When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(88)
Author: Brenda Novak

Was Dr. Yee alert enough to do the job? Was he almost finished?

Levi watched Boone put his arm around his wife, trying to comfort her. Callie’s father didn’t have any answers, but he kept telling her he was sure everything was all right.

Callie’s friends, too tired to talk anymore, lounged in chairs in the waiting room, most of them sitting close together. There was one woman named Sophia, however, who sat off by herself, while a guy named Ted shot surreptitious glances in her direction.

Levi wondered what was going on between them, but he was too concerned about Callie to think much about it. The news that they’d found a liver had changed everything in his mind, given him more hope than he probably should’ve allowed.

What if she died, anyway?

He had her necklace in one pocket, carrying it around like a good luck charm—the doctor had brought it to him before surgery, said it definitely wasn’t going in there with her. But Levi had never had a lot of luck when it came to the people he loved. He was afraid he couldn’t count on luck now.

“Okay, I have to ask.”

Everyone turned to look at Baxter, who was addressing Simon.

“Ask what?” Simon sat on one of the couches, his wife leaning against him.

Baxter slid forward. “Are you responsible for this?”

Simon seemed confused. “For what?”

“Did you make this happen? Pay someone or…or use your influence or whatever to get Callie a transplant?”

Gail lifted her head. “We tried, Bax,” she said. “The moment we learned of her situation we started calling everyone we know who might be able to help.”

“And?” The conversation had drawn Noah’s attention from the TV playing in one corner.

Gail shook her head. “They told us there was nothing we could do.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that she got a liver after you found out she needed one?” Baxter clarified.

Simon hid a yawn. “It’s just a coincidence.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Baxter sat back. “Good. When she comes out of this, she’ll be happy to hear it was legit.”

If she pulls through. Levi didn’t add that, but he was certainly thinking it. He didn’t know how she could endure such a long and intensive surgery. She’d been so sick this week.

Come on, babe. You can do it. Hang in there. For us.

They deserved a chance to explore what they felt for each other, didn’t they?

He pulled the necklace out of his pocket and examined the little bird pendant. “Thorn birds,” he muttered.

“What’d you say?”

This came from Dylan, who’d spoken less than anyone.

Levi shoved the necklace back in his pocket. “Nothing.” He walked out of the room to the vending machine in the hall and slipped a dollar into the slot. He needed a drink. For the first time in a long while, he wished he could drink something stronger than water but, other than an occasional glass of wine, he didn’t drink anymore—not since that night in Nevada.

A bottle fell to the bottom of the dispenser. As he retrieved it, he heard footsteps behind him.

Dylan had followed him. Thinking Cheyenne’s husband had also come for something from the vending machine, he stepped to one side, but Dylan stopped him before he could go back to the waiting room.

“I saw you fight once,” he said.

A burst of alarm shot through Levi. He understood what Dylan was trying to tell him. Dylan knew who he was. “Small world,” he said.

Dylan nodded. “No shit.”

“Did I win?”

His lips curved into a smile. “Didn’t you always?”

“Some things come easier to me than others.” He jerked his head toward the room. “Does everyone else know?”

“Not her parents. I told most of the others the day I recognized you at the farm.”

And yet no one had let on. That confirmed how worried they were about Callie. It also suggested that they might be willing to forgive his mistake. He found that hopeful.

“What did they say?”

“We told Callie but no one else.”

“Not Chief Stacy.”

“No.”

The condensation on the water bottle made his hand wet. “When will you do that?”

Dylan studied him for a second. “We’re going to leave that up to you.”

Levi remained in the hall as Dylan walked back to the waiting room. He might’ve interpreted Dylan’s words as a subtle threat that he had to turn himself in or they’d eventually come forward. But he knew that wasn’t the intent. Dylan was telling him that whatever he chose to do about that night—it truly was his decision.

After twisting off the cap, Levi took a long drink. He had to get through Callie’s operation before he could even think about any other problem, he told himself.

He was just heading back to join the others when he saw Callie’s doctor coming down the hall.

“How is she?” he asked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“I think she’s going to be fine.” Dr. Yee gave him an exhausted smile. “All the signs are good. She came through it like a champ.”

* * *

It’d been several days since the surgery. Callie couldn’t believe how much better she felt. Already she was in a regular hospital room and her doctor was talking about letting her go home after the weekend. The difference a healthy liver could make was astonishing. She only hoped her body wouldn’t reject the transplant, but so far so good.

“What is it?” she murmured.

It was the middle of the night. Her parents and friends had gone home much earlier, leaving her and Levi alone.

“I’m just thinking.” He stood over by the window, looking out into a moonlit courtyard.

“About what?”

He came back toward the bed. “The future.”

“What about it?” she asked.

“Dylan knows who I am.”

She felt a measure of concern. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss what he’d done in Nevada; she didn’t see how that could offer any solutions. If he didn’t turn himself in, he’d be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. But if he did, he’d probably go to prison. “Yes.”

“I’m thinking of turning myself in.”

“No!”

“I don’t have any other choice. If I don’t, that night in Nevada will always stand between us.”

She knew in her heart he was right. But could she face the alternative? She’d just reclaimed her future, wanted to spend it with him. “But they could put you away for…years.”