have seen someone else, so I would’ve been in there anyway.”
Probably.
She shakes her head slightly, the edges of her mouth tilted up.
“Such a gentleman,” she murmurs. She slides into the chair by my bed, graceful and elegant.
“You don’t recognize me, do you, Brand?”
My head snaps up when she uses my name.
She does know me.
I examine her again. Her face. Her nose. Her hair. Her eyes.
Ms. Greene.
The Greenes.
Good lord.
I fight a groan. I’ve been gone from here too long. I’ve forgotten too many things. In this case, the Greenes are an Angel Bay staple. They own a huge lakeside estate that they only reside at in the summers, and they’re members at the country club where I used to work.
I do know her. Or, I remember the girl she used to be. She’s certainly grown up now.
“I used to park your father’s car at the club,” I say slowly.
Nora smiles. “And you picked me up out of the dirt once. Do you remember that?”
I do.
Nora was younger, a teenager then, and her horse had thrown her off. I’d been walking to the clubhouse to get a soda for my break and I’d seen the whole thing. She’d gone sprawling into the dirt, and the first thing she’d done was stare furtively around, to make sure no one had seen.
It was a nasty spill though, so I had gone to check on her. Her hands were shaky and I didn’t want to leave her alone, even though it was strictly against the rules for valet staff to mingle with club members.
“Did my father see?” she’d asked me quickly, her lip caught in her teeth. There was a spot of blood from her braces, and I’d reached out and wiped it off for her. She wasn’t concerned about her cut lip, though. She was terrified that her father had seen her mistake.
“No,” I assured her. “I’m the only one around.”
“Thank God,” she’d breathed.
“Do you want me to go get him?” I asked her quickly, thinking that he might help her calm down.
She’d grabbed my arm, hard, her fingernails sinking in. “Please don’t,” she’d begged, her eyes suddenly full of tears. “Please.”
It had shocked me, her immediate and adamant refusal. It was like she was scared of him. I’d assured her that I wouldn’t get him, and I’d taken her inside to calm her down myself. I stayed with her for half an hour.
“I got written up for that,” I remember slowly. Nora’s face clouds over.
“You did?” she asks in confusion. “Why in the world?”
From the astonished expression on her face, I almost believe that she doesn’t know.
“Your dad complained,” I tell her simply. “Someone mentioned it to him, and he reported me. Valets weren’t supposed to socialize with members, you know.”
“You weren’t socializing,” she points out. “You were helping me.”
I shrug. “It was a long time ago.”
But her eyes are still dismayed. A part of me finds satisfaction in that. Maybe she’s not the ice bitch I expected her to be. With a father like hers, though, I don’t know how that’s possible.
“I just wanted to check on you,” Nora tells me now hesitantly. “I feel responsible and I wanted to help. So I told them they might want to call your mother. You didn’t have any contacts listed in your wallet, and your phone was password protected.”
My mother? I stopped listening to her words as soon as she mentioned my mother.
“Why would they call my mother?” I ask stupidly. Nora shakes her head in confusion.
“Because you were here alone. I didn’t know who else to call. I thought you might want a family member…” her voice trails off as she stares at my face. “I see now that I was wrong. I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help.”
She was. I’m sure of that.
But calling my mother was the furthest possible thing from helping.
“Did she even bother to come?” I ask tiredly. I’d driven twelve hours to get here because she summoned me, and I doubt my mother even bothered to come to the hospital.
Nora shakes her head hesitantly. “She told the nurse that she’d come pick you up when you were released.”
Yet I’d gone into surgery with a nicked artery. For all she knew, I could’ve died on the table and she still didn’t come.
Why does that surprise me? She didn’t bother to call and check on me when I was on the battlefields in Afghanistan, either.
Nausea rolls through my stomach and I swallow hard.
“Well, that’s not a surprise. Thank you for trying to help, Ms. Greene. I appreciate it. I know you must be tired. You don’t need to stay with me.”
She lifts her blue eyes. “Call me Nora.”
I nod. “Okay. Thanks for checking on me, Nora. I’m glad you’re all right.”
Her eyes soften, glistening with something I can’t name. “Thank you for making me okay. You pulled me out, Brand. If it weren’t for you…”
I interrupt. “If I hadn’t pulled you out, someone else would’ve.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But either way, thank you. I’m going to check on you again tomorrow.”
