“I don’t keep secrets from my girlfriend,” Dan said.
But Jenn was already rising to her feet. “I’ll go see how Eden and Ben are doing.” She gave his hand one last squeeze. “Please, no bloodshed.”
Izzy waited until she walked away, until she rounded the corner. And even then, when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I have opinions and predictions about your relationship, too, you know. Plenty of them, in fact. And I happen to think that you’re using Jenn and that you’re a shit. And I happen to know that if she hadn’t come to Germany the way that she did, you’d’ve hooked up—in a heartbeat—with Sheila Anderson.”
“No,” Dan protested. “I wouldn’t have.” But even as he said the words, he knew that it certainly would have been his pattern in the past.
“Yeah, you would’ve,” Izzy argued. “Because that’s what you do, asshole. You sleep with whoever makes googly eyes at you—as long as they’re convenient and as long as there’s an end date in sight. Me, I have a weakness for your sister. And yes, I continue to want her—wherever and whenever possible. Am I using her, simply because I know for a fact that she doesn’t love me? Maybe I am. And maybe that makes me a shit, too. But I think it just makes me a fool and all those other things that you didn’t disagree that I wasn’t. But as much of a fool and a dipshit that I am? I am not deluded. I know Eden’s not going to stay with me for very long. I know what’s coming, and my life will go on. But until then? I’m on board this train, this incredibly fabulous train, whether you like it or not.
“So. You think I’m a shit, and I know you’re a shit,” Izzy continued. “But here’s how we’re going to get along for these next few days or months or yes, years, if I’m that freaking lucky. You watch your mouth when you talk about your sister. You show some respect. And I won’t kill you. That sound fair to you? Because it sounds really, really fair to me.”
Izzy stood up, clearly not intending to wait for Danny’s response. Which was probably good because Danny was stuck on that one most horrifying word that Izzy had said.
Years.
Holy Christ, if everything went just right, he was going to share an apartment with Ben and Eden and freaking Izzy Zanella for years.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
The nearest big city was Los Angeles. Neesha had gone to the library, to look at a map, but the librarian had waved to her and said, “There was a man here yesterday, and I think he was looking for you,” so she made up an excuse—Oh, I forgot my phone—and hurried away.
She went instead to a bookstore and wandered until she found some maps in a rack. And she knew the writing that said Las Vegas—she could recognize that and she found it, and found the next-nearest big dot. She’d stopped a friendly-looking woman with a baby in a stroller and asked for help. English was her second language, could she please pronounce this city’s name for her?
Los Angeles.
She’d gone from there to the bus depot and with her heart pounding, watching all the time for Mr. Nelson or Todd or their men, she stood in line. She’d been here before, hoping that she could sneak onto a bus and leave the city. But she’d seen the security. She saw how it worked. People would come to this counter, hand over their little plastic cards or bills similar to the one she’d taken from Ben’s sister’s client. They were given a piece of paper that they would then show to the driver as they boarded their bus.
At last it was her turn and she moved to the counter. She was separated from the woman who sat back there by a thick window of plastic, although there was a narrow hole at the bottom.
“Destination,” the woman said, her voice sounding strange and metallic. Neesha didn’t know what that meant and she froze.
The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Where are you going?” she said, still in that metallic voice, but much more slowly, each word carefully pronounced.
That Neesha knew. “Los Angeles.”
“One way or round-trip?”
Again, Neesha had no clue. She shook her head.
“Child, where is your mother?” the woman said.
Another question she could answer. “She’s dead.”
“Oh, Lordy,” the woman said. “Okay, all right. Are you coming back to Las Vegas or are you planning to stay in L.A.?”
L.A.—she’d heard of L.A. on the television. Was that the same as Los Angeles? She hoped so.
“I’m not coming back,” Neesha said.
“One way, then,” the woman told her. “Cash or credit?”
Cash was another word for the money Neesha had taken, so she took the bill from her pocket now, and slid it through the slot beneath the plastic window.
