by Elise Faber
Oh, Henry was definitely coming.
He wasn’t leaving his woman alone.
Not ever again.
Eight
Isabella
The nice nurse, Haley, had lied.
Her night wasn’t restful, not in the least.
She was poked and prodded all night, as the nurses checked all the regular vital signs—blood pressure, temperature, oxygen levels—but also were constantly monitoring her brain.
Not exactly comforting knowing she’d somehow managed to hit her head in the exact right way to cause a hemorrhage.
A hemorrhage that barely warranted the name, according to the neurologist who’d come in to check on her around midnight. She was trying not to freak out about the fact that her brain was bleeding.
But her brain was bleeding!
Still, the doctor had studied her scan then had put her through a series of strange exercises before assuring her she would be fine. Of course, the words didn’t comfort her so much as the fact that aside from the nagging headache and dizziness, she actually felt better, too.
Her mind wasn’t so foggy, and the pain was more migraine level and less her skull was too small for her brain.
Fingers on her cheek startled her.
“How are you feeling?”
Her eyes met Henry’s. He hadn’t left her side the entire evening, had even followed her down to the CT suite, though the tech had made him wait outside the room.
They hadn’t talked much throughout the night and though he’d stayed in the room when Officer Harting—Pam had returned to take Bella’s statement, he hadn’t commented on her side of things.
His expression had turned deadly though.
Eventually, Pam had left, but Henry still hadn’t spoken much, just watched her through lidded eyes all while studying her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. When she’d finally succumbed to sleep, it had been a welcome relief.
“Hungry,” she whispered when his fingers brushed her cheek again.
He smiled, dark circles underneath his eyes. “If your scan is clear, I think breakfast might be on the menu. Though, I’m not sure how good hospital food is.”
“I don’t care about quality at the moment. I need quantity.”
His lips twitched. “That I can arrange.”
“What time is it?” she asked. Her room overlooked a street light and so the same dimness had filtered through the closed blinds all night, giving her no clue to the time. Then there was the fact that her cell phone was with the rest of her stuff.
At Henry’s house.
They needed to talk about that.
Oh boy, did they.
But maybe not right now.
Because she was really freaking hungry.
Henry seemed to read her mind because he pushed out of the chair he’d been camped in for most of the night and stretched with a quiet groan. “I’ll go and see if I can find the nurse. Maybe I can at least rustle you up some Jell-O.”
“Oh, my God. That sounds amazing.” Her stomach rumbled loudly. “Lime, please. Or at least, any flavor aside from grape.”
He chuckled. “Is that your fine palate speaking?”
She grinned, this teasing, smiling Henry she knew, and it made her heart happy. “Absolutely.”
He slipped out of the room, returning a few moments later with the nurse who nixed the idea of any food, even Jell-O, until a final scan was complete and read by the neurologist. She did let Bella have a cup of ice, though, along with a tiny container of apple juice. And somehow the little bit of sugar hitting her tongue was the best thing ever.
“I’ll get everything moving,” the nurse, a pleasant older woman named Alice, told her. “Breakfast is on the horizon.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Bella grumbled good-naturedly.
This time the nurse was right. Isabella was scanned, the images read and she was declared to be on the mend by the neurologist, and even a breakfast tray had been delivered to her room, all within two hours.
Lukewarm eggs and floppy bacon had never tasted so good.
She downed the side of sourdough toast, after slapping an obscene amount of butter and jam on it, and it was pretty much the best thing ever. Ever.
She was so focused on eating, she even forgot that Henry was in the room.
At least until he wiped a dab of jam from the corner of her mouth. Her breath froze in her lungs, eyes flying up to meet his then trailing down to his lips. He sucked the drop of strawberry sweetness off his thumb, and she would swear to God that she felt that suction on her—
Bella blinked.
She had a brain injury for fuck’s sake. Not to mention two stitches on her temple, glue above her eyebrow, and abrasions all down her arm. She was a wreck and . . . Henry was still Henry.
Her body knew his.
Her body remembered how good it had been between them.
She released a shaky breath and picked up another slice of toast, finally remembering her manners. “Do you want it?”
His expression warmed. “No, sweetheart. I might go grab something from the cafeteria and sneak home for a shower though.”
Bella bit her lip, knowing she had absolutely no right to want him to stay with her. Hell, she’d told him to go a half dozen times. He had his own life and had already sacrificed more than enough by spending the night with her.
But that didn’t change the fact that she’d always felt better when Henry was near.
Mentally, she rolled her eyes at herself.
What had happened to being strong and finding herself?
How was that supposed to be true if she crumpled like a weakling just because she was a little bruised up?
This is hardly a normal situation, her brain—now bleed-free—reminded her.
That didn’t change anything.
