by Elise Faber
Officer Harting held up a black rectangular-shaped bag. “I’ve got her covered, Esther.”
“Good.”
The older woman stayed where she was.
“This is not going on the town’s Facebook page.”
Esther rolled her eyes. “Clearly not,” she said, and Officer Harting’s formal stance relaxed slightly. At least until she said, “It’s much more fitting for Snapchat.”
Somehow, Bella felt her lips twitch.
And honestly, it was nice to feel something aside from terror or numbness.
She’d seen the sharp edge of Sergio’s temper just once before . . . and had the scar to prove it.
It had been the final straw, the piece that had given her the courage to leave.
But somehow, she’d almost convinced herself that she’d imagined the entire thing. That he hadn’t actually hit her that night after the benefit, that she had been a little too tipsy and tripped down the final few stairs. That he hadn’t been furious with her moments before it happened for embarrassing him.
Because she’d had an opinion that didn’t agree with his.
Because she was supposed to be seen and not heard.
Even though he’d convinced her that he was a nice guy and actually liked hearing her opinions.
Just not when they contradicted his. Or in public when she was playing the role of arm candy. Or, preferably, that she’d just shut the fuck up and do what he said.
Esther stomped her foot, making Bella jump. “Look at her. She’s half stunned. She needs a hospital, not an interrogation.”
Bella shook her head and winced when the movement made her head ache even more. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just need to sit down for a few minutes and eat something. I slept through breakfast and got in too late for much of a dinner last night.”
Esther tsked. “You’re already too skinny as it is.”
The admonishment made Isabella smile, but when she glanced up at Officer Harting, the other woman looked concerned. She held up her finger. “Can you follow this?” she asked, moving it side to side.
“I’m not concussed, I—” Except just tracking the digit made Bella’s brain feel like it was going to burst out of her skull.
“See?” Esther said. “Not fine.”
“I’ll wrap her arm and drive her to the ED.”
“Oh, no. I’m—” Bella started to shake her head again and stopped with another wince. She really needed to stop doing that.
“No arguments,” Officer Harting said. “You need to be cleared medically before I can take your statement.” She made short work of wrapping Bella’s arm then led her over to the front seat of the squad car. “Take it slow now.”
Considering the amount of pain coursing through her body at the moment, slow wasn’t a problem.
Officer Harting reached over her and buckled Isabella’s seat belt before she could reach for it then softly closed the door. Bella watched through the windshield as the female cop moved across the road and spoke to Rob—at least she’d thought she’d heard that was his name—for a few moments then got back into the car. Just as Officer Harting had started up the engine, another police cruiser drove up, but she just waved and clicked the transmission into drive.
“Thank you, Officer Harting,” Isabella said.
“Just doing my job.” A shrug as she tossed Bella a smile, pale green eyes twinkling in the late afternoon sunlight. “And call me Pam, please. All that Officer Harting stuff gets really tiring.”
Bella’s lips twitched. “Pam. Thank you.”
“Does he have a history of violence toward you?” The question was quiet in volume, but deadly in tone.
“No,” Isabella denied immediately and then was forced to qualify her statement nearly as quickly. “Only once before. I thought—I didn’t think he’d follow me here.”
Officer—Pam—nodded grimly.
“I’m not the kind of woman to stand by and let someone hurt me.” Except, hadn’t she done just that? No, dammit. She’d fought back. Both times she’d fought back.
“You don’t strike me as such.”
Bella lifted her chin. “I’m not.”
Pam nodded. “I believe you.” A beat before, “Why don’t you close your eyes and relax? It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital.”
“I’m—” Her gaze caught on movement outside of the car.
Henry slammed through the diner’s door, skidding to a stop when he saw her in the front seat of the police cruiser, jaw dropping open, hand extending toward her.
Bella closed her eyes, blinking against the burn of tears.
She couldn’t face him.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
Seven
Henry
Tilly came up beside him. “You should go.”
“What?” Henry blinked, clearing away the image of the blood on Isabella’s pale face. Bright red and so much of it that it had covered her from temple to jaw bone.
He never should have left her in that alley.
“You should go after her,” Tilly said again. “Frank and I can handle the kitchen.”
“I—” He shook his head, tried for a second time. “I should stay and—”
Tilly sighed, hazel eyes taking on the slightest bit of disappointment. “Henry,” she said. “Like it or not, she’s yours, and you know you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t go after her.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, knew she was right. Like it or not, some part of him would always belong to Isabella. “Will you show Rob the security footage? There’s a camera in the alley.” He handed her the key to his office, where the cameras’ hard drives were stored.
Tilly nodded. “Of course.”
With that, he hustled over to his car and drove to the hospital. By the time he pushed through the doors to the emergency department, Isabella had already been taken into the back, but he did manage to flag down Melissa’s friend, Haley, who promised to come and get him when Bella was ready for visitors.
And then he waited.
