“Yes it is and don’t bother calling to apologize when the test comes back.” Steering her toward an empty corner near the water fountain, he continued, “I can’t believe you think I would do that to you. Or anyone. Or just in fucking general. And just so you know, I knew after the premier we were just friends, Carrie Ann.”
“Then why did you bother to throw down fifty grand at the auction?”
His lips remained zipped, forging a hard, telling smile. There was no need for Jason to reply, the answer was written on his face. Dad put him up to it. Bringing his face closer, talking in a low acidic tone. “I’m not sure how Ryan’s going to feel after the results come back in few days, but at least you’ll feel better.” He paused. “Or maybe not. Maybe you’ll feel worse, when you’re forced to consider all the possibilities.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, maybe you should be looking at your fiancé.”
“Summer would never…”
“And neither would I. Hell, even your old man knows it.”
“Jason…”
“Have a good workout.”
Her fists tightened securely around her water bottle as ice crystalized in her veins. It took every ounce of composure she could muster, not to chuck the twenty-four ounces of plastic at the back of his head. Anger simmered over, only it wasn’t Jason who stoked her fury. It was her father. Carrie Ann’s feet remained frozen to the floor while her mind deciphered the exact wordage she intended to unload on her dad. None of them were pretty.
Without thinking, she started toward her favorite spin bike in a brusque march. Tapping her finger aggressively to the screen, she worked through the settings, choosing the longest, most rigorous ride possible. Carrie Ann plugged in her earbuds and hopped on the bike, only to find the wire bottle holder missing. Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! Fearing an oncoming outburst, she tossed her things on the ground, shoved her feet into the toe cage and began to pedal.
Carrie Ann’s mind was numb, sitting tall, she worked through warm up stretches. She wasn’t listening to the music, she wasn’t watching the screen, or bothering with her heart rate. Her thoughts were lost, driven beyond the brink in an anger-filled daze. This was the reason her father had been avoiding her calls. If the test cleared Jason of any wrong doing, he would surely place the blame on Summer.
Tugging one arm across her chest, she drew in a deep breath filling her lungs with air. Her eyes drifted shut as she lifted her chin to the heavens, silently praying for strength and guidance to deal with her father.
Switching arms, she took another deep inhale. The scent of tobacco filled her nostrils. I must be delusional. He would never step foot in a gym. Her eyes popped open, head twisting from side-to-side, expecting to see her father’s face. She wasn’t ready. Carrie Ann needed to calm down before talking to him.
A familiar face took ownership of the bike to her right, but it wasn’t her father. She scowled, watching the man take a casual swig from her water bottle.
Taking notice of her apprehension, he gave her a half nod, gesturing for her to remove her head phones. “You look so familiar to me. Have we met before?”
Spotting her blue bottle still sitting on the ground, she holstered her ferocity, saving her explosion for the intended target…her father. Glimpsing his vivid green eyes, wide smile, and dark curly hair, she nodded, bending down to grab her water. “We’ve met before, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“Maybe it’s just from seeing you here at the gym.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, taking a long drink to quench her thirst.
“You look like you’re just starting your ride. You up for a friendly race?”
Pulling her towel from her handlebars, she made a pass at the sweat already dripping from her temples. Pressing a finger to the screen, she highlighted the course titled, L’Alpe d’Huez. “I’m in a bit of a mood, so it might not be a good idea.”
His eyes widened in surprise. He tossed his drink into the air, flipped the bottle end over end, before holstering it in its wire holder. Carrie Ann blinked a few times. The memory of the gun-slinging sheriff from the show at Jackson Hole flashed like a beacon.
A flirtatious grin gathered in his eyes. “Maybe another day.”
Not wanting to seem encouraging or rude, she opted for a simple, “Have a nice ride,” before plugging back in.
Giving the tension knob a full turn, Carrie Ann pushed her bum back, crouched over the handlebars, and began the ascent. Her surroundings faded into the background with every pummel of the pedal and each bend in the switch back. Her anger grew as she climbed her virtual mountain. There would be no more avoiding the subject. Carrie Ann was going to get her day in court.
An hour and forty minutes later, Carrie Ann stumbled off her spin bike. Her thighs burning and legs trembled from the intense workout. Feeling a little lethargic and dizzy, she stopped to refill her water.
The thumping in her ears kept time with her heart rate as adrenaline surged. She could barely make out a woman’s muffled voice when she spoke to Carrie Ann, pointing out that her bottle was overflowing.
Walking away, she mumbled sluggishly, “I must’ve gotten my heartrate too high.”
Fueled with determination to set her father straight, she made her way through the gym. Stepping out the front door, bright sunshine beat down on her shoulders, zapping her of energy. Her body pitched and swayed as she walked to her car.
“Whew. I must’ve overdid it,” she slurred, aiming for the handle, but missing.
Standing beside her driver’s door, Carrie Ann clung to the top of her car. She was hit with another wave of spicy tobacco. Peering downward, she tried to make out a small blurry object lying on the ground. She screwed her eyes shut and stretched them wide, concentrating on the butt of a thin cigar between her tennis shoes.
Lifting her heavy head, her gaze landed on a pair of vivid green eyes.
Sunlight began to fade as the entire parking lot narrowed in around her, slipping into the shrinking shadow.
Chapter Fifteen
‡
A constant beeping filled her ears. Hushed voices sifted through the darkness like a distant daydream. Carrie Ann tried to peel the lids of her eyes open, but they were too heavy.
The sterile smell of saline and antiseptic burned her nostrils. She drifted in and out of a deep sleep, listening to the sounds of chatter warbled together with footsteps and someone coughing in the far remoteness of her mind.
Blackness.
A low drone echoed in her ears as a band squeezed around her bicep, rousing her from hibernation. Her hands felt encumbered, too heavy to reach the object tightening and scratching her arm. She heard voices, men talking. I’ll give you today, but that’s it. I’ve been more than patient. Carrie Ann licked her parched lips. Holding her breath, she attempted to listen closer, but her ears were filled with the beating of her heart.
She felt a set of hands, warm and strong, slip beneath the covers at the end of the bed and close over her foot. The massage was light and loving, warming her ice cold toes. The strokes too soft for treatment, but blanketed her with comfort and assurance.
“Summer?” Her raspy voice, laced with panic, nearly inaudible. Her breathing turned quick and jumpy. Unable to raise her arms, she scratched her nails on the bedding.
“We’re right here, Red.” His sunny familiar scent floated into her breath, calming her alarm. The sound of his voice snuggled beside her ear as he pressed the side of his face to her temple. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”
Carrie Ann managed one little nod.
A while later, she opened her eyes. An older man with dark hair, sat beside her. His stubby fingers drew small circles over her foot poking out of the blue cover. She blinked the haziness from her eyes. “Dad?”