Take Me Home

by Inez Kelley

  Kayla was off the stool before Bob had closed her wallet. Go home? No way in hell. Webb might call Abby but who would call her? What did “if it’s bad” mean? Bad as in broken bones? Bad as in chainsaws ripping through his body? Bad as in dead?

  Rain slicked the asphalt, creating oily patches that threatened to spin her minivan out of control but her foot never eased off the gas pedal. She whipped up the winding mountain road at speeds that would normally make her cringe.

  Allegheny Mercy was in Randolph, the next county over, and for twenty-five rain-soaked minutes, Kayla only thought two words.

  Not Matt.

  The hospital parking lot was packed and each frantic second she searched sped those words into a prayer that pounded in her throat. She jerked the van into a cramped spot near a Dumpster and ran toward the Emergency Room door. The metal bar was slippery, sliding under her hands as she smacked against it. Inside, the cloying scent of antiseptic mingled with wet cotton and sickness. It filled her nose and coated her tongue with one breath. One breath was all she could spare, scouring the scattered people in the waiting area.

  A nurse sat behind a glass panel, unflustered and calm. She didn’t smile as Kayla raced toward her.

  “Matthew Shaw?”

  Computer keys clacked and the nurse’s cheek twitched. “Are you family?”

  “Yes.” HIPAA could kiss her ass, she needed to see Matt.

  “Kayla.”

  The deep baritone jerked her around. Webb Hawkins was a huge man, commanding in any situation with his meaty hands and broad chest. He stood in the doorway between the waiting area and the patient center like an imposing angel come to pass judgment. Kayla clamped her teeth shut to stop their chattering.

  “He’s okay.”

  Everything drained out of her. Like a balloon, she deflated, her knees going weak and her head falling back. The two-word chant changed. Thank you. ThankyouThankyouThankyou.

  Firm fingers came around her elbow and she looked up into deep brown eyes filled with empathy. One pupil was smaller than the other and slightly shinier. Webb pulled her toward the door with a reassuring glance at the nurse. “I got this, Leann.”

  The nurse nodded at him, returning her focus back to her computer. Kayla forced her mind to work. What kind of power did Webb have that he could overrule hospital policy?

  “It’s a small hospital.” Webb seemed to read her mind. “A few bent rules won’t hurt anything.”

  The corridor he led her down was wide, with a speckled tile floor and sickly green walls. A curtained area at the end filled her sight like a stage. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it but didn’t want it to part. Was Matt behind there? Webb said he was okay but did okay mean simply not dead? Was he bloody and broken, surrounded by tubes and wires and beeping machines? Did he have all his fingers and toes, arms and legs?

  The door behind them opened and Leann the nurse held the arm of a dark-skinned woman with terror lining her face and a toddler’s hand clutched tight. Webb stiffened, pity flashing across his expression before being erased by calm confidence. He squeezed her shoulder.

  “Go on ahead. I need to talk to Mrs. Stolinski.”

  Kayla stood transfixed as the woman he approached braced herself. Her thin shoulders went back and her head raised, preparing for a blow. Kayla had no idea what Webb said but it crumpled the woman’s face. Kayla turned away, unable to imagine what pain like that felt like and never wanting to learn.

  The curtain was thin but the rings rattled like dry bones as she pulled it back. Matt was on his back on a gurney, bruised and bloody. A scrape on his swollen cheek oozed and someone had half-wiped away where he’d had a bloody nose. His wet hair stood up at all angles. Mud splattered him from top to bottom. His dark boots seemed two sizes too large against the pristine white sheet. His soaked jeans were torn in non-fashionable places, and his wet shirt was cut open, hanging limp around his filthy chest.

  When that chest rose with a breath, Kayla let the one she’d been holding loose. “You’re alive.”

  “Hey, pretty lady.”

  “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Me, too.” He sat up with a wince.

  She needed to touch him. “Can I hug you?”