A familiar feeling when it came to this woman, though this situation was totally unique.
Rob texted him around an hour in, telling him he’d reviewed the footage and would be taking the hard drive it was backed up on.
Henry thanked him then tried and failed to hold back his question.
What did it show?
Rob’s reply came a second later.
You know I can’t tell you that.
Henry sighed.
Yeah, I know.
His phone buzzed.
Just know that he’s a bastard and your girl fought back.
There was that phrase again, the whole of Darlington assuming that Bella was his. It was presumptuous and patently untrue, but then he thought of that asshole Sergio kissing her and worse, of him hurting Bella, and Henry knew that he’d never be able to affect disinterest.
Isabella was inside of him, woven deep and knotted tightly, and he’d never had any chance in Hell of excising her.
Not then. Not now. Not ever.
Haley waved him over to the counter. “She’ll need to be admitted overnight. She has a slight brain hemorrhage—”
“What?” His gut clenched. Fuck, why had he left her alone with that bastard?
Haley touched his hand. “She’s going to be okay. It’s minor, and they’re treating it with medication. Dr. Hamilton doesn’t think she’ll need surgery.”
Medication. Doesn’t think. Surgery. Henry’s mind spun.
“Look,” she said. “Isabella will be fine. She’s conscious and her pain is under control. She . . .” Haley bit her lip. “She also asked me to tell you to go home.”
Henry glared at her. “How does she even know I’m here?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Henry Miller. Lest you forget, I hauled your ass home once after you tossed your cookies in Mrs. Davidson’s class, or did you forget?” Crossed arms, a narrow-eyed glare. “Do you want me to remind the town
that your nickname for a time was Henry the Spewer? Because I still have the pictures.”
Jesus.
This woman was insane.
“I am not insane,” Haley snapped, and Henry could have kicked himself for being so off his game he’d said that aloud. “I’m protecting my patient. She told me I could give you the very basic details because she knew that you were stubborn enough to not leave without a modicum of assurance. And that’s it. Legally, I’m required to safeguard her privacy.”
“Hay.” He sighed. “I can’t just leave it at that—”
She shook her head. “I’m legally bound to follow her wishes. You’re not her husband or even her emergency contact. And we both know that you definitely don’t have power of attorney—”
“Fuck,” he muttered, turning away and thrusting his hand through his hair.
“But—” her voice gentled softly. “I do know that the door to the department is undergoing maintenance and that it’s not currently locked.” He whirled around, hope springing to life. “And that she’s in exam room four, at least until she gets moved upstairs.”
Henry crossed over to Haley, gripped her by the shoulders, and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
She waved him off. “Just don’t be an asshole and make me regret my moment of weakness.”
He nodded, hurrying over to the door Haley had indicated and slipping through. Luckily the waiting room was empty aside from him, their small county hospital rarely busy, especially in the early evening on a weekday. He checked the signs, following them until he found room four, and knocked quietly on the closed door.
“Come in,” came Bella’s voice, and Henry’s heart hurt all over again to hear it rasp through the wooden panel. He was going to kill the bastard.
What kind of fucking name was Sergio anyway?
A sexy Italian one that Isabella had apparently wanted to marry.
Fuck.
“Hello?” she called louder. “You can come in.”
Henry sighed, tried to focus and calm emotions that had been roiling like a pot about to boil over since Bella had reappeared in town.
Twenty-four hours.
Was that all it had been? It felt like a lifetime, like too much had changed for it to have only been one day.
“Enough,” he muttered, forcing himself to focus as he pushed through the door.
Then almost went right back outside so he could hunt Sergio down and tear him to shreds. The side of her face was scraped up, and bruises had already begun to form on her cheekbone and around her eye. Her arm was bandaged, and an ice pack was positioned on her right hip.
He’d let that happen.
Her gaze dropped to the bed, but not before he saw shame cross her expression.
And, didn’t she see? She didn’t have a single thing to feel ashamed about. It was all on the fucking scum of the earth that was Sergio. It was on Henry for not recognizing the bastard for what he was, for not protecting her, for leaving her and—
“Why are you here?”
The ice in her tone made him smile. Somehow, it made him smile.
Because it reminded him of the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
She was the assistant pastry chef in his friend’s restaurant, and he’d come in to meet Brian for an early lunch and to compare their thoughts on a local farm that wanted to sell its produce in gourmet New York eateries.
He hadn’t been impressed with the produce, but he had been mesmerized by Isabella Mariano.
Irritated by his interruption, beautiful eyes sparking fire at him when he’d dared asked for a taste of the gelato she’d just taken out of the ice cream machine. She’d tossed her ponytail over one shoulder, huffed as she scooped some of the concoction into a bowl and all but tossed it at him.
Lavender and honey and his taste buds—and quite frankly—his heart had never recovered
She’d been fire tempered by frost, and he’d fallen headfirst for her.
