by Kelly Moran
“Thank goodness. It’s a girl?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“I think Zoe is the right name. What do you think?” Mama’s eyes widened. “Are you sure she’s all right?” She clutched her stomach and eyed the I.V. in her hand, confusion marring her brow.
“Shh.” He squeezed her hand. “Zoe is just fine. And you know what? I’m feeling a little psychic. Want to know her future?”
Mama’s laugh was sleepy, her lids droopy. “Tell me.”
He shifted as if he were settling in, earning another sleepy laugh. “When she grows up, she’s going to be stubborn and strong-willed like her mom. In the best way, of course.”
She smiled, her eyes slipping closed.
“She’s a stunner with her gypsy heritage. Quite gorgeous, also like her mom. The stop traffic kind. Petite, but mighty, she’s no pushover. She wields colored pencils and a sketchbook like a master, but she’s a genius with a paintbrush. Her smart mouth is quite frustrating, but she’s loyal to a fault.”
Zoe slapped a hand over her mouth to keep a sob from escaping. Hot tears burned her cheeks. Damn him and his beautiful, stupid, gallant heart.
Mama must’ve fallen asleep because Drake started to rise. She made a quiet sound of protest and he sat back down. “Jimmy, is that you? Where am I?” The medication was kicking in again. Her words were slurred.
“It’s me, and you’re safe.”
Chapter 8
Drake opened his eyes, yawned, and rolled his head to loosen a stiff neck. He made a mental note to never sleep upright again. Two of his four appendages were numb and turning his head to the left proved painful.
Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, creating a pattern on the hospital tile floor. The smell of antiseptic filled his nose and the beep of a monitor jerked his attention to the bed. A quick glance at Cat showed she was zonked out. The poor woman had awoken several times in the night asking either for her brother, Ed, or Zoe’s father. Each instance, he’d calmed her, which had made for little down time.
He went to stretch on the very uncomfortable vinyl loveseat in the room, and realized he had weight in his lap. Zoe’s pink hair was spread over his thigh, her hand wedged between the top of his leg and the side of her head. Long dark lashes fanned her cheeks as she breathed evenly. Her body was contorted into a tighter version of fetal, but she appeared comfortable enough as she slept. On him.
Last he remembered, he’d been fighting not to close his eyes while she’d curled up next to him, using the opposite couch arm from him as a pillow. Apparently, she’d sought a new position. Again—him.
Emotions assaulted him, bombarding him from every direction. Too many to name or nail down. One slithered to the top of the heap and stuck. Affection.
Zoe didn’t have an off switch, so seeing her at rest was akin to taking a wrecking ball to the breast bone. His hand was settled on her hip, but he moved it to carefully brush a strand of hair away from her chin and got a whiff of lavender for his effort. She looked peaceful, for once not radiating tension or with her usual hard edges. Have mercy, she was lovely in either state, though.
She was the complete opposite of Heather. In all the time he’d been with his wife, he couldn’t remember them ever fighting. From day one, the relationship had been easy. Sometimes, too easy. They were vastly similar in personalities, interests, and demeanor. Like an extension of himself. Effortless. Even their love-making had been somewhat predictable, yet rewarding. There had been no heart pounding or frustration or mind screwing going on. In or out of the bedroom.
Zoe, on the other hand, was like bashing his head repeatedly against a brick wall and coming back for more. Willingly. Heather hadn’t minded accepting help. Zoe took any offer as a direct insult to her capability. He and Heather had been able to sit in amiable peace or finish each other’s sentences. With Zoe, he never had any clue what would spout from her lips next. Heather had been a balm. Zoe was a challenge.
They’d all been close friends once. He shouldn’t compare them. But Heather was the lone relationship with which he could evaluate his current predicament, the only instance from hence he could judge. Like night and day, the situations. And for a guy who always had things under control, who preferred his emotions with a reality check, this shift between him and Zoe was killing him. Wrong in all the right ways.
