His to Cherish

by Christa Wick

  "He cut me off until things were settled between you and me." His hand moved restlessly along the safety rail, but he didn't make another attempt to grab me. He drew a long breath in and released it just as slowly, the effect of the chemicals still audible from the rattle in his throat. Finished, he blinked then looked at me with an expression I had never seen on his face before and couldn't hope to interpret.

  "Are they settled?" he asked.

  No tears escaped as I nodded. "Yes, they are."

  ********************

  I walked out of the lion's den and down the hall to find myself staring at a few more lions. Trent Kane stood at the desk of the same receptionist who had turned me away, the heat simmering on his face indicating he'd made no more progress with her in finding out Stark's condition than I had. Beyond him, bodies tense as they talked into their cell phones, were Reed Henley and the woman who had wrapped her hand around Collin's shoulder at the security conference in Miami.

  Seeing me first, Reed stopped talking into his phone and jostled Kane. Sucking a deep breath in, I braced myself. Three long strides brought Kane to me. His hands gripped my shoulders. He didn't shake me, but his hands seemed to flex with the desire to do so.

  "How is he?"

  I looked over Kane's shoulder to the woman as I answered. "Well enough to give the nurses a hard time."

  Her face relaxed enough for a half smile to creep up one side. Raising my hands, I brushed at Kane's arms. I appreciated his concern for a friend, but the time limit for him grabbing and holding me like that had expired five seconds after it started.

  "He'll need clothes brought to him." I stepped left. Kane, no longer holding my shoulders, stepped with me.

  "Hold on..." He started to reach for me again then raised his hands, his palms open and facing toward me. "Just answer a few questions for me. Please, Mia."

  Four months ago, the entreaty would have worked. But Collin hadn't been the only one to flip switches inside me. Kane had flipped at least one on the plane ride out of Dubai and the first forty-eight hours in Florida as he detailed my new position within the company. The anger and disgust I had seen in Collin's face before I passed out in Dubai had been reflected in Kane's in Florida. So, too, had the remote indifference I would come to associate with Reed. A request from Kane meant nothing, just as my pleas to him had fallen on deaf ears.

  I turned to the receptionist who stared at us, her chin in her hands, her lips slightly parted as she watched our improvised theater. "Mr. Stark is awake. I'm sure if you give him a message, he'll authorize these visitors."

  I couldn't help but look at the woman as the final word left me. I spun, hoping I had done enough for Kane to let me pass, but he held his hands up again.

  "Just give me a minute? Please?" He grabbed the woman by the arm and walked her several feet away to the set of windows that looked over the parking lot. He leaned in, whispering to her as he pulled something from his wallet. He handed it to her and she nodded, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as her lips met his.

  Shocked by the unexpected intimacy, I looked to Reed. He looked incredulous for a moment, then confused then blank as he realized I was watching him instead of Kane and the woman. Something was off. I didn't know what, but I didn't need to. I just had to realize that I couldn't stay in an environment where I had to second guess everything and everyone.

  That was Collin's world -- not mine.

  Taking advantage of the distance Kane had opened up, I started down the hall, walking as fast as I could without looking like I was running. The next hand I felt on me wasn't Kane's, but Reed's.

  "I need to apologize to you, Mia."

  That slowed my steps. Someone at Stark International wanted to apologize? Not move me around like a chess piece or demand that I give them something after months of being invisible? Of course Reed could be playing his own game, softening me up.

  I shook my head. "The receptionist will--"

  "I don't care about that," Reed persisted. "Trent will get in and you're not in any state that would indicate Collin is in terrible shape."

  "He was shot," I relented. "In his bicep. Some chemical burns and fumes..."

  "We know that." Reed punched the button on the elevator then spotted Kane stalking our footsteps and waved him away. "I said I want to apologize."

  "He had pulled his IV out and was trying to get dressed." I was babbling by that point, confused by Reed's earnest tones and ready to cry. "But the pants were ruined and the chemicals were on everything."

