She didn’t say anything. Again. And he honestly didn’t know if he wanted to throttle her or pull her into a hug because he was pretty sure that she was over there doing her best not to cry.
But just then they found themselves at the gate of the Winchester estate. He got buzzed in and they drove toward the house.
A valet—an actual valet at a private home—opened Lucy’s door and handed her out, took Josh’s keys and stared at the stick shift in his truck in confusion before Josh told him to leave it there.
Then and only then, when he and Lucy had started up the grand staircase toward the front door, did he hear Lucy’s reply. “There are some things,” she said without looking at him, “that you just don’t ‘get over.’ But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”
And then, without waiting for a response, she walked into the Winchester home and left him standing on the stoop.
Seven
This was why Lucy didn’t have relationships. People in general and men in specific were distracting. As Lucy looked over the proper hospital-quality room that the Winchester girls had miraculously assembled in just over twenty-four hours, she was horrified to realize that she was having trouble concentrating on the pumps and computers.
Because she was thinking of Josh.
No, that wasn’t it. Not entirely. Because she was thinking of how very badly she had embarrassed herself again. When would she learn? She could not trust herself around Josh Calhoun.
At least this time, she tried to tell herself, she had not done it all by herself. Not like the last time, anyway. She had not thrown herself at Josh Calhoun and begged for him to take her. He had not pushed her away and said no. It hadn’t been like that at all.
It had been soft and sweet and natural and right. The most right thing in the world.
And then it stopped. All the good feelings, all the warmth and tenderness—gone.
And she still didn’t know if it was real or not. Because if he had brought dinner over to her place, given her a glass of wine and kissed her senseless for the sole purpose of guaranteeing that she would take him with her to the Winchester home, then she would never forgive him. Never. It didn’t matter how many times he claimed he would never use her like that.
“Well, what do you think?” Nora Winchester said, as they stood in the room the sisters had prepared for their father.
Tonight Lucy was dealing with the third Winchester sister, Nora—and Nora’s little boy, Declan. He was snuggled in his mom’s arms, his head resting on her shoulder. He had one thumb stuck in his mouth and was watching Lucy with the kind of naked curiosity that only small children could successfully pull off.
Lucy felt bad because she knew that she was keeping him up. If she had gotten here when she was supposed to, Nora would already be putting her son to bed, reading him stories and tucking him in with a kiss on his forehead.
“I’m impressed,” Lucy told Nora. “I didn’t think you’d be able to get everything I requested.”
Nora shrugged, which jostled her son. “Sometimes, there are advantages to being a Winchester.”
Before Lucy could respond to that, Declan began to fidget. He twisted out of his mother’s grasp and made a break for the brand-new hospital bed. Oh. That’s what had his attention—Lucy had tested the buttons to raise and lower the bed, and that was too much a temptation for any one kid.
“Whoa,” Josh said, neatly stepping up and swinging Declan into his arms. “Where you going, cowboy?”
Declan pointed shyly at the bed.
“I don’t remember hearing you ask your mother if you could jump on the bed—or Dr. Lucy. You’ve always got to ask, you know that, buddy? Your grandpa is going to be in this bed and you can’t just jump on him, either.”
Declan looked disappointed. Then Josh said, “Why don’t we ask now? Just this one time, though. When Grandpa’s in the bed, we can’t play on it, okay?”
Nora smiled a tired smile. “No jumping on the bed,” she said in a tone of voice that made Lucy think of an old nursery rhyme. “We don’t want to bump our heads. But maybe Mr. Calhoun can help you work the buttons for two minutes.”
Lucy honestly didn’t know who was happier about this announcement—Josh or the child. Both of their faces lit up in wide grins. “Let’s go!” Josh said, carrying Declan over to the bed. They sat down together and figured out which button did what. “Whee!” they both called out.
And Lucy didn’t know what to say. There was something about the way Josh played with the child that hurt her at the same time that it made her happy. Because it was a piece to a puzzle that she hadn’t realized was missing.
Josh had been married. Josh had been happy.
And Josh’s wife had died.
She hadn’t lied earlier when she told him she’d thought he had settled down and had a couple of kids by now. Josh was the kind of man who needed kids.
“He’s really quite good,” Nora said.
Lucy hadn’t realized that the other woman had stepped in closer. “I’m sorry?”
“With Declan. Some men look at kids as if they were feral animals with contagious diseases. You can always tell which ones are the ones who will be good fathers and which ones won’t.”
“How can you tell?” Lucy asked as another “whee” came from the bed. It felt like a silly question, though, because it was obvious to anyone with two eyes that Josh was having just as much fun as Declan was.
Nora gave her a look that bordered on pitying. “I want to apologize on behalf of my sisters and Carson,” she said without answering the question. “I don’t think it’s fair that you’re being asked to relocate just so you can take care of our father.”
