He wanted to be the man who never caused another moment’s worry for his woman, who brought only comfort, safety, security. It’s what he was good at — protecting others. Keeping her safe was always on his mind, even before Parker had floated the idea, proposed that he share her with Drake. From almost the first moment he’d laid eyes on Ashley, he’d known it. He had no idea how he knew that, but he was certain.
She needed safety, a place to retreat to — shelter. He didn’t know what it was at the time, but after he’d learned, he had a pretty good idea what it was now. And he wanted to kill the sonofabitch who’d made her feel unsafe.
Calm down, Drake. She’s not yours. She’s his — you only get to borrow her now and then.
At first, he’d been fine with that. It was too soon after Kimber. He’d probably just be in rebound mode anyway. A little distraction, indulging his need to control, to feel a woman’s yielding body below him would probably help him forget the disaster that was Kimber.
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
He turned the corner on a switchback, loping down through the deepening snow, and slipped. The chains caught, and bit into the ice instantly, but he stumbled nonetheless.
“Jesus, this is bad.”
The roadway actually looked pretty good, recently plowed, with just a light coating of new snow. But it was deceptive: any car not armed with more chains than a rapper’s necklace was probably going to be in a world of hurt trying to make its way up the hill in conditions like this. As he ran down the lonely, snowy road he smiled, just fine with that. Being alone, in the cold, the feel of the icy flakes whispering against his cheeks, catching in his eyelashes, calmed him, centered him, helped him concentrate on something other than how much he wanted to see her.
But he knew seeing her would change one longing for another, one pain for another, for when he saw her, he knew she’d ask about Parker. He’d see the hope, the eagerness in those beautiful eyes. And in those eyes, he’d see what he really was — on the outside looking in.
“The sooner you resign yourself to that fact, and get your head screwed on straight, the better off you’ll be.”
He knew he’d probably look like a Unabomber-esque madman, talking to himself as he ran, the white snow encrusting his two week old length of dark beard. But that was one of the many perks of living atop the isolated bluff — a man could just be himself. Fuck what everyone else thought.
But even that wasn’t entirely the case, because what one certain person thought did matter. Yes, it mattered very much indeed.
A muffled sound drifted up from down the hill. A faint whirring or whining.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It looked like a car had decided to try after all.
That whirring sure didn’t sound like a truck to him.
He came around another switchback, listening more closely. The sound came again, much louder this time. Definitely tires spinning.
Shit.
The snow was falling heavier now, the flakes smaller but coming down in twisting torrents that moved sinuously with the breeze.
Then he saw dirt and snow fly up from the side of the road up ahead, a halo of steamy exhaust still hanging over the roadway. A crunching report echoed through the snowfall, the sound muted but still unmistakable.
“Holy fuck.”
Someone had slid over the side.
He sprinted then, his feet slipping several times despite the chains, more bone-crunching thuds and the sound of breaking glass drifting up from below. How far? Who was it?
If they were lucky they’d spun out at one of the turns, and drifted off, sliding down to the next lower switchback, but the cringe worthy thumps, and scree of scraping metal told a different story. His stomach tightened with dread.
“Please don’t let it be … “
He caught sight of it then, and cursed. It was a mangled car — thankfully resting on its wheels — canted across the roadway below. It was the same color as Ashley’s car.
“Fuck, no way,” he grunted, shaking his head. “Cannot be her — she would’ve called.”
Who would she have called? The man who’s been avoiding her for the better part of two weeks?
He dashed down the hill, following the huge muddy gouges the car had left in the hillside. The vehicle must have rolled several times, judging by the creased and torn sheet metal on every side of the body. Ashley was inside, motionless, eyes closed, her head drooping forward.
Then he saw the blood. A bright sheen of it covering one side of her face.
“Ashley! Hang on, girl. I’m coming.” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, not wanting to scare her further.
She might not be there to scare anymore.
“No.” He grit his teeth. “Not happening.”
He finally slid down to the car, reaching through the jagged remnants of the side window, moving the blood-matted hair out of her eyes. Thank Christ she’d worn a seatbelt — the vision of finding her broken body on the hillside was something he didn’t want to contemplate.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and everything suddenly became so quiet, the beat of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears the only sounds that registered. Drake tried the door, but it wouldn’t move. She was not staying in that car a moment longer, no matter what.
“Mother … fucker,” he grunted as he pulled hard on the door, the smell of gasoline getting stronger by the second. “Come on, goddammit. Open.”
The door groaned as it opened part way — not enough though. She still hadn’t moved, but as he checked her pulse at her neck, he could see she was breathing shallowly.
Her pulse was okay — weak, but regular.
Thank God.
The smell of gasoline was stronger now, and he knew he had to get her out, possible spine injury or not. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to watch her burn to death on this snowy roadway.
“All right, girl. Gotta take our chances — you can’t stay in here.”
He reached in, unsnapping her belt, stinging pain blooming in his arm as he scraped it against the shattered glass still in the window. The interior of the car stunk like coffee, burned rubber and gasoline. Other than the blood, she looked okay, though he thought he was starting to see some shadowing over her non-blood covered eyebrow.
