Between Heaven and Rock (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 3)

Warm Welcome in a Cold Room

At some point Rhys took an empty cup from her hand and replaced it with another Venti coffee. Ulla obediently took a large gulp.

What are those five stages of grief? She felt like she should know. There was denial there, for sure - but there was no denying anything here. Ulla took another sip without tasting the coffee or feeling how it burnt her mouth. There was of course acceptance - but we all know you'll never get to that stage. That's more Oliver's expertise, innit?

Bargain. There was definitely a bargaining stage there - and Ulla was all for it.

What do you want? Do you want me to beg? To kneel? To bow? I will. Even if you don't exist, but there's even the slightest chance it helps, I'll prostrate.

Do you want me to make promises? To be a better person, to stop swearing, to stop being angry at you for what my life was like before Oliver? That's a piece of cake, really. You made him what he is, that exonerates you from any sort of the shit I had in my life before.

Just give him back to me! What do you need him for?! You have plenty of decent people who believe in you and don't have a prickly Swedish chick whose soul they still need to save? Give him back to me!

She saw the nurse beckon Rhys to the receptionist desk, and Ulla sat up straight in her chair.

"I'll be right back," he said and rose. Ulla jumped to her feet as well, spilling the coffee. He looked at her and said, "Come."

The nurse informed them that there were no changes to the Reverend Holyoake's condition. Ulla felt like screaming that he wasn't any sort of a reverend anything! He was her Oliver!

They were walking back to their seats, when some sort of a sharp pain slashed across her stomach. She'd been beaten up. That last boyfriend of hers had hit her in the stomach with her guitar, and when she'd fallen on the floor, stomped her arm into the ground, breaking it in three places. She'd been stabbed, slashed with a razor, and hit to the face. None of it compared to the pain she felt right now. She bent in half, gritting her teeth, choking on her own scream. A pair of strong warm arms wrapped around her, and she pressed her face into Rhys.

Whenever she'd gotten hurt before, she'd get angry and fight back. She simply didn't have the 'freeze' or 'flight' settings in her brain. Why did she feel so scared and helpless right now?

Rhys made comforting shushing noises. She felt another presence nearby, and the nurse asked if Ulla needed medical attention. That sobered Ulla up, and she tried to straighten up.

"I'm alright," she rasped out. "I'm just– It's just cramps," she lied. "I just need to sit down..."

"She'll be alright," he boomed, and of course the nurse didn't argue. When she stepped away, he quietly asked Ulla, "Are you going to be alright?"

She nodded and groaned into his shoulder. She couldn't let them drug her right now. She needed to wait for Oliver.

"C'mon, love, let's get you back on that chair," he said. "And no more coffee. You need to eat something."

She shook her head. Another wave of pain came, and she folded in half in her chair. Rhys' massive scorching palm lay on her shoulder blades, bringing relief.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, the doors opened, and John Holyoake rushed inside. He went straight to the receptionist desk, throwing a look at Rhys and Ulla on the way. Rhys gave him a curt wave and turned to Ulla.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

He had the same long, elegant nose as Oliver - and Ulla greedily studied his much harsher, rough-hewn features looking for the familiar lines. She nodded, not sure she could speak just yet. He handed her a plastic water bottle, and she struggled with the cap. The first few sips felt cool in her throat.