“If you needed sex why didn’t you come to me? I’m eighteen now,” Mary said, tears streaming down her pale face. “Why, Rory? Why with someone like her and not me?”
Mary’s “her” came out less than flattering. But okay, the poor dear was obviously distraught, so Neve let it slide.
“Because you’re a good girl, Mary,” Rory explained, as if it made perfect sense, as if girls like Mary were meant to be kept pure, while women like Neve were only good for screwing in a storeroom.
Well, damn. She hadn’t expected that from Rory. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s okay, Rory,” Mary said. “Since we’re going to be getting married anyway.”
WHAT? Since we’re going to be getting married…a direct hit! The words slammed into Neve’s chest, speared right through her heart, dead center. Fifty fucking bonus points. She tried to look Rory straight in the eyes. “You’re engaged?”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze, looking at Mary instead. “Be quiet, Mary.”
Well, Neve had no intention of being quiet. She pushed off Rory’s lap and adjusted her dress. “After I specifically asked you if you had a girlfriend, fiancée, or special someone back home and you said no, you’re engaged?” Oh boy, not good. The uncontrollable rage that caused her to do very bad things started to heat her up, and anger surged through her body with each pounding beat of her heart.
“Calm down.” Rory held up his hands in a placating manner that didn’t placate Neve one bit. “Everybody just calm down.” He looked at Neve. “I’m not engaged.”
“Then what’s this?” Mary pulled at a delicate chain around her neck, revealing a gold ring with a tiny diamond in it that’d been hidden beneath her shirt—against her heart, for crying out loud. “You said we’d make plans when you got out of the army. I’ve been waiting for you. For five years. I love you.”
Rory dropped his head and mumbled, “Shit.”
“You promised,” Mary cried. “When you came home for good—”
“I did not promise,” Rory said.
I’m not engaged. I did not promise. Empty words. Lies. Neve had heard them all before. The hurt on that brokenhearted young woman’s face spoke the truth. And knowing Neve was the one responsible for putting it there…
“Shit, you’re damn right, you lying amoral pig.” Neve grabbed her pocketbook and turned to leave.
“Wait.” He grabbed her arm. “Please.”
She glared down at his hand. “Let go of me.”
“Not if you’re going to run out of here without giving me a chance to explain.”
Mary shared her opinion. “Let her go. You don’t need her. You have me.”
“Yes, Rory. You don’t need me, you have her. Now let. Me. Go.”
He didn’t, big mistake, because the one thing Neve liked even less than being told what to do was someone trying to force her to do something she didn’t want to—in this case, remain in the storeroom for one more damn minute. So with her free hand she let a quick jab to his throat fly. And while he gasped for breath, she kicked him in the balls, hard, stepping out of the way when his body crumpled to the floor—with a satisfying thud.
Thank you, big brother, you were right. Learning self-defense did in fact come in handy someday.
A loud, annoying ringing hurt Neve’s ears. No. Turned out Mary had a healthy set of lungs and was using them to alert the neighborhood via a long-winded, shrill scream.
Time to go. “He’s all yours, honey.” Neve stepped over Rory’s prostrate form. “I’m done with him.”
Mary didn’t waste any time, going to her man, dropping to the floor beside him. “Rory, my love, what can I do? How can I help?”
Seemed Rory couldn’t answer. Aw shucks, too bad.
Neve left the storeroom, averting her eyes as she passed the cook, a boy who looked very similar to Rory, although younger and taller, and the older waitress running toward the commotion.
Head down, with Rory’s semen starting to drip down the inside of her thigh, Neve pushed through the crowd, exited the pub, and ran, into the darkness, down three blocks and over to the street where she’d parked her car. Heart pounding, her breathing heavy, she wiped at angry tears as she struggled to get the key in the lock.
Again. How could this have happened to her again? She’d been so sure Rory was different, she’d opened up to him, shared things she’d never shared with anyone, not even Brooke.
“Asshole.” Neve slammed her hand on the steering wheel. Then she started the engine, shifted the car into drive, and got the hell out of Boston, without ever looking back.
Chapter 5
PRESENT DAY—BACK IN NEVE’S HOSPITAL ROOM
“I’m still here because I want to explain about Mary,” Rory said, shifting in his chair. “In case you’ve forgotten, when I arrived you weren’t all that receptive to the idea. Then you collapsed, and you’ve been pretty much out of it since then. Unlike you, I prefer my important conversations to have an active exchange of dialogue. One person talks, the other talks back.”
“Oh, she’ll talk back all right,” Nate said.
“Shut up, Nate,” Neve snapped, and Rory got the feeling she said that a lot.
“Besides, we’re friends.” She tried to interrupt him, but he spoke over her. “We are, damn it. I care about you. I’m worried about you. And I stuck around to see if there’s anything I can do, like maybe help you out for a little while, since the doctor says you can’t go home alone.” Like maybe take care of her, to pay her back for all she’d done for him this past year…well, up until she’d cut off all contact.
“See.” She turned to Nate. “Selfless.”
She said it like it was a bad thing.
“You know,” Nate tried, “maybe you should take him up on—”
“No.”