“What’s this?” the woman said, as if she didn’t recognize it.
“Cash,” Neesha said.
“Oh, honey, this is just a fraction of what you need for a ticket to L.A.”
Neesha didn’t know fraction and she stared at the woman in confusion.
“One way to L.A. is fifty-five dollars,” the woman told her, pushing the bill back out that slot. “You’re thirty-five dollars short.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am, too. Child, if you need help—”
Neesha shook her head as she took the money she’d stolen, jammed it back into her pocket, and hurried away.
She was running out of both options and time.
* * *
Ben was asleep when Izzy came back to the hospital.
Eden went out into the hall so their conversation wouldn’t wake him.
“He’s doing well,” she reported. “The nurse went to see about getting him discharged so we can bring him home. We have to sign some special paper, some kind of disclaimer or something, because they’d prefer to keep him overnight, but his insurance won’t cover it, and since Danny’s getting a little nutty about all the money, I thought … Besides, he’s good. Ben. He says he feels much better and he really wants to leave, and since he’s been dealing with the diabetes for years … I trust him to have a good read on his own body.”
“Good,” Izzy said. “That’s good. If you trust him, I trust him, too.”
She was staring up at him—she knew it, and she forced herself to blink, to smile. “Good,” she repeated, too—a little inanely.
Izzy did that to her. It was weird. When he was with her, as he’d been nonstop since yesterday, she got slightly more used to his presence. But after he’d been gone, even just for the few hours during which he’d driven Dan and Jenn back to her apartment?
Seeing him again gave her a real jolt.
It wasn’t that he was the most handsome man she’d ever encountered, because he wasn’t. He had a lot of uneven edges and sharp angles to his face—a certain cragginess. That was the best word for it, and even that wasn’t quite right.
There was an honesty to him—a tactlessness, at times—and it was reflected in the expressions that he wore. His face was constantly in motion, and when he did become still, it was almost startling. And when he smiled …?
He was beyond beautiful.
Eden had spent some time last night, just watching him smiling in his sleep.
But his face wasn’t the only thing that gave her a jolt upon seeing him again.
He was tall—taller than most men—and powerfully built, with upper arms that were probably wider in circumference than Ben’s thighs, which okay, wasn’t really saying that much because Ben was such a twig, but still. When Izzy wore a T-shirt like the one he was wearing now, it really emphasized how muscular he was. And the shorts … He always wore the style that went all the way down to his knees and had plenty of pockets of all kinds that he kept filled with Lord knows what, yet the cut still managed to showcase the rather ridiculously nice butt that Eden knew was beneath. Although seriously? A man who looked the way Izzy did when he was naked should’ve been required to never wear clothes. His legs were long and tan, his calves covered with sun-bleached hair. He was wearing sandals—the kind with a tread on the bottom, that he could run in—and even
his feet looked big and strong.
But it was Izzy’s eyes that Eden found herself transfixed by—as lovely as the rest of him was to look at, even while unclad. It was his eyes—and the life and humor and heat she found within them—that amplified his smile and took her breath away.
“What,” he said now as he gazed back at her, and she realized that she was staring again. He wiped his mouth with his hand. “Do I have pizza on me? I have to confess that I stopped to get a slice. I got one for you, but I kind of ate it, too.” He made a face. “Sorry. I’m an ass. Say the word, and I’ll go back—”
“No, that’s okay,” she said. “I’m not really hungry and … I’m going to make Ben dinner when we get home, so …”
“Two slices is just an appetizer,” he said. “I’m completely up for dinner, too.”
“Or maybe we should stop somewhere,” Eden said, “so we don’t bother Danny and Jenn. Did you get them set up okay?”
“Done and done,” Izzy told her. “I put them in your bedroom and I didn’t have to wrestle Dan to the death to do it. Oh, and I found the clean sheets where you said they were, no problem. I also got the pullout bed made up for us—well, sort of. The mattress is pretty crappy and the metal frame wasn’t … Whatever. It’s fine. Long story short, Jenn helped me put the mattress directly on the living-room floor. We also got the air mattress inflated for Ben. Jenn put sheets on it, too—it’s all ready to go.”
