Wounds That Won’t Heal

by Calle J. Brookes

  As had the fiery little redhead between them.

  His brother was silent for a long moment, as the denizens of the Beck house went just about everywhere around them. Rafe wasn’t used to so much of his family in one place.

  “Who was she, Rafe? And did you love her?”

  He had two brothers, a niece and nephew, and a sister right there. It was hard to miss that she was just that.

  Damn it.

  He looked at one of the most perceptive men he knew. Whether Rafe wanted to talk about it or not, Travis would push until he understood. His brother was relentless. “Yes. But not like that. Like I loved Carissa. And Nadal died, too. Victim of a bomb at the building we were using as a mobile hospital for vaccinating kids. She was a nurse and so damned beautiful. She and her husband were killed, along with forty-two others. Hospital staff and patients. I was lucky to get out. Less than a dozen of us did that day.” Rafe figured the scar on his forehead. Rubble had knocked him for a loop. He’d wakened just in time to watch Nadal and her husband fall as the floors above him had collapsed.

  They’d held each other the entire way down.

  He’d been trapped under stairs for hours. With them beside him, trapped and dying. He’d been helpless. Useless.

  If they had jumped a few moments earlier, they might have survived. But they’d trusted emergency crews to save them. In Djibouti, Africa.

  He hadn’t felt so lucky six months ago. He’d just been off of crutches himself when he’d gotten the news that Travis was stuck in a Japanese hospital. He’d been terrified there would be more wrong with his brother than the simple broken leg Marcus had promised him it was. Rafe had panicked. He’d hopped the first plane he could get to Tokyo, and rushed to his brother’s side. Travis had been fine. He hadn’t needed Rafe that much.

  But Rafe had needed him. He’d broken down and cried outside the hospital two hours before he’d checked his younger brother out. Grieved for the ones he’d lost that day.

  Those forty-two lost souls would always weigh on him.

  He’d never understood why he had lived and they hadn’t. He probably never would.

  “Shit. I sure am glad you did. I’d miss your ugly face. You know that, right? Guy can never have too many older brothers around to give him a hard time.” Travis smiled when Lacy looked over at him and grinned her 2000-watt smile back. “I’m sorry about your friends. You should have told us. Marc and I could have helped you.”

  “It was too soon. After Carissa. Nadal was a lot like her, with that same sense of humor—but a lot like Ariella, too. That same damned naiveté. So damned like her I can’t get it out of my head. I see Nadal when I look at her sometimes. Women that vulnerable bring problems.”

  Just like the three of those women right there in front of him. He couldn’t think of a bundle of problems more terrifying than those three right there.

  Jillian leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. Rafe fought every damned urge he had telling him to go scoop her up and put her back in bed where she belonged.

  It wasn’t his place. She wasn’t his problem. She never would be.

  “That why you’re so reserved with her? It’s kind of hard to miss.” Travis lifted the beagle puppy that now accompanied him and Lacy just about everywhere off the Becks’ dining room table. Horace had pitiful manners. “You scare her. And everyone’s noticed. I think Marc is taking it personally.”

  Rafe searched out their older brother, and sure enough, he was right there next to Ariella’s end of the couch. Rafe hadn’t even noticed his older brother being there.

  Marcus was laughing at something Lacy had said, but no one was overly exuberant. Mostly out of respect for Jillian’s obvious headache. She was being an idiot. She didn’t need to be entertaining people. She needed to be tucked up in her bed resting.

  He took half a step forward, ready to tell her just that, when he stopped himself.

  Jillian was not his problem. Period.

  He was not responsible for that woman at all.

  It was too late, anyway. Jillian was out.

  Ariella grabbed a hand-knit throw off the back of the couch and covered the now sleeping redhead gently.

  She and Lacy moved off the couch, then leaned down and rearranged Jillian so she’d be more comfortable.

