“I guess I just hoped that when I turned on my phone after two days, there’d be a message that Carrie had woken up, or at the very least, there’d be some good news about her condition. But there’s nothing—no missed calls, no messages, nothing. It’s stupid, I know. But I just hoped—”
Her voice broke, and I reached for her. I expected her to resist after our earlier argument, but she turned in to my arms. I ran my hand down the smooth length of her hair, offering the only comfort I could, knowing it wasn’t enough. She let out a few shuddering breaths but was otherwise quiet.
After a few minutes, she pulled back and sat up. Her eyes were a little red, a little damp. But she was still so damn beautiful. More than ever, I wished things could be different between us.
“While we’re on the trail, it’s easy enough to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and clearing my mind of everything else, you know?” She looked down at her hands. “But then at the end of the day, I have time to think and it just…”
Her voice trailed off, but I knew. “It crushes down on you like a lead weight.”
Her eyes met mine. “Yes.”
“Listen, you can’t give up hope. Remember, no news is good news. Maybe Carrie hasn’t taken a turn for the better, but at least she hasn’t taken a turn for the worse.”
“I know. And I haven’t given up. I just had a moment, you know?”
“I do know. Believe me.”
She didn’t say anything more, didn’t ask me how I knew what she meant. Telling her wouldn’t make her feel better, anyway.
I got to my feet. “I think it’s almost time for a drink, don’t you?”
“God, yes.”
“I’m going to grab a quick shower, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
She smiled. “I might even have left you some hot water.” It was a small smile, and it didn’t quite reach her eyes, but after her tears, it was like seeing the sun.
I grabbed a change of clothes from my pack and headed for the bathroom door.
“Rory?”
I turned back. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for listening.”
“I’ll always listen, Amelia. No matter what’s going on between us, I will always listen when you need me. Okay?”
She smiled for real this time, and I smiled back. “I won’t be long in the shower, and then we can go to the bar and get dinner.”
“You had me at bar. Take your time. I’ll be here when you get out.”
I did take my time, as it turned out. The hot water felt amazing after the cold misery of the day’s walk, and I just stood there for a few minutes, my head bowed under the spray, enjoying the feel of the water cascading down my tired body.
It felt weirdly intimate to use the shower after Amelia. The bathroom was still steamy when I’d stepped inside. It smelled like her shampoo and some kind of lotion. I washed my hair, then lathered up my hands and started to scrub away the grime of the day. I tried not to picture Amelia doing the same thing just a few minutes earlier, tried not to imagine her hands sliding all over her wet body. Tried not to imagine my hands sliding all over her wet body.
No. Stop. What kind of a creep was I for lusting after her when she’d just been crying over Carrie? Amelia needed a friend, and I would be that friend—if she wanted me to.
And that was all.
Sighing, I turned the water to cold—as far as it could go. So much for the relaxing shower.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amelia
While Rory was in the shower, I picked up my phone and dialed Carrie’s mom. She answered on the first ring. “Amelia, are you all right? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you yesterday.”
“Hi Helen. I’m okay. We just had no service.”
“I know you told me it would be spotty, but you know I can’t keep from worrying about my girls,” she said, her voice breaking.
My eyes immediately filled with tears. “I know,” I managed. “How is she? I’d hoped that when I had signal again, there’d be a message or something…”
She sighed. “No change, sweetie. She’s still lying there, not moving. But she’s alive, and she’s stable,” she said brightly. “And that’s all that matters. We washed her hair today, and they let me braid it. She looks so pretty. The cuts on her face are almost gone, which means her body is healing itself. She’s going to wake up soon. I know it. We just have to believe.”
“I do believe. Can I talk to her for a sec?” Just then, Rory came out of the bathroom, wearing khakis and a polo shirt. He pointed to himself and then the door, and raised his eyebrows. Do you want me to go outside? I shook my head. No.
There was a muffled sound. “Okay, I’m putting the phone to her ear,” said Helen.
“Hey Ree. I’m calling from the Sligachan Hotel. Today was pretty rough—it poured like cats and dogs for most of the afternoon, and we had to cross a bunch of streams and rivers that were pretty high. I’ve never been so cold, even on that awful hike we did with the Environmental Club. But I had the most wonderful hot shower a few minutes ago, and I’ll get to sleep in a warm bed tonight, so it’s all good. Hang in there, Ree. I love you, and I miss you, and I’ll see you soon.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath, then spoke louder. “Hey, Helen, I have to go.”
There was another muffled sound, and I knew she was putting the phone back to her own ear. “All right, sweetie. Be safe.”
“I will. I’ll try to call tomorrow, but if I can’t, don’t worry about me, okay?”
“I’ll try not to. And don’t forget to check in with your mom.”
“I did.” I’d emailed her before Rory returned to the room, leaving out the knee injury.
We said goodbye and ended the call. I went into the bathroom, locked the door, sank down on the toilet lid, and sobbed. It killed me to hear Helen’s forced cheer, to talk at Carrie, who couldn’t respond—and maybe never would.
