Carlie entered the room, sitting in the seat next to Rachael’s bed and waving a weak hello. Carlie thanked the doctor and nurses as they left the room.
Rachael groaned. “I’ve had the CT scan. Why am I still here?”
“Soon. I told everyone that I would bring you home.” Carlie fidgeted in the seat and looked generally uncomfortable. More so than usual.
“Car?”
“Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“Me?” She laughed nervously. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.”
“I’m also your big sister. Spill.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. Damn.
“Just an argument with Brent. It’s fine.”
Fine, huh?
She examined her little sister’s face, looking for clues. Nothing. “What happened?”
“It’s no big deal,” Carlie said, staring at her hands.
“Spill,” Rachael demanded.
Carlie glanced at her and sighed, resigned. “We were grabbing an early dinner with Gina and Brian—you remember them?—when I got the call about you. I wanted to leave right away, but Brent was being a complete asshole. God, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. At least Kim was able to come.”
“Car, I’m fine. A few bumps on the head. And I wasn’t exactly awake most of the time anyway.”
She nodded miserably. “Still,” she paused, “if it had been someone in his family, we’d have been out of there right away. I’m just irritated. And the way Brent and Gina were talking, you’d think I was the one in the wrong. I was the selfish ass. Ugh.”
“What happened?”
“I threatened to call an Uber, then suddenly I was pressuring him too much. If I asked him to leave, I was being unfair. If I called an Uber, I was being unfair. It was absurd. And Gina had the nerve to tell me I was being unreasonable and should consider Brent’s feelings. Arrrgh!”
Bastards.
Rachael watched her sister and was completely at a loss for words. Carlie was too patient, too sweet, too kind. To see her this miserable was infuriating. The best she could do was change the subject.
“It’s okay, CarCar. You’re here now, and I assume you’re my getaway driver. Can we escape?”
She laughed. “Not until we get the green light.”
20
It was nearly nine o’clock before Rachael was discharged from the hospital. Carlie drove her home and escorted her into the house, going straight up to her room. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I owe you one.”
After coddling Rachael to within an inch of her sanity, Carlie finally left her in peace. Rachael sat quietly on the bed, looking around the room. She’d been living there for a couple of months now, and while it was not her place, the guest room was starting to feel like home.
So not good.
“I need to get out,” she mumbled.
Exhausted, she lay down on the bed, fully clothed in the sweatpants and t-shirt Carlie had helped her change into at the hospital. Tomorrow, shower. Tonight, sleep.
Before sleep could claim her, and in a very surreal throwback to childhood, her parents checked on her and repeated all the smothering before they also retired for the night.
She tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Each toss or turn caused the world to spin out of control. Once the spinning stopped, her mind would refuse to let her sleep, wanting to replay every single moment of every conversation—and experience—with Rick, then Gabe, then Rick again. So, she’d toss and turn and the whole damn thing would start again.
Martini slipped into the room and whined on the floor next to the bed.
“I hear you, buddy.” Groaning, she slid off the bed and tip-toed down the stairs. The house was blessedly quiet. Surprisingly, the clock on the stove said it was only half past ten; she could have sworn she had been tossing and turning for hours. Rachael cracked opened the back door, flipped on the deck lights, and stepped out into the night. Martini rushed down to the grass to do his business as she eased into a patio chair, watching the sky.
After a few minutes, the little rascal returned and leaned up on his hind legs. She picked him up and he snuggled on her lap. Poor baby boy. “Probably wondering where Olive went this time, huh?” She scratched behind his ear and he exhaled, laying his head down and drowsing.
Rachael stared between the stars, hunting for the faint movements of satellites. When she was little, she and Dad would sit on the deck at their old house and search for them for what felt like eons until they’d see a small white light far off in the distance, steadily tracking across the dark night sky. The trick was to not focus too much on any one star, but to let the subtle movements capture your attention. Rachael used to squeal at every airplane, convinced she had found one. Dad would chuckle and redirect her to the farther lights. You had to be still and quiet, focus on not focusing. With only one good eye right now, it was pretty much impossible, but it was still soothing.
“Too late for a visitor?” a voice called from the fence’s gate.
“Gabe?”
“Your sister left a message with my office.” He joined her on the deck and winced. “Looks painful.”
“Feels like a breeze.” Rachael was surprised Carlie thought to do that, but then again, her sister knew how close she and Gabe had gotten. Well, the platonic part at least.
He laughed dryly. “At least it didn’t steal your delightful sense of humor.”
“Have a seat,” she offered.
Dragging a chair over next to hers, he sat and took her hand. “You all right? What happened?”
“Had a run-in with a door,” she mumbled.
“Must have been a hell of a door. Any permanent damage? To you or the door?”
She groaned and smiled weakly. “It hurts, but I’ll be fine. Concussion.” She pointed to her head.
“You didn’t have to go all kamikaze. I could have told you there was something wrong with your head,” he said, smirking and squeezing her hand.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” It occurred to her that it was the first time they’d talked since the night they spent together. Rachael was relieved he appeared to be willing to let it go.