  Reed tugged me into the elevator, waiting until the doors closed to thumb away a tear that had escaped me. He punched one of the elevator buttons, but I couldn't read which one through the remaining tears that were seconds from spilling down my cheeks.

  "There's a cafeteria in the basement. Let me get you a coffee."

  I shook my head and pointed at my throat. "They gave me a list, nothing that hot..."

  "Right." He rubbed his fingers against my shoulders, not grabbing me like Kane had. "You almost died today. Trent wasn't thinking."

  That was wrong. Kane had been thinking -- about Collin.

  Despite the comfort flowing through them, I didn't want Reed's hands on me any more than I had wanted Kane's. I shrugged them off and pushed the button for the main level before the elevator had a chance to take us down to the basement.

  "Mia..." He gripped my elbow as the doors started to open onto the hospital lobby. "I lost a baby, too."

  That stopped me cold, my feet so frozen to the floor it would have taken a blow torch to unstick them. The doors closed, we stayed on and the elevator carried us down to the basement, where I heard the heartbreaking story of Reed's wife, Katherine.

  His voice cracked with each word. His hands shook too much to drink the coffee. By the time he finished, I was able to wrap my arms around him in a hug. I understood why he had been so distant. I understood Kane's aversion to me after Dubai.

  And, at least a little, I understood Collin.

  Overflowing with understanding and tears, I still walked out of the hospital intent on never seeing any of them ever again.

  ********************

  With Evan dead, I had no idea what would happen with the horse farm. I spoke with an attorney who assured me my life estate in the guesthouse would remain intact, but the farm itself would go to the bank, which might sell it whole or break it up into parcels. So I went to the bank where I met with the loan officer to discuss taking over the mortgage.

  That conversation lasted less than ten seconds. It started with his "no" after finding out I worked for Mr. Keppler and had a savings account no bigger than a quarter of the remaining mortgage. It ended with my "no" after he inquired whether I wanted to relinquish my life estate for an amount little more than what I had in said savings account.

  The answer to my pressing question of what would happen to the farm started to materialize a week after I had left Reed Henley crying in his coffee in the hospital cafeteria. Leaving for work, I saw the loan officer, Mr. Richards, standing outside one of the remaining stables, his car blocking the lane so that I would have to drive on the grass to get around him.

  I would have done just that except for the woman with Richards. Kane's woman -- or maybe Collin's. I wasn't sure what I had witnessed at the hospital. If it was an act, and it half looked that way, then Kane had been trying to hide something between her and Collin.

  Reminding myself I didn't care whose woman she was, I stopped my car anyway and got out because her presence at the farm could mean one thing only -- Stark, for whatever reason, wasn't done torturing me.

  As soon as he saw me, Richards' spine went stiff. By the time I was within speaking distance, sweat had popped out along his top lip and brow.

  "What's going on?" I didn't intend to sound like a bitch, but I did. Richards had all but laughed in my face at the bank and now he was about to sell my family home to the man who had broken my heart, all but crushed my spirit and had me second guessing every last thi
ng I thought I knew about myself.

  Richards snorted and turned away, his gaze on the stable as if it had turned into a painting by Picasso. "I explained to you already, your offer was ridiculous and you aren't credit worthy."

  Shocked by his bluntness, I stood there for a few seconds, my mouth slightly ajar. Next to him, the blonde straightened. She gave him a smile that was all teeth. The red-tipped fingers she had wrapped around Collin's shoulder found Richards' bicep. This time, when they dented the fabric, they seemed to go deep, searching to make an impression on flesh.

  "Start over," she said through the smile.

  Richards blanched and from what little I could see of his expression, I was certain the man's balls had shriveled up inside him. He looked at me, his imperious gaze gone and replaced with a pleading look.

  "It's just...you see...the bank has the right to sell the property at market value," he started, stumbling at the edges of the words when he tried to pull away from the blonde and she tightened her grip. "That's...uhm...one-point-five million even with your possession of the guest house."

