by Nancy Bush
“Come along to your brother’s room. I’d like you to fill out some forms. He’s still in recovery, but we’ll bring him in soon. He didn’t want us to put him under, but we had to.”
“Nick doesn’t like hospitals.”
“No patient does. Sandra!” He turned to a young nurse at the medical station. “I need some patient forms for this young lady. She’s one of the boat accident victim’s sister.”
She’d been prepared for the injuries to his arm, but they hadn’t told her about the bruises and lacerations to Nick’s face. The whole left side of it was swollen and covered with some kind of yellow antiseptic. He looked as if he’d been beaten up by a band of thugs.
Just like in the third grade.
Rory sat in absolute silence, hardly daring to breathe. She’d been given a second chance, and she felt humble. What had she been fighting against for so long? She couldn’t even remember now. She loved him and always had. From the moment he saved her—and the frog—from those sixth-grade bullies.
Even with the bruises, she was painfully aware of how sinfully long his lashes looked against his cheeks, how sculptured his nose was, how sexy his lips, how thick and luxurious his hair. Oh, Nick. I’ve been given a second chance. I promise you, I won’t blow it this time. I’ll tell you exactly how I feel.
There was a familiar scent in his nose. Hospitals. Nick slowly lifted his lashes, disoriented. That’s right, he thought. They put me under.
He recognized the woman standing by the window the same moment he realized he was under the influence of some kind of painkiller. His head was fuzzy, his arm was sore as hell, and his mouth was as dry as cotton.
Rory. He wanted to call out to her but didn’t have the strength. Vaguely he remembered that she didn’t love him and sorrow made him weak. His eyelids fell. His last conscious thought was that he didn’t want her to be there when he woke up.
Sunlight was beaming across his face. Nick groaned. Pain shot to his skull from his arm.
“Mr. Shard? Are you awake?” asked a brisk feminine voice.
Do I look awake? he thought in disgust. “No.”
“Dr. Anthony will be in to see you in an hour.”
Nick opened his eyes. It was somewhere around midday. Where was Rory? “Wait! Can you tell me about John Marsden?”
“He’s still in critical condition. I don’t know anything more. Oh, your sister had to run an errand. She said she’d be back soon.”
Nick narrowed his gaze at her, confused. “I don’t have a sister.”
The nurse frowned at him, then shrugged and walked through the door, more interested in finishing her duties than easing his mind.
Now what was all that about?
He lay back and stared at the ceiling. The past twenty-four hours were in fragments. Had Rory been here last night? He could almost remember seeing her in his room, standing at the window, her dark-brown hair floating gently around her as the AC kicked in and lifted strands away from her face.
But that had to be imagination. They hadn’t left on the best of terms Friday night. His lips twisted. Well, she probably would come to the hospital as a friend, he allowed. Not a lover, a friend. Sucking air between his teeth, he squeezed his eyes closed. The pain of her rejection was a thousand times worse than the pain in his arm and face.
Dr. Anthony appeared. Nick remembered his trim gray hair and glasses. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad. A little fuzzy still.”
“We want to keep you here until tomorrow, maybe Tuesday.”
Nick laughed. “Dream on, Doctor. I’m leaving as soon as someone shows me where my clothes are. And I want to know about John Marsden. And where’s Mary Lou, his wife?”
“She’s with him. He’s had a rather severe concussion and we’re keeping a watch on him.”
“But he’ll be okay.”
“We don’t expect any complications.”
Doctors. They always hedged their bets. Marsden could be doing handsprings in the hall, and they’d only admit he was making progress.
But it was an enormous relief. Nick hadn’t realized how worried he was until now, when he could feel his muscles unwind. Still, the room was close and his ears buzzed. “You didn’t tell me where my clothes are.”
“They’re in the closet, but my recommendation is that—”
“I don’t care what it is,” he muttered tersely. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Light footsteps turned into his room and Nick looked up to see Rory standing in the doorway. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, her eyes purple with shadows.
“You’re awake,” she said in an unsteady voice.
“Ah, Miss Shard. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He insists on leaving today, but I strongly advise against it.”
Nick worked hard to keep his feelings under control. He was too weak. Whatever drug they’d pumped into him was working on his emotions, lifting them to the surface. If he didn’t watch it, he’d break down in some embarrassing way. What the hell was wrong with his hearing? “Miss… Shard?”
“Your sister’s been here most of the night.” The doctor patted Rory’s arm in a friendly way before he left.
Rory walked to his bedside. Her perfume was as light and soft as spring, cutting the thick dull air. Her eyes were sober, a deep cerulean blue, flecked with gray and surrounded by dense lashes. She flushed a becoming pink. “I lied. I was afraid they would let me stay if I told them I was just a friend.”
His head was slowly clearing from the effects of the drugs; he finally understood. “So, you’re my sister?”
She nodded, smiling faintly.
She wore the aqua tank top and white jeans he remembered sliding off her smooth skin that first night they’d slept together. He ached inside. His throat tightened, and he felt suffocated. So this was what love was. Real love. He wasn’t certain he could survive it.
