by Cate Beauman
“So, you’re really just going to walk away?”
He stood, closing his laptop, and shoved it in the case. “I’m not talking about this.”
“Sit.” She pulled on his arm.
He held her gaze, debating whether or not he should walk out the door. She’d probably call him or come to the house if he did.
“Sit down, Stone. Please.”
He sat with a huff. Might as well handle this right here and now and get it over with.
“I saw you two together. You love each other. Why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
He dropped his face in his hands, rubbing at his forehead. “Because this is the way she wants it.”
“Ask me how she is.”
He glanced up, holding her gaze.
“Ask me how Sophie’s doing.”
He clenched his jaw. “How’s Sophie, Abby?”
“She’s more quiet than usual, her smiles are forced, and her eyes are sad, but she’s hanging in there.”
He swallowed, hating the idea of Sophie being unhappy.
“She’s okay, Stone.” Abby took his hand. “But she’d be so much better with you.”
He let out a long breath through his nose. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Or there’s nothing you will do.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” He rushed to his feet. “She had the papers drawn up.” He slid a hand through his hair, recognizing the tinge of agony in his voice, still trying to deal with the hurt and anger.
“Can you blame her?”
His eyes flew to hers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You two start having problems, and suddenly Amber’s everywhere.”
“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit.”
“It’s nine at night and the secretary’s still here.” She picked up the piece of paper Amber had written her number on.
He yanked the sheet from her hand. “It’s just a number.” One he had no intention of calling.
Abby huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Unbelievable.”
“Take it easy. I’m not interested.” He tossed it in the trash.
“Well I guess that’s something.”
He closed his eyes, leaning against the desk where Amber had sat minutes before. “Go away, Abby.”
“We’re doing a photo shoot together next week for Trendy. We’re showcasing the Escape and Freedom lines together. She’s shy, but the camera will eat her up. She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.” Abby wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.
“This is huge for her. This is going to launch her career even higher. You could stop by and say hello.”
“Or I can leave her alone. She has legs and a phone that works. She hasn’t walked in here or the house, and I haven’t received any calls…” He’d hoped for either—both, but Sophie had done them both a favor. That still pissed him off.
“She got restraining orders against the PI and Eric. Jeremiah filed paperwork for a civil lawsuit yesterday.”
“He did?”
Abby nodded.
“Is Winthrop still messing with her?”
“She hasn’t said anything about it.”
He scrubbed at his jaw, hoping the fucker was actually leaving her alone. “That’s good I guess.”
“Sophie’s trying so hard to be brave, but she’s afraid. This is a huge step. She needs you now more than ever. This is going to get so much harder as the court dates get near.”
He didn’t want her to go through this alone, but she’d kicked him out of her life. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Her eyes cooled as she shook her head—a look he’d never seen from Abby before. “I was pulling for you, Stone. I thought you were what she needed.” She stood and walked to the door, opening it. “I guess I was wrong.”
He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t file the papers.”
She turned. “Then what are you waiting for?” Her cellphone rang. “Hold on.” She frowned, looking at the screen. “It’s the hospital. LA General.” She pressed “talk.” “Hello? Yes, this is Abigail Quinn. Oh my—oh my god.” Her terrified eyes held his. “How bad? Yes. Yes I’ll be right there.”
His stomach twisted into knots, already knowing it wasn’t good. “What’s wrong? Is Jerrod—”
“Sophie’s been in a car accident. She’s serious but stable.”
His heart stopped beating as he reached for his keys. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Stone rushed through the ER doors, hurrying to the receptionist’s desk. “Sophie McCabe. Where is she?”
“Who are you, sir?” The woman blinked at him, her eyes magnified by coke-bottle glasses.
“Her husband. Stone McCabe.”
“I’m Abigail Quinn.” Abby stepped up to his side. “I was notified of her accident.”
“Let’s take a look.” The woman typed on her keyboard. “Yes. Please go through those doors.” She pointed to the thick, wooden double doors. “The nurse’s station will be straight ahead.”
“How is she? Is she okay?” He’d been sick with worry the entire forty-five minute drive through impossible traffic. What did “serious but stable” mean exactly?
“They’ll be able to fill you in at the nurse’s station, sir.”
“Thank you.” He pushed through the next set of doors with Abby following behind and stopped at the huge desk.
The nurse looked up from the paperwork she was filling out. “Yes, can I help you?”
“My wife, Sophie McCabe, was brought in—car accident.”
She peeked at the large white assignment board over her shoulder. “She’s down in room four. She just got back from being casted.”
“Casted?” His stomach lurched. “How is she? How bad?” he asked, desperate for answers.
“Why don’t I take you down to see her?”
“Please.” He hurried down the hall before the nurse made her way around the counter, stopping outside the glass door, looking in at Sophie laying against a pillow with her eyes closed and her neck in a brace. Cuts and scrapes covered the left side of her face, and her arm, the lower half casted in bright, white plaster, rested on the blankets pulled up to her waist. “Good Christ,” he murmured, walking up to the side of her bed, brushing his hand gently through her hair as he leaned in close, breathing in her perfume. “Soph.”
