by Cari Quinn
Cody bumped his thigh until Logan crouched to scratch his ears. “I just have to stubborn her out.”
“If anyone can, it’s you. What’s Hot Doc said about her?”
Logan snorted and straightened. “You and your nicknames.”
Zeke flashed a dimpled smile. “She likes it.”
“You are legend in your own mind, son.” He stood and gave Cody one last stroke. “She’s worried that she’s not talking, but she keeps reminding me that people grieve differently.”
“Bellamina has the sads, but it’s more than that. I think it’s good that you guys are going away when she gets the all clear.”
“I hope so.”
“Have you told her?”
“I talk until I’m hoarse about every-damn-thing. No response. I don’t know if she’s blocking out everything I say, or if she’s just uninterested.” Or if she was so far inside herself that it just didn’t matter what he said.
“When do you leave?”
“Three days.”
Zeke whistled. “How long are you going to stay away?”
“Depends on Isabella.” It depended on if he’d get his Izzy back. Now she was just a shell of the vibrant woman he’d fallen in love with.
Because of him. Because of Aimee.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“The only person that seems to really break through is Cody.”
Zeke curled his arm around the massive Akita’s head. “I love you man, but you can’t have Cody. We don’t do well without each other.”
Logan laughed for the first time in days. “No, I just need a Cody. I need a big, loving dog that can protect her if necessary.”
“That I can do.”
“I know it’s a time crunch, but I think it’ll help.”
“That’s why there are therapy dogs, my friend. I’ll find you the perfect one.”
“Thanks, man.”
Zeke dragged him in for a slapping hug.
Logan grunted at the palmprint that ignited his little scratches to itch again. But the quick hug was worth it. “All right. Get out of here.”
Zeke turned with Cody and gave him a hand gesture so the dog did a sassy wiggle.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do without Zeke. He was the only one to keep him sane this past week. He scrubbed his hand through his hair and rolled his neck before going back into Isabella’s room.
Laptop already open to the accounting page, Logan started moving money into the account for Marcus to do his magic with before it finally became Jack Madigan’s personal account.
About as unobtrusive as possible. Jack and Kate Madigan spending the fall in Maine in a remote cabin where they’d work on their manuscript. Christ, Aidan did have a sense of humor. But it was the perfect cover.
Writers could be hermits and the cabin was off the beaten path. A few seasonal cabins surrounded them, but would be emptying out in the next few weeks. It was the perfect time to let Izzy heal.
Let them both heal.
And give Bishop enough time to come through with the details to hopefully turn the tide in taking Aimee down.
He tuned in with half an ear as Barb kept a running commentary about Izzy’s healing, about the woman’s family, and about Adam’s progress—or lack thereof.
He was still in a coma. They weren’t sure when or if he would be coming out of it. There was no medical reason for it. The swelling from his fall had come down. It was as if he knew Nic was gone and was doing his own form of hiding.
So much worse than Izzy’s coping mechanism.
That news didn’t do much to draw Isabella out. The hand exercises Barb made her do to keep her fingers pliable were usually followed by a dose of meds that knocked her out until dinner.
And he was alone with the quiet.
Again.
Fifteen
“Are you sure about this?”
“No, but I’m doing it anyway.” Logan scrubbed his palm down his thigh. The Escalade was full—three suitcases full of clothes that would get them through fall into early winter, a dog bed stacked on top, and two of his guitars.
Izzy was in with the doctor one more time before they were getting on the road. The trip up to Maine would be a good seven hours driving time, but with Isabella’s injuries they’d have to take the time for a few stops for her to stretch.
Zeke sighed and petted Cody’s huge head through the window of his own truck. “Trina should be here any minute with Bellamina’s dog.”
Logan took another look at the dog bed. “Just how big a dog are we talking here?”
“Well, you said you wanted something super loyal and protective, right?”
“Right.”
“I think I got just what you needed.”
A minivan pulled up and Zeke waved. “There she is. Trina works with breeders and rescues. Fiona is a rescue.”
“Fiona?”
Logan’s mouth dropped open when the huge dog hopped out from behind the sliding door. She was rust and white colored with the most intelligent blue eyes he’d ever seen. She barked and twirled around and when Trina gave a sharp command, the dog’s ass hit pavement. “Wow.”
“Isn’t she gorgeous?”
“Is that a husky?” The dog was going to wipe the pavement with him.
“Nope, Alaskan Malamute.” Zeke dropped to his knees and the huge furry beast vibrated next to the lean blond. She obviously wanted to get to Zeke, but Trina had told her to stay.
And she stayed.
Trina waved to Zeke and gave Fiona a playful tap and she took off at a sprint and tackled him. Zeke laughed as the massive dog tried to crawl into his lap. Her eyes were rolled back with bliss as Zeke scratched her belly. “Who’s a pretty girl?” he asked with no sense of pride. A huge pink and black tongue swiped over his face.
