. All we knew was Dave had a heart attack, and they were going to operate.
Walker reached for my hand when he stood. It was only as we were walking across the waiting area together that I realized we’d definitely appear to be a couple to anyone who saw us. I hadn’t even thought twice about letting him curl his strong hand around mine. I gave a squeeze in return, a small effort to impart some strength to him.
“How is he?” Walker asked immediately, just as Dave’s parents reached the doctor.
The doctor looked amongst everyone and nodded firmly. “He’s going to be fine. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more information earlier. Honestly, given Dave’s age, I wasn’t prepared to say more until we operated.”
“Well?” Dave’s mother’s voice was hoarse from the tears she’d cried earlier.
Jenny stayed quiet, but her eyes were wide.
“As I said, he had a heart attack. Dave is a lucky man. He survived what’s known as a widow maker. That’s a blockage in his left anterior artery, the one going down. Those tend to result in heart attacks that are abrupt and seem to come out of nowhere. He had an almost complete blockage. A blockage that complete at his age is concerning. We fully repaired it and cleared the artery. He will need to be mindful of his diet for the rest of his life. He’ll make a full recovery and live a healthy life. Although it’s not too common for someone his age to have a heart attack like that, his age will help him stay healthy and shorten his recovery time.” The doctor looked toward Jenny. “Your new husband will be back on his feet soon.”
Jenny burst into tears, and her mother pulled her into a hug. While Jenny sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, the doctor continued to rattle off information.
By the time we were walking out of the hospital, Walker was practically sagging at my side. When we got to his truck, I held my hand out, gesturing with my fingers. “Give me the keys. I’m driving. You’re too tired.” When he lifted his head and opened his mouth to argue, I simply shook my head. “Seriously, Walker.”
“You’ve got to be just as tired as me,” he muttered.
“Although we’ve both been awake for the same amount of time, this has been an emotional blow for you. I just met Dave this weekend, and he’s been your best friend for years. That counts. Don’t go thinking you can fight me on this. I’ll kick your butt with how tired you are.”
For the first time in hours, a smile split across Walker’s face. “If I recall,” he drawled, “the last time you found yourself in the middle of a fight, I had to help you out.”
I threw my head back with a laugh, just before reaching to snatch the keys out of his hand. I nudged him on the shoulder and even opened the passenger door for him. He rolled his eyes, but he climbed in.
Once I was in the driver’s seat, I adjusted the seat and took a gander at the dashboard and various controls before tapping the start button.
“Are you one of those guys who worries about someone else driving your truck?” I asked conversationally as I put it in gear
