Author's Note: Ahhh! 7 reviews in one chapter! :) I'm so glad new readers for the story have joined and like it! It's been far harder to gain readers in B&B than Tinkerbell. Thanks for the reviews, Singingsilent, WritingPhotographer, Sophia, Guest (1), Guest (2), YazminXD, and Calico11852! And now there's 16 followers!
Twenty minutes early. She pulled into the parking ramp across the street from the opera house. Opening the door, she shifted her skirt to swing her legs out just as Jason came around. "I can get out on my own," she smiled.
"I know you can." He smiled and offered his hand as he pulled her out and to her feet. "It's simply good manners."
She flushed and slipped her arm through his as they started walking toward the stairwell from the second floor. "You have better manners than practically every man I know."
"My old roommate, Brian, came from old money and taught me a lot of things. He said the best way to show that you respect a woman is to be a gentleman. He taught me ballroom dancing using my mother. She wasn't light on her feet like you are," he chuckled. They reached the stairwell and he suddenly went silent. He held the railing and took a couple slow steps, almost as if he had trouble seeing the stairs.
She bit her lip. Saying something would embarrass him, but he probably wouldn't say if he had trouble with stairs. "Should we take the elevator?"
"No. I can't tell precise distance of stairs, so it takes a few steps to figure out the height." That tugged at her chest. To go from a SEAL in such perfect physical condition to disabilities and disfigurement would be so hard to adjust to, not to mention how much pride he seemed to have forced down his throat left and right. His speed picked up after another couple steps. "Let's go, Emma. As much as I wouldn't let anything happen to you, being in a deserted parking stairwell at night in Chicago isn't my top pick of places to be." They exited to the street.
"I have my own bodyguard." She beamed up at him and hugged his arm close.
He cracked a smile and his eye swept around them as they crossed a street corner. "Doesn't mean I'm not mortal, sweetheart." They crossed with a small group of other people. Most of his attention seemed to be dedicated to keeping an eye out for anything unusual in the January night in a bit of a deserted block.
She remained cuddled against his arm. This sense of complete safety hadn't existed since before Gaston attacked those few years ago. Here she was in Chicago, dressed up and sticking out like a rich sore thumb, and walking in the dark in January...but not an inkling of fear existed. It was exhilarating to feel such freedom. Jason would protect her, and he had the skill to make sure he didn't get seriously hurt either. "I feel so safe with you," she said in soft tones. What she wouldn't give to be at home right now and curled up in his lap in front of a roaring fire.
His eye swept down to her with a tender look, as if realizing the profoundness of that statement. "I hope you always do. It just about ripped my heart out when you had that panic attack and looked so scared of me."
She looked away. Tonight wasn't a night to spend discussing her ex. "My parents liked you."
With lips pressed together for a moment, he didn't seem to want to let the topic drop but he did. "As much as your dad scares me, I like him," he smiled.
"Really?" she beamed up at him. "He didn't scare Gaston like that the one time he met him. I think he feels guilty that things might not have happened if he had."
"Then he should do what he thinks will protect you." His voice held so much compassion. "I won't get scared off. You're worth every mini heart attack he gives me. Your dad has a soft underbelly. I think he and I will get along better each time we meet."
'Each time we meet.' That had to be a good sign that he wanted to keep dating. Her heart fluttered.
"I like your mom. She's obviously proud of you and likes to dote on her baby," he smiled.
She flushed.
"It's a good thing, Emma." He set his hand over hers on his arm. "Mothers should be like that."
They approached the theater. Maybe she should repeat what her dad had said about marrying a man like Jason. It might give Jason more confidence with her dad. Her dad obviously didn't want to push her too hard toward Jason, but he never would have made that comment if he wouldn't give his blessing if Jason ever proposed. Her dad seemed to already know Jason was a man who would be an amazing spouse. Mentioning marriage now and then might get Jason to rethink his view of not marrying. But it might make him shut down too. He wasn't even ready to say 'I love you,' but it shined in his eye every time he looked at her. She definitely couldn't tell him yet that she wanted two or three kids because he would walk away, not wanting to deny her what he thought he couldn't give. He'd be a wonderful father. She glanced up at his profile. He seemed genuinely pleased with how things had gone with her parents. That was a start.
