Page 24 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

A circular nurses station filled the middle of the room. From there, more than a dozen rooms surrounded the desk, like spokes of a wheel. The space was eerily quiet.

Faith approached the nurse’s station. A young man looked up as she approached. “Hey, Faith,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Do you have a computer I can borrow, Steve?”

“Sure do,” he said, handing over a slim laptop.

Faith began tapping on the keyboard. “Any news about Erin Crawford?” She paused and hooked her thumb toward Kurt. “This is her father, Kurt, by the way.”

“K.C.? Really?” said Steve. “I’m a fan of the rodeo and it’s great to meet you. I mean, I’m sorry about your daughter.”

“How is she?” Kurt asked. As if his throat were filled with broken glass, it hurt to speak.

“When she came in, her heartrate was erratic. The doctor started her on an IV medication. Her pulse is regulated, for now at least.”

“Can I see her?” asked Kurt.

“I’m not supposed to let family members visit, but I’ll make an exception this once.” He pointed to a room directly across from the door. “She’s in room ten.”

“Thanks, man,” said Kurt. He strode toward Erin’s room and stopped. Turning back to the nurse’s station, he asked Faith, “Are you coming?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I want to look at somethings right now. Plus, you need some time with your daughter.”

Kurt paused, ready to—what? Insist? Argue? Sure, he needed to see his daughter. Yet, he also wanted Faith with him. Had he really come to rely on her again after only one day? Or was it that she was a medical professional? Would she have answers to the questions he’d certainly want to ask?

He told himself that he only wanted Faith for her expertise. Then again, how did he explain that his heart felt as if it was tethered to hers?

Or was it that he was so damned tired of taking care of everything on his own?

In the end it didn’t matter, and he gave her nod before pushing open the door to Erin’s room. The space was small, large enough for a bed and all the medical equipment needed to monitor her vitals and keep her alive. A tube was in to her nose. A needle inserted to her hand was taped into place. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her arm. More wires and tubes snaked into the covers and they were attached to sensors, that were attached to his daughter.

She was almost lost within all of the equipment.

Kurt was a tough man; mentally and physically both. Through his childhood, much of it spent alone—he never cried. During the long hours of training to ride bulls—he never cried. When he broke his leg, and shards of bone poked through his flesh, leaving him delirious with pain—Kurt never cried. But as he looked at Erin, her blond hair spread out on the pillow like the halo of an angel, he couldn’t stop tears from stinging his eyes. Removing his hat, he tapped it on his leg and tried to focus only on his breath—and the fact that he’d do no good by becoming emotional.

Finally, in control, he moved to Erin’s side and reached for her hand.

Her eyelids fluttered and opened. “Daddy?” Her voice was whisper. “What happened? Where am I?”

“You passed out at work. An ambulance brought you to the hospital.”

“What happened?” she asked again.

Erin didn’t want the particulars—most likely, she had some memories of being at work, possibly even feeling ill, and then collapsing. What she wanted to know—what he wanted to know, too—was why had she lost consciousness? “I’m not sure, honey,” Kurt said. “I haven’t talked to the doctor, yet.”

“I’m cold, Daddy,” she said. “And I’m tired of fighting. I just want to sleep…” She closed her eyes.

Kurt stared at his daughter, fearful that she had slipped her earthly bonds and truly become an angel. The heart monitor let out a single beep. Then another. And another.

Kurt exhaled a breath he didn’t realize that he’d been holding.

Tightening his grip on her hand, Kurt spoke, even though he wasn’t sure that Erin could hear him. “Honey, so long as your heart continues to beat, I’m going to fight to keep you alive.”