And great, now she’d gone around in mental circles long enough that Henry was looking at her with concern on his face.
“Of course,” she told him. “You should check on the restaurant. I’m sure they’re missing you.”
“Tuesday is my day off.” He frowned. “Are you feeling dizzy again or confused?”
No more than normal.
He grinned as though he’d read the thought in her mind though she knew for a fact that she hadn’t spoken aloud.
She better not have spoken aloud.
“Get out of here,” she ordered. “Go enjoy your day off. Th-thanks for staying. I’ll pick up my stuff from your place as soon as possible.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m coming back, Bella. And your stuff can stay at my house however long you need. I only had Anastasia drop it by because she’d told me you intended to check out today, and I didn’t want you to have to pay for a night you were in the hospital.”
“I—”
Thunderstorms filled his eyes as he glared down at her. “You’re not considering going back to that asshole, are you? Is that why you want me to leave?”
“What?” She pushed the table holding the tray of food away from her. “No.”
“You were engaged to him.”
“Were is the key word there,” she snapped.
“It didn’t seem so key when you asked me to cater your wedding.”
Yup.
There was that.
“Henry,” she began.
“It’s none of my business,” he said, holding his hands up, palms facing out. “But if the bastard was willing to do that to you in a public place, I’m terrified to think of what he might do to you in private—”
The blood left her face in a rush, leaving her almost as dizzy as she’d been the night before.
“You already know that, don’t you?”
She swallowed. “It’s why I left. My father . . . well, he was persistent that I marry Sergio, and I—” She shook her head. “Sergio had me convinced that he loved me.”
“What did he do?”
A careful question, and yet Bella easily felt its quiet deadliness. “He showed
me he didn’t.”
Henry dropped his hand onto her thigh, squeezed gently. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s enough.” She blew out a breath. “I left and didn’t expect him to follow me. Hell, I’d half-convinced myself the whole thing was an accident. And then in the alley, I thought I’d explain that I didn’t want to marry him and he’d leave—”
“I take it he wasn’t happy.”
“Apparently, my father is threatening to take away his role in the business if he didn’t bring me to heel."
“I’m not going back,” she added when he didn’t say anything. “I won’t. I—”
She broke off.
“You what?”
“I wanted to live my life for myself.”
Truth.
But not all of it.
She’d left because of Sergio and her father and knowing that she finally needed to find her own way, but she’d come to Darlington, Utah of all places, for a very specific reason.
Henry.
He cupped her unbruised cheek. “You deserve that.”
“Why aren’t you angry with me anymore?” she blurted, covering his hand with her own when he would have stepped back. “I hurt you. You asked me to come, and I couldn’t—”
“I realized that I’d been blaming you for my father’s death.”
Isabella’s heart stopped.
How did he know? How could he possibly know? She’d—
“But I finally got my head out of my ass.” Henry slipped his hand free and tugged lightly on a strand of her hair. “My dad had many chances to change his lifestyle. The experimental surgery was successful, and we were beyond lucky that the hospital had a fund for patients in his situation—those who couldn’t afford the recommended treatment—because that meant my mom wasn’t stuck paying off hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills.”
Bella began breathing again. He didn’t know. His father had gotten the treatment.
“But he didn’t change after the surgery.” Henry sighed. “I loved my dad, but he wasn’t much for following orders, even from a medical professional. The second heart attack took him three months after he’d gotten out of rehab.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, me, too. But I felt worse for my mom. She’d thought they’d come through it all and they’d have many more years together. Then boom, he was gone.”
“But you lost him, too.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I did.”
“And I let you deal with that alone.” Bella had gone because she hadn’t seen another way, but she still wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do. In the end, it hadn’t saved Henry’s dad and it had cost her so, so much.
No.
It had been the right thing.
She would have known that she hadn’t done everything in her power to save Henry’s dad. Money meant nothing to her own father, and it had given Henry and his family a chance. She’d been the tradeable commodity in the deal.
So, she’d traded herself for experimental surgeons and fully-paid hospital bills.
In exchange, she’d been the perfect daughter for five years.
But she’d done her time. She wasn’t going to marry Sergio, and her father could keep his money.
“I wasn’t alone,” he said softly.
She was glad for that, would rather it be her who’d been alone. Hurting, aching, desperate to call him and confess why she’d left. Bella felt that same urge in this moment, to tell him she’d left for noble reasons, but it didn’t change the fact that she had gone.
She’d sold herself to her father.
Yes, Isabella had chosen it, thinking it was the only thing she could do when she’d discovered that Henry and his family couldn’t pay for his father’s surgery, but that didn’t make it any less shameful.
Especially when it was all for naught.
He’d died anyway.
