Can't Help Loving You

by Nika Rhone

  “Of course.” She kissed Lillian’s forehead, another familiar childhood gesture. As she got to the curtain, Lillian stopped her with another request.

  “Oh, and can you check and see how Rafe’s brother Cris is doing? He would have been brought in the same time as me.”

  Patricia nodded and ducked out of the curtain. Left alone, Lillian blew out a breath and sank back onto the uncomfortable bed. With no one left to perform for and reassure, she could allow herself one small moment of unvarnished emotion.

  She’d almost died. Rafe and Cris had almost died. Every single person in her building might have died. God. She swiped at a tear that leaked out from under her closed lids as the curtain whooshed aside.

  “Hey, are you okay?” There was true concern in Dr. Antonoff’s voice. “Are you in pain?”

  “No, I’m okay. I’m just…” Another tear snaked down her cheek. She scrubbed at it and sniffed, determined to cork that bottle before it got out of control. “It all kind of hit me, I guess. What could have happened.” Damn. There went another of those stupid tears.

  “Understandable.” He went about setting up his supplies on the rolling table. The only acknowledgment he gave her tears was to hand her a tissue. “From what I’m hearing, things were a little crazy for you tonight.”

  Bernice’s ranting still fresh in her head, Lillian gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah. Crazy just about covers it.”

  After draping a sterile cloth over the area, the doctor paused. “Okay, we’re ready.”

  Realizing he was giving her one last chance to change her mind, Lillian summoned what she hoped was a confident smile and gave him a thumbs-up. “Go for it.” She couldn’t hold back a grimace as he injected something to numb the area. It wasn’t until it took effect and she didn’t have the constant throbbing in her neck to think about that she realized how much the rest of her body ached. Evidently, crawling out windows and climbing fire escapes in the middle of the night wasn’t as much fun as it sounded.

  Partway through the stitches, her mother came back. The good news was that Cris had been admitted for overnight observation, but was expected to be fine. The bad news was Rafe wasn’t anywhere in the emergency room that she’d been able to find. Lillian swallowed her disappointment. It wasn’t his fault. He’d come to her when he could. He promised, and she had absolute and total faith in his word.

  By the time the last precise stitch was set, and she was bandaged up and given after-care instructions, Lillian was more than ready to go home. Until she remembered her home was a smoldering pile of charred, waterlogged rubble.

  Which was why she overruled her father and agreed to give her statement to the detective who was waiting when she walked out of the cubicle, rather than put it off until morning. The longer she delayed the inevitable, the longer she could hang onto the lie that everything wasn’t as horrible as she knew it was. And the longer Rafe had to come and find her like he promised.

  But he never did.

  So exhausted she was punch-drunk, Lillian was barely aware of her parents bundling her into the back of the waiting Town Car as dawn broke over the city. She thought she might have asked for one of them to call Rafe for her to tell him where she was going, but the strain of the past few hours finally took its toll and sucked her under into unconsciousness before she was certain the words had ever left her mouth.

  ****

  “Sorry, he’s not here.”

  Curling her lip into a snarl at the insincere words, Lillian gripped the phone tighter. Otherwise she might be tempted to throw it at the wall. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Can I leave a message, then?” The beleaguered sigh from Rafe’s sister almost made her lose the tenuous grasp on her temper.

  “I guess.”

  “Please tell him that Lillian called, and I’d appreciate it if he would call me back as soon as it’s convenient. I haven’t replaced my cellphone yet, so this is the number he can reach me at.” She rattled off her parents’ unlisted home number.

  “Fine. I’ll tell him. Again.”

  “Thank y—” The dial tone made finishing unnecessary. It was the same snotty attitude she’d gotten from not just one, but both of Rafe’s sisters, and his older brother every time she called his parents’ house looking for him. Furious, she stabbed the End button on the phone, then stabbed it a few more times for good measure. “Bitch.”

  Two. Days.