“Thank you so much,” she said.
“Danny’s still hurting pretty badly. Plus, he’s running on empty after all the travel,” Izzy told her, “which is frustrating the shit out of him. By the time I left, he was already in bed. I was glad Jenn was there, to babysit him.”
Eden glanced at Izzy’s watch, which she was wearing on her wrist. Even at the tightest setting of the strap, it was still loose and she had to turn it to see the time.
It was barely 6:30, which meant it was barely 9:30 eastern time. Which was very wimpy for Dan, who often went for days without more than a nap, even with jet lag.
“Oh, good,” Izzy said as he saw his watch. “You have it. I was wondering where …”
“Dan picked it up,” Eden said as she unfastened it and handed it back to him. “He, um, gave it to me with a disapproving glare before he and Jenn left.”
Izzy met her eyes. “Awkward,” he said in a singsongy voice, which made her laugh, despite her embarrassment. “Although, to be fair, sweetheart, we are married. He’s the one who’s carrying on outside the bonds of holy matrimony. A million-to-one odds says that fireworks and rainbows are exploding over your apartment complex right about …” He glanced at his watch. “Now. That Jennilyn LeMay is no idiot. She negotiated their alone time like a pro—and not because she and Dan wanted the privacy to sing Michael Jackson’s greatest hits.”
Eden laughed and let the struggles and problems of the day fall away from her. And yet, at the same time, she suddenly, desperately wanted to cry. Izzy was being Izzy, but he still wasn’t quite the same Izzy that he’d been last summer, when he’d married her. Now there was an edge to him, as if he didn’t give a crap about anything but getting with her again. And again. And again.
Although, really, what did she expect?
“Plus, think about it,” Izzy continued. “Do you really think Danny-Danny-bo-banny could snag a woman as classy as Jenn, based purely on his witty charm and sunny personality?” He answered his own question. “Not a chance. Girlfriend’s hooked up with him to get some of that first-class Gillman boo-tay.”
Jenn wasn’t the only one.
And he echoed Eden’s very thought by leaning close and lowering his voice. “I, too, am fond of fireworks and rainbows. I’m thinking we can have that dinner, bring Ben home, get him set up with some popcorn in front of the TV, and then? After it’s nice and dark? Find a reason to run that errand, maybe go in search of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. Fill a fictional prescription or pick up some of that shampoo that you just ran out of that you absolutely must have …?”
“Not fictional,” Eden said, loving the feel of his body next to hers. He was so solid, she just wanted to lean against him and lose herself in his arms. “The prescription. Ben needs to get more glucagon. He used some recently and … Kids with diabetes use it when they have a sudden severe low—low blood sugar. It’s kind of like the opposite of insulin. He’s supposed to have two doses on hand at all times, and we should get that refilled, so …”
“Two is one and one is none,” Izzy murmured. “It’s a Navy SEAL philosophy.”
“A Navy SEAL and a gay, diabetic kid,” she said. “Who knew you’d have so much in common.”
“You know, one of the guys in our team is,” Izzy said. “Gay. Not diabetic. You can’t be a SEAL if you’re diabetic. But you can if you’re gay.”
“Seriously?” Eden asked.
He nodded. “Don’t ask, don’t tell—so I’m not going to tell you his name, but … Yeah.”
“And … Danny knows?”
Izzy nodded again, his eyes on her mouth, like he was thinking about kissing her.
Eden moistened her lips—she couldn’t help herself. But she wasn’t ready for this conversation to be over, so she leaned back a little. Just a little. “Do you think that’s why he’s so okay about Ben? Because he knows this other guy who’s …?”
“I do,” Izzy said.
“I was a little worried,” she confessed, “that Danny was going to side with Greg, and then I’d have to fight them both. If I could’ve, I would’ve just taken Ben and disappeared. But you can’t go off the grid with a kid who needs insulin shots.”