Something soft lives in her eyes, but then she hides it. I should tell her not to come, I should tell her to not even bother. But the soft look in her eyes, that fleeting expression, kills the words on my tongue. She seems like a person who doesn’t let that softness shine through often.
Instead, I nod. “I’m sure I’ll still be here.”
I glance down at my leg and sigh heavily. Nora almost flinches.
“I hope you get some rest,” she says as she walks out. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She walks toward the open door, and I watch her hips gently sway until she abruptly stops in the doorway. She turns and looks at me, her gaze meeting mine. Electricity jolts between us, between her soft gaze and my own.
Hers holds a promise. I’ll be back.
For some reason, I like that. Maybe because I’m from a world where there were never any promises, where tomorrow was never expected or hoped for, where parents don’t even show up at the hospital.
Whatever.
I shouldn’t encourage her. I’m not going to be here for long.
So I look away, breaking our gaze.
I know she walks away because I can feel the absence of her stare. I glance back, and sure enough, she’s gone.
Oddly, I feel alone now.
I don’t really even know her, but now that she’s gone, I feel alone.
I’m not alone for long.
A doctor enters my room after a few minutes.
“Mr. Killien,” he says, flipping through my chart. “You were really lucky today. Your artery was nicked, but we repaired it. Your leg, however… “ he trails off, then refocuses. “Your leg was obviously previously injured, probably severely. You had several plates and screws from your foot to your hip. You hyper-extended your knee today, but you also re-damaged the soft-tissue around your ankle. I know you’re probably tired of physical therapy, but it’s going to take some diligent PT to strengthen that area again. I’m sorry.”
His voice really is sorry and so are his eyes, but that doesn’t make his news any less grim.
“Your thigh needs absolute rest. I don’t want you to break open those sutures. And your knee… stay off of it for now, no weight bearing. You can bear weight as tolerated as time goes by. Did you injure your leg overseas?” he asks. I look at him questioningly. He glances down.
“Your tattoos. I assume you’re a soldier. Or you were.”
I nod once. “Yeah. My HUMVEE exploded. My leg was shattered. It took months of rehab for me to walk.”
The doctor nods grimly. “I thought as much. I don’t know what to tell you for a prognosis this time. Since your previous injury was so severe, it’s going to make recovering this time a bit harder. I have no doubt that you’ll overcome it, you’ll just have to be very dilige
nt with rehab. Rest it, ice it, stay off of it.”
His words are meant to bolster me, but they don’t.
Instead, I close my eyes.
“We’ll send a physical therapist to your house. Where will you be staying?”
That’s a good question.
“I’ll probably be going back home,” I tell him quickly. But he shakes his head.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere for at least a week or two. Primarily, I don’t want your artery disturbed. We patched it up, but as you might be aware, femoral artery injuries are nothing to mess with. I don’t want you jarring it with travel. But also, you’ve got to keep weight off that foot. Your driver’s license listed a Connecticut address. Is that where you live?”
I nod. “My father just died. I’m only here to take care of that. I’ll be going home soon.”
The doctor is already shaking his head. “I would rest here for at least a couple of weeks. If possible, you should stay longer, to get that knee healed up. If you absolutely can’t, then you can travel when your artery completely heals. Until then, though, you’ve got to stay put.”
He goes over a few other things with me, and then he slips back out. I do the only thing I can think of.
I call Gabe.
As my best friend and business partner, he and I have been through hell and high water together. We spent every summer together while he was staying here with his grandparents, we attended West Point together, we made the Rangers together, and we were together when our HUMVEE was bombed by Taliban rebels.
He answers on the first ring.
“Whattup, bro?”
I quickly give him a run down.
“Jesus,” Gabe breathes. “I’m sorry, Brand. I had no idea. I’ll be on the next flight.”
“No,” I tell him quickly. “There’s no reason to do that. It’s just a leg injury, not heart surgery. You can’t make me heal quicker. But can I use your cottage?”
Gabe and his sister Jacey had inherited their grandparents’ lake cottage. I spent so much time down there with them growing up that honestly, it feels like a second home.
Gabe doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t ask about my mother, he doesn’t ask any questions at all. He simply agrees.
