“I know Clint’s family are beside themselves that there’s that damn snowstorm in Colorado that’s kept them away so far. Clint adores his parents. His sister is so big she’s going to pop at any minute, so she can’t come. But she’s FaceTimed me every day so far. Still…”
“What?” Angie asked.
“Clint’s emotions are all over the board. I don’t want him to say something to them that will hurt them. Something that he’ll never be able to take back.”
“They’re adults, they can handle it.”
“That’s not the problem. It’s the amount of guilt that Clint will feel afterward that I’m worried about.”
Angie sighed. “I sure do remember that. Finn carried a lot of guilt around. Declan and Drake both helped him let it go.”
“Drake? I can believe Dec helped. But Drake?”
“Oh, don’t think he was Mr. Sensitive or anything, but in his in-your-face manner, he got through to Finn and really helped.”
Lydia considered what Angie was saying. “I can see that,” she murmured with a smile.
“Declan and Finn grew up together, right?”
“Yep. He knew Dec, long before the man started up the Shadow Alliance. When it looked like Finn wasn’t going to be able to go back to the teams, Dec was all about recruiting him. Mason was not happy.”
“No, he wouldn’t have been. That’s one of my biggest concerns for Clint. This is going to be a long recovery process. I mean long. Months, maybe years. With no guaranteed outcome. It would kill him not to be able to rejoin Midnight Delta.”
“Finn didn’t return for seven months,” Angie reminded her.
“But Angie, Finn’s was more psychological. Clint’s is actual brain damage, there is a big difference.”
“But the men are the same. They have that same strength. That same willpower. You don’t know what his prognosis is, you said it yourself.”
Lydia looked down at her empty glass. It was like her life. Angie caught on.
“Where’s the woman I know whose glass is normally half-full?”
“She’s not here right now. Clint usually helps me keep my glass half-full. I do the same for him. It’s tough to do when he keeps knocking the glass out of my hand and shattering it.”
Angie got out of the booth and sat down beside Lydia and hugged her. Lydia rested her head on her shoulder. “Maybe I can sleep now. Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me walk you to your room.”
10
Clint could feel someone in the room with him, he just wasn’t sure who it was. He was still feeling a little loopy from the drugs. He hated them, but remembering the state he had been in, he’d needed them. He’d never felt so out of control. At least when he was in the middle of a mission, he felt like he had power, he had an opportunity to impact the situation. But not now.
“Clint?”
He felt Lydia cupping his raspy jaw. He leaned into the caress. He took her comfort like a man stranded in the desert gulped water. Only Lydia would sustain him during this nightmare. He opened his eyes and stared into the most beautiful face in the world.
“Lydia,” he smiled.
“There’s my Nerd-King.” She brushed a butterfly kiss against his lips. He wanted more. He needed more, but she stood up straight.
“Can you get me a glass of water? My mouth is as dry as the Sahara.”
Clint struggled to sit up in bed, finally finding the button that raised the bed into a sitting position. He felt much more human after that. He watched as she poured him a glass from a pitcher. He could see the condensation on the glass, and he couldn’t wait to taste the water.
“Careful, it’s slippery.”
He arched his eyebrow and she laughed.
“What was I thinking? Of course, my Big Bad SEAL can handle it.” She handed it to him.
He downed the glass full of water in damn near one swallow.
“Want more?”
“That should do me for now.”
Lydia put the glass back on the nightstand and shuddered out a long breath. “What is it?” he asked.
“You’ve scared me.” She grabbed his bicep above his cast then traced his collar bone, all the time continuing to look at him.
“I never meant to scare you, Baby.” His voice was husky with emotion.
“I know. I’ve always known the possibility of you getting injured, or worse, was part of the job, and I wouldn’t change a thing.” But her eyes welled with tears just the same.
“Come here.” He reached out and sifted his fingers through her dark silky hair and brought her closer so he could kiss her.
A real kiss.
A carnal kiss.
A loving kiss.
He brushed his lips against hers, and sparks flew. He savored the feeling, luxuriating in her plump lips as they softened against his. Slowly, oh so slowly, he teased her to gain entry into her mouth, then flames ignited. He rubbed his tongue against hers. More electricity, more fire, as their tongues slid against one another, as if this was their first kiss.
Lydia whimpered.
Clint remembered.
He clenched his hand a little tighter in her hair and she sighed her pleasure as he angled her head for an even deeper kiss. A kiss where he could control every move, every taste. Sometimes, his woman reveled in his dominance, she said it made her feel safe. More than anything in the world, he wanted her to feel protected.
He reached down and hit the lever that lowered the damn bed rail, then he pulled Lydia in even closer. She pulled away.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she protested.
“It’s my head, not my body. And trust me, this is making both of my heads feel a hell of a lot better.”
Lydia laughed out loud.
“There’s the Clint I know and love.”
She let him draw her closer and put her arms around his shoulders. He hated the fact that he’d lost so much weight. She must feel it too.
“What?” Her lips hovered over his. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing important.”