Avery had been accredited by Cade many times for bringing Drake out of his grief bubble, for encouraging him to face life again. She’d reminded him he was still breathing. And though that was true, it was Zoe who’d started his heart beating once more when, for years, it hadn’t operated at full capacity.
He’d almost kissed her last night. In a damn hospital, with her mom injured, and without knowing one iota if she had feelings in return… He’d almost kissed her. That pouty little mouth and unguarded look in her eyes had slayed him. Death might actually be preferable.
She drove him batshit, but he simply, achingly wanted her.
She stirred, turning her head until her face was dangerously close to his fly. Her touch, the slight weight of her against him, was enough of an undercurrent without putting her that close to his goods. He lifted his hands in surrender as the breath trapped in his lungs. Her lashes fluttered and she froze. Her gaze jerked to his and she sat upright fast enough to make him dizzy.
She glanced at her mom and back to him. “Next time, you should buy me a drink first before we sleep together.”
Smartass. “I did buy you a drink last night. And have I ever mentioned how much I adore the sound you make when you’re silent?”
Eyes narrowing, she ran her hands through her disordered hair. Her lids were heavy with sluggish perplexity and her features relaxed. Almost innocent. Her walls were down. A powerful, urgent desire to see her in bed first thing in the morning hit him. Call it curiosity, desire, or anything else, but he wanted nothing more right this second than to watch her slowly wake next to him. And not in a hospital. This was the Zoe no one else ever got to see.
A knock on the open door had both of them jerking their heads in that direction. A plump woman in her late forties with her graying hair in a tight bun stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand.
“I’m Thelma Smith, the hospital social worker. Is this a good time?”
“Sure.” Zoe stretched, her shirt rising to reveal a patch of midriff, which Drake absolutely didn’t look at. Long. “Just a warning, I’m not caffeinated.”
Though that was all the warning he needed, Thelma laughed herself into a snort. “You’re a funny one.”
Drake opened his mouth to protest Zoe wasn’t, in fact, being funny, but the woman pulled up a chair. She glanced at a folder in her hand, gaze skimming.
After a beat, she looked at Zoe. “Do you and your husband have any place in mind specifically for your mom’s rehab assignment?”
Zoe laughed, rubbing her eyes. She glanced at Drake and laughed harder.
“Ma’am, I can say with certainty that, if we were married, one of us would be in that bed in a cast, not my mom.”
Thelma paled. “Oh, I, uh…”
Drake clenched his teeth and sighed. “She was joking.”
“Not really.” Zoe slanted him a side-glance.
He closed his eyes and ground her name in warning. When he looked at the social worker, her round gaze darted back and forth between them. “We’re friends, and neither of us has ever tried to physically hurt the other.” Last thing they needed was a case file on them and the police knocking on their door. Abuse was nothing to joke about, no matter how much his hands itched to strangle her twenty-three out of twenty-four hours a day.
Slowly, Thelma laughed nervously. Awareness sparked in her eyes. “Oh.” She giggled. “I see.”
Zoe rubbed her forehead. “That makes one of us.” She squared her shoulders. “Can you get Mama placed at Pine Crest nursing home in Redwood Ridge? She worked there as a
nursing aid for thirty years. I think that might be the next best thing to home. She may recognize her surroundings there.”
“I can definitely try. I believe they have a few beds open and they’ve been cooperative with us before.”
As Thelma consulted her clipboard, Drake rose and glanced at Zoe. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to fetch you some coffee and a bagel, which you will eat.” He hadn’t seen her eat anything in he couldn’t recall how long.
Up came Zoe’s hand along with her eyebrows. “See what I mean? He’s so bossy.”
Forcing a deep breath, he shoved his hands in his pockets lest he use them unfavorably on her in front of a witness. “I’ll buy you an extra large latte with a double shot and promise to leave for a couple hours to go home and shower if you agree to eat something.”
She tilted her head, lips pursed. “Deal.”