They sat silently, enjoying the quiet night.
“I’m going to leave town for a while,” he said at last.
“Oh?” This wasn’t terribly surprising. She figured something like this would need to happen. She felt a little guilty that it was because of her, but understood they needed some distance. Though part of her wondered if he was actually leaving, or just saying he was. Either way, the result was the same.
He nodded, staring out into the dark. “Need to do some traveling. For work.”
She glanced at him, but he stared steadfastly into the dark. She turned back to the sky.
“Where to this time?”
“Both coasts, then check on progress in Germany and Sweden. See how my brothers are adjusting.”
“Oh.” Maybe he really was leaving. She knew he had a pair of half brothers, twins.
The silence stretched again. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand and took a deep breath. “Come with me.”
Surprised, her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her intently. She swallowed and looked away. What was he thinking? Hadn’t she made her position clear already?
Rachael closed her good eye and mindlessly stroked Martini’s coat. “Gabe . . .”
“Think about it. We could explore New York and LA together. Berlin, Norway. Come with me,” he pleaded. “After those, we can tour Paris and Rome, take in the sights. Do all the touristy stuff.”
Her head was spinning again, and not from the injury.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Rachael, I want to take care of you. I want to show you the world. I want to be with you.”
Her emotions waged war. Anger that he was putting her on the spot. Hurt that he would pursue this after their last discussion. Fear that he would leave for good. Anxiety that she co
uldn’t be what he wanted. A thread of excitement at the opportunity he outlined. Confusion. It was all so frustrating and overwhelming. Her heart hurt. A tear slid down her face; she pressed her eyes closed to keep more from falling.
“Gabe, I can’t.”
He sank down in front of her, and Martini looked up curiously. Gabe grinned at him, then took both of her hands. “I know you’ve been waiting on him. But he’s not here. I am. And I love you. You said you don’t feel the same way about me right now. But I think you do—or at least could. If we spent more time together. If we got away from here, from him, you would see how much you love me. We’ll be great together.”
The tears overran her eyes, trailing down to her chin. “Please,” she whispered, heart in her throat, knowing this was her fault. She did this. To him. To them. The pain lanced through her. “Please don’t do this. Not now. Can’t you just be my friend?”
“We can leave tomorrow, and—”
“I believe the lady said no.”
Olive came racing toward her, cast gone. Rachael gasped as she saw a familiar shape walk toward her from the darkness.
Gabe jumped to his feet. “Who the fuck are you?”
Frozen, she could only stare as Rick walked into the dim circle of light from the deck. His light-brown hair caught the soft glow of the porch light, his eyes unreadable in shadow. He nodded toward Rachael. “I thought you’d want Olive back home.”
“Now?” She stared, stunned to see Gabe and Rick. Together. Here on her parents’ deck. Her heart was pounding louder than her head.
“I was planning to drop her off in the morning on my way to the office. But since I was passing the neighborhood, I thought I’d swing by and see if anyone was up. Saw the deck lights from the front.”
They both looked at her, then Gabe stalked down the steps toward Rick, two huge menacing forms in the darkness. “So. You’re the vet.”
“I am,” Rick said, tossing a questioning glance at Rachael before turning his attention back to Gabe.
“You don’t deserve her,” Gabe spat at Rick.
“And she doesn’t want you,” Rick said calmly, holding his ground.
“She is sitting right here,” Rachael yelled, grasping her throbbing head between her hands.
Both men ignored her.
Martini jumped down from her lap, and he and Olive stood guard together in front of their human. A soft growl came from Martini, directed at the fools in the yard.
Oh lord. All the males in the yard had gone insane. Way too much testosterone flowing way too freely. What should she do? Her eyes flicked back and forth between the men, and she glanced at the closed patio door behind her, seeing the house was dark and quiet. She could leave now and let those two figure out their issues.
But she couldn’t walk away. Not with Rick finally back in the picture. God, what if he’d decided to give her another chance? Please, she prayed, wishing Gabe would leave and she could talk to Rick.
“You lost your chance with her, Doc,” Gabe continued, crossing his arms over his chest, muscles flexing. “You turned your back on her for having fucking dinner with me. During which, I might add, she did nothing but talk about you, and why she and I could only be friends.”
Rick spun his head to look at her again, and she nodded once.
What was happening?
“It doesn’t matter,” Rick dismissed. “What matters right now, is that she is concussed and you are pressing her to make a major life decision. She said no once. Don’t you know how to take no for an answer?”
“You have no idea,” Gabe growled. “You have no idea how many times I’ve stood by her side, helping her try to make sense of your abandonment. Christ, you practically threw her into my arms and she still only wanted you.”
Rick stood utterly still, hands resting at his sides, as Gabe moved into his space.
Gabe poked his finger at Rick’s chest and continued, “You left her a mess. Didn’t even give her a chance to tell you what happened. You don’t think I know how to take an answer? At least I give her a chance to talk. To tell me what she’s thinking. Even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. You are a coward.”