Fishing her slight body out of the window, careful to keep her away from the glass, he cradled her blood-soaked head as best he could, carrying her away from the car. His muscles were tight, the tension in his body humming through him. He felt like he could run her the rest of the way down the hill.
Be cool, Drake. You know the drill, just like it’s always been. Just like with Parker.
Blowing out a steadying breath, he set her down on the snow covered gravel of the shoulder, stripping off his hooded sweatshirt and wrapping her in it. He crouched down, holding her in his arms, her head balanced straight with her spine. Then he felt the muscles of her back tighten against him. Her arms twitched, her hands flapping slightly. Hazel eyes opened, peering up at him, and he saw recognition in them — and pain.
“Oh … Drake? Happened …?” Her beautiful eyes closed again, the pained rigidity washing from her body.
“I’ve got you, Ashley. We’ll get you fixed up here. Just hang on.” He planted a gentle kiss on the cold, bloody hair plastered to her head, praying that it was just a laceration, knowing how badly scalp wounds could bleed. With luck, it looked worse than it really was.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and called 911, giving the dispatcher directions for the EMS unit.
As the distant wailing of the sirens from the town below grew steadily louder, he prayed that she wasn’t gravely injured. As he thought about having to give that kind of news to Parker, he shuddered, clutching her tighter.
You’d better not fucking die on us.
Drake knew it with a certainty that chilled his bones even more than the heavy snow falling all around him. If they lost Ashley … Parker would never survive it.
&nb
sp; ***
No answer.
He’d tried at least a dozen times, but Parker’s number just rang and rang. Drake knew it’d probably be that way until his friend was in country again. He needed his friend back here — now. Not for him, but for her.
He’d texted Erik, the kid calling him back within thirty seconds. Erik wanted to come out, school or not, but Drake told him to stay put. He knew she’d probably be okay, and having the kid around would just make things more complicated. There’d be a time for that — but this wasn’t that day.
As they’d wheeled her into the ER, she’d awoken once more, and the same word had rolled off her lips again and again.
“Parker.”
She’d tried to say something else, but she slipped off into unconsciousness again. She’d been borderline delirious, the chilling possibility sneaking into his mind that she’d possibly been hurt more seriously than he’d initially thought.
“Christ,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall of the corridor. The steady beeping and the muffled voices were all he could hear beyond the door. He paced back and forth again, vainly trying Parker’s number once more.
Nothing.
The door to the ER opened and a tall, blonde in a doctor’s coat stepped out, scanning the hallway. Her eyes met his and she strode toward him, stripping off latex gloves and shoving them in a pocket of her coat. “Are you Mr. Woodson?”
“Yeah, that’s me. How is she?”
“I’m Dr. Erickson.” Her sculpted eyebrows knit together over bright blue eyes. “EMS guys said you’ve had medical training. Military, is that correct?”
“Uhh, yes. Look, you want to—”
“You could have paralyzed her, moving her. Do you mind telling me what the hell you thought you were doing?”
“What?” Drake pushed off the wall, squaring his shoulders, the fiery-eyed blonde working herself up now.
“Moving her. Why didn’t you just let her sit until EMS got there?”
“The car was about to go up. I’m not going to let her sit there and barbeque right there. Sue me.”
She waved her hand, disgust plain on her otherwise pretty face. “Luckily for you, she’s going to be okay. Scalp lacerations, and probably a bruised clavicle. We’ll know for sure once she’s had x-rays.”
“I want to see her.”
“No.” She pointed a long, slender finger down the hallway. “Waiting room. We’ll call you when she’s ready for visitors.”
“Now.” Drake took a step closer. There was no way he was sitting in a fucking waiting room and leaving Ashley all alone. He didn’t care what Miss Icy Cold had to say about it either.
Incredibly, she stood her ground, peering up at him, a surprising flintiness in her cool gaze. “You don’t scare me, big fella. I’ll come get you when she’s comfortable. Not before.”
The doctor spun on her heel, and walked back the way she’d come, the single plait of her golden hair waving down her back.
“She’s mumbling ‘Parker’, isn’t she?”
The doctor stopped, looking back over her shoulder. “How’d you know that?”
“Because she’s mine.”
“Is your name Parker?”
“No.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Not your day then, is it? Waiting room, Mr. Woodson.”
***
“Watch this! Watch this!”
Drake smiled at the boy once more as he crashed the toy cars together on the floor for the hundredth time. His only companions in the drab waiting room were little Aidan, and his distracted mother, slumped in her chair, a woman he couldn’t really describe, as for the last half an hour, she’d literally not lifted her eyes from her tablet.
Looking at his phone, Drake sighed. Still nothing from Parker, and the ice queen doctor hadn’t bothered to make an appearance yet either. He’d fired down a cup of coffee so burnt, it felt like it actually removed moisture from his body as he swallowed it. Now, as his stomach roiled, he considered ingesting that coffee had perhaps not been the swiftest thing he’d ever done.