The sweet man held the door for her, and she stepped through to the lobby. She had to tell him before she chickened out. Taking a deep breath, she spun around to him.
He grabbed her shoulders to keep from plowing her over. "Whoa, sweetheart," he smiled. "Did you forget something?"
"No." Turning her face up to him, she searched his kind blue eye. The love and tenderness, attraction and devotion, hopes and dreams all welled up until her heart finally burst. Grabbing the lapels of his coat tight, she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his. Before he could react, someone walking behind him whistled. She let go in embarrassment and buried her face against his chest.
A laugh so full of joy bubbled up from him, and his arms wrapped around her. "Ah, Emma, you never fail to surprise me," he chuckled with tenderness woven through his voice. "You make me bold, sweet lady." He gave a mischevious smile and grabbed her hand, spinning her in a circle beneath the crystal chandeliers in the massive lobby.
The crowd was beginning to thin out, with only a few minutes left before the show, but the couple dozen people who were present looked at them. She tensed. Jason would be so embarrassed. He didn't deserve to be stared at like this. When her eyes landed on him as he spun her into his arms, she smiled to see him lighting up like a firefly with only eyes for her. And then, he swept her heart away.
He held her tight and led her in an energetic waltz through the lobby, spinning and spinning until she couldn't stop laughing. So much joy shined through his eye, and his laughter joined hers to ring through the cathedral ceiling room and down the many halls. Without breaking stride when they reached the stairs, he let go of her but kept a grip on her hand, his smile growing. They ran up the stairs, neither of them ready to stop flying through the clouds together. Something had gotten into him. He danced her down the hall past the curtains of private box seats, her laughter making people scowl as they danced past.
He finally stopped, both of their chests heaving. "What's gotten into you?" she smiled up at him.
"You." He gazed at her and leaned down to brush his lips over hers. The tips of his fingers stroked the line of her jaw like the featherlight touch of a paintbrush. It was romance and love with tenderness and promise. Her knees weakened, and she had to wrap her fingers around his forearm to keep from melting to the floor. His beautiful blue eye dove into her. "You're trembling." His husky voice drew desire.
"Yeah," she whispered, utterly breathless and not wanting to resist him.
"Perhaps your heart isn't beating fast enough," he said in a low voice, his eye never leaving hers. He brought her wrist up and slowly slid back her coat sleeve. His lips pressed to the underside where her pulse raced. His hot mouth burned and suckled her skin, his gaze never breaking with hers.
She shuddered, the sexual tension making her ache.
He must have seen it in her eye, because he pulled her through the velvet red curtain into their box. The lights were off and her eyes didn't adjust immediately beyond seeing his silhouette. He pressed her up against a wall, his fingers brushing at her neck but not stroking. They moved down. He was unbuttoning her coat. The cool air of the theatre caressed over the low neckline. Then his warm hand slid inside to rest over her heart, and his mouth crushed down on hers, his tongue diving inside.
A gasp puffed into his mouth, and she pressed against him. He'd never touched so much of her bare skin before or so close to her breast. Oh god, she needed him to take her. She tugged his hand down to where her breast stood erect against the thin layer of dress and fine undergarments. He felt it because he deepened the kiss and his fingertips rolled the round pebble, making her whimper with desire. Then he broke the kiss and both of his hands cupped her breasts and pushed them up enough to threaten to overspill her gown. Her arms wrapped around him.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered and kissed the swells. "Your breasts are so soft but firm enough to satisfy when I squeeze." He squeezed to prove his point, sending delicious shivers up her spine.
She didn't comment.
"You don't agree." His hot, wet tongue grazed over the top of one breast.
"They're too small to satisfy," she whispered, but her head fell back when he licked the cleavage he'd created.
"Your ex is a moron," he growled and continued his exploration.
Her eyes shot open. How had he known Gaston had said that?
