by Jill Shalvis
“For a minute.”
“Longer than that,” he chided gently. “We were friends.”
She laughed. “Friends? We weren’t friends, Jason. I did your English papers, and you…”
“I…?”
“You were a jerk.”
“Not all the time.”
“All the time.”
“Come on. What about the day I taught you to kiss after that idiot Paul Drucker said you kissed like a poodle?”
“I try not to remember that day,” she said bitterly.
“I don’t know. It was a pretty good day for me.”
She turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“About which, the fact that we kissed behind the bleachers until you had it right? Or how afterward, you—”
She sent him a glacial glance over her shoulder. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She paused, then let out a sigh. “But thanks for teaching me how to kiss.”
“You are most welcome.”
“You know…” She narrowed her eyes. “Now that I think about it, the whole teaching process took a lot longer than it should have.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “You kissed like heaven, Lizzy, from the get-go. Paul was an idiot and an ass.”
“So you only pretended I needed kissing tutoring? Why?”
“Hello, I was seventeen.”
With an annoyed sound, she walked away.
Yeah, he’d been an ass, but only because of what had happened next, the thing she didn’t want to talk about, and for the first time in all these years, he remembered, and felt regret. “Lizzy—”
“I’m going.”
“We’ve been through this. If you go, I go.”
“I’m sure you had other plans today.”
“Yeah,” he agreed readily enough. “I had a whole list—sleep, food and sex.” He smiled tightly. “Not that I was going to get any of that. There’s nothing good to eat here, and as it’s just me, sex wouldn’t be much fun.”
She looked at him. “Is this what you do in the Guard?” she asked. “Rescue people?”
“A lot, yeah.” Or in the case of Matt, not.
“Are you going back to it?”
“That seems to be the million-dollar question.”
She let out a half smile, full of sympathy. “Still decompressing?”
“Yeah.” More than she could possibly know, and it was a reminder, a cold slap of hard reality that he had decisions to make for a future he didn’t want to face. So it was him who turned away this time, needing to break eye contact, needing to not let her in his head.
She was quiet as he bent to put on his shoes. “When we had the big fires here last year, I worked four straight days without much more than a few catnaps. My entire life was the E.R., treating the firefighters, the victims, and when I finally got off duty and out into the parking lot where I’d left my car, I had the weirdest thing happen.”
He straightened. “What?”
“I broke down.” She lifted a shoulder. “I just sat on the curb and cried like a baby for half an hour. I have no idea why.”
He could picture it. Hell, he’d lived it. “That was sheer exhaustion, Lizzy.”
“Yes. After only four days of hell.”
Knowing where she was going with this, he shook his head. “Don’t.”
She walked toward him. “I have to.” Her gaze touched over each of his features, feeling like a caress. “I felt that way after only four days of adrenaline and fear and craziness, so I can only imagine what it’s like for you after years.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Very fine.”
Her words made him want to smile but he held back because she didn’t stop moving until they were toe to toe, until she’d once again put a hand on his chest.
Clearly she wasn’t finished with hacking at his hard-earned self-control.
“I’m sure there’s a transition period,” she said very quietly, giving him something he hadn’t had any of and didn’t want because it ripped at that control more than anything else could—sympathy. “Between what you’ve been doing, and being here…” Her hand slid over his chest until she laid her palm right over his heart, which was not nearly as steady as he’d have liked. “I imagine there’s a disconnect. A gap.”
She had no idea. “The size of the equator,” he agreed, not thrilled that his voice came out low and hoarse.
She was quiet another moment, then reached for his hand. “Don’t worry, Jase, I’m sure it’ll come to you, what you want to do.”
Well, he was glad she was sure. Because he wasn’t.
The moment broken, she dropped her hands from him and turned away.
He slipped into his rain gear while she did the same. He put two first-aids kits inside his backpack and shouldered it.
“Two?” she asked.
“Who knows what we’ll need.”
“There’s only a couple of inches so far.”
“Yeah, but even one inch in the wrong place can cause flash flooding, which can bring walls of water ten to twenty feet high. Trust me, there’s a whole town out there thinking this is no big deal, but it can turn into one in seconds. Plus, if we find Cece and she’s in labor—”
“When.” Her voice was unyielding as she corrected him. “When we find her.”
“If she’s out there,” he promised, “we’ll find her.”
“Yeah.” She broke eye contact, getting busy with adjusting her rain poncho.
Reaching out, he lifted her chin, ran the pad of his thumb over the cut on her cheek. “We’ll find her.”
She nodded, hugging herself in all those layers. He had to work hard not to add his arms to the mix. He’d come here wanting to feel nothing, but look at him, feeling emotions all over the place. Shaking his head at himself, he opened the door and, as the wind and rain drafted in, reached for her hand.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?”
She looked up into his eyes. “Thank you.”
He took in the craziness of the storm. Power lines down. Trees doubled over. Several inches of rain sloshing at the curbs. A flash of Matt’s face came to him, and his gut tightened. “Don’t thank me yet.”