  She’d been calling him for two days now, and it was always the same thing. His cell went straight to voicemail, and whenever she called the Delgado home or the restaurant, his family insisted he wasn’t there. Not one of her dozen messages had been returned. Not. One.

  Lillian grimaced. Okay, maybe his sister had a right to sound annoyed. And maybe it was time for Lillian to suck it up and face facts. If Rafe wanted to talk to her, he would have by now.

  Flopping onto the chair in the pool house, her last refuge for escaping her mother’s claustrophobic hovering, Lillian debated her options. Keep calling and making both an idiot and a nuisance of herself. Or give up and admit that no matter what he’d promised, no matter what they’d shared, there was no way he could ever forgive her for almost getting his brother killed.

  Not that she could blame him.

  She wanted to, since this was shredding her heart into teeny tiny bits of sad confetti. But she understood how much his family meant to him, how much protecting them from harm was a vital part of who he was. Bernice could as easily have killed Cris as incapacitate him with her anti-anxiety medication. Of which, it turned out, there was a humongous iceberg of a list that Xanax was just the tip of. And that didn’t even take into account the fire that could have finished the job if Rafe hadn’t been there to save them all.

  So, okay. She got it. The radio silence was loud and clear.

  They were done.

  “Hey squirt, what’re you doing hiding out here?”

  Lillian gave Peter a duh look that made him laugh.

  “Mom’s still shadowing your every move, huh?”

  “And Dad’s worse. Thank God he went back to work today.” Although since he was the boss and could do whatever he wanted, Lillian was pretty sure it had been her mother’s influence that had gotten him out the door. For how long, however, remained to be seen.

  Dropping into the chair beside her, Peter said, “Give them a break. You scared the bejeezus out of them the other night. It’s going to take a while to stop freaking out. For all of us.”

  “I know, I know. I just need some breathing room. Not to mention I’m getting a little sick of my own company.” Two days of nothing but sitting around brooding about Rafe was enough. She’d been too busy missing him to even be bothered by sleeping in her old bedroom. So, small silver lining.

  She’d still rather have Rafe, though.

  “Give Thea a call. You know she’d come over if you asked.”

  She totally would. Just like she showed up Sunday afternoon with a shoulder to cry on, and a bag full of everything Lillian needed to tide her over until she could get her own stuff from her apartment.

  If she still had any stuff to get.

  Lillian shook her head. “She’s in the middle of a big job right now. I can’t ask her to ditch work to come and keep me company.” It was tempting, though. Thea and her car would give Lillian the means to escape for a little while without a security detail dogging her heels. Although Hans would probably still sic some of his men on them the second they drove through the gate.

  Which reminded her. “Do you know when I’m ever getting my car back from the police?”

  “Uh…” His eyes darted away. “Let me look into that.”

  Suspicion bloomed. “Pete…”

  “I can give you the next best thing,” he said, quickly.

  She sat a little straighter. “You’re breaking me out?”

  “So melodramatic.”

  “So annoying.”

  “Do you want
to hear what I have to say or not?”

  Most days, she enjoyed trading barbs with her brother. But today she was much more interested in escaping than sniping. “Sorry. Go ahead.” When he hesitated long enough to make it seem he wasn’t going to answer, she gave his biceps a hard shove. “Talk, baby brother.” As always, that earned her a scowl.

  “Only because you pushed your way out first,” he muttered, rubbing his arm.

  “Peter.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine. The investigators released your apartment as of this morning, and the engineers have said it’s safe.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “That you can get into it anytime you want to start packing up whatever’s, um, you know…” He grimaced. “Left.”

  The news sent Lillian’s stomach into a confused spin. While she wanted to get back to her apartment and see which of her possessions might be salvageable, she also didn’t. When the arson investigators made it a crime scene, she hadn’t had a choice about staying away.

  Now she did.

  In a moment of uncharacteristic insight, her brother put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can get it all packed up and bring your stuff here for you to go through.”