He put his hand on her back and pulled her down so that her breasts rested on his chest, and his other hand awkwardly kneaded her scalp even with the cast, as he feasted greedily on her luscious mouth. He was in heaven, he could feel her nipples pebble through her thin cashmere sweater, and that added to his arousal. He bit at her lower lip, and she opened wider, so he could thrust deeper, a mating of mouths. He had been dreaming of making love to Lydia, for the last two weeks that he’d been in the hospital. Lydia was gorgeous, inside and out. She was his everything.
He heard the nurse a moment before the door opened. He broke the kiss and lowered Lydia’s head down to his chest, just holding her. But there was no ‘just’ to it. He gloried in it.
“Looks like I came at a bad time,” Sharon laughed.
“Could you come back in five?” Clint smiled over Lydia’s head.
“You got it, Chief.”
The door closed, and they were alone again.
He coaxed Lydia to lift her head, a blush went from the V of her sweater up to her brows. “We were almost caught.” Her eyes were wide.
“They would have just saw us kissing.”
“You were about to put your hand up my sweater, Sailor, don’t lie to me.”
Clint laughed. She was right. He rubbed his nose against hers.
“You know me well. On a serious note, where is Dr. Varma, I want to talk about my discharge.”
Lydia’s gaze skittered away from his.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
She shook her head.
“Lydia,” he warned.
“I hear the exact same things you do, Clint. We just hear the information differently. You think because you’re doing well with Sal, that means you’re good. Have you slept through the night once?”
“I sure as hell have. I was sleeping eighteen hours a day for a week, and you know it.”
“But what about this week?”
/>
“I get an hour in, here and there.”
“And your headaches?”
“They’re not too bad.”
“Bullshit. You know it. I know it. And the doctor knows it. Until that is under control, they’re not letting you the hell out of here.”
Clint tried pushing himself upright and swinging his legs out of bed. The room began to swim.
Fuck me.
Lydia immediately saw what was wrong.
“You’re supposed to take it slowly. Treat this like a concussion squared.” She helped to ease him back down onto the bed.
“Honey, you can’t want to hang around for this. Don’t you have to be back to work by now?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Lydia, you do realize that you have a ‘tell’ when you lie, don’t you?”
“What is it?”
“I’m not going to say, you’ll try to correct it. What did the police department say? Are they extending your leave?”
She bit her bottom lip, the same one he had just been nibbling on.
“Goddammit, Lydia. Tell me you did not give up your job to come play nursemaid to me!” Clint thought his head might explode, both literally and figuratively.
“Honey, you need to calm down, your psychologist said that getting upset is one of the worst things you can do, it brings on the headaches.”
Clint remembered what Dr. Emily Murphy said. He took a deep breath. Then another. And another again. It helped a little. He still wanted to dump Lydia’s boss’s boss into a live volcano, but the breathing exercise his psychologist had taught him helped.
He looked down to where Lydia was stroking his arm. “Come kiss me. That will help a lot,” he grinned.
The door opened.
Clint let out a loud groan. “Foiled again.”
Lydia laughed.
11
The door opened, and Lydia stood there holding a plant. “I thought this would liven up your room.”
“Why haven’t Mom and Dad come and visited?” Clint stared at Lydia. She’d been keeping secrets from him again.
“They did,” she sighed.
“What do you mean? I’ve been here for three weeks, and they haven’t even bothered to come. Give me my phone. I want to call them.”
“Four weeks,” she corrected. “Your phone was destroyed in the blast. You can use mine.” Lydia put down the plant, then reached into her purse so she could hand over her phone. She looked so defeated. It was an act. He knew it. She was on the doctor’s side. Especially Emily Murphy. He hated her. He didn’t need a goddamn psychologist.
He looked down at the phone and pressed in the area code for Colorado. His thumb hovered over the number four. But was the next number four or five? He couldn’t remember. How could he not remember the telephone number to his parents’ house? It was the home he grew up in.
“Clint, they’re number six on my speed dial,” she said quietly.
He wanted to ask her why he couldn’t remember their number, but she would just report back to Emily, and it would be one more black mark against him. That’s all they did, every one of them; spent hours figuring out ways to trip him up, to prove that he wasn’t good enough.
Clint erased the area code, then scrolled down to his parents’ name and called them. It went to voicemail.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. It’s Clint. I was hoping to see you. When are you going to come visit me?”
Lydia’s wince did not go unnoticed. Served her right, trying to lie to him. His parents would straighten things out. They would be on his side.
“Maybe this was a bad time to visit. Your physical therapist is due to arrive any minute now. Sometimes you don’t like it when I’m here to see your PT sessions.”
What is she talking about?
The door opened and a middle-aged man backed in with a walker.
“Ready for the gym, Chief?”
“You seem pretty chipper,” Clint commented. What was his name? Clint recognized his face.
But what is his fucking name?
“I’m Sal. Short for Salvador. I’m here to make your life miserable.” He winked at Clint.
“What day is it?” Clint glared at Lydia.
“Tuesday.”
“No! What’s the date?”
“December third.” Now she was pretending to be hurt. Yeah sure. Like anything he did could hurt her. She didn’t care anymore—that is, if she ever had.
