Her second response sounded more like a question than the first, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Cody wasn’t being disrespectful or snide. He was just stating the fact, and it tore at her chest. He was so innocent, and she wanted to keep him that way. But she couldn’t deny that someone had shot Zach, or that that meant everything was very much not okay.
Combing his hair with her fingers, she tried for a smile, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten how to shape it. “You’re right, buddy. I’m scared.”
He was aiming for you.
Zach’s words rang in her head, terrifying and true.
“Not me.”
Dr. Guthrie smiled as he pulled his stethoscope from around his neck. “You’re pretty brave.”
“Don’t need to be.” A smirk fell across Cody’s face. “Zach promised he’d take care of us.”
Zach.
He had the skills and training to protect them, and he cared about their safety. But even a SEAL could be brought down by a bullet.
Any man could be.
In an instant, she was back on the ranch while a uniformed officer, holding his hat in both hands, said, “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”
“Sorry?” She nearly choked on the word.
Cops didn’t come to your front door when the cows got loose. Still...she hoped. She prayed. “We’ve fixed that fence a half-dozen times. Silly cows. We’ll get them rounded up.”
“It’s not your cows, ma’am.”
Her mouth went dry, a fist in her chest twisting everything inside. She could only shake her head.
The cop’s face crumpled. “It’s Aaron.”
She put up both hands as though she could stop him from breaking her heart. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
He didn’t comply. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, he’s been killed.”
Ice covered her until she was too frozen to even shiver.
“He was shot at the gas station.”
She hadn’t even been able to cry. Instead, she’d sunk to the floor and blacked out. The rest of that day had been a complete blank, not a single memory of her mother-in-law arriving and caring for Cody. Not the endless cups of tea pushed into her hands.
But when she staggered out from that stupor, her nightstand had been full of empty mugs, her bed turned into a cocoon of wool blankets.
She’d dressed in black and held Cody close as Aaron’s casket was lowered into the ground.
It had been a fluke. People didn’t just walk around and get shot. She understood that.
At least she thought she did.
But now her second husband had been shot, too. And men died from bullet wounds.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to keep her mind from wandering down the hall to the ER, to where Zach was being treated for his wounds. The ER doctor had been very firm. She and Cody couldn’t go with Zach while he had his procedure, so she might as well take Cody in to see his cardiologist while Zach was being taken care of.
Only she couldn’t seem to focus on Dr. Guthrie’s words as he jotted notes into Cody’s chart.
“Mrs. McCloud?” The doctor sounded like he’d called her name several times, but she still jumped when his words broke through her consciousness.
“Yes? Yes.”
Dr. Guthrie pointed at Cody. “How many hours a night is he sleeping?”
“About ten or eleven.” She bit her lip, hoping that didn’t mean more bad news. At his frown, she hesitated to add more, but it had to be said. “And napping three to four hours throughout the day.”
He nodded, scribbled more and pinched his nose. “Well, young man, your oxygen levels are getting lower, which is making you pretty sleepy.”
Even now, Cody’s eyes drooped, as if the effort of remaining upright on the exam table was just too much.
“What can we do?” She sounded defeated already. And she hated it.
Except...well, this was her son, her only child, her last connection to Aaron. She couldn’t lose him. But as long as someone was trying to kill her, she would be distracted from Cody’s needs, always wondering when Jackson Cole’s lackey would pop up again.
It wasn’t fair.
None of this was fair.
She grabbed for a tissue from the box sitting on the blue counter but had to physically restrain herself from picking up the whole box and chucking it at the wall.
Dabbing her eyes, she squared her shoulders and tried to keep her focus squarely on Cody’s care. “What can we do?”
“I want you to talk with the transplant coordinator again. You know Denise Engle.” It wasn’t really a question, but Kristi nodded all the same. “Just make sure that you have everything in place if a match becomes available.”
“Am I at the top of the list yet?” Cody asked. Kristi grabbed at his pointy shoulder to shush him. Cody sounded far too excited. Especially when she and the doctor both understood that his best day would be someone else’s worst.
“I’m afraid not,” Guthrie said. “But you’re getting close. For now, you can stay at home, but...”
She knew that but. If Cody’s condition continued to deteriorate, he’d need to be admitted until his transplant. Dr. Guthrie had warned her of that during their first appointment.
He’d have to leave his car models and his quiet room and his very cool night-light. And he’d probably miss most of the Christmas season.
Cody would hate it.
So she shook her head at the doctor. “Please. There must be something we can do.”
He nodded slowly. “For now we’re going to set you up with a portable oxygen tank.” As he wrote a quick note on his prescription pad, he directed her to a medical supply store. “I want him to use this all day and at night.” Turning his attention to Cody, he motioned long, narrow fingers toward his nose. “The oxygen will help you feel more awake, and it’ll come through a tube that fits over your ears and right into your nose. Think you can keep it on all day?”
Cody shrugged. “I guess.”
“You mean, ‘Yes, sir,’” Kristi corrected.
Ducking his head in chagrin, Cody agreed. “Yes, sir.”
Dr.