"I'm courting you, and I say they satisfy me well." He pressed his hips against her, his arousal very apparent. Then he pulled back and took her hand.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. A large bouquet of probably three dozen red roses sat on one of the two red cushioned, gold carved seats. Never had any more perfect roses in semibloom existed. "Jason, they're gorgeous!" She stepped past him, inhaling the beautiful fragance in the air she'd been too distracted to notice. Fingering the velvety petals, she leaned down for a moment to breathe in the aroma.
A smile touched his lips, and he lifted the flowers to set them on the floor beside her seat. "I'm glad to you like them." Then he brushed a kiss over her lips and helped her sit.
The grandeur of the architecture and glitter of the people was almost overwhelming. She couldn't figure out what to take in first, from the gold artwork of the cathedral ceiling to the ornate architecture of the balconies and soft chatter of hundreds of people. The glitter of diamonds dripping from women danced in the light coming from the closed-curtain stage. These were the elite of the wealthy in town...a few well-known rich people in town caught her eye. And it all suddenly lost some of its wonder. These were the people who focused on material happiness and did their 'good deeds' by throwing money at the poor rather than rolling up their sleeves and doing something about it when they had more power than anyone.
Jason handed her a pamphlet from his seat beside her. "There are English translation summaries in here. I think you'll enjoy this storyline, sweetheart."
An usher slipped through their curtain. Jason stood. "Excuse me for a moment." They slipped out to the hall. Even though they spoke in hushed voices, she heard bits of the conversation.
"Not a word to anyone where this came from, understood? Here is an extra fifty for you for your silence," Jason said.
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
"Give it directly to the donation booth. If they ask, tell them a messenger delivered it."
"Yes, sir."
Jason stepped back in and sat down with a brief smile at her and then looked over his pamphlet.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes," he replied with a nod. "Are you thirsty or anything?"
"No, thank you. Have you been here before?" He seemed at ease in this environment. Far more at ease than a man nervous of the public should be. The tension in her bones ate her alive. Even though he'd grown up in poverty, maybe he thrived in this lifestyle. Sometimes it seemed to suit him, but other times it didn't quite fit his personality.
"A few," he shrugged. His eye narrowed in on the older woman walking across the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight. It is my pleasure to say that half of the proceeds for tonight's opera go to the local children's cancer foundation." The woman sounded ready to burst with happiness.
She looked from the woman to Jason. He seemed tense.
"Your generosity has led to ten thousand dollars being raised for the foundation."
Everyone clapped. Please. These people could throw ten thousand out the window and not know it was missing. The little children who suffered so much needed more than that pittance for the foundation to help them. Jason, curiously enough, sat as still as stone. Her eyes narrowed on him.
"It gives me extreme pleasure to add that we received an anonymous donation of a generous one hundred thousand dollars!" The woman sounded ready to burst. A murmur of surprise swept through the crowd.
Her eyes widened.
"Would our generous sponsor please stand?" the woman asked. Everyone turned around in their seats.
Jason's eye closed briefly, almost as if he hadn't anticipated this request. He looked like he stopped breathing, but he regained his composure and glanced around too. His eye met hers for an instant. She caught the slight moment of panic in his eye-she wasn't supposed to have figured it out.
It all made sense. The comment that she would rather have money anonymously donated to a charity, attending a fundraiser opera...Her blood boiled. If he wanted to impress her with throwing money around again, he'd sorely misjudged. He wasn't any better than the rest of them. She shot up and stormed out.
"Emma!" His footsteps hurried after her.
She kept marching down the hall because if she turned around, she'd spit nails at him.
He caught her elbow and pulled her into a side storage hall for privacy.
"Don't," she hissed, keeping her voice down, and yanked her arm away. "I thought you got it this afternoon, but you were just placating me. You throw money around expecting me to fall at your feet or be dazzled by it."
"Now hold on," he said calmly. "I was going to arrange this beforehand so there'd be no way for you to know, but I didn't have a way to call the foundation or here without my phone number showing up on caller ID. You weren't supposed to know."
"That's bullshit."