  Rafe felt some of the tension slip out, as he watched Lacy check Jillian’s pulse almost instinctively, watched Ariella tuck the blanket tighter around Jillian’s legs. She’d be well taken care of. She didn’t need him hovering.

  She didn’t need him.

  “You know she’ll just kick it off, right?” Chance’s wife asked. “If she doesn’t fall off of there. Jillian kicks like crazy. It’s why we never let her have the top bunk ever.”

  “You’re not one to talk, babe. I’ve got the bruises to prove it.” Chance looked at Lacy. “She ok?”

  “Stubborn. Of course. I don’t know a Beck yet who’s not.”

  “Hey, we resemble that remark,” Barratt’s wife said from the kitchen where she was dictating to her minions to make lunch for everyone again. “It’s a Beck staple. And it’s gotten us this far. Even you add-on Becks and the men who followed you home, McGareth.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. He and his dog are kind of cute. His brothers followed Elliot home first, though.” Rafe’s future sister-in-law had a snarky wit that pissed him off sometimes, Rafe had to admit. But it also amused.

  Until a man realized she used it to keep people at a distance when she was feeling insecure. Or when someone said something that made her uncomfortable.

  He suspected that while she adored the Becks, it still disconcerted her how welcomed they’d actually made her. How they’d accepted her and made her a part of their family, made her belong.

  Lacy had been alone in the world for a long time. For all the shit he’d dealt with, at least he’d had his brothers.

  Rafe looked at Travis and Marcus. Travis was practically barnacling himself around Lacy, obviously trying to cuddle her into comfort again, the goofy puppy now on her lap, too. The two were pitiful.

  The biggest thorn in Rafe’s side—next to Jillian—at FCGH had been Lacy McGareth. Odds of her and his own brother falling so hard for each other were just ridiculous. Yet they had. He was half suspecting Lacy was good for the needing-to-pamper-someone type that Travis was, at least.

  Marcus was watching Travis and Lacy with a pensive look on his own face. The memories were right there in his eyes. Rafe felt a short, sharp stab of grief for the woman Marcus had loved. His brother was a great man, a great leader, a great father, but he was doing it all alone.

  Why hadn’t he ever realized how alone Marcus was? Rafe knew exactly how that loneliness felt now.

  Ariella said something quietly that Rafe missed. But Marcus didn’t. Rafe’s brother leaned down where he could hear what she was saying. Marcus’ hand landed on her back. Rafe’s brows went up when she side-stepped Marcus quickly—and easily. Practiced.

  How often had she avoided men just like that?

  Marcus just watched her step into the kitchen, a strange look on his face. What was that all about? Rafe was going to ask Marcus just that later. A man like his brother would terrify Ariella, didn’t Marcus see that?

  She was so sweet and shy and awkward at times. Marcus would completely overwhelm her, even as a friend.

  Rafe pushed aside the irritation. Why the hell was he pissed at his brother for what he didn’t even know was happening? Most likely Marcus was just being kind to their future sister-in-law’s best friend. Or Rafe’s sister. That’s all it was.

  He certainly didn’t have to protect Ariella from Marcus.

  Rafe wasn’t about to let himself care about Ariella. It was hard enough to wrap his head around the idea that Lacy McGareth was going to be a part of his family. That, heaven help him, he’d have to let her in. Let himself care about her because Travis did. Because she was becoming his family.

  Damn it. Rafe didn’t want those connections.
<
br />   He looked toward the door, a vague thought of escaping hitting him. He was going to do it, too.

  Until the bane of his very existence twisted on the couch and nearly rolled right into the floor. Rafe cursed quietly and reached out a hand. When had he moved so damned close?

  He caught Jillian before she tumbled off and nudged her back over. She sighed and snuggled the soft gray couch far too sweetly for his own peace of mind. He straightened the blanket, then stepped away as if his hand had been burned.

  And nearly tripped over the coffee table. He scooted it back in case she fell again. Then left her right there where she was.

  Jillian Beck was not going to be his problem.

