Page 39 of Beach Cottage Kisses

He was alive.

“How badly is he hurt?” she asked, not caring if Sage had already said so. She’d missed some things. Had to be on top of them.

“He has a torn MCL and a lower lumbar sprain. They’ve already taken him into surgery for the knee, but when I talked to him, he said he’d be home tonight.”

Pulling on underwear, with the phone held to her ear by her shoulder, Iris reached for the closest jeans, pulled a button-down shirt off a hanger. “I’ll need permission to get to him,” she said.

“I’ve got his medical power of attorney and it’s already done,” Sage said. “The staff knows that all reports are to go to you.”

Good. “Does Scott know?” Putting the phone on speaker, she dropped it to the bed. Donned her bra and shirt in record time.

“He will when he comes out of surgery.”

She slid into tennis shoes without untying them. “I’m on my way,” she said, picking up the phone to take it with her.

If Scott balked she’d deal with him.

No way in hell was the day going to end with his life on the line.

Keeping her mind focused, Iris made a call over her vehicle’s hands-free system as soon as she was on the way. Dale picked up right away and agreed to take care of Morgan and Angel until she got back. She had no idea how long that would be. Maybe even overnight. Told Dale where she’d left spare keys, to her place and Scott’s. And disconnected the call.

The man had asked no questions. She’d offered nothing.

She concentrated on traffic. Being in the right lane at the right time. Watching lights and turning to avoid them.

Prior to going into surgery, Scott had spoken to Sage. She’d said he’d insisted on doing so after the hospital had called her. Just as he’d insisted he’d be home that night.

His sister had said something about how he’d sounded. The memory was vague.

Iris couldn’t bring the rest of it back to mind.

Except that Sage was waiting to hear from Iris. Not catching the next flight home.

And that Scott had spoken.

Both key things she focused on as she drove. Parked.

Walked briskly into the emergency room.

And, after a brief wait, was shown into a small office where a nurse filled her in on Scott’s situation.

He was already out of surgery. In the recovery room. Not yet fully awake. They’d take her to him shortly. His MCL tear had been a level three. The worst.

The surgery was normally performed as an outpatient procedure, but under the circumstances, the doctor would like to keep Scott overnight, but wasn’t insisting on it. He’d left the choice up to Scott.

“What would you be watching for tonight if he stays?” Iris asked. And listened to various indications of medical distress.

All things she recognized from her months in and out of the hospital.

“He’s not going to stay,” she said then. “I’m assuming I can get everything at the pharmacy I’m going to need?”

Including bed restraints if she could figure out a way to tie them to a king-size bed.

The thought came with determination, not humor.

Or even a hint of sexual connotation.

Scott was in no condition to pee by himself, let alone perform any other physical feats.