He blinked. Then his brow furrowed, and his eye glittered with anger. "What's bullshit is you getting so angry how much is spent on your birthday." He pointed at toward the opera. "That was a donation and had nothing to do with trying or not trying to impress you."
"You're not any different than them!" she barked and flung out her arm. "They throw money at people rather than try to actually help them!"
"Emma, not all people with money are bad! Yes, there are those in there who wouldn't lift a finger to help besides fill out a check-"
"And you didn't do anything better than them! You just gave more to appease your conscience! I don't want a life like this where any whim can be bought. I don't know if I even really want that car! There is such a thing as too much luxury, and you of all people should know that!"
His jaw clenched. "Don't you lecture me when you won't even look at your own books, Accountant."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Nothing." He walked down the hall a bit and came back, as if needing to work off steam. "Goddammit, Emma, I am not him," he snapped. "This is what it's all about, isn't it?"
Her eyes held his in furious silence.
Leaning his hands on the wall on each side of her shoulders, he growled, "I've had money like this for less than ten years, and I don't know what the hell to do with it. I know what it's like to go hungry and for a child to worry if anyone will be there to tuck you in at night."
The red haze of anger faded a bit.
His eye searched hers, firm but calming down. "I know a bit what it's like for those cancer kids to be stuck in a hospital day after day fighting your own body to survive. To be scared of what pain is next every time you see a doctor or nurse come in the room. I gave that money because I've seen children fear my face. Money is the best I can give that foundation."
The anger extinguished and in its place came grief for his suffering. But also relief that money had not blinded him to the plight of others. The opera singing rang faintly down the hall.
"I was so messed up and then so busy with the SEALS and med school that I didn't date until after college. My fiance was my first experience with a relationship, and she came from money. She enjoyed receiving materials, and I enjoyed her pleasure. I don't know how to court you how you want to be courted." The grief in his eye cut.
"Twenty dollars," she said softly and looked into his eye. "Tell me what you would do for my birthday with twenty dollars."
He released a deep breath and searched her eyes, as if concentrating. "I'd pile blankets and pillows on the floor in the sitting room at home and make a giant bed. Then I'd make popcorn and pop on a movie. I'd get some beer-"
"Beer?" she smiled. "You seem too refined for beer."
With a shake of his head, he said, "I've never been able to choke down Scotch or any of those snobby drinks. What I wouldn't give for a beer," he sighed. "I'd jam a napkin in my mouth just to be able to drink out of a cold beer bottle again." His eye closed briefly in pleasure. "After that, we'd makeout like there's no tomorrow and talk in the dark until the sun came up. That is the kind of 'no money' date I know how to do."
And it absolutey melted her heart. "That's the kind of date that I want. An opera or something nice is fun on occasion, but I don't want it every time."
His lips pressed together.
"I know, it's my birthday," she said with red cheeks.
"Do you want to go home?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"What are you sorry for?" She gave a soft smile.
He shrugged. "I obviously hurt your feelings." The tips of his fingers skimmed along her low neckline, and his eye followed for a moment before lifting to hold her eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Emma."
The heat in his eye her made her toes curl. But he held back. "Why do you always stop kissing me and use the excuse you don't want to get me pregnant? I'll respect if you want to wait for marriage."
He heaved a sigh that seemed to come from his soul, and he glanced down for a moment. "I was a teenage pregnancy." He looked at her, and her brow furrowed in surprise. "My mother got pregnant at nineteen and my father tried to do right by her. They married, but their parents didn't want anything to do with it. I never knew my grandparents or any relatives. My parents obviously didn't go to college and drowned in debt. My father never said a harsh word to my mother or I, he simply started drinking when I was born and remained in a stupor the next twelve years. We knew he resented us but felt too guilty to leave." He searched her eyes. "I told myself I'd never compromise a woman like that." He cupped her cheek. "If something ever did happen, you would have the choice of marrying me or taking money and having your freedom. I'd want you and the baby to be happy, whatever that road is."
"Jason," she whispered and held his hand on her cheek. "How could you ever doubt that you'd be a wonderful father and husband? Your face doesn't matter to me, and it wouldn't to a baby."