Touching his bandage, Rory shivered a little. Nick’s gaze followed the path of hers. Around the fringes, his bandage was brick-colored from his blood.
“I don’t do well with blood,” Rory admitted.
“You never have.”
Their gazes locked. “You don’t do well with hospitals.”
Nick swallowed and glanced away, narrowing his eyes on the view outside the window.
“You scared me to death,” she said in a low voice. “For a while I was afraid…”
“Afraid you’d lost your best friend?”
Her brows drew together at his mocking tone. “Well, yes.”
He couldn’t take this. He wasn’t up to it. Better to cut it off now, before he suffered more humiliation. “Rory, you were right. I was wrong. Getting involved… it’s not the same between us anymore, and I’m sorry.”
Her eyes were huge dark pools. He noticed the ravages on her beautiful face and realized belatedly that she’d spent some bad hours on his behalf. “You’re sorry?”
“I’m sorry I pushed you. We can’t go back and we can’t go forward. Looks like we’re in purgatory.”
“Why can’t we go forward?” she asked in a small voice.
He clenched his teeth until his fillings hurt. “I don’t think I love you, Rory. I was… wrong.”
He looked her straight in the eye and lied. It was simple, really. Maybe if she felt he didn’t care as much as he did, then they could have an affair, or a friendship, or something. Later. When he was ready… when she was ready… when everything didn’t hurt so much.
His breath caught. Brimming in her eyes were huge tears. He’d never seen her cry before.
“I came to… the pier yesterday… to tell you…” She covered her mouth with her hands and closed her eyes. Two tears slid over the hills of her cheeks “I thought I’d lost the chance, and then at the hospital… I wasn’t sure if you would make it.”
“Tell me what?” he demanded, focusing on the one part of her speech he wanted to hear.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Nick. I’m so, so glad.”
She licked her lips, staring at him. “I—”
The rattle of the medicine cart echoed in the doorway. A cheery young nurse entered like a typhoon, destroying the moment. “Dr. Anthony said you’re thinking of trying to leave us. I need to check you out, if that’s so.”
Rory abruptly turned toward the door.
Nick flipped the covers back, furious. “Rory, wait!”
She walked away in fast, efficient strides, never looking back once.
Michelle’s house was bearable only because she’d propped a fan on the kitchen counter and cool air kept everyone from being really cranky. Rory sat on the couch, too upset to want to go home and face her own company. The last day and a half had wrung every possible emotion from her. She was so happy Nick was all right she wanted to cry, and so miserable that his love had been an illusion she wanted to die.
You have no one to blame but yourself.
She’d known from the beginning that Nick couldn’t love her. So why had she listened when he’d said those three meaningless words? Why had she let herself believe in the impossible?
Max walked into the living room. His T-shirt was too short and his belly hung out, giving him the look of a belligerent prizefighter gone to seed. A scowl was plastered across his baby face. Rory looked at him, forcing a smile. “What is it, Tiger?”
“Lisa hit me.”
“You’ve hit her a time or two, haven’t you?”
“No!”
“I don’t think that’s quite true. I’ve seen you hit her.”
The conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. For a moment he stood in defiant indecision, then he climbed onto the couch and buried his face into Rory’s neck, crying as if his heart would break.
For Rory it was a surprising moment. Max so rarely showed the need for affection, especially from her, that she hardly knew what to do. Hugging him close, she rubbed his back. “Hey, it’s not so bad.” He sniffled louder, for effect. Rory smiled against his hair. She had to resist the desire to squeeze too hard, to ask for the love she herself craved. Her eyes closed. Her heart hurt. She inhaled deeply the smell of dirt and chocolate, and the clean baby scent that lingered through all. Tears burned. “Oh, Max,” she murmured, a catch in her voice.
His blue eyes looked at her, huge and round. “You sad?” he asked.
“Very sad.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t talk. Max lay his head against her shoulder and she wept silently, brushing at the tears, unable to stop their flow.
Michelle stopped short at the entryway to the room. She didn’t say anything, merely lifted her brows to ask if Max was bothering her. Rory shook her head. It felt wonderful to have someone in her arms who gave and received love so willingly.
Max lasted about thirty seconds. Patting Rory’s hair, he said matter-of-factly, “You feel better,” and slid from her lap.
“Do you?” Michelle asked after Max had gone in search of his sister. She perched on the ottoman in front of the couch.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, stop it. I know you’re miserable. I can’t remember the last time I saw you cry.”
Rory’s gaze dropped to her hands. If Michelle kept this up, she was going to see her sister cry rivers.
“You haven’t lied to me about Nick, have you?” she asked quickly.
“No. Oh, no. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.” Rory drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “He… uh… was finally honest about us.”
“What does that mean?”
“He just wants to be friends, too. It was a mistake. He said he was wrong.”
“Oh, Rory.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Rory glanced away, chewing on her lower lip. “I knew it would be this way. I was stupid to get involved.”
“Maybe he’s just not admitting how he really feels.”
“Oh, no. He was clear on that. But I don’t want to talk about it.” Rory sighed. “Really. You’ve got worse problems than I do.”