  Period.

  80

  Knocking Jillian Beck down the stairs had been the stupidest thing Jess had ever done.

  The only excuse she had was that what had just happened to her in the back corner of the pharmacy where those damned security cameras no longer were had put her off her game.

  No woman liked to use sex to get what she wanted, but a lot of them did just that. Jess had plans, and she’d do anything to see that they came to fruition.

  Even give the goon a blow job to persuade him to stay quiet.

  Everything that had happened the night before just wouldn’t go away. She didn’t want Allen to touch her, but there was no way in hell Jess was going to tell him that.

  She would not piss him off and send him running. She knew his reputation as a player. She couldn’t afford for him to lose interest and go looking elsewhere.

  He already looked at that redheaded bitch when he could.

  She knew he was worried about Jillian Beck.

  Jess smiled when it sank in that she had been the one in the power in that moment. Knocking Jillian down the stairs had felt so damned good, hadn’t it?

  When Allen reached for her again, Jess went to him, far more enthusiastic than before.

  81

  Jillian woke with a killer headache, and half off the couch. Her father stood over her, with his arms crossed. “Ok. To your room. You’ve slept all afternoon. Taking up couch space. To your room and let Rafe take a look at your head. You’ve worried me, young lady.”

  Jillian stood and rubbed her eyes. She took a look around.

  Well, everyone who’d been there when she’d fallen asleep was gone.

  Mostly.

  One man was still there.

  Her father pointed. Jillian obeyed, just because she didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, thank you very much.

  Never mind that she didn’t know what to do about Rafe being there.

  When she realized he’d followed her down the hall instead of her father, Jillian yelped.

  Her room wasn’t exactly the place for a man Rafe’s size.

  She wasn’t used to a man in her room. Not at her father’s house.

  Come to think of it, the few relationships she’d had had occurred elsewhere. Never in the room she was in now. That he was there for a strictly platonic reason still didn’t reduce the freaked out aspect of it.

  She thought he was there platonically. She certainly hadn’t asked him to follow her down the hall.

  Her head was too fuzzy to think straight, that was for certain.

  Rafe dwarfed her small bedroom completely. How could he not? His shoulders were thirty feet wide, after all.

  When he lifted her right off her feet and placed her on the white wooden desk that had been hers as a teenager, Jillian let out a stupid squeak. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Not what I want to, that’s for sure. You, me, a bed...you can do the math. How’s the head?”

  “Spinning. And not because you’re so close, so don’t even think it.” Although he did smell really good. And his arms felt really good where she still clutched him closely. Jillian pulled her hands back quickly.

  “Ha-ha. Let me see.”

  “You know, you didn’t have to follow me. Lacy could have even done this before she left. Not like the two of you haven’t been hovering all day,” she grumbled up at him just because he deserved it. The few times she’d woken today, either he or Lacy had been looming over her. Checking her pupils and everything annoying like that.

  Because they cared. She hadn’t forgotten that.

  Rafe grabbed his penlight from his pocket—why did he carry a penlight? That was so weird. Rafe was so weird. She bet he’d been a boy scout or something. All have-everything, prepared-for-everything. All fix any problem.

  Well...she had to admit, other than him being a problem for her, he had fixed just about everything except Lanning. And he’d been there to clean up that jerk’s mess every time she’d needed him to. She tolerated him checking her pupils and her pulse—which he didn’t need to do, his fingers scorched her skin where he touched—for just long enough. “Ok. I’m done playing doctor/nurse. Time you got out of my parlor.”

  “I’m hardly a spider. Where do you get these little quips of yours? I think you secretly write them down and keep them to shoot at me later. Pupils dilating as they should. I think you’re going to be just fine, Nurse Jillian, and I’m more than willing to play doctor/nurse with you. Want me to show you my stethoscope? I think it’s in my pocket, if you want to take a look.”

