"I wish Dylan would rejoin the police department," she told Elise. "When Dylan and Skeeter were partners, I didn't worry about Skeeter as much. I knew Dylan was there. Now..." She heaved a heavy sigh. "Now I worry all the time."
"Do you think he'll ever go back?" Elise asked.
"I hope so. Not just for Skeeter's sake, but for his own, too. He can't keep on the way he is-blaming himself for a death that wasn't his fault."
Anne pulled the station wagon up to the curb in front of the hospital, and Elise got out.
"Tell Dylan I'll be up later with the kids," Anne said, craning her neck to see out the passenger window. "I'll tell him."
When Elise got to Dylan's room, she stopped in the open doorway, unable to make herself go any farther.
He was lying propped up in bed, hands behind his head, watching TV. All the tubes and monitors were gone. His face was pale and clean-shaven, a little drawn. The curtains were open, and the muted afternoon sunlight shone through the south window, playing across the angles of his face, accenting his bone structure with soft shadows.
It hurt for her to look at him.
He had stirred feelings in her she hadn't known she possessed. It was going to be so hard to tell him goodbye. Maybe the hardest thing she'd ever done.
She hadn't made a sound, but almost as if he sensed her presence, Dylan looked toward the doorway. And when he saw her, he smiled.
A warm, sweet smile. A smile that did funny things to her own heart rate.
"Nice shirt."
She glanced down at the loud lettering and smiled a little self-consciously. "It's Jason's."
He patted the bed near his hip. "Have a seat." He pointed to the TV, not commenting on the fact that she was still standing in the doorway. "This is so fake. No cops would run down the street shooting their guns like that."
She smiled at the irritation in his voice. "Maybe they should hire you as a script consultant."
"No kidding." He switched off the set.
She'd rather he'd left it on. The silence made this all the harder. "Dylan, I have to go. I just wanted to-"
"Go? I thought you were going to stick around a while."
"I can't." She lifted one hand, making a limp motion toward the open door. "I have to..."
This was so awkward after what they'd shared. So painful.
"Leave. I have to leave."
"Wait." The same note of panic she'd heard yesterday was edging into his voice.
Keeping an eye on her, he braced the palms of both hands against the mattress and scooted himself back on the bed, so he was sitting up straighter. "Before you go, could you do me a favor? Would you try to raise the front of this bed? The controls are here, behind me."
She could hardly refuse a simple request like that.
She stepped into the room and crossed to the bed. She was leaning over, looking for the controls, when she felt cold metal wrap around her wrist and heard an all-too-familiar click.
Handcuffs.
"What are you doing!"
She straightened and took a step back, trying to get away, but she was pulled up short.
Dylan smiled sweetly and held up one hand. The other cuff was attached to his wrist.
"You didn't need help." Frantically her eyes searched
the room for an escape route, hoping to spot the key.
"I had Skeeter bring these by. Good idea, huh?"
"Why? What do you want?"
"Want?" He gave her a speculative look that made her feel hot all over. "A lot of things." He smiled. "But I mainly wanted to keep you from leaving before I could talk to you."
"Dylan. Please-"
"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry I got you involved in this. I guess I went a little crazy for a while."
The cuffs rattled against the metal bed rail. "I'm not into bondage," she mumbled inanely.
Dylan laughed. A deep, rich, wonderful sound. "Not any kind?"
"No."
"How about bonding?" he whispered, pulling her closer, his eyes locked with hers. "As in lying very close?"
No answer.
"Or savings bonds?"
Still no answer.
"Short-term bonds?"
A reluctant smile.
"Long-term bonds?"
A real smile.
"James Bond?"
She laughed.
"Matrimonial bonds?"
"What?"
"How do you feel about matrimonial bonds?"
Her heart soared ... and then immediately sank. "What are you talking about?"
"About you. About me. Together."
Panic, like tiny wings, fluttered in her chest. "But that's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because... well..." Her gaze flew across the room, from the TV to the window, finally settling on the checked curtains. "Because of Melissa," she said, feeling as if the words had been wrenched from deep within her.
"Melissa?" he asked blankly.
"Yes, Melissa."