  It was tempting. So tempting. But the thought of people going through her things, even for the best of reasons, was worse than facing the destruction head-on. “No. I think I need to go and see…” She cleared her throat. “I need to do this.”

  “You sure?”

  No. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Peter still looked doubtful, but he didn’t say anything else to dissuade her. When they got out to the front drive, Lillian shot a disgruntled look toward the team of bodyguards standing by one of the bland beige sedans from the motor pool.

  Her brother threw his hands in the air. “Hey, it was the only way Mom and Dad would agree to this without coming themselves. Be grateful Dad didn’t insist on sending Hans.”

  So, her spontaneous bid for freedom wasn’t so spontaneous after all. Lillian wanted to be annoyed, but she was too happy to be getting a few hours of pseudo-freedom to care. She slid into the passenger seat of Peter’s car and breathed a loud sigh of relief as they passed the high iron gates.

  When they pulled into the underground parking garage, Lillian’s heart twisted at how many of the parking spots were empty. No one else had been hurt because of the fire, thank God. But all the tenants on the third and fourth floors were without homes until the fire, smoke, and water damage could be repaired. Until then, her father had relocated them to hotels. It was generous of him, but Lillian couldn’t help but feel guilty their lives had been disrupted because of her.

  On the elevator ride, her heart started to pound. The last time she’d made this trip, it had been with Rafe at her side. She’d been happy, loved, and stupidly oblivious to the danger that would upheave her entire life without warning.

  This time around, she was none of those things.

  She might never be again.

  The smell of burnt carpet almost made her gag as the doors opened and she stepped into the hall. Her other two brothers, Theo and Richard, were waiting. The sight had her tearing up even as she gave Peter another jab in the arm for not telling her they would be there.

  “Don’t you two slackers have jobs?” she asked as she gave each of them a hug.

  “We have an in with the boss.” Theo squeezed her hard enough to pick her up off her feet before setting her back down again.

  Normally she hated when he did that. Today, she was thankful to still be around for him to pick on. And that he and Richard had come to lend a hand. She eyed the stack of cardboard moving boxes leaning against the wall, then the plywood door that replaced the one that had been destroyed before taking the Tyvek booties Richard handed her with a resigned sigh. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Walking into the charred remains of her living room was surreal.

  Thanks to the accelerant squirted under the door, the damage to the room was so severe it was almost unrecognizable. Which actually made it easier to take in, since it no longer looked anything like the cozy loft she’d lived in for the past year.

  There was nothing left to be saved there, so they moved on to the kitchen, which had also taken a lot of damage. The glass fronts to the cabinets had cracked and shattered, as had the colorful dishes inside. The whitewashed wood stood blackened and charred and streaked with soot. Lillian swallowed hard and turned away. It wasn’t worth looking at everything that had been destroyed to find the one or two things that hadn’t.

  There was less fire damage the further into the apartment they went, but the heat, smoke, and water had created their own kind of carnage. Every step down the hall to her bedroom made a squishing sound on the carpet. The paint had crackled into an almost scale-like design under a heavy coating of dark soot.

  Lillian swallowed a whimper. This was so much worse than she’d thought. Not the damage. That was pretty much exactly what she imagined it would be. No, it was seeing her home, her refuge, reduced to this sad state of destruction. She’d never considered herself someone who placed that much value on things, but so far, their little tour was proving her wrong. Even losing her silly oversized mugs and colorful plates was like a stab in the heart.

  Because her brothers would tattle to their parents if she turned tail and ran, Lillian continued into her bedroom. A welcome breeze drifted in through the window Peter opened at her request. It helped relieve the cloying smell of smoke that was so thick it felt like she was swallowing something solid.

  The fact there wasn’t much fire damage past the charring on the edges of the door raised her spirits. But a quick check of the clothes in the closet dashed them again. Everything was discolored and smelled heavily of smoke.