He gave a tight smile, obviously not entirely believing her. But in time he would. If she kept chipping away at his chains, they would break in time.
"I want to wait for marriage too, for what it's worth, anyways."
A glint of anger flashed through his eyes. "He took what wasn't his, Emma. You're still a virgin because you haven't given yourself to anyone."
Tears blurred her vision a bit, and she smiled softly. "I've been scared you would see it differently."
His brown wrinkled with sadness. "Never," he whispered and then kissed her so perfectly she almost stomped a foot when he pulled away. "Come, love. We'll miss the opera," he smiled.
She searched his face. He was so honorable and good and loving. She couldn't hold back another moment. "Damn the opera." She wrapped a hand behind his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, pressing herself against him. "Be rough with me. Touch me through my clothes."
He pulled his head back to look at her. "Be rough? But won't you-"
She shook her head. "You don't frighten me." He hesitated. Her hand slid down to stroke his thigh. His eye darkened with desire. "Conquer me," she whispered. Then the back of her hand brushed over his arousal. Oh god, she needed to release this sexual tension as much as him.
In an instant, the noble knight disappeared and in his place stood a man whose sexual desire clamored to be released. Here stood a powerful, slightly dangerous man. She gave him a coy smile.
He shoved her up against the wall behind a cabinet, blocking them from view. His mouth crushed hers in a hungry kiss, and his hands pinned hers over her head. He trapped her wrists in one hand. She squirmed, anxiously awaiting him to capture her breast and work his magic. But his hand shoved between her thighs through her skirt, making her cry out into his mouth in pleasure. Desire rushed down to where he rubbed, his fingers dancing and tantalizing her most intimate folds while the heel of his hand rubbed her sensitive nub.
She gasped and couldn't help but rock her hips. His mouth trailed down to kiss her throat and the swells of her breasts. It was too much pleasure, and he was shooting her to the stars. Her body tensed. "Oh god, Jason," she gasped, hardly able to breathe fast enough.
"Let me see how I please you. Don't be embarrassed," he whispered against her throat. He needed to know he could bring pleasure to a woman, despite his face. Her embarrassment faded when she sensed him stop kissing and watch her. She would let him see what he could do to her body. Her hands tugged against his restraint, as her body started to coil. Her thighs clenched against his hand, and he rocked her slightly faster until she lifted onto her toes. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Oh god, the pleasure. It was too intense. A contraction deep in her belly, and then a wave of heat washed over her. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, and she arched, flying through the clouds.
He pressed his body against her, and continued stroking between her thighs. "Emma, Emma," he murmured. "Show me once more how much you want my sex."
Whether it was his tender words or his touch, he suspended her pleasure and then her breasts tightened and she bucked hard. His mouth captured her cry as she exploded into thousands of pieces in his arms. Her body trembled so hard as she came back down, and she panted impossibly fast. He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her to keep her upright. She clutched his arms in a weak grip to keep from sinking to the floor.
"Oh my. I didn't expect a reaction like that," he smiled tenderly and bent his head a bit to hold her eyes. "Do you feel alright?"
She nodded, still panting too hard to speak. Sweet heaven, she hadn't known pleasure like that existed.
"Perhaps I should carry you back." he looked a tad worried that she still trembled.
"You can't...from surgery," she panted.
"Then we'll sit until you feel stronger." He sat on the floor and tugged her hand. She practically collapsed in his lap. "Was it at least enjoyable?"
She gave a breathless laugh and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Emma," he whispered against her hair. "I think you were a little embarrassed, but you let me watch the pleasure I brought you. It helps me not be so afraid of being intimate to know you feel desire."
"That therapist was wrong." She rubbed his arm around her. "Your scars don't affect how I feel about you."
He kissed her hair. "Thank you, sweetheart." He glanced at his watch. "Emma, there's a part of the opera I want you to see. I don't mean to cut our conversation short. I have a reason for this, I promise." He helped her to her feet and looked at her to see if she felt better. She nodded and they hurried back to their seats.
