course not, sweetie. It…it just sorta came up. Just last night, in fact. Isn’t it exciting?”
Just sort of came up? The week after she’d dumped him in Grace’s lap? The false cheerfulness in her voice told him she was lying, which just made it worse. “Yeah, right. Exciting.”
“It’s still a good thing you’re up there with Grace,” she added quickly. “Tony’s real busy with the bar and all, and…well, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“I’d think you could at least be happy for me.” Her voice took on a petulant edge. “You know how we’ve struggled.”
She’d never noticed that Tony was a real jerk toward Ross. She’d been defensive and even angry when he tried to tell her, because she didn’t want to hear it.
In return, Ross had never tried to hide his own disgust. Especially not after he’d seen the bastard coming out of a late-night movie with another woman, though Mom had refused to hear a single word against her latest lover.
A chill settled over Ross as he dropped the receiver into its cradle; a feeling of emptiness so huge that if he’d been a few years younger, he might have just sat and bawled.
Grace had tactfully left the kitchen when Ross answered the phone, and from out in the living room he’d heard the sound of her bustling around. Now, she appeared at the kitchen door. “About ready for school? I’ll give you a ride.”
“Nah.” He grabbed his jacket from the back closet and shouldered on his backpack. She’d offered every day of his first week here, and every day he’d refused. With no school bus service for the town kids he could be dropped off like a grade-schooler or he could get there on his own. No contest, there—even if it meant eight blocks of snow-packed streets through the bitter cold.
“Are you sure?” Biting her lip, she glanced outside. “It’s five below and windy this morning. The streets aren’t that good, either. People don’t even try to ride bikes here this time of year, and I really don’t mind—”
“No.” Before she could push any further or worse, ask him about the phone call, he jerked open the back door, unchained his mountain bike and hoisted it down the steps.
He slung a leg over the bike and sped down the long hill toward Main Street without a backward glance. He didn’t have to look back to know that Aunt Grace was watching him from the porch, her arms folded across her chest and her brow furrowed with worry.
Her house was small, and she’d probably heard some of the conversation.
The roughly plowed street caught his front tire. He wobbled wildly for a split second, then righted himself and eased into the track of a car. Great—I might as well break my neck and be done with it.
As cold as it was in this godforsaken place, he was already so numb he probably wouldn’t even feel a thing. The phone call this morning almost made him wish he had the courage to let it happen.
For now, he had a place with Grace. But what about later?
Moving back with Mom would no longer be an option. Though Tony had a creepy way of being nice to his mom while getting her to wait on him, his whole personality changed when she wasn’t home. He swore a lot, slammed things around and got his kicks out of trying to be intimidating.
It didn’t take any imagination to guess how much he’d dislike having a teenage kid around.
A gust of wind kicked up a blinding cloud of snow at the intersection of Oak and Lake. A dark shape suddenly materialized at his left. Coming too fast…
Ross slammed on his brakes and jerked the bike to the right. Skidded sideways. From far away he heard a heavy thud and someone screaming.
For one dizzying moment he felt as if he were weightless, spinning, disoriented. And then the ground rushed up to meet him.
THE HOSPITAL’S ONLY male nurse, Carl Miller, met Grace at the door of the E.R. “He’s in Room 3. Dr. Reynolds is with him right now.” He tipped his head toward the waiting room. “The girl who hit him is here, too, and her father is on the way. She’s pretty upset.”
Grace nodded and hurried down the hall, her damp shoes squeaking on the highly polished floor.
A heartbeat after she’d received the call, she’d grabbed her purse and coat without a thought for snow boots, gloves or scarf. Now, with snow melting inside her shoes and her hands tingling, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop shaking. I never should have let him leave home like that. I should have made him sit down and talk.
But she knew just how far she would’ve gotten. She’d had him for over a week now, and still hadn’t made it past his sullen anger. He’d been less talkative with each passing day.
At the door of the room she said a silent prayer, then hid her worries behind a bright smile and stepped inside.
A bag of saline hung from the IV pole at the other side of the bed. No ventilator, though. Thank God. No frantic rushing to get the boy to surgery. And of the four doctors who had privileges at this hospital and could be on call today, Connor Reynolds and Jill Edwards were the very best.
Dr. Reynolds was bent over the bed with his stethoscope on Ross’s bare chest. He straightened at the sound of Grace’s squeaky shoes, a reassuring smile on his lean, handsome face. “Ross had a mishap, but he’s going to be fine.”
“Oh, my Lord,” she whispered. She hurried to the other side of the bed and ran her hands gently over Ross’s face, then his arms and chest.
The abraded, reddened areas over one cheekbone and his left arm would be deep purple by tomorrow. The sheet, drawn up to his waist, might hide more serious injuries, but so far, she could see no bandaging, no evidence of lacerations. “Are you okay, honey? What happened?”
Ross darted a wary look at her, his cheeks reddening. He closed his eyes and turned away. “Nothing.”
Did he expect her to be angry? She wanted nothing more than to gather him up in her arms and comfort him.
An impossibility, given the situation and his teenage pride.
Swallowing back her emotions, she gripped the side rail on the gurney. “He says this is nothing?” She looked up at Dr. Reynolds. “Tell me.”
“We’ve got a young man here who’s been rethinking his idea about biking in the winter. He was very lucky. Deputy Krumvald says the accident happened at an unmarked intersection, and it isn’t clear who was there first. The car hit his back tire and sent him about fifteen feet into heavy snow banked up along the street.”
“Thank God.”
“Still, that snow wasn’t exactly a feather pillow—those banks are hard-packed and crusted. He’s got some scrapes and bruises, and a light sprain in his left wrist.”
“X-rays?”
“He just came back. We took X-rays of the wrist, ran an MRI and some lab work. No sign of internal damage or a concussion, though I suspect he’ll be sore for a while. I recommend bandaging the wrist, a cold pack and elevation for a day. After that, just