Did she have to spell it out? Would he leave her no pride? Was she going to have to bare her soul to him, knowing full well he loved someone else?
She forced herself to meet his gaze.
He was watching her with quiet curiosity. His next words came slowly, thoughtfully.
"I didn't love her." She felt as if she'd just awakened from a bad dream, still unsure about what was real and what wasn't.
"I didn't love her, and she knew it. But when she was killed because of me, I felt guilty as hell."
She listened, stunned, hardly daring to believe.
"Skeeter used to tell me I didn't give a rip about anything anymore. He was right. I didn't care if I lived or died."
His eyes, his dark, secret eyes looked so sincere. So hypnotic ...
"But now I do. Your tears brought me back to life." The air left her lungs.
"I think I first started loving you when you handcuffed me to my own bed. And I loved you even when I thought you were Sebastian's woman. Even when I thought you'd double-crossed me."
Love?
"But you said ... you told me never to love anybody..."
"I was talking about you. You were breaking my heart."
Distantly she realized he was pulling her closer, pulling her down beside him.
"I went with Sebastian because I was afraid if I didn't, he would hurt you even more."
"I know that now. But when it happened I went crazy, thinking that the one person I could love had turned her back on me."
"I'm sorry."
"You probably saved my life."
She was pressed to his side, his face just inches from hers. There was something different about him. A lightness, maybe?
"Elise ... ?"
"Mmm?"
"Were you really a virgin?"
She felt heat rise in her cheeks. But now wasn't the time to hide. Now was the time to tell the truth.
"Yes."
Something like regret passed over his features. "I wish I'd known."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does. I would have been gentler... easier.... I would have used more control. I wouldn't have come all undone."
She smiled. "Then I'm glad you didn't know."
She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm. His eyes were suddenly dark with desire, with their shared memories of that one special night.
She leaned closer and touched her lips to his. Soft.
Gentle.
"I might be into bondage after all," she whispered.
The sun was going down, the uppermost curve sinking into the sparkling waters of the Florida Straits.
Elise picked up the last of Dylan's plaques, wiped off the dust and fingerprints, and hung it on the beach house wall with the others. She would have done it sooner, but she'd been busy getting married. She would have been completely satisfied with a courthouse wedding, but Dylan had suggested the nursing home where his father lived, so that was what they'd done.
It had been wonderful. They'd hired
a band with an accordion player. It had been one of Dylan's father's better days, and he had whirled Elise around the room while a contented Dylan stood looking on, crutches under his arms.
In that moment, when she spun past her new husband, when he'd flashed a smile that was for her alone, she'd loved him more than she thought humanly possible.
But when he told her he was going to rejoin the police force, her heart seemed to overflow.
Not a day would go by that she wouldn't fear for him, but she knew he was doing the right thing. It meant he was whole again.
Now she stepped onto the porch, letting the screen door close gently behind her. In the distance, pigeons cooed and the ocean rumbled.
Dylan was sprawled on his back in the hammock, hands behind his head. His eyes were closed, his thick mane of hair swept back from his brow, tangled by the wind.
His face was still a little pale, but every day his strength increased, which he had proven last night, quite literally taking Elise's breath away.
He was healing. Inside and out.
She thought he was asleep, but he opened his eyes and reached up for her, taking her by the hand and pulling her down beside him.
"I've been thinking. While I'm laid up, maybe we could take the boat up the Mississippi. We could stop off at your cabin. I've always wanted to fish the Mississippi."
"I'd like that. But if you think I'm homesick, I'm not," she assured him. "I love it here. I love the ocean.... I love you."
"What about teaching? Will you miss it?"
"If I do, I can probably get a job in Miami."
The arms around her tightened. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, then pulled his head away enough to be able to see her. "I love you."
She smiled and brought a hand up to stroke his jaw. "I know."
His eyebrows went up. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
She understood that his love was unconditional-the purest kind of love. He'd loved her in spite of Sebastian. He'd loved her in spite of himself.
And looking at him, she could see that even though the sun had gone down, there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. She knew that after all these months, Dylan had finally made peace with himself.
He'd tamed his lions.
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Theresa Weir - Iguana Bay Page 20