“That’s enough,” she said, wearily pushing herself up. Olive skittered closer to her feet, as though herding her away from the men.
Rick glared at Gabe, his anger visibly rising. “And what about you? Are you a scavenger, McAllister? You think I don’t deserve her? I know your kind,” he sneered at Gabe. “You’ll keep after her until you get what you want, then move on to screw over the next girl. I may not deserve her, but you sure as hell don’t either.”
Gabe swung before Rachael even saw it coming. He threw a punch and caught Rick in the chin.
“Rick!” Rachael cried.
Rick recovered and dove at Gabe, and soon they were both rolling on the ground outside the circle of light, Martini and Olive barking from the top step of the deck.
She couldn’t see what was happening but heard enough thuds and grunts to know it wasn’t good.
“Stop!” Rachael shouted, frustrated and exhausted, the world spinning off its axis. “Stop it!”
A floodlight turned on in the yard, and her dad’s booming voice halted the fight. “You had better have a damn good reason for tearing up my yard in the middle of the night.”
She turned and fled into her dad’s arms. He wrapped her up in a bear hug, kissed the top of her head, then shooed her into the house. “Go inside, pumpkin. Go back to bed. I’ll take care of this.”
Nodding, she crossed into the kitchen, Olive and Martini chasing after her, tails high in the air.
“Rachael,” called Gabe. “Please.”
Pausing in the kitchen, she hesitated before casting her parting words into the yard. “I can’t do this right now.”
Dad shut the back door, cutting her off and going out to deal with the madness. Rachael wasn’t sure what he would tell them, but she was done. Finished. These Neanderthals could pummel themselves into oblivion for all she cared. She was going to crawl into her bed and stay there for the remainder of her days.
21
Unfortunately, the remainder of her days didn’t take into account coffee and other necessities. Time to brave the morning light.
“Care to tell me what that display was about last night?”
She grimaced and looked at her dad through her good eye over the rim of her coffee mug. “Not particularly.”
His newspaper sat folded next to him. He had yet to pick it up since she came in. Rachael sat morosely, nursing her coffee.
Charles switched tactics. “Quite a shiner you’ve got there, honey.”
“You should see the other guy,” she joked. “I just hope the swelling will go down enough to see out of it again.”
“Mom said it was a door that got you?”
“Yup.”
“I hope you did some damage to it.”
He’s trying.
“Dad.” She took a deep breath. “It’s a personal issue. Okay? I don’t know what to do yet. But I’ll work it out. No need to worry.”
He patted the top of her hand. “Someday when you have children, I’ll remind you of this conversation and we’ll both have a big ol’ laugh.”
She smiled at his sentiment. Charles Eller was a genius mastermind and a tough nut to crack, but at home, he was a softy and her rock. She and Carlie had always found comfort in his warm hugs, sage advice, and humble gourmet cooking. It was amazing how different her parents were from each other, but they were perfect together, each providing their own unique, unfailing love and support for each other, their daughters, and the family business.
“I know you worry. But no need to worry about the guys from last night. It’ll all work out.”
“Am I correct in assuming the dark-haired one was McAllister?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
“Mhm. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.”
He picked up his paper and Rachael heaved a sigh
of relief, grateful to have survived the inquisition.
“Who was the other one?” inquired her mother, brusquely walking to the table.
And there went her sense of relief, screaming out the back door and running for the hills.
“Rick.”
“Rick . . . ?”
“Rick Thomas,” she gave up. “Dr. Richard Thomas. Olive’s vet.”
She caught the look her parents shared over her head, but chose to remain silent.
“Dr. Thomas? I spoke with him on the phone yesterday. He seemed very concerned about you.”
Rachael remained silent.
“I didn’t know he planned to bring Olive home.”
She shrugged. She had no answer. Or at least one Mom wouldn’t pick apart.
Mom huffed aloud and Rachael smothered her grin behind her mug.
“I have to get to the office. Rachael, I’ve had Larry reschedule all your appointments for the next two weeks. Those that can’t be pushed off are being covered.”
“Two weeks? Mom, I’ll be fine in a couple of days.” She shuddered thinking of her mom’s assistant, Larry, who had the personality of a dead frog, contacting her clients.
“Yes, dear, but I want that black eye to heal a bit, too. No sense in making people think we’re beating you into submission.”
Rachael stared into her mug.
Two weeks. No way. What was she supposed to do without her work to keep her busy?
“Maybe I’ll check out some apartments.”
“No driving yet,” her mother tacked on. “Not until you get permission from the doctor.”
Great. Two weeks. Stuck at home. No work. Clients left dangling in the wind with Larry Grant. And the two most important men in her life were out there hating her. Fantastic.
“Yaaaaay,” Rachael mockingly cheered. “And maybe I’ll learn how to cook.”
Dad glanced over his paper in mock horror. “Maybe that concussion is worse than we thought.”
“Once she stops sulking, she’ll appreciate having this time to relax,” Mom added.
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