“I’ll assess them all in the morning and let you know what, if anything, can be done. Take care. It was nice meeting you.” He shook Joe’s hand then eased out the door.
“D, they’re probably going to run us out of here soon. Visiting hours are ending,” Joe reminded me.
“Damnit. I can’t leave her.” The very idea sent my heart rate into overdrive. I dropped my head to my hands.
“She’s not going to wake up tonight. They have her sedated. But I’ll speak with the doctor on call and see if I can arrange for you to stay,” Beckett offered.
“That would be great, man,” I said gratefully. Another reason to not hate the guy.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Joe, I’m not sure they’re going to let you stay in the room too. But if I explain things, they may let you camp out nearby if you need to stay close.” Beckett placed Izzy’s still hand carefully on her bed and got to his feet.
“I understand,” Joe agreed.
As the door swung shut, I blew out a breath, expelling the words that had been on repeat since finding out Izzy was hurt, “It’s my fault.”
“Why would you say that?” Joe asked with a frown.
I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging hard on the strands, knowing I deserved the pain. “You know this wasn’t some random accident. It was my stalker. It had to be,” my voice was frantic.
Joe squatted in front of me. “We don’t know anything for sure yet. But even if, and that’s a big if, it was your stalker, it is still not your fault. You didn’t hit Izzy.”
“But she wouldn’t have been hurt if I wasn’t in love with her. She’s a target because of me,” I nearly choked on the words.
“We’ll find this person. She’ll get reckless and make a mistake. If this was the stalker, she is spiraling. Which means she isn’t thinking clearly. It’s only a matter of time before she slips and gives us something.”
“And in the meantime, I what… just keep letting Izzy be at risk?” my tone was harsh.
I stood from my chair and moved to her bedside. Gently, I picked up her hand. An angry bruise covered the back and snaked down a couple of her fingers. I stroked the long fingers that I’d watched create so much beauty over the years. Lifting her hand, I tenderly pressed my lips to the small area not marred with angry purple. “No. I can’t. I have to let her go. For now. Maybe forever,” I said resigned.
“D, you can’t just disappear on her again,” Joe admonished.
“I didn’t disappear the first time,” my voice increased in volume.
“Shhh. I know that. But she doesn’t know that yet. You have to let her know that your love never stopped, never even waivered. She deserves to know,” Joe pleaded.
He was worried about my mental state. Probably the state of my heart too. Since leaving rehab, I’d never felt shakier about my sobriety. Guilt and heartache were powerful tempters for seeking oblivion.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted honestly. If I left this room right now, I’d probably find a bottle.
“Then stay until you figure it out. At least until she wakes up,” Joe suggested.
Rapidly, I sucked air into my lungs, wrestling with indecision. Defeated, I sank into the chair next to her bed. “OK. I’ll wait. I love her too much to leave without looking into her eyes and telling her I love her one more time.”
The door swung open while I was mid-sentence. “Good news, Dawson. You can stay. And Joe, the nurse is fixing you a spot in the little waiting area across the hall. You’ll be able to see Izzy’s door from there without drawing too much attention. Come on, I’ll show you,” Beckett said, holding the door open for him.
Joe gave me a long, sympathetic look. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need me. Hang in there. It’s all going to be OK.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
And then I was alone with Izzy. Cradling her hand in both of mine, I allowed the emotions swirling inside me to overtake me for just a moment. “I’m so sorry, flutterby. I love you so much.”
“I could tell,” Beckett interrupted my quiet declaration. The door closed quietly behind him.
“You could tell what?” I asked as he settled in the chair on the other side of her bed, directly across from me.
“That you love her. Now, I was a little slow putting the pieces of you and Izzy’s past together. In all the time I’ve known her, she never mentioned you. Not once. Not even knowing how big of a fan I was,” Beckett said as he checked the screen displaying Izzy’s vital signs.
Ouch. She hated me so much that she never mentioned me. Or maybe she just didn’t think of me at all. Either option hurt. A lot.
“Anyway, once I learned the two of you grew up together and heard part of the CD you made for her, I started wondering just how deeply you cared about each other. Then I saw your interview on the Elle Show. So, I went back to your recent posts on Facebook. I listened to them with new ears. I started examining little things from her parents’ party with new eyes. I don’t know how I missed it. I’m usually very observant.” He gave a wry chuckle.
“Izzy kind of has a dazzling, blinding effect on people,” I offered with a shrug.
“Yeah. And honestly, I’d planned to double down and prove to her that I could be the one to bring her heart back to life. We’ve been through a lot in the time since we’ve known each other. And I’m a competitive person. I had no intention of just letting a girl like her go without a fight,” he said, finally meeting my gaze.
“But you did, didn’t you? I mean, she said you broke up with her tonight at the show,” uncertainty made my words soft.
Maybe Izzy misunderstood, and they weren’t broken up. The possibility that she wasn’t free to be mine sent white-hot pain searing through my heart. Even though, the logical part of me knew she’d be better off, safer, with Beckett.
“I did,” he stated simply.
“Why? Why would you let go of someone so amazing?” I asked in utter disbelief.