  “Don’t squeeze.” He held open his arms. She went, biting back tears that burned her nose. She wanted to cling but simply wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Warmth emanated from him and she soaked in the contact, letting her frenetic heartbeat slow. He moved stiffly, as if in pain, but his arms were as solid as ever, his hold gentle. He was alive, that was enough.

  “How’d you find out?”

  “I was at McCreedy’s when Webb got the call. What happened?” she whispered into his neck.

  Matt pulled back. Confusion wrinkled his brow. “I don’t know. The choker cable snapped. The log only weighed about five thousand, it should’ve been fine. But it snapped like a fishing line, flew back and hit Stolinski. He went down and I tried to move but the log was barreling right at me, rolling down the hill and kicking up mud. I threw the chainsaw away and shoved Nichols. I don’t remember anything after that, just waking up here.”

  His voice was hollow, deep as ever, but with an echo of shock.

  “Stolinski’s hurt bad. The cable cut right through his leather chaps. I don’t know anything about Nichols.”

  “Nichols is fine.” Webb came around the curtain, filling the tiny space to near overflowing. Kayla moved from Matt’s arms but couldn’t let go of his hand. She needed the connection as bad as she needed air. “He took twenty stitches where his back hit the saw blade but you got him clear of the log.”

  “Stolinski?”

  “Headed to Charlottesville on Life-Flight. The docs think they can save the leg with some screws and pins and other hardware stuff. I’m headed that way now. Your men did good. They had the leg stabilized and a tourniquet on before they hauled him down to the ambulance. He’ll be out a long time but he’ll make it.”

  Matt’s eyes closed and his throat worked with a hard swallow. “Thank God.”

  “Docs want to keep you overnight for observation.”

  Matt bristled. “So they can charge me to watch me sleep while waking me every hour? No way.”

  Webb’s lips thinned as his jaw wedged hard. “You have a concussion. You had a few thousand pounds roll over top of you. You’re damn lucky it was so fucking muddy. It cushioned you or they’d have had to scrape you off the bark and onto a morgue slab. Why aren’t you wearing your chaps?”

  “Because Nichols and I were working delimb and choker hook-up. Stolinksi and Roberts were cutting on the hillside and McNamara was in the skidder. I know the OSHA rules, Webb. I checked all those cables this morning. They were new. There were no obvious defects. It didn’t break from neglect. It had to be a manufacturer’s weakness.”

  “I’ll have Bob check into it. But cut the he-man shit and stay.”

  “I’m going home.” Matt stood, not hiding the grimace of pain well at all. “I need a shower and a couple Tylenol, that’s all.”

  The men stared, silent machismo and unsaid words flowing thick as syrup between them. Webb shook his head. “Whatever, you tell the doctors that. Let them chew your ass out. I’m full. But I don’t want you anywhere near Hawkins for the rest of the week.”

  “Webb—”

  “I mean it. A week. Any sooner and I’ll put your ass back on the green chain like a newb.” The CEO glowered then exhaled. “I’ve got a big land deal working and I need you back at a hundred percent.”

  Animosity pulsed for thirty seconds then Matt’s spine relaxed. His nod was grudging. “All right.”

  Webb laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go to church, man. You have some thanks to give ’cause this could’ve been a whole lot uglier.” He looked at Kayla with a tired but gentle expression. “Take him h
ome and slap his ass in bed for a few days. I need the breather.”

  It was another hour and a half before Matt was released. Once in the passenger seat of her van, he seemed to wilt, shoving his scratched blue hard hat to the floor between his boots. He’d borrowed a shirt from the gym bag in Webb’s truck but there was no hiding he’d been hurt. Holding a small icepack to his cheek, he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

  Kayla stopped by the pharmacy, filled his prescription and bought two bottles of water but he ignored both. The windshield wipers swooshed at top speed, the monotonous sound the only noise in the vehicle. She tried to take the country turns as smoothly as possible but the winding roads took their toll in less than twenty minutes.

  “Pull over.”

