Page 63 of Cowboys Next Door

“It was most likely a stroke like you thought, Hud,” Rose says. “We’re just waiting on the MRI results, but she was speaking a bit better before she fell asleep.”

Happiness cinches my heart at the good news.

“But she’s not out of the woods, regardless,” Rose continues. “She’ll need to be monitored.”

“We’re here for her—and you,” I promise her.

She swallows visibly and exhales, sinking into the chair next to the bed, and takes her grandmother’s hand.

“The doctor asked about all the factors that could have caused this,” she sniffs. “Smoking, diet… stress.” Her head raises, and she meets my eyes. “You know this is because of MVP.”

“We discussed that,” I agree slowly. “But the most important thing right now is that Miss Katherine recovers?—”

“The most important thing right now is getting those bastards out of our lives so that my grandmother can enjoy her life in peace,” Rose hisses back, her voice rising an octave. I’ve never seen her so upset. “I want to bring them down for this!”

The door opens, and a young woman who looks barely older than me and the boys walks in, holding a tablet, her lab coat and neck-draped stethoscope the only indication that she might be a doctor.

Rose bounces up to greet her. “Any word on the results, Dr. Shipley?” she asks, confirming my suspicions.

“Just got the results back,” Dr. Shipley replies, eying us with interest. “Are these your brothers?”

We all guffaw in unison.

“No…” Rose corrects her. “They’re… they’re all with me.”

Hearing Rose acknowledge what’s between us pleases me more than I care to admit to myself.

The doctor’s auburn eyebrows shoot up, but she makes no comment, addressing Rose solely now. “It was a stroke as we expected, but the blockage seems to have cleared already. There is no discernable bleed.”

“Oh, thank God,” Rose exhales, squeezing Katherine’s hand softly.

“But that doesn’t mean this can’t happen again,” Dr. Shipley explains quietly. “In fact, Mrs. Winterbourne is more susceptible to them now. We will change her medication, but Rose, if you’re her only day-to-day caregiver, you’ll have to monitor her diet and ensure she’s exercising regularly, moving her limbs about. Blood flow is imperative.”

“Miss Katherine has us, too,” Connor says defensively.

“My grandmother has a big support system,” Rose reassures the doctor. “We’ll all make sure she’s well cared for and keep a good eye on her.”

I gesture at Katherine. “And the drooping in her face?”

“It’s already much better than when she first came in. She was lucky. In some cases, it takes months or years of treatment. Some patients never recover,” Dr. Shipley offers. “The fact that you found her as fast as you did and responded as quickly as you did will go a long way in her recovery. Mrs. Winterbourne truly was fortunate—this time.”

“How long until she can go home?” Rose asks.

“I’d like to keep her here overnight for observation, at least,” the young physician says. “But if all goes well, she could go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I say. “We’ll ensure the house is ready for her.”

Dr. Shipley smiles at me coyly, but I’m already looking at Rose, who fusses over her grandmother’s blankets.

“I’ll be around later,” the doctor calls out as she leaves, but none of us notice, the four of us flocking to the bed to look at Katherine.

“All right,” I say, a plan forming in my mind. “So we’ll take shifts at the house. Three of us, eight-hour shifts?”

Connor lifts his head to stare at me suspiciously. “Why would we need to?”

I glance at Rose, who returns my look appreciatively. “I mean when Rose goes to Seattle.”

Connor’s jaw drops. “Are you really still leaving?”

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