Page 100 of Body Shot

This is what I want. He can insult me and tell me I’m hiding from life, but Idoneed to focus on work. People are counting on me. I have to seriously regroup and figure out a new strategy for funding, and that’s going take a lot of time and energy. Aunt Gina is getting better, although it’s more and more obvious she’ll never be as mobile and functional as she was before she fell. But I’ll be there to help them like they helped me. And I’ll make some time for Carrie, who’s feeling a little neglected with all the time I’ve been spending with Beck.

It will all be okay.

Beck

My phone ringing in the middle of the night takes a while to register in my sleep- and alcohol-muddled brain. I fumble around in bed, manage to swing my legs over the side and stumble over to the dresser, where the phone is charging. I peer at the screen through gritty eyes. I drank a shit ton of tequila last night. My mouth is Death Valley dry and my head pounds.

It’s Mom. I frown and answer the call. “Mother? What’s going on? Why are you calling in the middle of the night?”

“Beck. It’s your father.” She hesitates. “He’s in the hospital. He’s had a heart attack.”

My head jerks back and I grip the edge of the desk. “What? Is he okay?”

“He’s alive. He’s not exactly okay. It happened last night. I called an ambulance and they took him to the hospital. They’re giving him medications and they’re going to do some tests, maybe do angioplasty.”

“Christ.” My stomach swoops. I’m not close to my father, but still . . . he’s my father.

“Would you come home?” Mom asks, her voice unusually hesitant. “We think he’s going to make it, but . . .”

I close my eyes. “Yeah. I’ll come home. I’ll see when I can get a flight. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Beck.”

I end the call and let my chin fall to my chest. Jesus. Dad’s not even that old, only sixty-one. My own heart races, thinking about the possibility that Dad could die.

Nah. The old bastard is tough.

I suck in a deep breath and leave the bedroom to go sit at my computer in the den. I stare blankly at the screen for a few minutes, thoughts and worries running through my mind. Then I give my head a shake and start searching for flights to Boston. I find one leaving at eight-thirty in the morning. What time is it? I glance at the bottom corner of the monitor. Three forty-five. I blow out a breath and book the flight. It’s not even a direct flight; with one stop I won’t arrive in Boston until six-thirty in the evening. Shit. But after more searching, I can’t find a seat on a direct flight at all. This is the best I can do.

I have to let Cade and Marco know. They’ll have to give some of the bartenders extra shifts, but otherwise they should be able to manage a few days without me. They managed fine while I was out screwing the pooch.

I’ll call them from the airport—no need to interrupt their sleep right now.

I return to the bedroom and set the alarm on my phone for six o’clock then crawl back into bed in the hopes of getting a couple more hours sleep.

Yeah, that doesn’t happen. Instead, I lay in the dark, thinking about Dad, about Mother—how is she handling this? She’s a tough cookie too, never letting emotion show, making sure she always maintains a perfect, elegant façade, but she sounded uncharacteristically shaken. I think about Whitcomb Industries and what will happen if Dad’s out for a while. They have a big executive management team, they’ll all step up and cover for Dad. And I think about Hayden.

My heart stops for a few painful seconds, remembering what happened. I’d seen the flicker of hurt on her face when I told her she was hiding from life. I was pissed and hurt, too, especially after hearing from Cade and Marco that I’d fucked up, after hearing my whole life from my parents that I’d fucked up, after thinking maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. And then she dumped me.

I thought I drowned all my anger in tequila last night, but apparently not, as my gut tightens again. But what am I so angry about? That she wouldn’t take my money? Yeah, that’s it.

Fuck it. I throw back the covers. Sleep isn’t going to happen. I shower and pack some shit and drive to the airport, arriving way early, but what the hell. There’s always a bar open in an airport and I need another drink.

I call Mother and let her know my plans, and find out what hospital Dad’s in. She offers to send a car to the airport to pick me up. Normally I’d refuse, but what the hell, it’ll just make things easier, so I agree.

I order another drink.

My thoughts go back to Hayden.

I’m not mad because she turned down my money. I’m mad because she dumped me. Because I thought maybe I was as good for her as she was for me. But I was wrong.

I rub at the ache in my chest. Fuck.

She’s willing to sacrifice way too much for her career. I know it’s more than a career to her, it’s a mission, but still. She deserves to have a life and I wanted to be part of that.

Fuck. I slide down farther into the chair and tilt my head back. I tried to tell myself it was all just having fun, introducing my uptight little professor to new experiences, letting her experience all the passion and heat she kept hidden under tidy shirts and plain beige bras. But it became much more than that. I don’t only want her sexy body in my bed, I want all of her in my life. Surprising me with her sense of humor, charming me with her quirks and lists and need to plan ahead. I am totally falling for her.

And she kicked my ass out of her condo and her life. I scrub my hands over my face, my throat dry and scratchy.

---