Michelle lifted a hand, then dropped it in defeat. “James is coming by this afternoon. I’ve asked him to hold off on the divorce, and he’s agreed, at least temporarily. We’re finally going to talk.”
“Good.” Rory struggled to pull herself together. “That’s just what Nick said you ought to do…” Her voice trailed off with remembered pain.
Squeezing her hand, Michelle said, “It’s not over till it’s over. In a weird way, I’m happy you’re finally facing your feelings.”
“Maybe. It’s just never seemed like a good idea to let anyone get that close. It hurts like hell.”
“Yeah. It does.” Her lips twisted. “But I have two wonderful children from taking that chance, and I wouldn’t change that for anything, no matter what happens between me and James.”
Rory left Michelle’s when James arrived. He looked terrible. He might be the villain in this drama, but his choices weren’t making him completely happy, either. Had her father felt like that? Rory wondered. She’d never credited him with emotions stronger than lust, but maybe it had hurt him a little to give up his family.
She drove home aimlessly, stopping by the park where she’d taken Max and Lisa. It was still hot, but a light breeze had kicked up, making the air feel fresher, more bearable, more Seattle. Rory thought over everything that had happened since Nick had blown back into her life. She hadn’t been the same since he’d walked across the threshold of her office.
She’d been so frightened, so suspicious. Nick had accused her of being an adventurer at heart, but Rory had closed her ears, wanting to keep her safe, ordered world intact.
I know you, he’d said in a tone that suggested deep, private secrets shared between the two of them.
Rory picked up a stone, plunking it into the duck pond, encouraging the whole flock of darkly feathered ducks to skim toward her, hoping for a handout.
Well, she knew him, too. And he’d run true to color in the end, rejecting her when the going got sticky.
But he did tell you he loved you.
And then he took it away.
The ducks honked noisily, flapping their wings and fighting for position in front of Rory. “Sorry, I’m empty-handed,” she apologized, turning back toward her car.
She thought briefly about going back to the hospital, but headed home instead. She wasn’t strong enough to face Nick, yet. She needed to work out some things first anyway.
At her apartment she passed by a Porsche parked at the curb and had to do a double-take before she recognized it. Nick! Throwing open her door, Rory glanced up to her balcony. There was no one there.
Walking slowly up the front steps, she glanced back down to the street several times. That was Nick’s car. She was certain of it. So where was he?
She nearly jumped from her skin when her apartment door opened in front of her face. “Nick!” she shrieked.
“Rory.” He looked surprised, too.
Problem streaked outside, darting down the stairs.
“I was just letting the cat out,” he explained.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“Your neighbor, Mr. Little, saw me sitting on the stoop and took pity on me. I guess he has a key to your apartment, because he let me in.”
Rory shook her head to clear the cobwebs as Nick stepped aside, then closed the door behind her. For once the room didn’t feel so bare. Nick’s presence filled the empty spaces. “He was feeding Problem some of the time while I was at Michelle’s,” she said. “I’m surprised he let you in. He’s normally so cautious.”
Nick smiled faintly. “I think he decided after waiting three hours that I wasn’t going to rob the place.” He glanced at the sling on his left arm. “And I imagine I don’t look like much of a threat.”
Rory met his amused gaze, resisting the urge to run her hand along his bruised cheek. The swelling had receded, but the cuts and blackening around his eye gave him a dangerous, raffish air. �
�You shouldn’t have left the hospital,” she said, turning away. “And you shouldn’t have waited all this time for me. You could have just called.”
“Well, my phone’s probably at the bottom of the ocean, and I needed to talk to you.”
“I was at Michelle’s.”
“I know, but I figured you’d show up here sooner or later.”
Rory glanced back uncertainly. She loved the way his hair smoothed dramatically away from his forehead, the lines of humor surrounding his eyes, the slant of his mouth. “What was so important that couldn’t wait until you feel better?”
“Well…” He stretched, wincing a bit at the strain on his arm. “You were trying to tell me something at the hospital, but you never got it out.”
“I was just so relieved that you were going to be all right. It just about killed me when I thought…” She shuddered.
“What were you going to say?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“I lied to you about not being in love with you,” he said. Rory stared at him, fighting back the surge of joy that threatened her common sense. “Did you really think I would tell you I loved you if I didn’t mean it?”
“But at the hospital—”
“Forget what I said at the hospital. I was really down, worried sick about Marsden, who, by the way, is getting better by the hour. I was still suffering the effects of the night before. I didn’t mean it. You’d hurt me, and I wanted to hurt you back.”
After that speech Nick sank down onto the couch, laying his head back and closing his eyes. Rory was instantly filled with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked quickly.
“Yes, I’m okay,” he answered with difficulty.
“I’m glad about John.” Rory hovered uncertainly. “You should’ve stayed in the hospital. This is crazy.”
“No, I’m fine. Truly. Sit down.”
Rory perched on the edge of the couch; her eyes searched his face. He was pale beneath his tan. “Can I get you anything?”
He lifted his lashes until his eyes were too silvery slits. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what you meant to tell me at the hospital.”