  The strain in his voice pushed her and she jerked onto the shoulder. He’d barely gotten out before he started vomiting. Slamming on the hazard lights, Kayla grabbed a bottle of water and darted around the van. Rain poured, drenching them both. She laid her hand in the small of his back while he retched, her heart twisting for him. He took the water, swished a couple mouthfuls and spit. Sweat lined his face and his skin had a sallow tinge.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Concussions are nasty.” Gingerly, she wrapped her arms around his waist for a fast hug. “Come on, let’s get you out of this rain.”

  He climbed back in the van with a low groan. The paper bag rattled as she pulled back onto the road. He popped two pills in his mouth.

  “Matt, you had Percocet at the hospital. You shouldn’t take more so soon.”

  “I lost them back there.” His breathing was labored with pain. “You gonna think I’m a pussy if I say everything hurts?”

  “No,” she laughed but sobered. “I’d rather have you hurting than dead.”

  His palm landed on her thigh with a gentle squeeze. Silence reigned for the rest of the drive down the mountain. His eyes never opened until the engine shut off at his house.

  He stumbled getting out of the van. Kayla reached him as he steadied himself, clutching the vehicle frame. The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle. Puddles lined the yard and splashed under their feet. With her arm around his waist, she guided him through the front door. He moved like a zombie, awkward and stiff, as he weaved down the hall.

  In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and shook his head. A wince creased his face as he tried to pull the tee over his head. Kayla was there in a flash, grabbing the cotton and tugging it up. She knelt, unlacing his boots and pulling. They came off with a plop and a pound of mud. Surprisingly, his socks were dry. He didn’t move as she opened his jeans, sliding them and his briefs down his legs.

  Large patches of skin were already turning colors, on his thigh, his hip, his rib cage. Small scrapes and scratches covered his arms and torso. He brushed his teeth as she started the shower, turning the setting to the gentlest she could find. Part of her wanted to climb in the shower with him, wash the hurt from his body as he had for her. Another part stood rooted to the floor, afraid touching him would bring more pain.

  He stepped in the shower and she blew out a breath that sagged her shoulders. Somehow, his aches hurt her, his stiffness invaded her bones. He’d been so unsteady she was afraid to leave the bathroom. Instead, she gathered his clothes from the floor. She tossed his underwear, socks and borrowed tee in the hamper then picked up his wet and heavy jeans. The rips rendered them unwearable.

  His cell had five missed calls, three from Abby, one from Jonah and one from his mother. The screen was cracked and that thin line in the plastic hit her hard. Her entire frame trembled. Things could have been so much worse. Gasping for air, she pulled out his wallet, pocketknife, keys, some loose change and handfuls of sawdust. She tossed a half dozen neon-colored spongy earplugs into the trash can and balled the ruined jeans on top of them.

  “Kayla?”

  Uncertainty raised his voiced an octave. She peeked in the shower curtain. “Okay?”

  He stood with his hands planted on the wall tile, water sluicing over his head. The dirt was gone from his skin but the wet magnified the redness of his scrapes. “Everything is lopsided and moving.”

  “It’s the medication. Let me help you.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to. Please?”

  His slow nod was like a gift. She shut the faucets off, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. She used a second towel to drape over his head, not wanting to rub too harshly. Matt let her dry him, never moving from his braced stance until she cupped his arm and led him into the bedroom. She helped him pull on loose jersey shorts, then tucked him in, smoothing wet hair from his forehead.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Outside his bedroom, she leaned against an unfinished wall. Matt was so strong, so sturdy and brawny, that seeing him like this tore her to shreds. Tears blurred her eyes but she blinked them away. Her hands trembled, a violent shudder that worked its way up her spine until her entire body jolted. Her knees grew weak. She curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees and tried to breathe through the quake.

  The same debilitating tremors had coursed through her exactly two times. Once when her mother was hours from death and again when her father had breathed his last breath. It was the sudden realization of a hole being ripped into her life as somebody she loved left her.

  This accident came too close to being a reality. She’d known she cared for Matt but this, this drove home how much. Was it too soon to call it love?

  His phone chirped in her pocket. Abby’s picture soothed her raging emotions and she thumbed it on without thought. “He’s okay. Sore, bruised and half-stoned but alive.”

