“No.” Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. You stay, we stay. We’re family, and we’re here to serve. What do you need?”
“My mom could use a room and a bed,” Tripp answered quietly, staring at Andy. “We’ve been down this road before. She won’t leave until—”
“Done,” Alex interrupted, his cell phone already in his hand, as if he had the world on speed-dial. “What else?”
Tripp had no idea. “Mom? What—?”
“Nothing for me. A miracle for Trish would sure be nice, though.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip, then turned to Alex. “Can you do that, too? Can you make my baby want to live?”
Tripp could’ve cried at the beseeching tone to her question.
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m not in the miracle business,” Alex said kindly. “But I know people. Let me see what I can do for Trish.” Pushing his palms to his knees, he lifted to his feet, winked at Kelsey, then strode into the hall with his phone at his ear.
Within minutes, a young man in scrubs entered the room and zeroed in on Andy. “Are you Mrs. McClane?” he asked gently, his brows raised.
“Yes, that’s me,” she answered, her voice as weary as Tripp had ever heard.
“I’m Thane Roberts, your family advocate,” he said. “The hospital has rooms available for families of trauma patients. You must be exhausted. Come with me, ma’am. I’ve got just the room for you. It’s near the chapel, and it’s quiet. You’ll be able to rest.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kelsey told her. “At least you can freshen up there, then we’ll come right back.”
Andy buried her face in her hands and cried. Tripp looked away. It never got easier, but hearing his mom beg Alex for a miracle gutted him.
“Mom,” he said, his voice hoarse from his own pain. “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Go with Kelsey and grab some sleep while you can. We’ll rotate shifts. When you get back, it’ll be my turn.” Like we’ve done all those other times.
She made a strangled noise. “You always say that, but I know you, and you never sleep when you should. You’re as bad as me.”
“Or as good,” Jameson murmured from where he sat with Mark and Beau. “Don’t worry, Mrs. McClane. There are plenty of us here for you and Tripp. Let us help. Get some rest while you can, and I’ll make sure Tripp gets some shut-eye when it’s his turn.”
Andy nodded, but Tripp could see the signs. She was already running on empty, the cumulative effect of Trish’s destructive lifestyle. “Well, okay then. I’ll try. Ready?” she asked Kelsey.
“Sure,” Kelsey answered easily. “This way, with the two of us, we shouldn’t get too lost.”
She had her arm around Andy when they walked into the hall with Thane. Tripp could’ve bawled at the kindness everyone had for the mother of a guy they barely knew. He’d bounced between Seattle and Alexandria over the last two months, and his nightly excursions hadn’t fostered any close friendships. Until now.
Alex walked back into the room and took the seat across from Tripp. “I called in a few favors. The best thoracic surgeon and spine specialist in the country are at your disposal. They can both be here tomorrow. Second opinions never hurt.”
“Thank you.” Tripp nodded, nearly struck dumb at his boss’s reach and generosity. Physicians of that caliber would be pricey, even for second opinions. But Tripp would find a way to pay for it all. Trish deserved a second chance.
The hours ticked by. Midnight came and went. His mom returned with Kelsey when the sun came up. She must’ve talked Andy into sleeping. Andy looked rested but as weary as she had last night. Beau and his wife, Doc McKenna Fitz, returned with baskets of home-cooked breakfast and industrial-sized thermoses of coffee and juice. Kelsey made sure Andy ate, then stayed at her side, chatting about kids and babies and the joys of motherhood. It was good to hear Andy chuckle over the happier times before Trish derailed.
At last, after hours of waiting, a nurse appeared with news that Trish was out of recovery and had been moved to the ICU. A tired Doctor Smith was waiting there to discuss her prognosis with her family. Only two family members at a time were allowed to visit her. Ten minutes per visit. Six visitors per day. Which would never be enough time for Andy to spend with her only daughter.
Tripp held out his hand to her. “Come on, Mom. Let’s go see Trish.”
After they checked in at the Intensive Care nurses’ station, they were redirected to a family counseling room. Doctor Smith was much younger than Tripp expected. Tall and dark-haired, he was built like an athlete. Had to be close to seven feet tall. Broad, muscled shoulders but trim at the hips. Long-legged. And grinning.
Tripp took the seat across the table from him. “Basketball?” he guessed.
Smith’s tired eyes lit up as he stretched a long arm to Tripp. “Yes, sir. Gonzaga U, power forward, twenty years ago.”
“The year Gonzaga went to the Sweet Sixteen?” Tripp asked, shaking the guy’s big hand. And instant rapport was born. He’d seen those reruns, too. A man who could handle a ball like Tripp had seen Smith do during those long-ago NCAA college playoffs, had to be the best doctor for Trish.
Doctor Wesley Smith proceeded to prove just that. He offered no judgment on Trish’s lifestyle or choices, just gave Andy and Tripp what they needed to keep on keeping on. At the end of his simplified version of what had been a full night of delicate spinal surgery, he stood, reached a long arm across the table, and took hold of Andy’s hand. “Trust me, Mrs. McClane, your daughter will walk again. Yes, this surgery was complicated. Spinal compression fractures always are. I fused six of her