“Hi, I’m Trina. We’re so glad you were looking for a new partner. Before I let you have her, I have to let you know that Fiona is an Alaskan Malamute and these dogs bond with their owners to an extreme level. They can’t be returned when the cute wears off.”
“It’s what I need. What my fiancée needs. She just lost her best friend and she’s grieving.”
“Best four legged friend or human?”
Logan smiled sadly. “Human.”
“Then, yes. Fiona will be perfect. She’s affectionate and likes to play. She listens to direct commands and has to be fed twice a day. She can’t be free-fed. She’ll eat until she makes herself sick.”
Logan nodded. “Understood.” He crouched down and put his hand out for Fiona to sniff. She tilted her head then her tongue lolled out as she nudged him for a petting. Happy to oblige, Logan stroked down her ears to her neck. Her fur was coarse and she had the most beautiful markings.
But it was her frosty blue eyes that really astounded him. She was stunning and her eyes saw everything. Instantly he felt better about the idea of getting her.
“Protection?”
“She will take her cues from her owner. She knows when to protect and when she’s told someone is a friend.”
He held his hand out to her and they shook. “This is a surprise. Izzy hasn’t really communicated since her friend died. I’m hoping Fiona will draw her back out.”
“I’d bet on it.”
“All right, I’m going in to get Izzy. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Logan tried to walk away and Fiona ran in circles around him. Trina made a sharp command for her to come and she whined once before returning to her side. He took the elevator up to the maternity ward, to the private rooms.
He came to a halt when he got off on her floor. There she was—his Izzy—up and moving on her own. She wore old jeans that had become a little too big on her and a purple hoodie. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders and for the first time in days—more than a week—she met his gaze.
Less than a moment later, her eyes were bleak and distant as she looked down. She tucked her healing hands into the pouch. The blisters h
ad healed so she didn’t have to have gauze on all the time. But now she’d started hiding her hands constantly.
Logan walked up to her. “You look amazing.”
She lifted bored eyes to him.
He cupped her face and she flinched away. He held firm. “No more hiding, Izzy.” He drew his hand down her arm, gently and firmly, easing her hand out from the pocket.
She shrank back. Abused darker skin peeled back from bright pink, angry-looking skin, leaving it a mottled mess. He pressed her palm to his and loosely laced their fingers.
She sucked in a breath.
“Does that hurt?”
She nodded.
“Are you lying?”
She frowned.
“I thought so.” He kept his hand in hers, making sure to keep the pressure light, not squeezing too hard. He was done not touching her. He wasn’t going to let her lock him out.
They would figure this out if it killed him.
Sixteen
Bella forced herself not to breathe hard as she took small steps. The stitches in her side were still healing and would be for a few more days. It was hard to believe that within ten days her body was starting to heal whether she wanted it to or not.
She wanted to stop and see Adam before they left, but didn’t know how to ask…him.
How to ask Logan.
Even his name felt like too much in her head and her mouth.
Too big like the man that stood beside her. Big, like his hand that used to feel so natural and perfect in hers—now it was foreign. Like he didn’t fit anymore. Like she’d become shrunken and twisted with the heat from the fire.
Would she heal?
Did she deserve to heal?
Would she be like the healing flesh forming beneath the peeling autumn leaves of her skin? Would she eventually slough off the pain and find that she hadn’t lost herself? Or would mottled skin be the new Bella inside and out?
She didn’t even know how to open her mouth. Her words were gone. As if they’d burned to ash in her store with all the books—all the words—she’d collected in her lifetime. They buzzed and teased at her tongue, but ultimately the need to talk fell away before she could catch those precious little moments.
He tried to talk to her about the store, about what she wanted to do. To start over and honor what they’d built in some new way, or walk away? Just the idea left her frozen.
Why had she been spared?
What would happen to them? The memories, the business, their friendship. All of it was in the ashes with her life.
With Nic.
With the shadows of Adam.
She couldn’t bear to ask about Nichole. Was she already buried? Was there an investigation? Would there be retribution?
Her hands trembled with the thought.
They’d thumbed their noses at a powerful and crazy woman—thought they could play on the same field and not pay the consequences.
Ego.
Pride.
Love.
An unholy trinity that had ended in ashes.
She looked up at him. This man she’d promised forever to. Why did they get to keep their forever when someone so much more deserving had it stolen away?
He stopped them in front of the elevator. He eased her other hand out of her pouch pocket and drew her in front of him. Her gaze dropped to their fingers. His were scarred with little white slashes from his guitars and a star-scatter of freckles over his knuckles and top of his hand.
Hers scarred with a kiss of fire.
They didn’t belong together.
He brought both of them up to his mouth. Brushed his lips over them.
She curled them back, but he held her firmly.
“Do you want to say goodbye?”
She didn’t look at him above the neck. The ginger swirls of his heavy scruff blurred. Goodbye.
No.
She couldn’t do goodbye.
She swallowed down the tears.
“Do you want to see Adam?”