Nodding, he strode out before she could change her mind. Which she tended to do on a thirty-minute cycle. In the cafeteria, he grabbed two coffees, a bagel, and a banana, then brought them to her upstairs. She was still talking with the social worker, so he handed her the food in silence, holding her caffeine hostage until she took a bite. Convinced she’d eat, he set her coffee down and headed home to shower off the night. Hopefully, a measure of stress would wash down the drain, too.
Avery and Hailey were sitting on his porch steps when he pulled in the driveway. They rose to meet him as he climbed out of the truck. Humidity clung to his skin as he breathed in pine and saltwater. He vaguely wondered why his dogs weren’t barking, then remembered he’d asked Flynn to take them.
“Hey, I called Zoe to check up on her mom and she said you were heading home.”
“Just grabbing a shower. Is everything all right?” He could count on one hand the number of times Cade’s wife and daughter had popped over for a surprise visit.
“Oh yes. I just wanted to show you something.” She held up a DVD case.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he squatted in front of his niece, who looked so much like her mom with thick brown waves and chubby cheeks that it brought an instant smile to his face. “Hey, Hailey. Whatcha playing?”
She squealed and flapped the hand not holding her iPad in a sign of excitement. She was a nonverbal autistic, but the kid was damn easy to read. With Cade, Hailey cuddled and displayed uncharacteristic signs of affection. Around Flynn, she’d grunt and try to talk, sympathizing with a part of his brother who understood her lack of communication.
Drake felt like she had more of a connection to his brothers than she did him. Until a couple months ago when he’d realized that, in his presence, she’d try new things. It had started out small such as her eating peas where she’d always refused, then moved on to climbing a tree in his backyard one afternoon while he’d babysat. From there, she’d engaged in TV shows she’d never watched and displayed an active role in brushing his dogs.
Hailey tapped her device and passed it to him. Taking it from her, he glanced at the screen and laughed. Rusty as it sounded, it released the knot of tension in his chest. The kid had some kind of app with a virtual goldfish. According to the sidebar, it allowed her to feed it, change its water, and decorate the tank. Drake had a pretty large freshwater aquarium in his living room, and she’d stared at it many times.
Emotion clogged his throat at her small form of attempting to relate to him. “Would you like to feed my fish?”
She squealed and flapped both hands, bouncing on her toes.
“You got it. Come on inside.” Once through the door, he passed Avery the iPad. “So, what’s that?” He nodded at the case in her other hand.
“My wedding video.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Gabby made us watch that ten times when you and Cade got back from your honeymoon, remember?”
“This disc has the Drake highlights.”
Her smile was sweetly understanding. Like a smack upside the head, it dawned on him what it was about her that drew him the moment she’d moved here. From the first second they’d had a conversation all those months ago, he’d been comfortable with her, had allowed himself to take her cues and venture out of his rut. Avery bore strikingly similar mannerisms and traits to Heather. Though there was no romantic chemistry, a tug of family had subconsciously tethered him.
Then he realized what she’d said. “Why does your wedding to my brother have highlights of me?”
Brows furrowed, she drew a slight inhale. “Can I show you?”
Suddenly nervous, he nodded. First, he assisted Hailey in feeding the fish and, after she was settled on the floor with her device, he gestured to the couch for Avery to sit.
She loaded the DVD into his player and settled next to him, remote in hand. Wasting no time, she hit Play.
A scene of the ceremony popped on his TV, one he’d seen quite a few times. Zoe walked down the aisle toward the altar, and his skin heated as he watched. Her natural chestnut brown hair, light makeup on her flawless face, petite frame wrapped in a lavender gown… All of it amped his heart rate for the millionth time.
The camera switched to him and his brothers on the altar, waiting. Drake’s gaze was trained to Cade on the screen when Avery hit Pause.
“That right there was the first time you knew something was different with regards to Zoe. Am I right?”