God, when she’d heard that Henry’s dad, Brad, had died, she’d blamed herself. She hadn’t chosen the right doctor, hadn’t pushed her father for enough money.
But it hadn’t been her fault.
And it still didn’t change a fucking thing.
She’d left. Henry had lost his dad.
“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”
They stared at each other for a long moment until a knock at the door forced their gazes apart. Alice popped her head in.
“Good news,” she said. “It looks like you’ll be discharged by this evening. The doctor will be in to discuss it with you soon.”
Bella thanked her then glanced up at Henry and pretended to make a face, desperate to lighten the mood between them, to firmly stow the past back where it belonged. “I thought you said you were going to shower.”
He smirked, sniffed under one armpit then the other. “I stink that bad, huh?”
“Worse than that time you burnt the entire batch of minestrone soup.” She shook her head in mock-reproof. “It was an eight-quart pot. I don’t know how you managed that.”
He raised one brow. “I seem to remember one very specific distraction.”
Bella’s cheeks heated, remembering exactly how good that distraction had been. “Get out of here,” she ordered.
“I’m going”—he kissed the top of her head—“but I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”
“I’m—”
“Don’t say fine.” He strode for the door. “I’ll be back.”
She huffed. “The least you could do is say that in your best Arnold impression.”
“You still like the Terminator movies?” He paused on the threshold.
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “They never get old.”
“Good,” he said. “You and me, Terminator marathon at my place tonight.”
No, that wasn’t going to happen. She was going back to the bed and breakfast and would find a place to stay in the next few days. There would be no crashing at Henry’s house. She wasn’t a weakling with no other plans or a place to stay.
Bella would find a way to make it work.
On her own.
“I’m—” she called.
The door shut behind him, cutting her off.
And Isabella flopped back in the bed, dizzy from the turn of events. Anger to acceptance. A dash of heat. Decisions that had wrecked everything but hadn’t made one lick of difference.
But Henry didn’t hate her.
She'd take that.
She still wasn’t staying at his house though.
“Stop arguing,” he growled. “Your brain was bleeding yesterday. You’re not staying alone at the bed and breakfast.”
“I wouldn’t be alone,” she snapped, batting his hands away when he tried to lift her from the wheelchair the hospital had insisted on pushing her out in. “Anastasia lives there.”
He crossed his arms, jaw flexing as she maneuvered herself into his car.
Would it have been easier to let him help her?
Yes.
Less painful?
Probably.
Were those two facts going to change her mind about letting him help?
Hell no.
And . . . there. She made it into the seat without falling flat on her face, so that was a win. Bella had to take them where they came because she had the feeling she was going to lose the battle about staying at Henry’s house.
He pushed the wheelchair back to the nurse waiting at the hospital’s doors. She’d wisely chosen to step away from their argument.
“Your stuff is at my house,” Henry said, plunking into the driver’s seat and starting up the car. “It makes sense to stay there. At least for tonight.”
“Fine.”
He’d been shifting into drive, but her agreement had him freezing. “What?”
“It’s a rational point,” she said.
“I know it is,” Henry replied. “Hence, me suggesting it. I just didn’t expect you to be
—”
“Rational?”
His hands rose in surrender. “You said it, not me.”
She snorted.
“I was going to say something to the effect that our arguments never used to resolve themselves this easily.”
Bella shrugged. “Maybe we’ve both matured.”
A beat of quiet before they both started laughing.
“Not likely,” he said, reaching over and lightly squeezing her hand. “I don’t think stubbornness declines with age.” He put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Henry?”
His eyes were on the road as he checked for oncoming traffic. “Hmm?”
“I like arguing with you.”
He wasn’t looking at her, but she still saw his cheek crease as he smiled. “I like arguing with you, too, sweetheart.”
And then Bella shut up and let Henry drive her home.
Nine
Henry
He lifted a sleeping Isabella out of his car just over twenty minutes later, and Henry realized he could have saved himself an argument if he’d just agreed with Bella about taking her to the B&B and then just driven her around until she fell asleep.
Note to self for next time.
Stifling a chuckle, he carried her through the garage and into the house.
His phone buzzed as he set her on his bed, and he tugged the blanket up and around her before quietly leaving the room. Another vibration came just as he extracted his cell from his pocket.
Henry glanced at the screen and saw that it was a message from Rob. And Kelly.
“Shit,” he muttered, knowing that word had gotten out and it was only a matter of time before his friends descended on his house to get a glimpse of Isabella.
Thus, he dealt with Rob first. It was easier, a request that Henry bring Bella to the station the following morning. He sent a reply, telling Rob that he’d text when she was up the next day.
Kelly was more problematic.
She didn’t know anything that had happened in New York.
And if she found out that Bella had hurt him so deeply, his best friend’s protectiveness would most definitely come out.