“Because she was never really mine. She’s always been yours. But I don’t think she or I realized it fully until you sang that song tonight. There truly is a difference. You have it with her, and I don’t. She deserves it.” His eyes were sad as they held mine hostage.
“She deserves everything. I just don’t know if I can give it to her,” I admitted in a broken voice.
♪ Lead Me by Kip Moore
“What do you mean? You’re her everything already.” His eyes squinted, examining me, scrutinizing my words.
“What happened to her tonight might have been my fault,” I admitted to the one man who had motive to use my words against me.
“You weren’t anywhere around. The cops said they think it was an accident. A drunk driver. You can’t possibly feel responsible for some drunk driving accident,” Beckett reasoned.
“I don’t think it was an accident. I… uh… have a stalker. Have had a stalker for years. Her letters have become more frequent. She’s made veiled references to me being unavailable. But tonight, in my dressing room, she left a note that specifically mentioned Izzy by name.” I ran one finger in tiny circles over the back of her hand.
Beckett tapped his finger on his chin for a few moments, pondering what I said.
“The police were at Izzy’s building the other day investigating an act of vandalism. The detective told Izzy something about how they thought the message spray painted on the wall was directed at a girl in the building who was in a relationship with a man who didn’t belong to her. Or something like that. I wonder if it was your stalker,” he said.
My stomach plummeted. It had to be. Whoever was after me knew where Izzy lived and where her art exhibit was. My stalker probably was the one who’d ruined Izzy’s artwork. That realization hurt nearly as much as knowing Izzy was unconscious in a hospital bed because of my stalker.
“You should let the police know about the letters. It may help them catch the person behind all of this,” Beckett suggested.
“I will. Joe’s a
former cop. He’s been handling the investigation. We even sent someone to watch Izzy from afar, just in case. But since she was at the concert tonight, they all thought she’d be safe. I should’ve made someone stay with her, so she wouldn’t have left on her own.” My free hand clenched into a fist, longing to punch something.
“You couldn’t have known.”
I couldn’t believe Beckett was being so cool, so understanding about things. He could be using this situation against me to keep Izzy for himself.
“I should’ve known. The hidden threats in the letters should’ve made me more cautious. Maybe I need to leave her alone. She’d be safe without me around. I need to do what’s best for her. I should go.” I eased forward, about to shift to my feet.
“You leaving might be best for her physical well-being. Or it might not. Just because you aren’t around her doesn’t erase your feelings. Your stalker will know you’re still in love with Isabelle even if you aren’t with her. And I know for a fact, you being gone is not what’s best for her heart. The whole time I’ve known her, she has never been the girl you knew—the vibrant, free-spirited girl who loved life… She’s been a shell of that girl. I just didn’t know any better until you were back in her orbit. You can’t break her heart and send her back to merely existing,” he urged.
I grunted noncommittally.
“Anyway, don’t do anything hasty. She loves you. She never stopped.”
What was this guy’s deal? Why was he being so nice to me?
“How can you be so sure? You knew nothing about me and the role I played in her life. I assume you’ve been to Izzy’s apartment in the time you’ve known her?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I don’t stay there when I’m in town, but I’ve been there. What’s that got to do with anything?” His brow wrinkled as he peered at me over Izzy’s sleeping body.
“Because when Izzy and I were…” I shook my head, regrouping before I continued, “Two years ago, my presence was all over her apartment. Photos, band artwork, music, everything. If she never stopped loving me, then you’d have known about me the first time you set foot in her apartment.”
“You don’t always erase someone’s presence from your life because you hate them. Sometimes you erase it because you love them, and it hurts too much to be reminded of it,” he offered with a shrug.
“Maybe.”
He stood and adjusted the lounge he’d been sitting in, aligning it perfectly with Izzy’s bed. After he pressed some hidden button, the back of the chair eased backwards. With sure steps he moved to the wooden wardrobe in the corner, then plucked out a pillow and blanket.
“You’ll be more comfortable over here. If Isabelle wakes up before I get back, tell her I’ll see her after breakfast tomorrow,” he said.
I got to my feet and rounded the foot of the bed. He stuck out his hand to me, which I grasped firmly in mine.
“Thanks, Beckett. For everything. For this. For taking care of her when she was sick. For loving her. For earlier at the concert. For all of it.” He was a good guy. The kind of guy worthy of Izzy.
“Don’t mention it. Isabelle’s a wonderful person. So are you. I hope I’m lucky enough to have a love like yours one day. Uh…” He let go of my hand and reached into his pocket for his wallet. He plucked a business card from inside and handed it to me. “Call me if you need anything or if there are any questions about Isabelle’s medical history.”
“Thanks again. Take care.” I slid the card into my pocket with Charles’s.
“You too, Dawson. And take care of her.” With that, he left me alone with Izzy and the torrent of my thoughts.
I slipped out of my jacket and toed off my shoes. Methodically, I shook out the folded blue blanket. Once I settled into the minimally cushioned recliner, the sterile pillow accepted the weight of my head. I pulled the slightly scratchy blanket over my body and turned on my side, facing Izzy. I’d slept in less comfortable spots.
