more. “No, he doesn’t. If he loved me, he would have never broken my...broken up with me.”
She jerked free and stalked away. She kept her head up and shoulders stiff even though she wanted to hunch over to contain the pain ripping her apart.
* * *
Jolie didn’t come back. Cord was disappointed. And pissed. Was she just teasing him again? Anger washed over him like a big ocean wave, filling him with enough bitterness to choke him. One week rolled over into two weeks, and then the third one dragged by with no sign of her. Fine. He was stupid to think they might have a chance, that she’d visited because she still cared.
He fidgeted, waiting for the doctor to arrive. After a month in the hospital, rumor had it he might be discharged today. He was more than ready to get out. To get away from any reminder of Jolie. She was just a few floors away, down in Trauma One. He’d caught a glimpse of her once, as a physical therapist had wheeled him past the cafeteria. She’d taken one look at him in the wheelchair, blanched, turned and all but ran away.
Yeah. He knew the feeling. He hated the freaking chair. Hated that his legs still didn’t work quite right, that his head felt like a watermelon splattered on hot pavement whenever he looked into a bright light, that he was crippled. Cord wanted to go home, where he no longer had to see pity on the faces surrounding him.
Chance and Cassie arrived, followed closely by the doctor and his entourage of medical students. Ah, the joys of University being a teaching hospital. Not.
Seeing his state of undress, his sister-in-law immediately split, offering to grab coffee from the waiting room. Cord would be damned glad when he could wear clothes again so his dangly bits didn’t offend anyone.
He put up with the poking, prodding, comments and advice. The doctor used a stylus to record stuff on a touch screen tablet, frowning as he filled in blanks. Cord’s heart sank. He was going to be stuck here even longer.
“Meg will bring all the paperwork and go over your therapy plan, Mr. Barron.” The doctor glanced at Chance. “You’ve arranged for a home health aide?”
“Wait,” Cord interrupted. “Does this mean I’m getting out of here?”
“That’s what it means, Mr. Barron.”
“Hot damn. Chance, you better have brought me a pair of pants!”
It took three hours to get out of there. Three freaking hours to clear up all the paperwork, but Cord was finally free. Sort of. He was still stuck in the wheelchair. But he wore real clothes—jeans, boots, a T-shirt that hung a little loose on him. He’d lost weight and muscle tone in the hospital, despite the burgers, fries and pizza his brothers had sneaked in and all the physical therapy exercises. But he could go home now. Get away from the hospital, where he wondered every day if he might catch a glimpse of Jolie, wanting her to come back to see him, needing it as much as a man needed water in the desert. That was how he felt. Parched. He wanted to drink her in, knew he could drown in her presence.
Chance insisted on pushing the wheelchair while Cassie carried the bags of medical supplies, paraphernalia and other stuff he’d accumulated. They rode the elevator down to the first floor in silence. Cassie waited with him while Chance went to get his truck. Once he was settled in the front passenger seat and they were underway, Chance glanced at him.
His brother cleared his throat before saying, “I thought we’d take you to the ranch.”
As much as he wanted to go home to his condo and hide from the whole world, Chance’s suggestion made sense. They had staff at the home place, the Crown B Ranch. Miz Beth and Big John, the caretakers who’d been with the boys for as long as they could remember. And according to the doctor, a home health aide. Cord hated being an invalid. But he’d have the place to himself. The old man, when he was in town, kept an apartment in Barron Towers. His brothers all had their own places. Only staff and Kaden Waite, the ranch manager, would be around.
“Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He swallowed the snarl and added, “But I’m starved. I want a steak before we head out there.”
“Cattlemen’s?”
At his nod, Chance changed lanes and made a left turn to head back toward Stockyards City and the famous steak house.
Chance found a space in the parking lot behind the historic building housing Cattlemen’s Cafe. After some frustrated manipulation, Cord settled into the wheelchair. Cassie insisted Chance push and Cord grimaced.
“I can push myself. I’m not helpless.”
“Of course you aren’t.” Cassie hastened to soothe him. “But this is your chance to make Chance your minion.”
Cord still wasn’t happy, but the way Cassie phrased it took the sting out of the fact that he was stuck. Not for long, though. He fully planned to be rid of the freaking wheelchair as soon as possible, if not before.
They had missed the lunch rush and were too early for the dinner crowd, so they were seated immediately.
While Cord and Chance went for the large filet, Cassie opted for prime rib. Their salads were quickly followed by their entrées, and they dug in like starving people, which Cord was. Beef, for him, was its own food group.
Their meal finished, Cassie maneuvered Cord’s wheelchair through the narrow aisles between seating areas while Chance stepped ahead to handle the door. The entrance to the restaurant consisted of two sets of heavy glass double doors, their handles shaped like the horns of a longhorn steer. They’d just passed through the inner doors only to stop when the exterior doors were opened by a woman wearing scrubs, holding a little boy’s hand.
Jolie.
Cord watched her eyes widen to deer-in-headlights proportions as her gaze darted between him and the child beside her.
Nobody moved until Cassie elbowed Chance and whispered, “I didn’t know Cord had been married.”
Her voice broke the spell and both Cord and Chance stared at her.
“He hasn’t.”
“I haven’t.”
The men answered all but simultaneously.
“Why would you think he had, Cass?” Chance muttered the question.
The kid tugged at Jolie’s hand. “Ow, Mommy, leggo. You’re squeezin’ me too hard.”
Cord stared at Jolie then the boy. Mommy? She had a son? His heart shriveled like mud under a hot August sun. She’d found someone else and married him. Had his child. He relaxed his fists and smoothed damp palms along his thighs, hoping to hide his agitation. And sitting in this damned wheelchair sure didn’t help his ego.
Cassie hissed, “If that little boy isn’t a Barron, then I’m deaf and blind.”
All the color drained from Jolie’s face. Her gaze jerked to the child beside her before returning to meet Cord’s stare. She swallowed convulsively and guilt radiated from her. Cord couldn’t speak for a minute as Cassie’s words sank in.
“Jolie?” Her name rasped across his tongue, which felt like sandpaper.
“Cord.” She blinked
