Chapter 18
Four days had passed since he’d last texted Jazzy on Sunday evening, and Roan couldn’t stop thinking about her. He felt badly that things had fallen apart. He’d mishandled the situation. He should have called instead of texted or better yet, went to see her. He should have explained why he was so conflicted. But how could he explain to Jazzy what he didn’t fully understand himself?
Honestly, he’d never expected to have these kinds of feelings ever again. And that scared the hell out of him. He’d loved before with all his heart and when he’d lost Claire it ripped his world apart. He didn’t know if he could survive another loss like that. Much safer to protect his heart and his daughter. Trinity was getting close to Jazzy too.
But he felt like crud abandoning her baking lessons, especially when winning against Andi Browning meant so much to her.
He went to the barn to muck out horse stalls and mull over his options. Trinity was playing on the backyard swing set and he could watch herthrough the open barn door. Multitasking was a skill he’d cultivated as a single parent.
His cell phone rang. Roan slipped it from his pocket, saw Jazzy’s number, and broke out in a cold sweat.
Should he let it go to voice mail? That’s what a prudent man would do. Ghosting her wasn’t easy. His hands turned sweaty, and he held his breath.
The phone rang a second time.
He inhaled, tried to corral his thoughts into something coherent.I like you. I want to be with you, but I’m scared as hell I’ll blow it.
Third ring.
“Hello?”
“Roan?” a man’s voice asked.
“Yes?” he answered, leery.
“This is Charlie Cheek. Jazzy Walker’s best friend. I stitched up Trinity when she cut her chin.”
“Yes, right. What can I do for you, Charlie?”
“Since Jazzy listed you as a contact, I thought you should know—”
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
“It’s okay, she’ll be all right.”
Panic iced the blood in his veins. “What’s happened to her?”
“She was trying to bake cookies on her outdoor grill, and she burned her arm enough to need emergency attention. She’s in the ER right now, and while she’s in some pain and needs treatment, they are second-degree burns, and she won’t need hospitalization.”
“Thank you for being there for her. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”
“There’s no need. I just thought you should know what happened. I’m hoping you’ll continue her baking lessons. She can’t do this without you.”
“Yes, thank you, Charlie, for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”
“You don’t have to come—”
But Roan had already hung up. He called his mom. “Can you watch Trinity for a bit?”
“Sure,” his mom said. “Bring her over.”
“On the way.”
He propped the shovel against the stall door and zipped across the yard to the swings. “C’mon, kiddo,” he said. “We’re going to see Grammy.”
“You did what!” Jazzy exclaimed as Charlie swathed her arm with burn cream and sterile gauze. She was sitting on the edge of the ER gurney while Charlie perched on a rolling stool. The burn stretched from her wrist to her elbow on the inside of her left arm.
“Don’t squirm, Lambchop. I’m trying to work here.”