I reached my fingers beneath the shiny metal railing and clasped Izzy’s hand in mine. “What are we going to do, flutterby?”
There was so much between us—hurts, misunderstandings, questions, love. How could we sort out our future when the past and present were such a mess?
Chapter 11
Izzy
Why was my alarm clock beeping? I didn’t set it last night, did I?
I reached my arm in the direction of my nightstand so I could chuck the clock across the room.
Oww! Why did it hurt to move my arm?
My other hand was anchored and warm.
Why? Was someone holding my hand?
Why couldn’t I open my eyes?
Oh crap. What was wrong with my eyes?
The damn beeping of my alarm clock rose in pitch and frequency.
“Izzy, can you hear me?” a beautiful voice from my dream asked.
“Yes,” I croaked. “Don’t make me wake up, please.” If he was in my dreams, I didn’t want to wake up. I’d been without him for so long. Without my heart.
“It’s time to wake up, flutterby. Come on, open those beautiful eyes for me,” he whispered. His voice was so close to my ear.
Pressure squeezed my hand. This was the most vivid dream I’d had in a long time… maybe ever.
♪ Back at One by Brian McKnight
Squeaking and click-clacking sounds added to the incessant beeping.
“Doctor, I think she’s waking up,” the heavenly voice said urgently.
“I think you may be right,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Ms. Clark, can you hear me?”
My eyes fluttered open. A strange man in a white jacket was peering down at me. I tried to shift away, but every muscle in my body protested.
“There’s no need to be afraid. You had a little accident last night, and you’re in the hospital. OK?” the doctor soothed.
I nodded, still confused. My eyes darted down, taking in every detail. Thin blanket drawn over my body. Metal railing by my side. Needle taped to the back of my hand. Machine with green wavy lines and changing numbers off to the side.
I turned to the other side, and my breath caught in my throat. “You’re real?” I croaked.
Tears shimmered in Dawson’s eyes as he nodded.
“Isabelle, I’m Dr. Stephens. Are you in any pain?” The man in the lab coat demanded my attention again.
“Some. But I don’t want to sleep.” I didn’t want to close my eyes in case Dawson was going to disappear.
“You’re a very lucky young woman. You have a concussion and some bruises. There’s also a cut on your head that had to have four stitches. Fortunately, nothing’s broken,” the doctor said in a calm voice. He settled the earpieces of his stethoscope in place and pressed the cool metal disc to my chest.
After moving it around to a few locations, he jotted a few things on the clipboard hanging on the end of my bed. “We’re going to keep you for a little while just to be sure everything’s OK. But I don’t think you’ll have to stay for very long. Dr. Thomas made us aware of your current treatment regimen and medical history. So, everything’s under control with your anti-rejection meds. The police want to speak to you about what happened last night. If you’re not up to it, I can stall them for a little bit.”
“No, it’s fine,” I answered and tried to eliminate the cotton mouth feeling. “But can I get some water first?”
“Absolutely. Just take it easy. And if the pain becomes too much, please call the nurses’ station.”
I nodded. The nurse, who’d remained silent next to the doctor, handed me a cup of ice water with a straw. I took a long, slow sip. It soothed the ache throbbing in my throat.
“I’ll be back to check in on you in a few hours.” The doctor walked out.
“I’m Anne, your nurse,” she said as she pressed a few buttons, adjusting my bed. Instantly, I was more comfortable.
“How’d you know I needed that?” I asked in awe.
She winked at me. “I’ve been a nurse for quite a while.”
Turning her attention to Dawson, she said, “Your friend is still across the hall. I’ll send him in later with some breakfast and coffee for you. You look like you need it.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
“Now, I’m going to let you stay in here, but don’t tire her out or cause any trouble. I don’t care who you are, I’ll throw you out if you compromise her health.” The stern look on her face brokered no arguments.
“Yes, ma’am,” Dawson replied with a salute.
“I’m going to let the detective come in now. If it gets to be too much, press the button. I’ll throw him out too,” Anne said with a smirk.
I giggled then moaned because of the pain.
“I’ll be back later,” she told me, patting my blanket-covered leg.
As soon as the door closed behind her, I turned my attention back to Dawson. The grin on his face made my heart flutter. There was a time in my life I thought I’d never again see that smile meant for me. His eyes flitted to the monitor.
“Your heart rate is rising,” he teased.
“That’s what your smile does to me,” I confessed.
“Guess I better stop grinning at you like a lovesick fool then. You need to stay calm.” His finger stroked the back of my hand, igniting tingles along my skin.
Before I could respond, a sharp knock rapped against the door.
“Come in,” Dawson called.
“Isabelle Clark, I’m Detective Martin. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you’re up for it,” he said, his tone all business.
“Sure. I’ll tell you what I remember.” I tried to shift myself higher, needing to feel less helpless than being confined to a hospital bed made me. When I winced, Dawson jumped up to help.
“Better?” he asked when I settled back into position two inches higher than I was previously.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I mumbled.
Detective Martin perched in the empty chair by my bed. “Isabelle, what do you remember about last night?”
“Um… I was at the LO concert. When the concert ended, I went backstage with my… ah… Dawson. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” I didn’t know what to call him now.
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