Page 41 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

“No, Detective, thankfully there was no indication of that,” Dr. Allen says, shaking his head.

Thank. Fuck.

“I am going to head back to the station, okay? I’ll come back here in a few hours to check in, and hopefully Kendra will be awake and able to tell me what happened.” Danny hugs me, shakes hands with Max, and leaves.

I put my hand on Max’s shoulder, giving him some silent support the way Danny did for me as we follow Dr. Allen down the quiet hallways to the room Kendra is in.

Max’s body starts to tremble as we take in his daughter on the hospital bed. She looks so small. Her face is a map of trauma and bruises—nasal cannula for oxygen snug under her nose. The beautiful blue eyes that normally spark with sass and confidence are swollen shut. Kendra’s shiny blonde hair looks dull and flat. Her left arm is wrapped in a pink cast. I wonder if a nurse or someone picked it for her because of the pink in her hair?

An IV is placed in her right arm, but her hand is above the blankets and facing upward, like she is waiting. I immediately stride over to her bedside and slip my hand into hers. It’s warm and reassuring. Not touching her right now is impossible. I would climb into the bed and hold her if it were possible, but I know that would just further her pain. I settle for sitting as close to her as I can at her bedside in another stiff chair.

Max pulls up a matching chair on the other side of Kendra’s bed and looks at me seriously. “You really do care for my little girl, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I do.” I don’t shy away from the eye contact, needing him to know that I am a man now, not some panic-stricken boy, scared and unsure of his feelings.

“I don’t know all the details of what happened between you two that summer. Her nana was the one that shared some with me, thought I should know before she died since it was just the three of us, and Kendra had confided in her. All I do know is she came back brokenhearted and was never quite the same. She lost part of herself, and I can’t help but wonder if that part was you.” Max looks back at Kendra in thought.

“Kendra knocked me on my ass back then. Hell, still kind of does now.” Max chuffs and looks back to me. “I didn’t have a good example of what a man should be to his family, how he should love a woman. I have a great mom and three little sisters. But . . . my own father left us all when I was eleven.”

Shaking his head, Max says, “I’m so sorry, Eli.”

“That summer, when Kendra told me how she felt, I was terrified. I figured it was in my DNA to ruin every woman I touched. It made me think that I was not allowed to have a real relationship because I was my father’s clone. So I’d never gotten close to anyone. Not until her. I pushed her away thinking it was best for both of us.” I look at Kendra and stroke her hand gently. “But it took me becoming a father myself to understand just how selfish and horrible my own truly was, is, and how much he did not deserve that title.”

“He certainly does not, Eli. Any man that can walk away from his family, his wife and children that way? Well, he’s no man at all.” Max is the kind of person every human aspires to be. I can tell that Kendra never had to question his love for her, and God do I hope that Wren feels that way about me as she grows.

“I don’t know if Kendra will ever give me another shot, but if she does, I promise that I will take care of her heart this time. I understand what we both deserve, and I am not running scared anymore.”

“Only time will tell, but I think if you are as open with her as you just were with me, I bet you’ve got a pretty good shot, Eli . . . Now what was this about you being a father?” Max raises an eyebrow.

And so for the next several hours I tell Max all about Wren, my unusual path to fatherhood, my life as a firefighter. We talk and we bond, waiting for the woman we both love to wake up.

31

Kendra

Asoft whisper of voices is mixed with the familiar, unwelcome noises that I know so well. The beeps, hums, and pumps of the machines blend with the sterile smell that can only be found in a hospital.

I try to peel my eyes open, but the lids feel as if they are sticky and leaden. Everything hurts. As my mind slowly catches up to reality, I remember why I’m here, what happened to land me in this stiff bed, surrounded by concerned murmurs and haunting memories.

A pained moan spills from my lips as I try to move my body slightly to the left, a sharp stabbing sensation zapping through my ribs and my side. The shock releases the hold on my tired eyes, and they split open, revealing my hospital room and a man jumping to his feet, another rushing out into the hallway.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Eli says. “Try not to move, okay?”

Tears well in my swollen eyes. I’m not sure why or how he’s here, but I don’t want Eli to see me like this just as much as I don’t want him to go anywhere.

“How,” is all I manage to croak out of my dry, tired throat.

Eli gently takes my hand, runs his thumb along my fingers and says, “Saw the lights on in your house when I got back from the wedding. Wanted to talk to you. Back door, it wasn’t fully secured. Found you, found you in the living room and called 9-1-1. Got you here.” He clips out the explanation in such a non-Eli way, like he can barely get the words to form.

I know there is more to the story, but just then my dad bursts into the room flanked by nurses and a doctor.

“My Kendra,” he says, rushing to me as tears start to pour down his face.

“I’m so sorry, Pop,” I apologize. Knowing my dad has been here worried about me, in a hospital again, causes him as much pain as whatever injuries I am suffering. We are all the family that we have left, and I can’t stand the idea of either of us leaving the other alone in the world.

“Oh, Kendra, don’t you dare. None of this is your fault. I am just so goddamn grateful that you’re alive, that you’re okay, that Eli found you in time.” He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand, nodding to the man on the other side of my bed, who’s still holding my own.

“Kendra, I’m Dr. Allen. I have been treating you and was the one to operate on you when you were brought in last night,” the shorter man at the foot of my bed explains. He looks to be around my father’s age, has on scrubs with a white coat covering his lanky frame. His handsome mahogany skin makes his light brown eyes look like liquid honey, and the wrinkles around his eyes don’t make him look older or tired, they just add a warm kindness to his presence.