Curiosity had made her want to attend the opera, just for the experience. She hadn't expected to be swept away by the love story. Jason had been right-she couldn't understand a word, but the emotions in the singing and the acting needed no words. Jason handed her a handkerchief when she silently cried as the hero had to leave for battle. The love the hero and heroine had for each other broke her heart when he sailed away at intermission.
"I promise you'll like the second half more." He brushed away her tears.
She sniffled. "I guess Trudy knew what she was doing when she put waterproof makeup on me."
He smiled. "You looked beautiful even when you were battered from the car accident. I don't think it's possible for you to not be beautiful."
She flushed and looked at him from beneath her lashes. "All the same, I'm going to slip to the ladies room."
"I'll take you."
She touched up her makeup finally, the line for the restroom long. The five-minute lights flashing warning came on. She hurried back out to the lobby and looked around. Jason stepped out from the shadows near the staircase. He seemed a bit nervous. "Is everything alright?" He nodded. Perhaps he was nervous being around people.
When they were seated, he turned in his seat and took her hands. He felt a bit clammy. "Emma, I care for you a great deal. I know it must've been hard saying you loved me but not have the words reciprocated right away. It means a lot that you gave me space and didn't just throw in the towel."
Her heat beat fast. He was leading up to the words. Her hands tightened in his, not wanting him to be nervous.
"I know I said I wanted to tell you more about my face. You heard the worst about it at your parents, and you still found pleasure in my touch tonight." His eye searched hers. "Emma, I l-"
Her phone rang in her clutch. She tried to ignore it, but he glanced down at her purse on the floor. She groaned inwardly when he handed it to her.
She frowned. "It's Mom's cell." Her mom wouldn't be out this late. "Hi, Mom."
She was sobbing.
"Mom, what's wrong?" She glanced at Jason.
His eye narrowed in concern, and he stood and held out his hand, leading her into the hall where she could hear better.
"Mom? I can't understand you." She held a hand over her other ear to hear when the opera singing resumed.
"Dad had a stroke," her mom sobbed.
"What do you mean Dad had a stroke?" Her eyes flew to Jason. He ducked inside for their coats.
"Emma, he's unconscious," she sobbed. "His heart keeps stopping. They said he'll go before morning. You need to come."
Her hands shook. "What hospital?"
Jason came out with their coats and her purse when she hung up. "He's dying and won't make it to morning," she whispered, too shocked to comprehend everything.
He grabbed her hand and ran down the long hall. He pulled out his phone and spoke quickly and distinctly. "Stevens, fire up the chopper. Emma's dad is dying. Get clearance from the hospital to see if we can land. If not, get us as close as you can. Where's the closest location you can pick us up?...OK." He pocketed his phone. She grabbed up her skirts, and he guided her down the stairs in her heels. He threw her coat around her shoulders as they ran outside. Then his hand, strong and warm against her shakey cold one, slipped into hers as they tore down the sidewalk. He led the way through the street and down the block to the building with the helipad. Holding the door for her, he tugged her through and ran to the elevator. He hit the button and looked at the meter. "Shit, it's stopping at all seven floors. Emma, we gotta take the stairs. It'll take too long."
He looked around and then pulled her along. He pushed on the stairwell door and cursed.
"Is it locked?" Her voice shook. Her phone rang.
"Emma, he going. You gotta come," her mom wept.
"I'm coming, Mama." There was noise in the background and her mom hung up. Tears pooled in her eyes. They were taking too long. "Jason," she whimpered and started crying as it all settled in.
He let go of her hand and backed up a couple steps. Then he slammed his shoulder into the door, breaking the doorjam. The door bashed against the wall. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the steps. Up and up, her feet racing to keep up with him. Her shoe slipped, and she nearly fell. His hand tightened and he kept her from going down. "Come on, Emma," he said calmly and met her eyes. He helped pull her along when her thighs burned and she panted by the time they reached the seventh floor. Then he leaned into the door of the roof. Dropping her hand, it took all his strength to push open the door against the wind of the chopper. He grabbed her hand and ran across the helipad and opened the chopper door.