  I repeated the sum and he nodded.

  "Are you interested in a competing bid?"

  I shook my head although we both knew his question hadn't been asked in earnest but in fear of the woman standing next to him. I looked at her, still uncertain what to think. My first impulse, fueled by the footage of the Miami conference, was to hate her. But she was sticking up for me, something a rival wouldn't do.

  I closed my eyes for a second, reminding myself I had no rival for Collin's affection because I was through with him. Except I wasn't because he seemed intent on buying the property.

  Ignoring Richards, I looked at her. "Does Mr. Stark intend to be in residence?"

  Letting go of the man's arm, she shrugged. "He didn't say anything."

  "Kane--" I started, but she cut me off with a shake of her head.

  "Not the type of pillow talk we share." The smile came up again, not frightening as when she had turned it on Richards, just final. She tilted her head, her gaze studying my face for a second before her smile thawed completely. "He's getting discharged today if you want to ask him. Room 322b."

  She wanted me to see him?

  My head moved along a path that started as acquiescence before it faded to rejecting the idea of a visit to Collin Stark. Without saying another word, I returned to my car, jammed the key in the ignition and took off, my tires chewing the grass along the lane as I maneuvered around Richards' vehicle.

  Not thinking, I drove until I realized I was five miles past Keeling's city limit, which meant I was more than five miles past my destination of the hardware store. Digging my phone out, I called Mr. Keppler and asked him for a few hours off as I visited the hospital.

  I found Collin in 322b just as he finished changing into street clothes, his hands busy loading his wallet and cell phone into his pockets.

  "You're buying the farm?" I blurted as soon as I stepped into the room.

  Slow to respond, he studied my face for several long seconds before he gave a short nod.

  "Why?" My questions were building in volume.

  Inside voice, Mia. Don't let him see how much he's upsetting you!

  Another long pause between my asking and his answering. His hands molded around his hips. He tilted his head, examining me from yet another angle. My cheeks heated and I turned my head so he couldn't see my face.

  "I was hoping to live in it." He took the plastic bag that I had started filling a week ago with the contents of his ruined pockets. He shook the last items out, metal clinking on metal as keys hit coins and more. "The doctors say I have several months of rehab, so I decided to let Kane keep on running Stark for a while."

  "You can rehab anywhere..." Turning, I glared at him. My eyes started to itch, but I would be damned if he would see me cry yet again. "You don't have to do it here."

  Collin walked toward me, slow and deliberate. I sensed his intent a second too late. His hand curled around the back of my neck, neutralizing my capacity to retreat.

  "Someone will buy the farm out from under you, baby." He took another step forward, his hand tugging me closer at the same time. "Why not me?"

  "You have to ask?" My lungs shut down first, then my tongue as my lips uselessly parted and closed.

  "Yeah, I have to. You haven't shut me out." His free hand came up to brush against my lips. "Not completely."

  My mouth pressed flat, its thin line trembling. Neck bending, head tilting, Collin's lips zeroed in on the quiver.

  I pushed him away, finding my voice at last.

  "I have now."

  Cherishing Mia

  Mia left the guesthouse the same day she visited me in the hospital. I arrived at my hotel with a message from the security team Trent had left in place. My heart kicked around inside my chest until they got to the part that she had checked into the small motor lodge on the outskirts of Keeling. Filled with a few characters no better than the Cahill brothers and Morris, the location didn't please me, but I intended to have her out of there quickly with a team on her while she remained.

  In the meantime, I had a house to refurbish. The bank gave me the keys while everything was still in escrow, so I could move in while the paperwork passed through the proper channels.

  I made daily trips to Keppler's hardware store, sometimes twice a day. Green eyes flashed at me each time I visited, and more than once I expected Mia to march over to the aisle where the axes where shelved, grab one and bury it in my skull.

