The Marine's Secret Daughter

by Carrie Nichols

  Riley shot her a look that said he was considering his options. Her eyes widened as she gave him an expectant gaze. “She’s already seen me fall through a roof, so I guess my humiliation couldn’t get much worse.”

  Jan barked out a laugh. “You’d be surprised.”

  Meg stuck her hands on her hips. “Hey, whose side are you on?”

  “No fighting, ladies.” Riley wiggled his eyebrows.

  “As if,” Meg muttered as she followed them into a small treatment room.

  Jan helped him transfer from the wheelchair to a narrow stretcher. She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a hospital gown. “Seems you two can’t get enough of this place.”

  “You gave us such good service last time,” Riley told her.

  “Yeah, right. Let’s get you out of that shirt and get a look at the damage,” Jan said, shaking out the gown and then helping him remove his shirt. After she’d removed the shirt, she put an ice pack on his wrist.

  Meg bit her lip when she saw the harsh abrasions and superficial cuts marring his flesh, the worst being over his right rib cage. The dark shadows of bruising were already setting in. A tech came in and took his vital signs while the nurse did a quick evaluation, listening to his lungs and stomach, gently probing here and there and gauging his reactions. When she finished, she draped the gown over his chest and went to the computer to document her findings.

  “On a scale of zero to ten, zero being none and ten being the worst you’ve ever had in your life, how bad would you say your pain is?” She glanced over at him. “Be honest.”

  He stared at the ceiling. After a moment he said, “Six. Eight when I move or take a deep breath.”

  Jan nodded and added it to the chart. When she’d finished documenting, she reached for the gown. “Okay, let’s get you out of those jeans so the doctor can check you over.” She shook the gown out and held it up. “Can you manage or do you need help?”

  He reached for the top button on his jeans, and then glanced over at Meg. “I, um...”

  A phone rang. Jan pulled it out of her pocket and took the call, apologizing when she was finished. “I’m sorry. I have to take care of something, and then I’ll be right back.” She looked at him, at the gown, and then at Meg. “Meg, do you mind helping him change? The doctor will be in to see him in a minute.”

  After she’d left, Meg shuffled her feet and asked, “Do you want me to help? Or do you want to wait for the nurse to come back?” Which scenario did she prefer?

  “Have at it.”

  He would have to put it that way. They were in a hospital, for crying out loud. And he was injured. Possibly worse than either of them suspected. She swallowed hard and set her purse on the chair, taking that moment to compose herself and put on her best I’m not thinking what I’m thinking face.

  “Okay. First I need to get those whatever-kind-of-boots they are off you.”

  “These are Corcoran leather jump boots.”

  “And you thought you’d try them out on my roof?” She closed her eyes. “Sorry. That was lame.”

  He tsked, then grinned. “I expect better from you.”

  “I’ll try to do better next time.” She knelt in front of him and untied his laces, then loosened them by tugging on the tongue. “I’ll be as gentle as possible, but I think I’m going to have to pull hard to get them off.”

  He lifted a single eyebrow. “The last thing I want is for you to be gentle with me.”

  Wiggling the boot as gently as she could, she tried to ease it off but ended up having to give it a hard tug. He grunted but didn’t comment. She did the same to the next one, then stood.

  “Okay, now the pants.”

  “Now we’re getting to the good stuff.”

  She blew out her breath. “I thought you were injured.”

  “Hey, I’m still a guy.”

  “A guy whose pants are still on.”

  “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.” He scooted to the end of the stretcher and eased to his feet. “It’ll make it easier if I stand.”

  She undid the top button and sucked in her breath at what she saw. You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Oh...they’re button fly jeans.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  Heck, yeah, it’s a problem. It means I can’t unzip and be done, quick and clean. “No.”

  She worked on the second button but her fingers had been replaced with sausages. Shame on you! The man’s been injured.

  “Need help down there?” The ice pack crinkled.

  “No, I got it.” She’d unbuttoned enough to reveal black cotton knit. Boxer briefs? Well, she’d know for sure in a moment. “Okay, let’s get these off.”

  She stuck her thumbs through the belt loops and tugged them down past his hips. Yup. Boxer briefs. Her mouth flooded with saliva. Really, Meg? The man is injured and you’re ogling him. She shook her head to clear it.

  There were fresh bruises on his thighs. But what had her sucking in her breath were the dozens of old scars and puckered skin from burns. Her heartbeat slowed and the back of her throat burned. She reached out but her hand floundered in midair and she let it drop back down.

  “Meggie?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Get back on the stretcher and I’ll pull these off the rest of the way,” she ordered in a brusque tone and squared her shoulders. How had she missed these scars that night in the motel room?

  He did as she asked and she took the jeans and folded them as neatly as possible, setting them on top of the small table next to the rack of pamphlets on spotting the symptoms of strokes.

  She cleared her throat, but a doctor stepping around the curtain prevented her from asking about the scars. The young doctor had a stethoscope looped around his neck and held a clipboard. He pulled a small black stool up to the stretcher, and sat down.