Slowly, he slid his gaze to his sister-in-law. Unable to speak, or take the gentle coaxing in her eyes, he glanced back to the flat screen. This time, he took in his own image. And damn. He’d looked like a gentle breeze could’ve blown him over. It hadn’t been wind that had metaphorically knocked him down, though. It had been Zoe. And he had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t getting back up.
Avery started the disc again and the scene changed to his speech at the reception. After a second, the camera moved to pan the crowd, where Zoe stood next to Gabby. Zoe passed her a tissue, gaze never leaving the DJ platform where Drake was toasting his brother and new wife. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, either, but he leaned forward, taking a closer look.
For a fleeting blip in time, she’d left her expression open. And what he found drained all the blood from his head. Longing. Hope. Adoring affection. Then, she glanced down, closed her eyes, and shook her head.
Avery paused the DVD. “That’s not the first time she’s looked at you like that.”
Drake closed his eyes, not wanting or able to wrap his mind around her implications. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Doubt mixed with awareness and meshed into holy shit. He wasn’t alone in this train wreck. But he’d stood right there in front of her in the hospital last night and had flat out asked her. She’d said nothing. How long had this been going on from her end? Because he felt more than a little blindsided.
The movie started again, this time of the wedding party’s dance. Though the camera focus was Cade and Avery, Drake sought out him and Zoe off to the side. Her gaze appeared directed at his chest and his was on the top of her head. An expression of pure torture colliding with confused desire radiated in both their expressions. He remembered not knowing where to set his hands and the crazy way his stomach somersaulted while they’d danced. It hadn’t stopped since.
Avery stopped the disc and turned to face him. “You’ve been acting a tad off lately. Last night, you rammed my suspicion home.” She studied him quietly. “Is it the thought of moving on that’s upsetting you?”
The room spun, and he cleared his throat. “No, it’s the who.”
Heather was gone and she wasn’t coming back. He’d loved her with everything he had in him, had for more than half his life and would until the day he died, but he was ready to find love again. Maybe not in the same way. There were several kinds and types of love, and none of them were any more significant or trivial in their affliction. But, yeah. He wanted that connection to someone again.
“Is the hesitation because Zoe was Heather’s friend?”
His gaze flew to Avery’s. “Partly, yes.”
Avery nodded, a slight wrinkle between her brows. “I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing her. She sounds like she was a lovely woman. I don’t think anyone who loved you as much as she obviously did would want you to deny your feelings for someone, no matter who that person is.”
The crazy fact remained, Avery was right. He would never know with certainty how Heather would feel about him and Zoe being together. Yet they were the two people Heather had loved more than anything in her short life. A good segment of the guilt he’d been harboring could be laid at that doorstep. Reason was beginning to shove that aside.
No one had known Heather better than him. She hadn’t been the envious or judgmental type. Like him, she had been an old soul whose actions were governed by her heart. In fact, on her deathbed, she’d begged Drake to take care of Zoe after she was gone.
“Have you told Zoe how you feel?” Avery set the remote aside and took his hand instead.
He laced their fingers, staring at their joined hands. “I’ve tried.” Not very hard since he’d just recently realized why he’d been in a constant state of cardiac arrest. “I’m not sure how I feel, to be honest, but there is something there.” He shook his head. “We’re too different, her and I.”
“So are me and Cade, yet we work. Besides, you’ve been friends thirty years. Something kept you connected all that time.”
He smiled at his all wise sister-in-law. “Touché.”
Squeezing his fingers, she let go. “Back when Cade and I first started out, you were the one to talk to him and get his head on straight.”
“I also threatened him within an inch of his life if he so much as thought about hurting you.”
Her grin lit her eyes. “You also encouraged him to go for it. And when Flynn’s feelings for Gabby changed, who was the guy who’d showed him love was right in front of him all along?”
Cade was one lucky jackass, that was for sure. “What’s your point, Avery?”
Her gaze softened with a tender smile. “You should take your own advice. And since no one is aware of your predicament, I’m here to play the role of Drake.” She scowled, mimicking him in tone and expression. “Let yourself be happy. You deserve it.”