Her gaze flicked all the way up this time. Sad eyes. No judgment lay there. She could walk away and he would allow her to.
Would they hate her? Her belly cramped and her chest tightened. How could they not?
She dragged a deep breath in and nodded.
“They’re moving him to long term care in a few days.” He let go of one of her hands to tap the down arrow. When the doors opened, he stood in front of the sensor to let her shuffle in.
Her arm brushed against the solid heat of his chest and she shrank away. He followed her into the elevator, twisting their fingers so he laced them backwards. Her palm covered the top of his hand and his pinkie grazed the side of her hand.
She tightened her grip as tingles skittered along her nerve endings before she shook him free. She moved to the railing and leaned, her breathing a little labored. This was more walking and moving than she’d done in days.
It wasn’t because he was touching her again.
She jammed her hands back into her pouch pocket and stepped off before he could hold the door for her.
“Left,” he said simply.
She did her shuffle walk down the corridor. Her ribs were starting to remind her that all her bones were connected. Each step mixed with a breath and that shifted the three ribs that had cracked.
“Iz?”
She waved him off.
“Room nine.”
The room was glass. The door was open.
She hovered at the corner of the glass panel, her palm pressed there. His curls were gone. One side of his head was shaved, but otherwise he was pristine.
On the outside.
What was going on inside his head?
Was it similar to hers when she’d still been gone?
Or was he dreaming of Nic?
Dreaming of the children they’d been trying to conceive?
She closed her eyes against the wash of tears that dripped down her cheeks and the harsh sob that seemed to be on the fringes of everything she did.
“How dare you.”
Logan stepped in front of her. “Mrs. Wolfe, we just wanted to—”
“You don’t get to be here. You are the reason he’s in there.” Lydia advanced out into the hall. Her grief-stricken eyes were wild.
Bella lifted her chin and stepped out of Logan’s shadow. She swiped her tears away. She tried to grasp the words pinging around in her brain.
I’m sorry.
It’s my fault.
I would trade places with either of them, I promise.
She could only shake her head.
“Mrs. Wolfe, she just wanted to see him before we left.”
Lydia raised her hand as anger and hate lashed through her. Logan took the blow. The slap echoed in the hall and nurses came running.
Bella stumbled back and her ribs took the edge of the windowed enclosure. She went down on her knees as white-hot pain melted into black spots.
Logan shook his head and spun in a crouch, his arms hovering around her, but not touching her.
The shuddering cry mixed with the sob sitting on her chest.
She wanted to lean on him.
He was there—so big and so strong.
But she didn’t let herself.
She took the pain.
Shook through the pain.
The nurses led Lydia out of the hallway. She was crying hysterically, demanding that they leave.
Bella sobbed because she couldn’t stop it.
Logan didn’t move.
He acted like her protective bubble. But he couldn’t protect her from the new voice that would replace the one that had been a mother to her for the last ten years.
Lydia had nursed her through a breakup, attended her graduation, and cooked a giant pan of lasagna for them when they’d bought their domain name for Between the Lines. That woman had loved her for nearly a third of her life.
This new voice blamed her.
Hated her.
As she should.
I�
�m sorry, Adam.
I’m sorry, Lydia.
The words wouldn’t come.
“Is she all right?”
“Just give us a moment.” Logan grasped her upper arms and slowly drew her up. Bella breathed through the pain until she was standing.
“Should I get a doctor?”
“No. She just needs to get her feet under her. She was hurt in the same accident.”
“We hate to move you two along, but Mrs. Wolfe hasn’t stopped yelling. We can’t have her upsetting everyone else.”
“Has there been any change?”
“I can’t discuss that with you unless you’re family.”
Logan sighed. “She was until now.”
Seventeen
Logan slipped his arm around her hips and walked her slowly to the elevator. She was trembling. He had a feeling only part of it was the rib shot she’d taken.
Her topaz eyes had been stricken when Lydia Wolfe had come at her with so much anger and pain.
He wanted to bundle her up and run with her from the hospital. To take her away from any pain or hurts. But there was no way to do that and salvage anything of their relationship. She was a moment away from pushing him out of her life.
She may not have said a word to him since he’d told her about Nichole, but he knew his girl. Whether she wanted to own up to it or not—he knew her. Grief was in every jerky reaction to his touch.
From the very start, they’d gravitated toward each other. Touching had been so right between them. Now she was fighting it. Shrinking away from it for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint yet.
But he would.
Regardless of the danger they were in, there was a reason they’d survived this long. He had to believe that or he’d go insane.
He believed in what they had—and for now, if he needed to believe it enough for the both of them, then so be it.
When they got to the lobby of the hospital, he drew her out of the elevator and cupped her face. He brushed away the tracks of tears and let her see his own pain and determination.
“She’s wrong. It’s not your fault.” She tried to wiggle away and Logan held her fast. “Izzy, it’s not your fault. It’s Aimee’s fault.”