Her eyes flew open, staring into his. “Stone.” She reached for his hand.
He smiled, lifting her arm gently, kissing her fingers peaking from her cast, weak with relief when she recognized him. He’d imagined amnesia, comas, breathing tubes, and all sorts of other horrible things on the drive over. “How are you feeling?”
Her lips trembled as a tear slid down her cheek. “I’m okay.” Another tear fell. “I was in an accident.”
“I know.” He brushed his thumb over her soft skin, catching the drops, unable to stop touching her.
“I think the car’s ruined.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry.”
“God, Soph, I don’t care about that.” He kissed her forehead, once, twice. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s the only thing that matters.” He looked over his shoulder at the nurse. “She’s okay?”
“Her tests came back normal. The MRI didn’t show any signs of internal bleeding, but she does have significant bruising on her ribs, symptoms of whiplash, and a mild concussion, not to mention the fractured arm.”
“But she should be fine? She’ll make a full recovery?”
“She’s very sore, which is normal. We’re going to keep Sophie overnight for observation, but she should be good to go home tomorrow.”
“Okay. Okay,” he said again, exhaling a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders.
“We’ll be moving Sophie to her room shortly,” the nurse said, making notations on a paper before heading for the door. “Just buzz if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” He turned his attention to Sophie when the nurse left, sitti
ng in the chair next to her, clutching her fingers in his hand. “So, it sounds like everything’s going to be all right.”
“What about Murphy? Is he okay? The doctor didn’t know.”
“I’ll find out about Murphy,” Abby said from the doorway.
“Abby,” Sophie said, smiling. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Try and keep me away.” She walked in, taking the space on the opposite side of the bed. “You’re a little banged up, huh?”
“Yes, I guess so. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do the photo shoot next week.”
“We’ll get it worked out.” She kissed Sophie’s forehead, sliding a worried glance Stone’s way. She fixed her smile as she stood straight. “I’ll go see what I can find out about your baby boy.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back.” She walked out, disappearing down the hall.
“I hope he’s okay.” Sophie nibbled her lip, fisting her uninjured hand at her side.
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Scooting the chair closer, he brushed her hair away from the mess of scratches and bruises along her temple. “God, Soph, what happened?”
“I’m—I’m not sure. I don’t really remember much. Murphy and I were on our way to buy furniture for the apartment. After that it’s pretty foggy.” She adjusted her position and winced.
“Hey.” He settled his hand on her shoulder. “Try to stay still.”
“My ribs are a little uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to call for the doctor?”
“No thanks.”
Abby knocked on the door and came back in. “Murphy’s at the animal hospital on Broadway—just a few blocks away. He has a couple of stitches by his eye and some bruising on his ribs, but he’s going to be okay.”
“Oh, he must be so scared.” Sophie clutched at his hand. “Will you go get him?”
He wanted to tell her no. He didn’t have any intentions of leaving her side, but how could he refuse when her eyes pleaded with him?
“They want to keep him overnight,” Abby interjected. “The vet assured me he’s being showered with tons of TLC.”
“Sounds like Murphy’s fine.” Stone sent Abby a silent thank you.
“I don’t want you worrying.” Abby wiggled Sophie’s foot beneath the blankets. “I’ll stop by and see him on my way home. Jerrod will be here any minute.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Of course. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure out how we’re springing you from this joint.”
“I—” Sophie tried to move again and whimpered.
“Easy,” Stone murmured, sliding his thumb along her fingers, hating that there was nothing he could do to take away her pain.
“I’m all right,” she said shakily as she closed her eyes, taking several breaths.
He stood. “Let me get the doctor.”
“No. I’m fine. Truly.” She gave him a small smile and turned her attention back to Abby. “I’m hoping you might be able to give me a ride to my apartment.”
“It’s already taken care of,” Stone said before Abby could respond.
“Oh, that’s—”
“I’m not leaving you,” he interrupted, sitting again, sensing Sophie’s refusal. “I’m staying right here, then you’re coming home with me when the doctor releases you.”
“But—”
“You’re not going to be able to take care of yourself for a while,” Abby reasoned.
Sophie looked from Abby to Stone and back. “The doctor said I’m going to be fine.”
Abby’s cell phone alerted her to a text. “That’s Jerrod.” She moved up the side of the bed, kissing Sophie’s forehead. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Try and get some rest.”
The doctor entered as Abby left. “Mrs. McCabe, how are you feeling?”
“My ribs are a little achy, and I have a headache.”
He walked to her side, shining the penlight in her eyes. “That’s to be expected. The nurses are getting ready to bring you to your room.”
“How is everything, Doc?” Stone asked.
