“You’re his next of kin and his medical power of attorney. I got no choice.”
Good.
This was Parker’s fault anyway. At least partly.
“If I can’t find a flight, I’ll drive. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up the phone.
Beckett didn’t want to know what had happened; that wasn’t important right now. And whatever was going on, he didn’t want to hear another word from that guy about it.
Jesus, Sky.
He pushed away from the counter, surprised to find that despite the aching dread in his chest, his knees were managing to hold him up. He rushed up the stairs to pack a bag. Jeans, a couple of shirts. He didn’t need much.
As soon as he’d closed his laptop and given up on flights, the smoke alarm went off downstairs. He raced down with the laptop and his duffel in his arms, dropped everything, and opened the sliding back doors to clear the smoke from the kitchen.
“Shit.”
He was able to yank his charred pizza out, toss it in the sink, and turn on the tap before his vision clouded.
Jesus Fucking Christ, Skyler. I swear to God if you don’t die, I might wring your neck myself.
He hurried around downstairs and muted the smoke alarm, then shut the dampers to cut off oxygen to the fire in the wood stove, closed and locked the sliding doors, and grabbed his keys.
He’d get dinner on the road.
And a huge coffee.
2
All Sky had to do was make the buzzer and this one was his.
That was it.
He’d had a shit year so far, and he was getting used to being the has-been, the injured one, the former two-time champion. One more year, right? One more year and he could retire in peace. Go to Mexico and lie on the beach for the rest of his life.
One more year.
“Quit it. You’re daydreaming, asshole.” Parker glared at him, smacked him in the back of the head. “You’re up. You can win this, if you can just stick to it.”
“Fuck off.” If he won this event, he’d have a buy into the finals, and then he could have a month off. “I got this.”
Sky’s bull was loaded up, and he sauntered over, giving the crowd a show. “I’m tired, Park.”
“I know, Sky, but you gotta ride.”
“Always.” He grinned over at Park, rolled his eyes. “What else are we good for?”
“Not a goddamn thing.”
Sky swung his leg over the chute. Park would pull his rope. Andy had his vest. He’d ride this bitch and win his check.
Up. Down. No problem.
He nodded his head and the gate opened.
* * *
It was almost2:00 a.m., and it took Beckett a while to figure he couldn’t get into the parking deck at Mercy. The main entrance was closed; the side entrance was closed. Frustrated and annoyed, he finally gave up and parked in the emergency room lot.