  Abby’s exhale echoed in her ear. “Is he awake? Do you need anything? What can I do?”

  “I just put him to bed.” Kayla pushed off the wall, aiming for the kitchen. “Your mom called. And Jonah. You could call them back, let them know he’s okay. When he’s a little more clearheaded, I’ll have him call them both.”

  Kayla eyed the clock with surprise. Only three-thirty? The rain made the sky dark and it seemed like a thousand hours had passed since she walked into McCreedy’s Diner. Matt had lost whatever lunch he’d eaten and would probably need food soon, but for once, the thought of cooking daunted her. She absently listened to Abby while opening his cabinets. Canned soup. That’d work. At this minute she didn’t care that it was crammed with preservatives and additives. It was fast and would be easy on his stomach. The extra sodium wouldn’t hurt either.

  Promising Abby she’d call if they needed anything, Kayla turned the phone off. The cracked screen held her eye for two heartbeats before she dropped it on the counter. She filled a tall glass with ice and sweet tea, snagged the prescription bottle off the table and tiptoed back to the bedroom. Matt wasn’t in bed.

  She tapped on the bathroom door. “Matt?”

  “You can come in.”

  He leaned on the sink with one arm wrapped around his stomach. “Did you get sick again?”

  “Yeah. I think I’m empty.” He blinked at her. “You’re still wet.”

  She was more than wet, she was soaked to the skin. She stripped down, tossing her clothes into the bathroom hamper. A goofy grin raised the scrape on his cheek. “A free afternoon, a wet, naked woman, and I don’t think I can move. That sucks.”

  “Back to bed, lumberjack. Tell your hormones to talk to your bruises.”

  “Trust me, the bruises are screaming.” Staggering back to the bedroom, he stopped. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She guided him to sit on the mattress and handed him the tea, setting the pills where he could reach them with ease. He drank thirstily, nearly draining the glass in one long pull. After she’d tugged one of his T-shirts over her head, she fussed, plumping his pillow and smoothing his blank
ets.

  “When you feel like eating, I’ll make some soup.”

  He held his hand out. “Come here.”

  Dropping the pillow, she stepped closer. He pressed his forehead to her stomach, his arms looped around her thighs. The narcotics slurred his speech and loosened his tongue. “Never wanted you to see me like this. Weak. Helpless.”

  “Oh, Matt, I don’t.”

  “Want to be strong for you.”

  “If you weren’t as strong as you are, you wouldn’t be here.” Her fingers threaded through his hair. “I was so scared today. I don’t want to lose you.”

  His head lolled back drunkenly. Unfocused and glassy, his gaze still stuttered her pulse. “Not gonna lose me. I’m falling.”

  Her stuttering pulse froze. “Falling?”

  “Yeah.” His eyelids fluttered closed. “Want it all.”

  “All of what, Matt?”

  His mouth moved but no sound came. Anticipation, hope and dreams collided in her chest and restarted her heart with a thump. He floundered, unable or unwilling to voice an explanation. Head lopping to the side, he sighed. “You. You’ve got it all. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  It wasn’t a declaration but it was enough to close her burning eyes. She brushed his brow with her lips and urged him back, covering him with the blankets. “I’m falling, too, lumberjack.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Appalachians are the oldest mountain

  range on earth.

  West Virginia is the only U.S. state whose boundaries are all within Appalachia.

  “Matthew Dalton Shaw, so help me God, if you—”

  He silenced her tirade wind-up with a swift kiss. “I’m fine, I swear. I haven’t taken anything stronger than ibuprofen for two days. I need to move, Kayla. I’m not used to sitting on my ass.”

  Damn, but anger made her pretty, prettier than usual. Fire snapped in her golden-brown eyes and flushed her cheeks pink. Her crossed arms only lifted her breasts higher. He wanted to cup them in his hands and bring them naked into his mouth, sucking the tips until she whimpered. She hadn’t let him touch her since the accident. Granted, the first two days, sex had been the last thing on his mind. But he was healing fine now and was horny as hell.