The doctor looked from Sophie to Stone, his eyes stopping on the wedding band Stone hadn’t taken off. “Sophie has an excellent prognosis. We’re going to watch the concussion tonight, then she’s free to go home, but you’ll need to rest,” he said to her.
“I’ll be taking care of her.”
“Good. She’s going to need a little help getting around. Lots of ice on the ribs and neck, then warm compresses to keep the neck relaxed after the first forty-eight hours, but we’ll go over that more before you leave.”
“Thank you.” Stone stood, holding out his hand. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”
The doctor nodded, returning the shake. “I’ll be in to check on you later, hopefully upstairs.”
Stone turned back as the doctor left.
She smiled at him. “I appreciate you coming.”
He smiled back. “Where else would I be?”
“It’s getting late. I imagine you have to work tomorrow.”
“I’m not worried about work right now.”
“You’re leaving for the concert tour soon. In a couple of days?”
“Yeah. Monday.”
“You probably need to pack.”
He clenched his jaw, understanding that she was trying to get rid of him. “I’m not going anywhere, Soph. I’m not leaving you, so get used to it.” He looked at her pretty, graceful fingers, realizing for the first time since he arrived that she wasn’t wearing her wedding band. He met her gaze, trying his best to ignore the punch of pain. “You’re coming home with me to rest. Doctor’s orders. I’m going to call Ethan and let him know I’ll need my schedule rearranged for the next few days.”
“No, Stone—”
“I’ll be back.” He walked off before she could say anything more. Sophie was coming to the cliffs with him whether she liked it or not. They were going to figure things out once and for all, and when she was all better, he wouldn’t let her walk away again.
~~~~
Sophie stared at the ceiling in her private room, not daring to move. Every part of her body hurt. Her head throbbed, and each deep breath was agony, irritating her tender ribs. She was used to bumps and bruises. Eric had taught her to remember well, but even at his most vicious, he’d never delivered a beating that brought on a pain like this. She looked at the TV, trying to focus on the sitcom she’d turned on, but it was hard to concentrate on anything but the incessant ache.
The door opened, and her pulse kicked up a notch as Stone stepped in the room. He’d tucked his hair back with a kerchief, accentuating the dark stubble along his jaw, lending him a tough yet professional look in his slacks and polo.
“Hey.” He smiled, walking up to her side, brushing his hand down her arm.
“Hi.” She smiled back, wanting to take hold of his hand as she had earlier in the emergency room. The gentle slide of his fingers through her hair and tender kisses against her forehead had soothed her far better than any of the doctors or nurses had been able to. “You’re still here.” He’d walked out of her room in the ER almost an hour ago insisting he was rearranging his schedule with Ethan so he could take care of her. She’d figured he’d changed his mind and left, which would have been for the better. Now that the grips of vulnerability and initial shock of regaining consciousness in unfamiliar surroundings had lessened, she was better prepared to stand strong on her own.
“Of course I am.” He tugged on the edge of her blanket, smoothing the starchy cotton around her waist. “It looks like they’ve got you all settled in. No neck brace anymore.”
“No. They took it off.”
“Good. How’s the pain?”
“Okay.”
“Liar.”
She smiled. “I’m achy but I’m managing. I’m going to be okay.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He sat on the edge of her bed.
“It’s pretty late. You really don’t have to
stay.” She wanted him to, so she needed him to leave. She’d just started getting used to him not being around. She’d finally come to grips with the fact that he wasn’t going to be a part of her life anymore.
He took her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She suppressed a long sigh. This wasn’t solving anything. What was the point of letting him spend the night or going home with him so he could play nursemaid? Why did he seem to want to drag out the agony of a hopeless situation?
“Look, Stone.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done. You’ve been so kind, but you’re under no obligation to spend an uncomfortable night sleeping in the chair.”
“Are you blowing me off, Soph?”
“No.” She huffed in frustration, regretting it instantly when her ribs screamed at the sudden movement. “I’m not trying to blow you off. I’m trying to make a difficult situation easier on both of us.” She felt around for the call button at her side.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to use the restroom. The nurse said she doesn’t want me standing up on my own.”
“I can give you a hand. That’s why I’m here. I want to help you.”
She didn’t want his help. Accepting his help was what got them into this mess in the first place. All of this was too much—their divorce, Eric, the business, the accident. She couldn’t take much more turmoil in her life. “That’s okay. I’ll just—”
He pulled the button out of her grip. “Soph.” He leaned in close, holding her gaze. “Let me help you.” He brought his fingers to her cheek, stroking.
She closed her eyes in defense against the gentle words and gestures, breathing in his cologne, pressing her hand to his in a moment of weakness.
“Soph,” he whispered, lacing their fingers.
She’d missed this—the sweet, tender side of Stone, but they weren’t together anymore. Their marriage was over. She’d started their end with divorce papers, and he’d finished it by sending the documents back to Kevin for filing with the court. “I can’t.” She pulled his hand away, staring at his bare ring finger. “I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“Pretend that everything’s the way it used to be.”