  All joking aside, this sudden attraction between them freaked Jillian out. She wouldn’t lie to herself about that. “I don’t want to be attracted to you. I don’t want the jokes or the looks or the you in my space, Rafe. You’re...you’re too much. On top of what’s already going on inside my head. I’m not ready for anything more than getting my life back to normal. You, Dr. Holden-Deane, are anything but normal.”

  “I’m not sure what to say.”

  She felt him pull away, felt a wall of reserve suddenly between them. Anxiety rose in her chest. “Don’t be that way.”

  “What way, Jillian? This is about what happened at my place the other night.”

  She nodded, leaning her head down until she wasn’t looking straight into his demon-dark eyes. “Not that I...you...I can’t. I can’t be attracted to anyone right now. It’ll change everything, don’t you understand that? You’re you. It can’t just be casual, even if I wanted it to. Not with Travis and Ari...and...Paige and the rest. And Elliot and Chance and the family that’s all around us. I just can’t.”

  82

  The confusion he heard in her words was all that kept him from letting the hurt he felt from taking over.

  Rafe hadn’t realized her rejection of the overture he hadn’t actually made burned more than he thought it should. “I don’t recall proposing.”

  She shot another look up at him. This time with annoyance. “Oh, don’t be an ass, Rafe. I can’t rock my boat right now. I keep feeling like if I do, I’m destined to drown. Do you understand that? I can’t handle you coming into my life and confusing me.”

  When her voice broke that was when he lost it. Rafe wrapped both hands around her waist and lifted her until she was eye to eye with him. “You’re getting through what that asshole did. And you’ll keep going until you get there. You’re stubborn enough to do it in half the time it would take another woman. Why don’t you see that?”

  The tears shocked the hell out of him. “I don’t know. In my head, I know it’s over. But then everything with Lanning and Lacy...”

  “You start right back at the beginning with the fear and the anger and the pain. And then you wonder if you’ll ever get beyond the hurt.” He closed his own eyes and pulled her tight against him. “I know. Trust me, baby, I know.”

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held him just as tightly as he held her. When her breathing evened out and some of the tension binding her loosened he pulled away. Darker brown eyes met lighter. “Rafe? What happened to you?”

  Her whispered question knifed through him. Made his words harsher than he’d intended. “Bomb. Mobile hospital. Got damned lucky. My friends and forty others didn’t. It was months ago, in Djibouti. I had to watch them die in front of me, an
d do nothing to stop it. Because I was pinned down beneath a damned steel beam.”

  Her arms went around him in a second. Without hesitation she hugged him. Tightly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  For the first time since it had happened, someone hugged him. Comforted him.

  Rafe buried his face in silky red curls and just held her right back.

  When she pulled away she was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think I dislike you as much as I did.”

  “I’m thrilled.”

  “Ha-ha. If you hadn’t been such a jerk that day, we might have actually gotten along.” She wiggled in his hands a little, obviously wanting him to let her go. That was the last thing Rafe wanted to do. “You can hands-off now, Dr. Holden-Deane.”

  He lowered her back to the desk, then stepped away. Clear wishes had been stated. He’d be keeping his hands off the beautiful nurse irritant from now on. “If that’s the way you want it. No more trespassing, Nurse Jillian.”

  “Deal. Now, get out of here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And Rafe? Thanks…”

  83

  Jess wasn’t really in the mood for sex, but she had no doubt Allen was. He usually was when they were alone. She went to work on the red tie, then the white shirt beneath it. At least he was a beautiful man, tall, strong and fit.

  She could have tolerated sleeping with an uglier one if she’d had to—the hospital was full of doctors, she’d had a list of ones she would tolerate to get what she wanted—but she was fortunate that Allen was a well-built man. And at least he knew what to do with his hands.

  She might not be in the mood for sex, but she would never let him know that. Allen was her ticket, and Jess knew it. And could not afford to have that threatened by that little redheaded bitch. "I haven't seen you in a while. Notice you've been busy, trailing after her again."