And he still couldn’t remember a single word from that meeting with Brian.
But the texture of that gelato, the way the flavors had exploded on his tongue, that he could remember.
“Hi,” he said, tucking the memory safely away and moving to take the chair at her bedside. He forced lightness into his tone. “You look like you tangled with a very aggressive stand mixer and barely lived to tell the tale.”
Her glare had been epic, but the mention of the stand mixer saved him.
Or at least he pretended it did.
Because her lips curved into a small smile and she glanced up at him. “Remember the cooking class?”
“When the so-called expert didn’t know how to secure the attachment and it flew through the kitchen?” He grinned. “How could I possibly forget?”
Bella touched her uninjured cheek, the faintest white line visible. “It was the first time I had to have my face glued together. I didn’t even know that was a thing.” Her smile faded, and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Apparently, I’m making it a regular occurrence.”
“Is your hip hurting you?” He reached for the ice pack, intending to adjust it.
“I’m fine.”
He raised a brow. “Reminiscing about Super Glue aside, you’re definitely not fine. I mean, look at you—”
The wrong words.
Henry realized that exactly a heartbeat too late.
As in, they’d already crossed his lips, and the damage had been done.
Bella’s face fell, any trace of amusement in her espresso eyes disappearing.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” She started to shrug, broke off with a wince.
And silence.
“Bella, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
Her gaze flew to his, shock loosening her words. “What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He caught the ice pack when she gingerly shifted in his direction. “I could tell you were uncomfortable, and I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I—”
“Henry.” She rested her palm on top of his. He hadn’t even realized he’d been gripping the railing of the bed. “I left you, remember? You have nothing to be sorry about.”
There was something in her tone that prickled on the edge of his consciousness, but before he could tug at the thought, she let go of his hand.
The contact shouldn’t have made a difference.
It was the barest touch of skin against skin.
And yet, its absence was almost painful.
“You should go,” she said, turning her head away. “I think that nice nurse already told you that much.”
“Haley did try to give me the brush off.”
Bella pressed her lips tightly together then grumbled, “Didn’t work, apparently.”
“No,” Henry said, biting back a smile. “It didn’t.”
She huffed, not looking at him.
“And I already called Anastasia at the bed and breakfast,” he announced. “She packed up your stuff for you and dropped it by my house.”
Bella stared at him, mouth open in surprise.
“Is there anything you really need? Medication? A phone charger?”
Her teeth clacked together. “No,” she gritted out.
“Okay, great.” Henry crossed one ankle over the other. “So, we can just hang out and catch up.”
“Catch. Up?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Isn’t that why you came back in the first place? You wanted to reconnect?”
“I—”
“I know I’ve wondered what you’ve been up to these last five years.”
“It’s—” Her jaw worked for a long moment. “We’re not old friends, Henry. We parted on . . . ” Bella trailed off.
“Bad terms?” he asked, feeling way more casual than he actually felt. “You could say that.”
“I’m—you didn’t even want to talk to me yesterday.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Things are different today.
”
“Because Sergio hurt me?”
“Yeah.”
She scowled.
“But also because I’ve never stopped thinking about you, Isabella.”
She froze, presumably in shock, and though his casual position didn’t change, Henry definitely didn’t feel anywhere near casual about the statement that had just crossed his lips.
Maybe he’d thought it and maybe deep down he’d known it was the truth, but Henry hadn’t planned on exposing himself to Bella, not when her betrayal was still so raw. Five years hadn’t made the sight of her walking away from him disappear from his mind. Five years didn’t erase the painful memories of nursing a broken heart, a dying father, and a devastated mother.
Five years didn’t make the past go away.
But five years without Bella had taught him things, too.
He didn’t want more years without her. He wanted more time with her.
She’d just opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock and the door swung open.
Haley popped her head in. “They’re all ready for you upstairs,” she announced cheerfully before pausing and glancing between them. “Everything okay in here?”
“We’re fine,” Bella said before Henry could order Haley to go right back out that door and not come back until Bella had told him what she’d been about to say.
“Good,” Haley said then ignored him completely as she crossed over to the gurney. She unlocked the wheels, pulled the bags attached to Bella’s IV off the pole and set them on the bed next to her. “Let’s get you upstairs then and settled. The doctor ordered another CT to see about the hemorrhage, so no food until that reads clear, I’m sorry to say.”
Bella groaned. “I don’t think I could ever be one of those girls who fasts or even goes on a diet. The hunger is worse than the headache and dizziness. Henry,” she said, seeming to suddenly remember he was still there. “You should go home and sleep.”
He ignored that, rising from the chair.
“My guess is that you’ll be able to have breakfast in the morning,” Haley said and started to push the gurney out into the hall. “Tonight you’ll rest, and we’ll make sure you’re on your way to recovery.” She paused, glanced back at Henry, her expression decidedly leaning toward well, are you coming?