Nate stood. “Then stop giving the guy a hard time. Let him say what he came here to say so he can leave and you can be done with him.” He walked to the head of the bed and gave Neve a kiss on the cheek, adding, “If that’s what you really want.”
“Of course that’s what I want.” Neve managed to force quite a bit of energy behind those words to make them sound convincing.
But Nate got Rory thinking. What if it wasn’t really what she wanted? What if Nate saw something Rory didn’t? Rory felt a faint wisp of hope. Maybe the reason she hadn’t given him the chance to explain, the reason she’d refused to confirm or deny being pregnant was because she’d wanted him to come after her.
“Either way, I’m out.” Nate, who’d been ready to fight him a few minutes ago, held out his hand to Rory, looking like he now felt sorry for him. “Good luck to you, my friend.” He leaned in and whispered, “Nothing she likes more than a good fight.” He stood back up. “My dog needs a walk and I need some lunch. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
At the mention of Nate going home, Neve perked up. “Would you swing by my place and bring me some clean clothes? And my brush and deodorant and stuff? And my cellphone.”
“No phone,” Nate said. “You need to rest.”
“And how am I supposed to rest with you and Rory yapping at me the second I open my eyes?”
“No phone,” Nate repeated.
“Come on. I’m waiting for an important call…from Cirque du Soleil. I just want to check my messages.”
Rory remembered the letter where she’d told him about the night a representative from Cirque du Soleil approached her and her partner after one of their performances, asking if they’d be interested in trying out for a new type of show. Smaller venues, more intimate settings, cabaret-type performances, international travel with a minimum of a one-year commitment plus practice. She’d written:
I’m so excited I can’t contain my energy. I’ve been doing flips—literally—all day at work. How fantastic to have the chance to get out of this town, to go where no one judges me on my past, to make new friends who will know me as the person I am today, not the person I used to be.
; That last sentence had given him a glimpse of the inner workings of Neve, a woman trying to do better, trying to shake off her past. He admired that. He admired her.
After thinking about it, Nate said, “Fine. I’ll bring your phone. But only so you can check your messages.” He looked back and forth between Neve and Rory. “Now, you kids play nice.” Then with an annoying smirk, he left.
And wouldn’t you know it? Just as Nate disappeared to the left, a nurse came in from the right.
Could he not catch a break?
“You’re awake,” the pretty young brunette said with a smile, her long, straight hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing navy blue scrubs with a colorful scrub jacket over top and carrying a computer tablet.
Next thing he knew Rory was back out in the hall, alone with his thoughts, which wasn’t such a bad thing when he had Neve’s letters to think about, especially the one where she’d written:
I entered into this pen pal thing because I wanted to do my little bit to support our troops, and yeah, I thought it’d be a fun way to pass the winter months. But it’s become so much more. You’ve become an important person in my life. I care about you, care what happens to you. I want to help you and support you in any way that I can. So never worry about sending me graphic or gory or heartbreaking letters detailing what you’re seeing, experiencing, and feeling. I want to know. I’m tough. I can take it.
He’d really appreciated that and took advantage of her offer whenever he needed to vent, whenever something particularly tragic happened and talking or writing or typing helped to stop it from festering inside his head, forcing it out into the open where Neve could put her spin on it and either cheer him up or make him feel better about it. No one could get him laughing or make him think the way she could.
Like when she’d ended one of her letters with:
Turn-ons: A man who is honest, confident, health-conscious, smart, adventurous, and thoughtful. A man with a sense of humor who treats a woman with respect, makes her feel special and valued without smothering her independent spirit.
My perfect match will be: Honest, trusting, hardworking, patient, tolerant, understanding, and forgiving. (Trust me, those last four are nonnegotiable or we’ll wind up killing each other.)
He’d spent a lot of time figuring out his response, eventually settling on:
Turn-ons: A woman who is outgoing and confident, who can hold her own at our pub without needing my constant attention. A woman who looks good in a clingy, elastic-type dress—I’m sorry, but I’m a guy and we are visual creatures—who smells as good as she looks. And I know this will make me sound completely shallow (as if my stereotypical admission above didn’t already), but a woman my height or shorter, which means no one over five feet, seven inches. Don’t judge me. I’m being honest. You wrote that you value honesty!
My perfect mate will be: Loving, affectionate, loyal, supportive, honest, trusting, calm, and even-tempered, an equal partner in our marriage. A woman who I could see raising my children, who makes me happy, who I want to spend every night and day with, for the rest of my life.
For him, calm and even-tempered were the two nonnegotiable items on his list. He’d grown up with a strong-willed, quick-to-anger, ready-to-fight mother. Over the years Dad had spent lots of nights on the couch, and Rory and his brothers had spent lots of time avoiding their mother’s wrath. No, he wanted a nice, quiet, easy-to-deal-with wife, a calm, harmonious marriage, a peaceful life.
Someday, in the future, when he was ready to settle down.
For now he wanted Neve. He smiled, remembering the time he’d been fishing for intel about whether she’d been seeing anyone and she responded in her typically frank manner:
I’m taking a break from dating, remember? And right now our friendship is fulfilling all of my male companionship needs. Between it and my vibrator, I’m good. No need for me to bring any guys home. (Or go back to their place, in case you were wondering.)