4
CECE MANN PACED THROUGH the contraction. Miraculously, it was her first real pain, meaning it was the first one to make her want to twist some guy’s nuts off.
Actually, make that every guy’s nuts off.
Not so miraculously, she didn’t like this whole labor business, not one little bit. “Okay,” she said to her belly, rubbing the insidious tightness swirling through her gut. “I need you to give me a little more time. Can you do that, hold on for your momma? Please?”
The pain actually faded, and she let out a breath. “Thank you. Because I promised your aunt Lizzy we weren’t in labor yet, so let’s just keep that promise, okay?”
She’d read in one of the hundred books that Lizzy had brought her that even once her water broke she still had twenty-four hours before things went wrong.
That hadn’t happened yet so that was good. “Real good,” she whispered, with no idea if she was talking to herself or the baby, but she thought, hoped, if she said it out loud, it would make it so.
She moved to the window of the second floor of the small condo she’d rented a few months ago—her first true sign of independence. Every day the place gave her a sense of panic—the expenses were a weight about as heavy as the baby—and also a glorious, heady sense of pride. She was making it, on her own…
She looked out into the wildest weather she’d ever seen, and had a moment before she reverted and wished her sister was here. Lizzy would know what to do. She always knew what to do. She was Cece’s lifeline, and had been nearly all her life.
She’d come, Cece knew, assuring herself, even though she’d told her not to. Lizzy would come when she got off work, and being as bossy as she was, she’d probably demand they go stra
ight to the hospital.
Which might actually be a good idea. She had a feeling it was time. All she needed was a ride. If she had a neighbor she trusted, that’d be one thing. But she’d never been good with trust. Unless it was a gorgeous guy. Those she’d trusted too easily, and look where that had gotten her.
The next pain hit her unawares and left her reeling. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. This was going to suck golf balls, and forget being a grown-up, she wanted Lizzy. She tried calling her again, to admit that maybe she was in labor, but her damn cell phone went dead.
And she had no electricity to charge it.
Oh, God.
Screw not trusting a neighbor, she needed one. Problem was, the condo on her right was empty and for sale. She’d known someone had just bought the condo on her left, but she hadn’t yet seen any sign of life. She imagined waddling over there, knocking, then greeting whoever answered with, “Hi, there. Ever delivered a baby before?”
The thought made her shudder.
No. No strangers. It was bad enough the father-to-be was a stranger, coaxing her into his badass truck one night, dumping her he next.
God, she hated the helplessness. She thought about walking to the hospital. From here it was only two miles, but in the storm, with contractions, that might as well have been a marathon. Besides, it was too risky. She could fall. She could get halfway there and go into the final stages of labor, alone. That thought terrified her even more than having a stranger help her.
Karma was such a bitch. “I’ve turned my life around,” she reminded the room. “I stopped finding trouble. I stopped letting it find me.” She’d even gotten a real job. She was going back to school, taking classes at the junior college. She was making it all work, for the first time in her life, taking charge of her own destiny instead of letting it rule her. “I am!”
But Karma wasn’t listening.
“I promise,” she whispered to God, to Lizzy, to whoever listened to such recklessly whispered promises, “if I get out of this mess, this last mess, I’ll keep it together. I will. Just give me one little break!”
She felt a funny sort of pop, then the warm wetness on her thighs and, cringing, she looked down.
With a sigh, she shook her head. “Not the ‘break’ I meant, but thanks, Karma. Thanks a whole hell of a lot.”
LIZZY GASPED AT the slap of cold rain as she and Jason ran through the storm toward her car. There she grabbed her bag and they turned to Jason’s Jeep. A heavy gust had her staggering backward, fighting gravity, but Jason was behind her. “Sorry,” she gasped, her back plastered to his chest.
He merely slid an arm around her waist, helping her secure her balance. His feet were planted. He was a solid rock behind her.
But she was a rock, too.
And well used to managing on her own. She struggled to regain her footing, determined to do so, extremely aware of the fact that he stayed right at her back until she did, only dropping his arm when she nodded.
Water ran down her in rivulets, making her grateful he’d given her the rain gear, and she stared in disbelief at the street, which appeared to be under a sheet of water.
“It’s rising fast,” Jason said, voice raised over the wind.
Visibility was just about nil. The air was thick with rain and whatever the wind was tossing around—tree branches, sand, dirt, lawn furniture…
Jason helped her into the Jeep, his hands on her waist, her hips. A light touch. An impersonal touch. He’d have helped anyone.
But she absorbed the feeling of his hands on her, the one on her spine, the one on her hip, both coaxing a shiver from her that had nothing to do with the icy air, and she realized something horrifying.
Her secret little crush, the one buried deep inside her, had renewed itself.
She watched as he came around the driver’s side, moving with the easy grace of a man who’d been trained and honed into a physical prowess she could only dream of.
He was as drenched as she, his hair dark and shiny, his lashes inky and spiky over those solemn and determined eyes.
Being wet suited him.