Finally, I wiped my eyes and stood in front of the mirror to repair my makeup from the kit I’d left on the counter.
Taking a deep breath, I left the bathroom. Rory’s eyes were filled with concern, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Maybe one day he’d share his story and I could reciprocate the kindness he’d shown me tonight.
I mustered up a smile that probably looked like something out of a nightmare. “Are you ready to go? I really need that drink.”
When we got down to the bar, the cute, dark-haired bartender came over, a big smile on his face, his blue eyes friendly. “You must be Amelia,” he said. He turned to Rory. “She’s just as bonnie as Tommy said she was.”
“Um, thank you?” I said, my face flaming.
Rory rolled his eyes. “Amelia, this is my friend Gavin. Great guy, but unrepentant flirt, so watch out for him. Gav, this is Amelia. Behave yourself.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Gavin said. “He just doesn’t know how to have fun.”
Gavin was charming and friendly and reminded me of Tommy. He ragged on Rory for a bit longer, then handed us menus. We took them to a booth along the wall and sat down.
“What are you thinking of getting? Everything here is really good.”
“I’m getting the cream of vegetable soup and the shepherd’s pie,” I said. “I want all the hot things after today.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go up and order. What do you want to drink?”
“What are you getting?”
“Whisky, most likely.”
“Do they have the one you had in your flask—was that yesterday?”
“Talisker Storm? Aye, I had some earlier. You liked it?”
“I did.” It was smoky and strong, and I liked the way it warmed me from within. I also remembered how it tasted on Rory’s lips when he’d kissed me after his nightmare. No, don’t go there.
“Okay.” He got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I’m paying.” I rummaged in my purse for my credit card.
“We’ll split it.”
“No. You’re helping drag my gimpy ass all over this island, and you’re paying for the room. The least I can do is buy you dinner.” He started to protest, but I laid my hand on his. “Rory, please let me do this.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “All right, thank you.” He stuck the card in his pocket and went up to the bar.
Dinner ended up being much better than I’d feared after our earlier argument. The food was amazing, and so was the whisky.
He kept the conversation light, telling me about more colorful guiding experiences he’d had. Some of them were so outrageous, he had to be embellishing them, but he did it so smoothly, I couldn’t tell what was true and what wasn’t.
After a second round of drinks—and a shared dessert of sticky toffee pudding, which was heaven in a bowl—I was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion.
Rory stood and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
My whole body ran hot at his words, even though I knew he didn’t mean them the way they’d sounded. I stared at his outstretched hand and then looked up at his face. He looked pained.
“You can’t have it both ways, you know,” I said.
“I’m not trying to. I only meant that you look like you’re going to fall over if you don’t lie down really soon. And I’m one step behind you.”
I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He handed me the trekking pole he’d insisted I use as a cane, though I felt more than a little stupid using it inside.
We stopped by the bar to say goodbye to Gavin, who pulled me into a hug as if we’d been friends for a year instead of meeting for the first time an hour earlier.
Then Gavin and Rory did the hug-backslap thing guys do. “Great seeing you again, Ror,” said Gavin. “And about before? I get it, but you should think about what I said.”
“Gav,” Rory growled. What was that about?
Gavin held up his hands, palms out, and took a step back. “I’m just saying you should think about it.”
“I’m not getting into this again with you,” Rory said. “You’re just like Tommy.”
“Och, and is that so bad? That lad knows you better than anyone—probably including yourself. And there’s no better friend a man could ask for.”
Rory sighed. “Aye, I know that. Look, we need to go. It’s been a long day, and we’re in for a longer one tomorrow, if the weather continues as it has. Can you spare a bag of ice?”
“Of course.” Gavin filled a bag and handed it over.
“Cheers, Gav,” said Rory. “Catch you next time.” They man-hugged again, and Rory headed for the door.
“Hope your knee feels better soon, Amelia,” Gavin said. “And don’t worry, you’re in great hands with this guy.”
I knew that all too well, but he probably didn’t mean it the way I did. I just smiled at him and thanked him for the ice. “Hope to see you again sometime,” I said.
He glanced at Rory and then winked at me. “Maybe you will,” he said with a cheeky grin. What did that mean?
We left the bar and walked toward the entrance of the hotel. “Thank you, Rory.”
He looked surprised. “For what?”
“For keeping my mind off…everything…with your stories. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could be there.” He hesitated a moment. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to talk to Carrie’s mom.”
“She doesn’t hate me,” I whispered. “Neither does Carrie’s dad, and I don’t understand why. I ran a fucking stop sign, and now their daughter might die. How can they not hate me?”
“Because they’ve known you all your life, and they know how much you love Carrie and would never intentionally hurt her. Because accidents happen, and they’ve chosen not to blame you for it. You’re lucky to have them—and they’re lucky to have you.”
From the sudden bitterness in his voice, I suspected that he’d had an experience that was just the opposite.
I wondered if he’d ever tell me about it.
A few minutes later, I sat on the bed in shorts and my sleep shirt, icing my knee, which was elevated on some throw pillows.