“I’m really glad you didn’t,” Izzy said, using one finger to push her hair behind her ear. It was the slightest of touches and yet it sent a clear message that was echoed in the heat in his eyes.
Ben’s glucagon prescription wasn’t the only thing that was going to be filled tonight. The anticipation was almost unbearable.
“Fireworks and rainbows,” Eden said, wanting him to laugh, “and marching bands. Personally, I like it when there’s a marching band.”
And he did laugh at that, his smile softening his face, but in no way eliminating the heat in his eyes. If anything, his eyes grew hotter.
He shifted even closer so that their thighs touched, so that her breasts brushed his chest, and God, she wanted to run out to the drugstore right then and there. “I can deliver a marching band,” he promised her. “And … ? A tiny car filled with clowns.”
Now she was the one who was laughing. “I think that’s probably more scary than romantic. I mean, in the cosmic scheme of things.”
“Hmm,” he said. “So you think marching bands are romantic. Interesting.”
“Romantic’s the wrong word,” she said. “Maybe … passionate. Marching bands are like fireworks—passionate and … Well, not at all subtle.”
“Passionate and not at all subtle can be delivered at a moment’s notice,” he murmured, pulling her face up to finally give her that kiss.
And oh, Lord, he was, absolutely, delivering passionate and not at all subtle, and it was impossible not to melt against him, to all but beg him to devour her, her hands in his hair, her body tight against him.
“And why am I not surprised, missy,” a reedy and all too familiar voice interrupted, “to find you behaving wantonly in a public corridor.”
Eden pulled away even as Izzy let her go and there he was.
Greg.
Her mother’s latest husband—Eden was loath to call him her stepfather—was coming down the hall with the nurse who’d gone to get Ben’s discharge papers.
His face was pinched from the effort of walking farther than from the couch to the kitchen, and his limp was pronounced. Which could well have been an act, because in the years that Eden had lived with him, he’d frequently played the pity card while out in public.
But there was a big difference between making people feel sorry and making them feel repulsed—and he was definitely in danger of the second.
And not just to Eden.
He’d combed his greasy hair for the occasion, but he’d missed a spot that was still tangled. His fly was thankfully zipped, but his pants were less than clean, with a big stain on his left thigh and a slight tear in the knee. He was wearing a navy-blue windbreaker that seemed oddly out of place in the evening heat. Eden knew it was to cover his shirt—he’d probably spilled something on it, on the drive over. He kept the jacket in his car for that very purpose.
“It’s Mrs. Zanella now, not missy.” Izzy didn’t hesitate. He stepped protectively in front of Eden. “And you’re not welcome here.”
“I’m the boy’s father,” Greg said.
“No, you’re not.” Eden said it in near-perfect unison with Izzy.
“Yes, actually,” Greg said. “I am. I adopted him after your mother and I were married. When we found out she was no longer able to have another child, which was disappointing, but … It was clearly God’s will.”
Dear Lord, wouldn’t that have been awful? A toddler living in that house. Eden didn’t want even to think about it.
“God moves in mysterious ways,” Greg continued sanctimoniously. “He made Benjamin my son for a reason. He wants me in his life.”
“Your wife—Ben’s mother,” Izzy said far more quietly and evenly than Eden would have managed, “gave him permission to live with his brother, Dan, in San Diego.”
“But not with her,” Greg said with a dismissive glance at Eden.
“Eden is Ben’s sister,” Izzy said, and there was hard steel hiding beneath his still fairly easygoing tone as he put his arm around her, his hand warm at her waist. “She’s also my wife. You should keep that in mind, in case you’re thinking about insulting her.”
Izzy smiled at Greg, and even though it touched his eyes, it was different from his usual grin. And Eden remembered him smiling like that last July, while they were in serious danger, under siege from an army of men who’d kidnapped her and wanted to kill them both. She didn’t remember much about that night because she’d gone into premature labor and had lost a lot of blood. Most of it was a blur of pain and fear.
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