  After introducing himself and glancing at the chart, he said, “They tell me you took the short way off the roof.”

  Riley huffed out a laugh, and then winced. The doctor made a note on his chart.

  “You could say that,” Riley said.

  The doctor took down Riley’s medical history and then did his evaluation. “Are you allergic to any medications?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to order something for pain and get pictures of those ribs and your wrist, and we’ll take it from there.”

  After the doctor left, Meg stood up and refolded his jeans and torn T-shirt, smoothing and rearranging them on the table. Riley touched her arm and her motions stilled.

  “I’m okay,” he whispered.

  She tucked her chin. “It’s all my fault. I—”

  “Stop it.” He squeezed her arm. “I should have—”

  A nurse stepped around the curtain.

  “Okay, Sergeant Cooper, I’m going to give you an injection for pain before we get you over to Radiology.” She placed a couple of syringes and two vials of medicine on the silver stand beside the stretcher and entered more information into the computer, once again asking him to verify his name and vital stats. After explaining the medications, the nurse lowered his waistband and gave him the shot in the hip. “Now...” She put a Band-Aid over the site, adjusted his gown and pulled a sheet over his hips. “Let’s get you over to Radiology.” She looked at Meg as she brought the rails up on the stretcher. “You can wait here, if you like. He’ll be back in about ten or fifteen minutes.”

  Meg glanced around the room while she waited for Riley. She wrung her hands and hoped this would turn out to be one of those incidents that in time would become an amusing anecdote.

  Amusing or not, she’d begun pacing by the time they wheeled Riley back. The assistant arranged the stretcher back into its original position, engaged the brake and left with a smile and a “someone will be
right with you.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “What’s wrong?”

  “How can you even ask that? I’ve been worried about you.”

  He put his arm around her and pressed her forehead against his hard, albeit bruised, chest. “I’m fine.”

  She pulled back to look him in the eyes. “Did they tell you that?”

  “I don’t need anyone to tell me how I feel.” He rubbed his uninjured hand up and down her back.

  “You just know it?” She wanted to hit him for sounding so cavalier. She wanted to hold him tight and soothe his injuries.

  “Yup.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I should have called a professional roofer like you said.”

  “And I should have been more careful. You warned me about the part above the porch.” He put a finger under her chin and forced her head up. His gaze captured hers, his voice a low rumble. “Listen to me. I know a little something about regret. Wishing you could have acted sooner or differently won’t change a damn thing. All it does it eat away at your insides until there’s nothing left.”

  He wasn’t talking about falling off the roof. Was he referring to something that had happened in Afghanistan?

  Talk about regrets—she had enough to last a lifetime. Why had she given up trying to reach him in Afghanistan to tell him about Fiona? Her pride would have been cold comfort if something had happened to him over there.

  This wasn’t the time or place to confess, but maybe she could start paving the way. But before she could say anything the doctor appeared and she stepped back. Riley dropped his arm and let her go.

  The doctor glanced from one to the other and cleared his throat. “Well, good news, Sergeant Cooper. Nothing is broken. You have several bruised ribs and a minor sprain to your wrist. You’ll need to wear a splint on the wrist for a couple of weeks, keep it elevated and use ice for the swelling. Ice for the ribs, as well, and periodic deep breathing to expand the lungs. No binding, though, as it hinders the deep breathing and could cause pneumonia. Your nurse will be in shortly with your splint and discharge instructions.”

  * * *

  By the time Meg pulled up to the emergency entrance to collect her patient, Riley had mellowed from the shot for pain. Although he let the nurse know what he thought of the indignity, he sat in the wheelchair with very little fuss. He even let the two women help him get into the passenger seat.

  His eyes had drifted closed before Meg exited the hospital parking lot and pulled into the late-day traffic. Thank goodness it wasn’t tourist season yet, so the late-afternoon traffic was steady but not too bad. Meg was still getting used to driving his large pickup.

  “I’m going to stop at the pharmacy and get your pain meds filled and I’ll pick up stuff for ice packs.”

  “Ice packs?” He roused himself and opened one eye.

  “They said you might want to ice the ribs and the wrist to help with the pain.”

  She ran into the pharmacy and picked up items while waiting for the prescription. Score one for small-town living.

  Riley opened his eyes and attempted to sit straighter when she got back. She opened the pills and one of the bottles of water and handed them to him.

  “They gave me that shot at the hospital.”

  “And they also said to take these to keep ahead of the pain. So do it.” She shoved the bottle and pills at him.

  He grumbled but took the pill and drank the water.

  She started the engine and backed out of the spot. “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” he mumbled.

  Now she knew how Riley must’ve felt when she was always telling him she was fine. He’d fallen asleep by the time she parked in front of her house. She ran up and opened her front door and left it standing open. Back at the truck, she opened the passenger door and squatted down. “Riley?”

  She shook him.

  “Huh? What?” He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Meggie? What’re you doing here?”

  “I live here.”

  He glanced around and frowned. “The roof...”