“How does it feel?” asked Rory, who sat in a chair by the window, doing something on his phone. He’d changed out of his khakis and polo into a T-shirt and the shorts he slept in, and I was trying my best not to stare at him.
“Sore. The ice feels good, though. Thanks for getting it from Gavin—I hadn’t thought to ask.”
“That’s because you’ve gotten used to a dip in the sea instead.”
“Ha, maybe.”
He grinned. “Admit it, you wish we were having a swim right now instead of this.”
My smile faded as I pictured him cradling me in his arms, walking through icy water to bring down the swelling in my knee; pictured him kissing me in the tent—and then pulling back and going about his business like it meant nothing. “Actually, what I wish is for you to stop flirting with me if you don’t want me.”
I grabbed the bag of ice and staggered to my feet. “I’m going to get—” I began, but my words were cut off as he strode across the room, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed the breath out of me.
The bag of ice dropped to the floor as I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him back, every cell in my body jumping for joy. He does want me! Without breaking the kiss, he scooped me up, holding me to him with one arm across my back. He flung the throw pillows to the floor and laid me on the bed, his body coming down on top of mine. Yes!
He shoved up the hem of my shirt and tore his mouth from mine to yank it over my head and toss it aside.
He stared down at me, his eyes hot and hungry as they roved over me, taking in my low-cut black lace bra, definitely not like the sports bras I wore on the trail. “So beautiful,” he breathed.
I drew him to me, my head falling back as he dragged his open mouth down my throat and into the valley between my breasts. He cupped them, caressing me through the lacy fabric. His fingers and lips and tongue danced over my skin, sending a rush of desire racing through me, and I arched into his touch, wanting, needing…
And then I cried out in pain as he shifted his weight and bumped my bad knee.
It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over us. His lovely, warm weight left me as he pulled back with a curse and stood. “I’m sorry! Are you all right?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the pain subsided. “I’m fine,” I said, reaching for him once more.
But he just shook his head and tossed me my shirt before crossing to the other side of the room, as far away from me as he could get.
“I can’t. I should never have…” He turned away and dragged his hands through his hair.
I pulled on my shirt. “You can turn around now,” I said flatly. I thought we were finally moving past this hot-and-cold bullshit, but it seemed I was wrong.
He turned around. His hair was wild from his fingers, his lips were swollen from our kisses, and his chest was heaving as if he’d just run up a hill—except he never got out of breath when he ran up a hill. “I’ll sleep in my tent,” he said, and took a step toward his pack.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I hissed. “Just get in the goddamn bed. I promise to keep my hands off of you.”
“Amelia—”
I slapped the switch to turn off the lamp and turned on my side, scooting over as far as I could without falling off the edge (which wasn’t very far), my body still burning for his touch.
I felt the bed dip as he climbed in on the other side. I lay there for several long minutes, waiting for my temper to subside, then rolled to my back. “Why?” I asked, not caring if I woke him. “I’m pretty sure you want me as much as I want you.”
He laughed humorlessly, clearly as awake as I was. “How can you even question that after what just happened?”
“Well, it was pretty easy for you to stop.”
“Because I hurt you!”
“For a second.”
“Long enough to remind me where we were and who you are. And it made me come to my senses.”
“Well, that’s just what I wanted to hear,” I snapped, blinking back tears. “I’m glad we clarified things.”
“I said that wrong,” he said quietly. “Amelia, we can’t be together. You’ll be finished with the trail in a few days, and then you’ll be returning home to your life.” His hand found mine in the dark. “No matter how much we both want it, it can’t happen.”
I took a deep breath and plunged. “Look, we have what, three more days of the trek, maybe four? It’s just the two of us, with no one else around to judge or criticize. We’re adults. Why can’t we just…be together? Until we finish the trek? I mean, I live in New York, and I’m starting a job in Miami in a few months. It’s not like I can stick around anyway.”
The silence between us was palpable. My face burning, I started to pull my hand from his, but he tightened his grip. “Forget I said anything, Rory. I get it. It’s fine.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me!”
“It wouldn’t be enough!”
“What?” I whispered.
“Three or four days with you wouldn’t be enough, Amelia. I’ve only known you for a short time, but it’s enough to know that you would never be happy with a quick fling and a goodbye handshake at the end.”
“That’s not true.”
“You know it is.”
I closed my eyes in defeat. He was right. A quick fling had never been my style with the guys I’d dated back home, and I wanted Rory far more than I’d wanted them. There was nothing more to say, then. I started to roll to my side once more, but he stopped me with his hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him in the dark.
“And neither would I,” he added. “Be happy with it.”
I froze. What was he saying?
He sighed. “I had a girlfriend. Emma. She was a lass in my group on the West Highland Way last year. She was up from London with friends, and they were doing the trek for their twenty-first birthdays. Emma flirted with me from the minute we met at the welcome dinner. She was pretty and funny, and I was into it. On the third night, when everyone else went to bed early after two strenuous days in a row, she knocked on the door of my room at the B&B. I should have said good night and closed the door, because I was the guide, and she was a client. But I didn’t.”
Under a Storm-Swept Sky Page 16