  Mostly Keppler assisted me during my visits, the old man engaged in an uncomfortable dance of commerce and an almost paternal protectiveness of his sole employee. I asked for recommendations on contractors; he gave them to me. I loaded two carts with supplies; he pushed one out to the parking lot and helped me load the truck I had bought after leaving the hospital.

  "Eating up a lot of gas by not making a list and all," he said in quiet reproach on the third day.

  I just smiled a slow, fumbling smile in response and pointed at my head. "Not all clear, I guess."

  The conversation didn't repeat, at least not out loud. But his expression spoke volumes, so did hers.

  I replaced light fixtures, scrubbed floors, whitewashed walls. Sometimes my arms ached, sometimes my lungs. When all the papers were finally signed on both sides and I had the deed in hand, I brought someone in to clean the stables while I tracked down names -- starting with Ray Haynes, the farm's last foreman before Evan Morris took over.

  For ten days I followed a similar pattern. A visit to see her, some new project serving as an excuse. Then I worked on the old place, made business calls that had nothing to do with Stark International, made another visit to the hardware store, then drove the lonely road home praying that she held out a little while longer and didn't run away from Keeling as she had done in Florida.

  On the eleventh day, two large boxes were delivered to my door in the morning. I sorted through them, picking the most meaningful looking items to distill into a smaller box. As I sorted, I called the attorney I had retained for the purchase of the horse farm and scheduled an appointment for that day.

  I left his office a few hours later, his clerk tasked with delivering the small box I had carried in with me and the sheets of paper I had signed while there to Mia.

  With nothing left to do that mattered, I returned to the house and waited.

  His to Cherish

  I collapsed onto the battered mattress in my room at the Sweet Home Motor Lodge (& Bait Shop) and stared at the ceiling because I was tired and the television didn't work. Keppler hadn't worn me out. There had been little moving of stock, no copious errands to run. Instead, I had worn myself out waiting for the door to open and Collin Stark to walk in.

  The pattern had become familiar since I moved out of the guesthouse. I would be fine until around ten in the morning, then I would start getting twitchy knowing Collin would soon appear. Once he did, I could relax for a couple of hours. Then I would get t
witchy again because sometimes he made a second visit, sometimes he didn't.

  Today, he hadn't visited at all, which meant I'd been increasingly twitchy from ten on. Part of me worried that he had hurt himself, that with all the paint and wood and fixtures he'd acquired every day of the week except when we were closed on Sunday, that he had finally pushed himself too hard after being shot and burnt. The rest of me shut down at the likeliest possibility -- he had decided whatever game he was playing wasn't worth it, that I wasn't worth it.

  I rolled onto my side and stared at the bins I had brought from the guesthouse while I ignored the question of whether I welcomed that likely scenario. Every day he came in, I wished he hadn't. Each visit felt like he was removing chunks of my heart with a rusty ice cream scooper one scoop at a time.

  Things weren't settled.

  I hadn't shut him out at all.

  Careful what you wish for...

  I wrapped my arms around the pillow and read the labels on the bins. In addition to my clothes, they were all the items that had been salvageable from the spare room. I would have to go back at some point and remove the remaining bins that contained the ruined items -- or find someone to do it for me. I guess it didn't really matter. They and the house could fester until my life estate was up. I hadn't stepped foot in the guesthouse until my mother's death. It didn't hold any memories for me -- not any good ones, at least.

  Those good memories had all been formed in the main house and stables. Stark owned those now, or soon would after all the paperwork went through. So the bins, their contents moldering, could stay, the roof could continue its slow collapse. No skin off my nose.

  I had enough things to take care of. Like finding a place to live that didn't have "& Bait" in its name. Sniffling, I rolled onto my back again. Without the guesthouse, there was no reason to stay in the county or the state. Gillie hadn't gone cold on me, but he'd made it clear he wanted to keep his distance while Stark stuck around.

  "Too much going on between you," he had said, followed by, "anything you need, tell me."