Well, that was unexpected. Lucy wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond to that. Of all the Winchester daughters, Nora was the one with whom she’d had the least interaction. Thus far, her impression of Nora Winchester was that she would rather be anywhere but here. And that was a feeling Lucy could sympathize with.
“Cancer isn’t fair,” she said. And she meant it. “We’re doing what we can to prolong his life, but you understand that this isn’t about me? With your father’s kind of cancer and how it progressed in his system before he sought treatment, we’re risking all our gains by moving him out of the hospital.”
Nora sighed heavily. “Oh, I understand. I also understand my sisters when they say they’re concerned about his privacy.” She gave Lucy a sympathetic smile. “There’s just no good solution and sometimes we have to do the best with what we’ve got. Now,” she went on in a more businesslike tone, “would you like to see the guest quarters? I was told you would be bringing your bags...”
“Again, my apologies for running late. I got held up at the hospital and didn’t have time to pack.” It wasn’t a malicious lie. She just strategically left out the fact that it had been Josh who’d been holding her up. Physically. “I’m sorry if we screwed up bedtime.” She angled her body so that Josh couldn’t hear what she was about to say next. “I understand that Carson has asked Mr. Calhoun to check in on things, but you are under no obligation to open your home or your father’s medical treatment to him.”
That got her a funny look from Nora. “Dr. Wilde—after he got Carson and Eve to agree on something? I’m thinking of inviting him to Thanksgiving!” She laughed and Lucy tried to smile. She didn’t think she made it, though, because Nora went on, “Carson told me Mr. Calhoun would be by, and that you and Mr. Calhoun were friends—old friends.”
So Nora had been expecting Josh? Why hadn’t anyone else thought it prudent to tell her what the damned plan was?
Still, Nora’s response—and complete lack of concern about Josh—reassured Lucy somewhat. “We are. But he’s not a member of the family and he’s not a colleague of mine. And if you’re truly concerned about your father’s privacy...”
/> Another “whee” came from the bed. Nora looked to her son. “All right, sweetie—that’s enough. Why don’t we show Dr. Lucy where she’s going to be staying, and then it’s time for you to get a story and go to bed.”
Declan said, “Aw.”
But Josh said, “You heard her, buddy.” He scooped Declan off the bed and jostled him in his arms.
Their little party, such as it was, followed Nora out into the hall and one door down. “We thought it best to keep you close to his room,” Nora said in an apologetic tone as she opened the door. “I hope that’s all right.”
“That’s fine,” Lucy said as Nora flipped on the light. And then she gawked at the guest room.
Because the guest room was almost as large as her apartment. It had a massive queen-size four-poster bed in the middle of the room done in lush shades of blue and teal, with accents of orange in the pillows and drapes. There was a sitting area with the couch and two armchairs facing a fireplace with a flat-screen TV above the mantel. Off to one side was a small wet bar, complete with a minifridge.
“Nice place,” Josh said.
Nora looked at Lucy and said, “Will this do?” She pointed to the small screen that was on the table next to the bed. “We had monitors installed so you’ll have visual contact at all times. And here,” she said, pointing to the computer on the coffee table, “is the monitor you requested. We’ll have any meals you’d like delivered to the room—we don’t expect you to join us in the dining room, unless you’d like to. If there’s anything else you’d like to have, just let me know.”
“This should be fine,” Lucy said faintly.
It wasn’t fine. This whole thing was insane. When she had become the head of the oncology department at Midwest, it had not come with a stipulation in the contract that she might occasionally have to go live with her patients. She didn’t want to do this.
Then she thought of the expanded cancer pavilion that the Winchesters and the Newports were going to fund and how many people that was going to help and she sucked it up.
“Assuming his numbers are where I want them to be, I should be able to discharge him tomorrow afternoon—the next day at the latest.” She was trying her damnedest to sound professional at ten fifteen in the evening while watching Josh cuddle a two-year-old with such longing that it hurt. She wasn’t sure she was making it. “I arranged for several of my most trusted nurses to pick up extra shifts when I cannot be on-site. As I’ve reminded your sisters, I will not compromise anyone else’s care during this...experiment.”
Nora nodded and reached out her arms for her son. Josh handed over the sleepy boy, and the look on his face...
“Can you find your way out?” Nora asked. She hugged her son and rubbed his back.
“Sure.” Lucy felt almost dizzy with the surge of emotions that she couldn’t name. On some level, she was still mad at Josh. And she still wanted him—which only made her madder. She didn’t want to see the look of longing on Josh’s face as they watched Nora carry her child to bed and she didn’t want to think about what his marriage to his wife had been like. She didn’t want to stay at the Winchester estate and, truthfully, she didn’t want to be Sutton Winchester’s oncologist anymore. But she also didn’t want to turn down the chance to have that cancer pavilion bought and paid for.
As Nora had said, sometimes there were no good solutions. Lucy wished she wasn’t the one who had to make the best of it. But giving a few weeks of her time to the Winchesters was for the greater good. She couldn’t back out now.