He helped her inside and climbed in himself before shutting the door, signaling for Stevens to go. He buckled her and then himself. Putting on a headset, his mouth moved as he said something to Stevens. His hand slipped into hers in her lap. She stared out the window, too numb to think.
The chopper landed on the hospital roof minutes later, and he unbuckled her and him. Jumping out, he turned and lifted her out. She ran, letting him lead her across the pad and down a hall to a nurses's desk simply because she couldn't put together a coherent thought. Jason pulled off her coat and wiped a hand over her brow. His fingers were damp. She must be sweating.
His voice sounded distant as he asked for her dad's room number. She turned around in a circle. The halls bustled with people. She heard everything at once and yet nothing.
Jason's gentle hand caught her arm and turned her around. "This way." He grabbed her hand and rushed down another hall. He stopped suddenly, his shoes sliding. He caught her plowing into him. "Right here." He pointed down a short hall.
Dozens of people filled the ER, but he didn't hesitate and picked their way through to the desk. He asked for her dad's room. "No, he's dying. This is his daughter, and she needs to get to him," he begged when the receptionist said to take a seat.
A nurse stepped over. "Emma? They're expecting you." Then she looked at Jason. "I'm sorry, only immediate family. He only has minutes left. Come. He's down the hall to the left," the nurse told her.
She looked around, her hands shaking. Everyone in the waiting room began to stare at him, but his eyes remained on her. Fear began to swallow her heart, bit by bit. It was too soon. Dad was too young. There was too much left to say. He was supposed to walk her down the aisle and hold her babies as he became a grandpa. He was supposed to be there to give marriage and parenting advice. He was supposed to laugh as her children made her hair turn gray as she had his. Her heart pounded. Tears slipped down her face.
He gave her a strong hug. "Go," Jason said softly, calm and strong amid the world crashing all around. He let go and stroked her cheek. "I'll be right here."
With one last look at him for strength, she lifted her skirts and ran through the doors that separated her from the safety of Jason's arms and led to a nightmare. She outdistanced the nurse running to lead the way. Everything moved in slow motion. Her skirts fluttered, catching on medical carts and passing patient beds, but she barely heard the material rip. The voices of doctors and nurses talking about patients rang loud in her ears. Wheels of patient beds being pushed down the hall screeched until she heard each rotation. Her cool locks bounced on her shoulders with each step. Memories of Dad carrying her when she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. Standing on Dad's feet at the second grade father-daughter dance. Dad staying up with her until midnight to study for the geometry test, and laughing when the problems suddenly made sense to her. Dad up to his elbows in grease teaching her about cars and smiling so big when she wrestled a belt on the engine by herself and it worked. Dad coming into her room in the middle of the night to hold her when she woke up screaming from a nightmare about Gaston.
She darted around a nurse and ran into a medical cart but didn't stop. The end of the hall. Her heart pounded faster. She turned left and ran, her curls finally slipping from the barrette to bounce down on her back and fall apart like her heart. The rose fell from her hair, abandoned on the floor. Mom stood at the far end of the hall crying into a tissue outside a room. Her heart stilled, and she plowed through a group of people. No. She hadn't said she loved him. She had to tell him what a good dad he'd been. All the things she didn't say...
The world slowed, and she fought to run faster, the air burning her lungs. She cut between some doctors talking and bumped into a patient bed, but her eyes never left her mom. Doctors rushed into the room behind Mom. She reached the room, but someone grabbed her arm to stop her. Mom tried to pull her back and said something. She couldn't hear what Mom and the nurse said, and she twisted in Mom's arms to get to Dad. Two doctors came out looking so solemn and shook their heads. They said something, but she broke free and ran into the room.
Her heart thundered faster, piercing with each beat. Dad laid in bed, pale and still. She froze, suddenly scared. He needed to get up and wrap his arms around her, promising in his gentle voice that it was just a nightmare. She slowly walked over, tears cursing down. She slowly sat on the edge of the bed. "Daddy?" she whispered. He didn't move. She slowly sank down over his silent chest and wept.