  “Yes, you fell. Remember?” She reached over and undid his seat belt. “We should get you inside.”

  “Mmm...strawberries.” He sniffed her. “Did I ever tell you how much I like your hair?”

  “You used to make fun of it.” She lifted his legs out. “Here, lean on me.”

  “Where we goin’?” He slid out of the truck.

  “I need to get you into bed.”

  “It’s about time.” He reached for her but swayed and had to lean against the truck. “Been dreamin’ ’bout you... Do you dream about me?”

  More than you’ll ever know. “Uh-huh. Now, let’s get you inside.”

  “Did you miss me, Meggie, ’cause I sure missed you.”

  “You did?” She stumbled and was surprised they both didn’t end up face-first in the gravel.

  “I messed up.” He shook his head. “So many times. Sweet Meggie, so many.”

  “What?”

  “What?” he mimicked and looked at her, his eyes not quite focused.

  Her heart pounded in her chest and she had trouble breathing, but she asked, “What did you mess up?”

  “Huh?” He scowled. “I...don’t...but it was bad.”

  She stopped and he bumped against her. Was he talking about returning her letters or something else, something that was causing his nightmare?

  “Meggie? I...need to...lie down.”

  “Okay, but let’s get you inside first.”

  Slowly they made their way onto the porch.

  “Meggie?”

  “What?” She pushed the door open wider.

  “S-sorry I broke your pretty chair.”

  She glanced at the pile of wood that used to be her Adirondack chair. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  Inside, she helped him over to the couch. “I’m going to go and get Liam’s old room ready. I think it’s best if you stay here until you have use of both hands again.”

  Before going to bed that night, she checked on him, but he was snoring softly. She got the night-light from Fiona’s room and plugged it into an outlet next to the bed. She set a bottle of water on the nightstand along with his bottle of painkillers and smoothed out the blanket, her gaze lingering on his sleeping form. She couldn’t prevent her fingers from running ever so lightly down his cheek. He’d said earlier that he’d messed up and she desperately wanted to believe he’d been talking about not contacting her after he deployed, but she was afraid. Afraid to hope for something that wouldn’t happen once she told him the truth about Fiona. He’d hate her and she wouldn’t blame him. Turning on her heel, she left and went to her own room.

  After washing up and brushing her teeth, she changed into her soft flannel nightshirt. It might be May but the evenings were still cool. She pulled back the covers and crawled between the sheets. Without Fiona the house lacked warmth. Hugging the extra pillow to her chest, she finally drifted off to sleep.

  She awoke with a start. At first she wasn’t sure what had woken her, and then realized she’d heard the toilet flush. Riley. She threw off the covers and rushed into the hall.

  He was coming out of the bathroom. Although it was dark in the hall, light spilled out from the night-lights in the bathroom and guest room. Enough light for her to see he was—oh, dear Lord! He was naked. She shouldn’t look. Really, she—Oh, how could she not?

  “Sorry if I woke you.” He propped himself against the door frame.

  “That’s okay... I... I...” She tried to swallow but her tongue scratched like sandpaper over the roof of her mouth. “Did you know you’re...naked?” Her voice rose on that last word.

  “Nothing slips past you.”

  “Why?” she managed before clamping her mouth shut. Adult women did not giggle hyster
ically at the sight of a naked man.

  “Why what?”

  She grabbed her elbows to keep from reaching for him, to keep from running her hands over that splendid male body. “Huh?”

  He straightened, pulling away from the door frame, and the light, no longer blocked by his body, spilled into the hallway and onto him. “You asked me why.”

  “I... I did?”

  “You did.” He stalked toward her. “I’m going to assume you were asking why I took off my skivvies. I got tired of fumbling with one hand and tore them off.”

  She took a step back and tried not to stare—no, really, she did try. But her gaze zeroed in on a particular part of his anatomy. The part that rose a little with each step he took.

  “Is that what you were asking me, Meg?”

  “I... I... Uh.” How the hell she managed to look him in the face, she couldn’t say. “Did...uh, did you need anything?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Me? Please, please let it be me. “W-what did you need?”

  “A glass of water to take another pain pill.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment laced her tone. What had she been expecting? Declarations of undying love? At this point, she was willing for a declaration of good, old-fashioned lust. She cleared her throat before saying, “I thought I’d left a bottle of water on the nightstand.”

  “You did.” He held up his sprained hand. “I was having trouble getting it open.”

  She drew her brows together. It was taking all of her willpower to keep meeting his gaze instead of looking down, and the effort was affecting her mental capabilities. “Oh... Oh! Geez, how could I have been so stupid? Let me get you a glass.”

  “No need. Open the bottle for me. We can leave the cap off.”

  “Oh...sure.” She clamored into his room. She’d go open his water bottle, leave the cap off and then go straight back to bed. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And do not, under any circumstances, do not look at his—

  “If you keep squeezing it like that, there won’t be any water left.” He reached around her and tugged the bottle from her hand. He threw a pill into his mouth and took a sip of the water and set it back down.