Damn that’d made him happy. So he’d told her:
Good to not bringing other guys home or going back to their place. Baby, if I were there I’d be more than happy to meet all of your physical needs too. No vibrator required, that’s for damn sure. But thanks for the visual. It should serve me well later on tonight.
It had, and still did on occasion.
The nurse exited Neve’s room. “Her fever’s down, but she’s in pain. I’m going to get her some medication.”
Rory walked to the door and saw the curtain pulled around the bed. “Knock, knock.”
“Come in.”
Neve lay on her side now, had a new hospital gown on, and the roots of the hair close to her face looked wet.
“Lord help me,” she said. “A quickie wash and a trip to the bathroom and I’m exhausted.” She looked up at him. “Really and truly exhausted, Rory. I know you’re anxious to talk to me. I know Nate was right and I should let you say what you came here to say so you can be on your way home. I’m sure your family is eager to see you.”
“Not until after Thanksgiving,” Rory admitted.
Neve tilted her head, eyebrows raised in accusation. A nonverbal So you’re lying to your parents like you lied to me?
“I did not lie to you, which you will see once you feel up to listening to my explanation of what happened. And except for my mom’s birthday, I usually don’t tell anyone I’m coming home until I’m actually on my way, as in a few hours outside of Boston, because leaves get canceled, planes get delayed, and sometimes I need a little time to myself to decompress before taking on my family and my responsibilities at the pub. My parents know I do this. And while they may not like it, it’s easier this way.” Especially considering that his strict Irish Catholic mother did not think very highly of Neve at the moment. Not after hearing Mary’s tale. Knowing he’d chosen to visit Neve before returning home to see his family would not have gone over well.
Into the silence that followed Neve said, “By now you must know there’s no baby. Never was.” She picked at the intravenous bandage on her arm, looking at it rather than him.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that when I asked you?”
“Because you never should have asked.” She lifted tired eyes to his. “God, Rory. I’m a lot of things, but do you honestly think I’m the kind of woman who’d have sex without a condom if I wasn’t on birth control? That I’d purposely mislead you and try to get pregnant so I could trap you into marrying me?”
“I didn’t—”
“Or that I would keep a pregnancy secret from the father of my child? Do you really think so little of me?”
The hurt in her voice burned through him. “You were so angry. I thought…” It didn’t matter what he’d thought. He’d screwed up. Big-time.
Before he could apologize the nurse returned with a shot, and Rory turned away while she administered the pain medication.
After she left Rory moved his chair to the other side of the bed so he didn’t have to sit staring at Neve’s back. As soon as he sat down he leaned in and said, “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”
“Yes, you should have.” She plumped the pillow under her head, then found a comfortable spot and closed her eyes. “You must have been so scared.”
“Scared? Scared of what?”
“Scared of someone like me being the mother of your child, your daughter having someone like me for a role model.” She gave him a little smile, a sad, sleepy one, her eyes still closed.
“I wasn’t—”
She spoke over him. “You should go.”
“I’m not leaving—”
“To my condo,” she said at the end of a yawn. “If you insist on staying local at least you should be comfortable. Have Nate give you the key. You can take a shower and sleep in a real bed.”
Ah, sleep. How he missed it—his overactive mind, flashes of memories, worries, and guilt combined kept him awake. Not necessarily a bad thing, since whenever he was unlucky enough to fall asleep, the nightmares…well, even as bon
e-tired as he was, staying awake was easier than falling asleep, at least with other people around. “I came to Westchester to see you. You’re here, so I’m here.”
And he didn’t have it bad. The nurses had given him the go-ahead to use the guest shower on the floor. Walking the hospital into the early morning hours gave him something to do other than toss and turn all night, thinking and remembering. And it helped him burn off the unsettled edginess that’d plagued him since arriving at the Emergency Room. While Neve slept and after Nate went home, Rory could always find someone to talk to at the hospital, someone to redirect his thoughts, didn’t matter the time.
Neve’s eyelids closed, but she forced them back up. “I’m so tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“Why?”
“I get stuck in this horrible nightmare and I can’t turn it off.”
Boy, could he relate to that. Rory leaned in close, reached for her small, warm hand, and held it in his. Finally he had her all to himself. Finally he had her full attention, and although she looked about ready to conk out, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say, “I know you’re exhausted. I know you’d prefer to wait to talk about Mary, and that’s fine. As long as you believe me when I tell you I’m not engaged to her, never was engaged to her. I promise I did not lie to you. And as soon as you’re feeling up to hearing the story behind Mary’s claim, I’m ready to tell you.”
“Okay, Rory. I believe you,” she said sleepily. “I’ll listen…later.” She yawned, her eyes closing again. “Later.”
Rory felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “I find when I close my eyes and bad things take shape in my mind, it helps to think real hard about something else, something or someone who makes me happy.” His favorite someone: Neve. His favorite something: Neve’s “Read when you’re alone” letters.
Unfortunately, for the last few weeks that little trick hadn’t been working for him. Hopefully, it would work for Neve.
All I Need Is You Page 6