None of that mattered though. Only the girl laying in a bed somewhere in the bowels of this sleepy little hospital mattered. He’d feel a lot better if he could see her, dammit. He hated being away from her, his need to protect her as surprising as it was strong. And that fact shook him almost as much as coming upon her mangled car on that snowy road.
But she wasn’t his. She was Parker’s.
“Dammit, buddy. I could use a little help—”
“Where is she?”
Drake looked up to see Parker standing in the waiting room doorway. His friend’s skin had a dirty bronze tone to it now, but deep, dark circles shadowed his eyes, the shadow of stubble on his face making the normally clean shaven man look almost haggard.
“Well, where is she?” Parker’s eyes darted from the boy to Drake, taking everything in, assessing the room in that preternatural way Drake had only seen a few times.
His friend was spooked.
“Nice to see you too.” Drake waved a hand toward the hallway. “Got her in the ER still, I think. Doctor’s kind of a hard ass though.”
“Hey!” A storm crossed Aidan’s chubby countenance, his cheeks puffing up. “Don’t say that word!”
“Sorry, kid,” Drake muttered, shrugging.
Parker walked slowly up and down the length of the room, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The walk was measured, meandering — but Drake wasn’t fooled into thinking it was anything other than what it really was.
Pacing.
After a few minutes, the nurse called Aidan and his lights-are-on-but-nobody’s-home mother back, finally leaving the two men alone.
“You could’ve called, you know. We’ve been here awhile now. Left you a shit-ton of messages.”
Parker looked down. “Couldn’t — was supposed to have a seat on a bird out of fucking Fairchild, but it fell through. Got here as fast as I could though.”
“She’s going to be okay.”
Parker’s eyes met his, and for the first time Drake saw something there he wasn’t sure he could ever recall seeing in their depths before.
Fear.
“I can’t let it happen again, Drake. Not again.”
“It’s not like that, and you know it.”
Parker stopped, lacing his fingers behind his neck, the dark shirt pulling tight over his torso. “No, it won’t be like that. I won’t let it.”
Drake sat back in his chair, gripping the worn upholstery of both arms. “Do you plan on telling her any of it? Fuck, I doubt I even know all of it.”
Parker’s eyes flashed. “No, you don’t. And you don’t want to either.”
“Damn right I don’t.”
You’re a liar, Drake.
“So why are you sweating me about telling her? She doesn’t need to know — not now.”
“Yeah, she does, Parker.” Drake stood up, stretching even though he didn’t need to. “You weren’t here to listen to her call your name over and over, asshole.”
“She did? Why would she—”
“Because she needs you. She needs you here — with her.”
Parker strode out to the hall, looking either way, then stalked back into the waiting area. “Who did you talk to in the ER? Coleman?”
“You know the doctors here?” Drake’s head tilted to the side. “I guess I really don’t know the whole story.”
“Who, Drake?”
“Erickson. Tall, blonde, personality challenged.”
Parker scrubbed his face with his hands, his fingers scraping through the stubble. “No idea who that is. New?”
“How the fuck should I know? I’ve been to this place exactly once in the past five years.”
“Are you Parker, by chance?”
Both men turned toward the voice, Dr. Erickson stood with her profile to the room, looking them over. “She keeps asking for you—” she snapped a quick glance at Drake “— and for him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Drake folded his arms across his chest.
The doctor locked gazes with him, but said nothing.
“Doctor, hello.” Parker extended a hand, taking hers in a gentle shake. “How bad is she hurt? Can we see her? She might calm down if I can talk to her.”
Her blue eyes slid over to Drake for a moment then met Parker’s “She’s got a laceration to her scalp — nothing too bad, but she needed quite a few stitches. Possibly a broken clavicle too, but we’re still waiting to get her into x-ray.”
“Still?” Drake frowned. “We’ve been waiting almost an hour.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Small hospital, Mr. Woodson.”
“I’d like to see her, doctor,” Parker said, his voice softening. “Just for a minute?”
“She said something that I wanted to run by you, Mr … “
“Parker, please.” He smiled at her. “Of course, anything.”
“I’m thinking she might just be a little shaken up, though she doesn’t appear to be in shock.” The doctor scratched her temple with the end of her pen. “She said that she needed you, that she was yours.”
Parker cleared his throat. “Probably just delirious, as you said.”
“Mr. Woodson told me she was his though.” The doctor’s eyebrow crooked upward, her keen gaze moving between the two men. “Yes, I suppose she’s just confused …”
“Can you let us back there, doctor? Let me say hello to her. She’ll feel better.”
“Okay, just for a second though. She needs to rest if she can — she won’t like having to move that arm for the x-ray techs.”
As they followed the white-coated beauty down the hallway, Drake shook his head, a relieved grin on his face. The man certainly had his ways, melting the ice queen in mere moments.
Parker was back.
Chapter Twenty Two
The left side of her face felt like it had been flattened. Her shoulder was killing her, made worse when the x-ray tech had made her twist it around like she was goddamned Gumby. When she opened her eyes, well, eye actually — the left eye was firmly ensconced under gauze — the light from the harsh fluorescents overhead stabbed into it. “Parker? You — you made it?”
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