Josh rested his hand on the small of her back and startled her. “Lucy?” She heard so many questions in that one word.
If only she had some answers. “I need to go home,” she told him. Had he really brought her dinner and kissed her just to get out here to the estate? Or had it been a series of unfortunate coincidences? Everyone else seemed to know and accept that Josh would be here this evening.
Had he used her? Or did he really want her?
His hand was still on her lower back, warm and solid and somehow an answer to the question that she hadn’t asked. “Would you like to go now?”
Her head was a mess and she didn’t know what she was supposed to think anymore. “Yes,” she said, turning into him. “I think I would.”
Eight
The drive back to Lucy’s apartment was quiet. She was probably still mad at him and he couldn’t blame her for that. He’d handled the situation poorly—no doubt about that. He should have told her upfront that he’d planned on going to the Winchester estate. But he hadn’t been using her, for God’s sake.
Her accusations swirled around in his head with thoughts of that little kid.
He hadn’t expected how seeing that boy would affect him. Technically, Declan was Carson’s nephew—Josh was pretty sure, anyway. Sitting on a hospital bed and making it go up and down to keep the two-year-old from having a meltdown... It made him yearn for what he didn’t have. And watching Nora Winchester take the boy from him and cuddle him against her chest?
That, too, was something he yearned for. He and Sydney had been waiting. Always waiting. She had wanted her business to be more established and Josh’s career to be more settled and...
He didn’t have anything.
That wasn’t true. He had good friends like the Newport boys, and he had his family—his grandfather and his brothers and sisters. He ran a successful business and he didn’t want for anything.
Anything but a family of his own.
There were times when he just didn’t want to do this anymore. It always hurt when people told him to get over Sydney’s death, but getting over it and moving on were what he desperately wanted to do. He wanted to close the door on that part of his life and bolt it shut. He didn’t want to leave it cracked open so that at random times—like right now—that never-ending sense of loss could barge in and catch him unaware.
It was past eleven by the time he pulled up in front of Lucy’s apartment building. Somehow, the thought of going back to Carson’s place and reporting on what he’d found at Sutton’s felt like a mountain he’d never finish climbing. Because he didn’t want to do this anymore, either—be the go-between for Carson and his sisters and their father. He wanted to go back to the nice, busy life he’d made for himself in Cedar Point. There, at least, he didn’t have Sydney’s ghost waiting for him around every corner.
And after tonight he wasn’t about to invite himself up to Lucy’s place. He knew when to hold ’em and he knew when to fold ’em and, by God, he was going to fold tonight.
But she didn’t get out of the truck. Lucy just sat there while the engine rumbled. Josh gave her twenty, thirty seconds and then figured that she didn’t want to get out of the truck, so he turned the engine off and waited.
And they just sat there. She was looking straight ahead again, but she wasn’t sitting ramrod straight anymore. She had her elbow on the truck door and her head leaned on her hand.
He knew that look. She was thinking—hard. So he let her think. Outside the truck, cars passed them and the occasional person walked down the sidewalk. She might tell him that she never wanted to see him again—but she might not.
He hoped not.
“We were so young,” she said into the silence.
“When?” Because he was not going to make any assumptions whatsoever in the course of this conversation.
“When Gary died. I wasn’t even eighteen.”
Wait—was she still mad at him? It didn’t sound like it. “It was a long time ago.” Why was she bringing up Gary now? In all honesty, Josh hadn’t thought that much about him after he’d gotten wrapped up with Sydney. Gary had become a bittersweet memory when Josh had chosen to think about him at all.
“Do you know,” she said in a wistful voice, “that he was my first boyfriend?”
Josh sat up, inst
antly on alert. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“I didn’t grow up in Cedar Point,” she reminded him. “We moved so much—I know we never really talked about it, but my dad couldn’t hold a job. I was surprised that I was able to stay in Cedar Point long enough to graduate. I was there for almost two whole years.”
“But you were smart and cute.” For the first time in a long time, she looked at him, even if it was only to roll her eyes. “I mean, in a tomboyish kind of way. You were fun.”
“No, I wasn’t. I’ve never had any sense of fashion or style, and have never been cute. I was a know-it-all—and an insufferable one, at that. We moved so much that I rarely had friends. Until you. You and Gary.”
She was making herself sound like some sort of loser, which is not how he remembered her. “But we had fun together.”
That got him a smile that was sad around the corners. “We did, didn’t we? An insufferable know-it-all, the dying boy and you. The all-American boy next door.”
He remembered something she’d said earlier, something that had hit him wrong. “I wasn’t too good for you, you know.” Really, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Gary had been dying, who knew how it might have turned out? “But you were with Gary.”
She sat up again, looking stiffer. “And you were his friend, first and foremost.”
“I was. We’d been friends since kindergarten. There are some things a man doesn’t do to his friend.” Like steal his girl, for example.
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