“It’s okay to go in,” she encouraged.
But it wasn’t okay that Natalie had lost everything, or that she’d scrambled back into the house to get photos of the man she’d loved and lost. It wasn’t right that she was now unconscious in bed, or even considered mementoes more important than her own life. Anger spiked in me, followed quickly by grief, and then both of those things were slammed into place by a curious sense of peace. I had to be the unemotional one here, the person who took care of everything. I needed to pull my family into my orbit and hold them there by the gravity of my own competence.
They needed me to be strong right now and there would be plenty of time for me to have a meltdown later.
I walked into the room, ignored the wires and bandages, and focused in on my sister lying still in the middle of the bed, seeing the nurse at her side who glanced up and smiled at me reassuringly.
Doctor Ellis tapped the file. “Do you have any questions—?”
“The burns, the leg.”
“There’ll be no scarring if we can help it, and with PT there shouldn’t be long-term issues from the leg injury. We’re keeping an eye on her sugar levels right now, and I’ll be back to visit in a few hours. All being well I would imagine we could discharge her in a few days.”
“How many is ‘a few’?” I needed to know if it was going to be two days, or a week, or a month, I had to have that in black and white more than I needed my next breath.
“Three days, worst case scenario a week if there are any complications with her sugar levels, or signs of not healing.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded, and left, and I was alone with Nurse-something-or-other, who was chatting away pleasantly and looked incredibly efficient.
“She’s sleeping comfortably,” the nurse said and as I moved closer I read her badge, Bridget Lowell. “We’ve made up a cot for you, and a smaller one for your niece.”
“I can stay here?”
“For as long as you need to.” She patted my arm. That was all people had been doing all night, or day. Whatever is the time anyway? The light coming in through the wide window was muted and gray, but that meant nothing to me right now. Natalie was pale and still in the bed, and in my arms Emma was waking up. She murmured sleepily, shifted in my hold, glanced up at me with a soft smile, and then, as she abruptly remembered the horror, she was wide awake and upright in my arms.
“Momma.”
I moved so she could see Natalie, aware the nurse had moved to the back of the room, busying herself with something to give us space.
“Momma’s just sleeping,” I said with a smile, and pulled a chair closer, so we could sit within touching range.
Emma immediately reached for Natalie, stroking her arm, and then holding her hand. “Just sleeping,” she said softly.
We sat like that until Emma slumped with her head on the bed, her eyes shut and her breathing even. I tucked her into the cot, puffing up the pillows, and making sure she was safe, then resumed my vigil at my sister’s bedside. By now daylight had filled the space, and at one point I thought she might wake up, as she moved a little then stilled again. Restless, I moved to the window, staring out over Tucson before pulling the blind down enough to stop the worst of the summer sun from making the room too bright. That was when I caught a movement outside through frosted glass as someone walked past. Someone who looked very much like Colorado was outside.
I sent him home.
“I’m seeing things,” I muttered to the quiet room, but then the figure moved in the chair and I knew for sure it was him. Cautiously I opened the door to the corridor, and I spotted him right there on a set of seats. In front of him was a playpen, with blankets and toys, a diaper bag that I kept at the door back at the house, full of diapers, wipes, and formula. In the center of that nest was a waving Maddie who was fascinated with the mobile hanging above her, and directly in front of them was the long-suffering Simon who glanced up at me when I stepped out, shrugged, and then stared pointedly at Colorado.
“What is going on?”
“We’re chilling,” Colorado replied. I blinked stupidly. “How’s your sister?”
“Uhm, okay. I just… why are you here?”
“Where else would we be?” he asked.
Simon bobbed his head, deep lines of worry and exhaustion etched into his face.
“Home? Playing hockey?” I closed the distance so we could talk quietly. Colorado patted the seat next to him. I dropped into it utterly depleted.
“Nothing is more important than family, not games or music or whatever other kind of bogus bullshit people come up with.”
“But I sent you home.”
He gave me that sinful off-kilter smile. “Yeah, and we came back. Joe, man, I know how it is to sit in a hospital not knowing if a loved one is going to live or—” Simon coughed. Colorado grimaced. “Sorry, if a loved one will be okay. We’re here for you. We’re family now. A somewhat screwy family, but family.”
I glanced at Simon who nodded. Then I looked down at Madeline who had fallen asleep. And then my eyes met Colorado’s and whatever starch was left in me blew away.
“I really like you,” I whispered as I listed to the side.
His arm settled around my neck. “I really like you too.”
Thirteen
Colorado
Four days later I was in Winnipeg looking down the barrel of a loaded gun in the form of one Austin Greeley. Austin was one of the Winnipeg Waves’ alternate captains and first line center. Austin was a motherfucking streak of light in