  “A good dry cleaning might get the smell out.”

  Richard’s comment went unanswered as she bent to pick up the tangle of purple silk from where it had slid off its hanger. A lump threatened to close off her throat. Her beautiful, beautiful dress. Ruined. Like everything else. She let it fall through her fingers back to the floor in a soggy heap.

  “I just…I can’t.” Blinking back tears, Lillian all but ran from the room. Standing in the hall, she took in great, gulping breaths, trying to hold back the emotional tidal wave that threatened to swamp her. Behind her, her brothers were arguing. Probably about who would get stuck driving her home. When it came to tears, they were big wusses, every one of them.

  Speaking of wusses…

  Looking at the door at the end of the hall, she fought down the initial urge to write off all of her paintings as lost without even checking. Seeing the damage would be so much worse than imagining it. But if even a few of them could be salvaged, even one, it would at least keep her from starting back at square one.

  The indecision tore at her as her brothers bickered. It wasn’t until Peter grudgingly agreed to take her home that she got her feet moving and went down to the room that had once been her studio. Now or never.

  Like the bedroom, the fact the door had been closed limited the amount of damage wrought there, but that wasn’t what stopped her in her tracks.

  “Hey, we were talking and…” Coming in behind her, Richard looked around the room with a confused expression. “What the hell, Lil? What’s all this? Where’s your bed?”

  “Duh, in my bedroom.” She hooked a thumb behind them down the hall. “I’ve got a better question. Where are my paintings?”

  “Wait, that was your bedroom? I thought you were just using it for extra closet space.”

  She eyed the expensively distressed jeans and pristine Bill Blass shirt he’d worn to pack boxes. “Oh, right. Because I’m the clothes horse in the family.”

  “Hey, if the high-heel fits…”

  “Children.” Theo stepped between them the way he had when they were kids. “Lillian, what is all this?” He waved a hand at t
he empty easel and jumble of paints and blank canvases that were all covered in grimy soot.

  “It’s her studio.” Peter gave her a chiding look when she glanced at him in surprise. “You’ve always loved to draw and paint. You fought Dad to be able to work at the gallery. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re chasing your dreams.”

  No, not a genius. Just a twin who’d done exactly the same thing. She gave him a grateful smile, which only widened when both Theo and Richard scowled at him in consternation.

  “How did we not know about this?” Theo asked.

  Lillian shrugged, uncomfortable under his hurt gaze. “I guess because I never talked much about it.”

  “Because everyone was so busy trying to convince her she needed to go work for Dad instead of asking what she wanted to do,” Pete added.

  Theo cursed under his breath.

  “You want to be an artist?” Richard made it sound worse than Theo’s curse. “Great way to waste that expensive business degree, Lil.”

  “I don’t want to be an artist, I am an artist,” she replied, feeling her own temper stir. Rafe had gotten it. Why couldn’t her own brothers? “I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to make a living at it, but I thought I owed it to myself to at least give it a shot before giving up. And for the record, that business degree was Dad’s idea, not mine. I just wanted to go to art school. He only said yes when I agreed to do both.” So she’d have something “legitimate” to fall back on when she stopped playing around with her paintbrushes.

  She’d never let him know how much that comment hurt, but she’d never forgotten it, either.

  “Can we see some of your stuff?” Theo asked, verbally stepping between them again.

  Lillian let out a huffed laugh. “I’d love to show it to you, but”—she waved a hand at the wall where almost a dozen completed canvases had been leaning but now there was nothing but a big empty spot—“they’re gone.”

  “Gone?” Peter looked around the room. “Gone where?”

  “Maybe the fire department moved them someplace safe when they were doing their overhaul?” Theo said.

  A worse possibility hit Lillian. “What if Bernice did something with them?” Bad enough when she thought they might have been ravaged by the fire. The thought of her beautiful paintings mangled and destroyed by that bitch’s hand made her want to scream. And go punch her again.