“Of course,” he tells me. “Mi casa is su casa. You know where we keep the key. But when I tell Jacey, she’s going to freak out. She’s in Europe with Dominic for a couple of weeks, but I bet she’ll be on the first plane home when I tell her.”
Gabe’s sister. Beautiful, feisty, blonde Jacey. She was like a little sister to me, until all of a sudden, she wasn’t. Hormones and sex appeal suck balls.
I hesitate, and Gabe knows why. I’d fallen in love with Jacey, and she’d married someone else. It was a bitter pill.
“Dude,” he tells me. “She loves you. She’s going to want to come mother you.”
Dude. She didn’t love me enough.
But I don’t say that. I also don’t say that I can’t bear for her to come smother me with attention…. Attention which is only that of someone who considers me ‘like a brother.’ I can’t fucking take it.
“Then let’s not tell her for a week or two,” I suggest. “She’s in Europe, for God’s sake. Let’s not spoil her trip.”
Gabe sighs. “Fine. But you get to be the one to explain why we didn’t call right away.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry about work,” Gabe tells me. “You know it’s practically taking care of itself right now anyway. Can I set up some sort of home nurse or something? You’re not going to be able to travel home for a while, dude.”
I sigh.
“I know.” The anesthesia has worn off enough that hot fingers of pain are beginning to wrap around my knee and ankle. By tomorrow, it’s going to hurt like hell. “No. I don’t want a home nurse. Thank you, though.”
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Gabe tells me. “And if you decide you need me, call me. I’ll be on the next plane.”
“Stay home with your wife,” I tell him. “I’ve got this.”
“I know you do.”
Gabe hangs up and I stare at the wall.
Fuck this. I didn’t want to be here in the first place, and now I’m fucking stuck here.
I can’t roll onto my side, I can’t even get up to take a piss.
Growling, I stuff the crinkly hospital pillow over my head to drown out the hospital sounds.
This is real.
I need to get used to it.
Chapter Three
Nora
I stare at the little newspaper on the kitchen island.
Brand’s picture is plastered to the front, along with a big headline.
Local Hero Hasn’t Lost His Touch.
The story goes on to detail how Brand was a Lt. Colonel in the Seventy-Fifth Regiment Army Rangers, served a colorful stint overseas in Afghanistan and earned a Purple Heart. His father died last week and Lt. Col Killien retuned home only to save a bus of cub scouts upon arrival here.
The picture was taken by a by-stander, and it shows Brand carrying a kid off the smoking bus. There’s fire all around him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he’s tall and strong, and rises out of the wreckage like the hero he is.
He’s here because his father died.
I don’t even realize I have goose-bumps until my mother sits next to me and rubs them off of my arms.
“That was something, wasn’t it?” she murmurs, handing me a glass of fresh orange juice as she glances at the picture of Brand.
“It was something,” I agree. “He saved me, maman. He picked me up and carried me out of that building.”
“Well, almost,” my mother smiles. “But he was certainly amazing and I, for one, am certainly in his debt for coming to your rescue. Isn’t that the boy who used to work at the club? I seem to remember that you were frequently tongue-tied whenever he was around.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m all grown up now,” I announce. “No one tongue ties me.”
Well, hardly anyone. But that’s neither here nor there.
“I’m going to the hospital again today,” I tell her. “Do you need anything from town? When is dad going back to Chicago?”
Mom looks away. “He left early this morning, my love.”
Without bothering to say goodbye, or make sure that I’m really okay. I shake my head. It’s for the best. I didn’t want to see him anyway.
I push away from the counter and kiss my mother’s cheek, grabbing the newspaper. “I’ll be home later.”
My mother perks up and smiles at me. “Rebel is waiting for you,” she says brightly. “You’d better take him some carrots on your way out.”
Of course I will. The mere thought of my old horse always brightens me up. I’ve had him since I was a kid, and although he’s getting old, he’s still perfectly capable of leisurely strolls on the beach. I head straight down to the stables, only stopping to say hello to Julian. The groundskeeper/groomsman has been with our family since before I was born. He takes care of this house all winter while we’re gone.
“Miss Nora,” he beams, holding his tanned arms out. I fold into him and inhale. Julian always smells like sunshine and happiness. “I’ve been waiting for you. Rebel too. He isn’t the same when you’re away.”
I laugh as I take a step back. “He should be used to it. I’ve been away at school for six years.”
Until We Fly Page 3