He tossed the backpack to the backseat and turned on the engine. “What?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“Nothing.” At least she wanted it to be nothing. She put on her seat belt as he flicked on the radio, searching for local news. “Jason…I realize I’m completely overreacting. In my heart, I know Cece’s fine.”
“But you have to see for yourself. I get it. It’s your hang-up, not hers. I feel the same about my baby sister.”
She let out a low laugh. “I’ve just been in control for so long, I’m having trouble letting go.”
“I get that, too. Loss of control sucks.”
She got the feeling he was speaking from personal experience, but he turned his attention to the rain that pelted the roof, only partly drowned out by the heater, which he cranked full blast. She blinked out through the windshield wipers whooshing back and forth. The ocean to their left was a frothy mess, the waves higher than she’d ever seen, splashing up and over the entire beach and onto the parking lot across the street, a sight that made her breath catch.
“Evacuations are in effect from Eastside to Sixth now,” the deejay said. “Repeat—the streets on the Eastside are flooding. Stay off the roads from Eastside to Main. Head to higher ground from the west.”
She looked at Jason. “There’s no reason for both of us to risk our necks.”
“You’re going to piss me off with that.”
“Just saying.”
“Well, stop. Just saying.” He shook his head. “You always did have a problem asking for help.”
“Me? I never needed your help. It was your teacher who made you come to me for tutoring.”
“Well, I guess that makes us both stubborn asses then.” He pulled out his vibrating cell phone and looked at the ID. “It’s Dustin.” He flipped open the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home two days early. You order all this rain for me?” He listened a minute then looked out the window, away from Lizzy, his shoulders tensing. “If you’ve talked to Mom, you know I’m fine—No, I don’t want to talk about Matt. Jesus.” He glanced back at Lizzy. “Yeah, I’ve got her. She came to the house, looking for you—Uh-huh, that’s the plan.” He paused. “Okay. I’ll tell her.” He closed his phone, shoved it into his pocket and put the Jeep into gear.
“Tell me what?”
“Dustin’s at the hospital, part of the roof blew off and the backup generator failed. They’re transporting patients to San Luis Obispo Memorial, he’ll be busy for hours. So you really are stuck with me.” He looked at her as if expecting further objection. When she didn’t say anything, he pulled out of the driveway and turned right.
Except they needed to go left to get into town. “Where are we going?”
He downshifted to merge onto the main highway above town. “Keeping out of the low areas.” There were no other cars on the road that they could see, which was just as well, as every time he turned, the rear-end of the Jeep fishtailed. He kept his focus straight forward, his body seemingly relaxed, but she knew it was taking all his concentration to keep them on the road.
“According to Dustin,” he said. “Main Street is a water slide. The Jeep might be able to plow through.”
Or might not.
He didn’t say it, he didn’t need to.
“A foot of floodwater will float most vehicles. Two will plain and simple just carry us away. I don’t know how much water we’re dealing with right now, but it’s clearly rising. We’ll go the long way around, get on the highway and come in from the other side. It’s an extra two miles, but on higher ground.”
Okay, smart move. “Thank you.”
He flicked her a glance. “Are you going to thank me every step of the way?”
“Maybe.”
His lips twitched as he drove down the highway at ten miles per hour instead of the speed limit of sixty-five miles per hour. Still, the water shot up from beneath the tires in two m
atching plumes along either side of the vehicle. Lizzy leaned forward as if that would help her see better. It didn’t. She had no idea how he could tell where they were going. “Maybe you’ll be thanking me for something by the end of the day.”
“Yeah?” He looked amused. “Like what?”
Well, he had her there.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said after a minute. “Maybe you’ll save my sorry ass again, like you did with the window. Or better yet, tell me what the hell to do with my sorry ass.” He offered a self-deprecatory smile, letting her in on the joke, and a reluctant one tugged at her mouth, as well. “Look at that,” he murmured. “That smile sure looks good on you.”
“I smile plenty.” Okay, maybe not plenty. “When it’s warranted.”
“Yeah, see, the thing about smiling is that it’s supposed to happen whenever and wherever, not just ‘when warranted.’”
“There are inappropriate times.”
“Like?”
“Like this. This is an inappropriate smile time. It’s a serious situation.”
“There’s always a serious situation.” His smile faded. “It’s what you make of it.”
Wasn’t that the truth. She could see in his eyes, from the sudden haunted hollowness in them, that he was once again speaking from experience. Like her, he’d lost his father young, but unlike her and Cece, he still had great family support. He’d grown up with a sense of responsibility, even giving back with his job. In fact, his job was the ultimate give-back, putting his life on the line for his country. “I think it’s amazing, what you do.”
“No different than you,” he said.
“I’m an R.N. in the emergency room, Jason. We both know I’m a dime a dozen.”
“That’s not true.” He flicked her a glance. “And you don’t really feel that way.”
No. No, she didn’t. In the beginning, she’d resented being a nurse instead of a doctor, but truthfully, she’d come to love her job. It gave her a sense of purpose, a belief that she was here for a reason, and yeah, there’d been times when she’d desperately needed that belief. In the fall, things would change. She’d be going into the unknown. “How do you know what I feel?”