Clint scanned his memory. He remembered it being late summer. He looked toward the window, but the shades were closed. That window looked wrong.
“You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?” he spat out.
“Hey, Man, go easy on the little lady. She’s telling you the truth.”
He looked over at Lydia again. Now her expression was shut down. She looked like she was made of marble. Wait a minute, was he wrong? Everything was so damned confusing. It had been since he’d woken up a half-hour ago. Then Lydia had walked in, and it seemed like he was looking at things through a funhouse mirror.
Sal’s right, I’m out of line. I’m behaving like a horse’s ass.
“I’m sorry, Lyd,” he reached out his hand for her to hold it, but she didn’t. His heart clenched. “I don’t know what got into me. But seriously, how can it be December? How long have I been in the hospital? Have I been unconscious this entire time?”
Her jaw unclenched and he saw her relax just a little. “No, you’ve been conscious for the last four weeks.”
“Huh?”
She can’t be serious.
“You had one of your worst migraines ever, last night. Dr. Varma warned me that you would wake up disoriented. Just wait for another half-hour, and everything will come into focus.” Her voice had softened just a little bit.
“Yep, then you’ll remember me and hate me,” Sal piped up.
He looked at the muscular man and something struck his memory chord. “Squats. I remember squats. And sit-ups. Lots and lots of sit-ups.”
“There you go.” Sal grinned.
“Then why in the hell did you bring in a walker?” Clint demanded to know. “If I’m doing squats, I sure as hell don’t need a walker.” Clint sat up in bed. He wanted to get out, but there were rails and he was hooked up to an IV.
“What the hell, Lydia? An IV? If I’ve been awake for four weeks, why would I need an IV?”
She came forward and tentatively touched his right hand before backing away again. He had a flash that it had been in a cast.
“Honey, don’t push too hard, it’ll come back. It always does.”
“What do you mean by that? What’s wrong with me?”
“You were injured overseas. It was bad. You were in a coma for five weeks. Now you’re recovering here at Walter Reed.”
Clint searched his jumbled brain and found the answer.
“Traumatic brain injury.”
Lydia nodded.
Fuck.
“How bad?” he asked.
“It’s not as bad as they first thought; you’re doing amazingly well,” Lydia gave a half-smile.
If I’m doing so great, why am I only getting half a smile?
“Define amazing? How can amnesia be amazing?” He couldn’t help the sarcasm, or the frustration.
Sal laughed. “Kid, I always like your fighting spirit, no wonder you were a SEAL.”
Clint froze. His skin turned to ice.
Were a SEAL?
Was?
His head turned so fast he thought he might break his neck as he glared at Lydia. “Tell me what the fuck is going on,” his voice came out like cracking glass.
“He didn’t mean anything by that,” Lydia rushed to assure him. “As a matter of fact, the team arrived stateside yesterday. Some of them are flying this way as we speak.”
Clint sucked in a breath. The last time he could remember them on a mission was…was… When the fuck was it?
“I was injured overseas, wasn’t I?”
Lydia nodded.
“Do
you have any details?”
She shook her head.
Of course, she wouldn’t, it would be classified.
I am losing my damned mind.
Clint looked over at Sal. Shit, he remembered him now. Good man. Marine Corps medic, served in the first Gulf War.
“I don’t get it, why can I now remember you served in Desert Shield, Sal?”
“Yep, 2nd Marine Division,” the older man said proudly. “Hell, Chief, you got your head unscrambled pretty darned quickly today. Probably because you want to stay sharp for your buddies.”
Clint looked over at Lydia for reassurance.
She nodded.
“Sal, can I take a pass today? I need to talk to my Lady.”
Sal looked at Clint, then over at Lydia. He got it.
Yep, he’s a good man.
“Sure, sure. I’ll see if you’re up for it later this afternoon.” He vacated the room taking the hated walker with him.
Clint held out his hand. Lydia walked over to him but didn’t take it.
“You’re mad at me. It’s no fair holding it against me when my brain is swiss cheese and I don’t know what asshole thing I’ve done.”
Her eyes watered up.
“That was almost verbatim to what you said four days ago. I’m getting sick of that tired old line, Clint.”
God, I must have really fucked up.
“Lydia, you know I love you and would never hurt you. Don’t you? Please at least hold my hand.”
He didn’t know what he was going to do if she rejected him. He felt like she was his only life-line to reality at the moment. She was it, and he had done something to cut that cord.
Her hand trembled as she put it in his. He grabbed it; not too tight, but tight, nonetheless.
He took a deep breath. Trying to think. Trying to come up with anything that might bridge the gap, even though he was a few bricks short of a load.
“We’ve got to do better than this, Lydia. We’re smarter than this. You’re my Dork Queen, and once upon a time, before my brain turned into scrambled eggs, I was your Nerd King. So, a scrambled nerd and a shiny dork should be able to overcome a little brain injury. We can overcome whatever asshole move I made, because by the looks of things it was a hell of a lot more than miscommunication, right?”
Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance Page 7