As he shut the office door behind him on the way out, he wondered if he’d earned a gold star for the day.
***
Madison flopped down in the armchair in Skye and Tim’s living room. “That was absolutely unnecessary, not to mention awful.”
Having had a rare day off together, Veronica had come over to hang out and wait for Madison to end her shift in the ER.
“What was unnecessary?” Skye asked from the ground, her feet propped up on the arm of the sofa.
“That entire rotation in the ER. Thank God today was my last day. I have to say, emergency medicine was never my thing.” She visibly shuddered and threw an arm over her eyes. “Too much drama.”
“Too much drama in the trauma… unit?” Veronica said, deadpan. Then when both women stared at her, she laughed. “Okay, that was bad.”
“Very,” Skye agreed. “But yay for finishing a bad rotation! We should celebrate, if you’re up to it.”
“Anything celebrating the fact that I won’t have to see the inside of the ER for a few months is worth losing sleep over. Plus I’ve got three days straight off, so I’m good to go.”
They laid around for a minute, enjoying the simple pleasure of company and letting the air conditioning cool them on the hot afternoon.
“Dwayne?”
Veronica tilted her head to look at her cousin. “What about Dwayne?”
“How are things going with him?” Skye asked, her tone implying that it should have been obvious, so why did she have to spell it out.
“Ah.” She let her head fall back to the cushion. How to answer that one…“Things are going… well.”
“Since you barely sleep at home anymore, I think things are going better than well,” Madison teased.
Veronica threw a pillow at her. “I’m sorry, I thought you enjoyed the privacy with Jeremy. If you want, we can go back to me sleeping at the apartment and you bunking at his place. What was it you referred to his apartment as again? The gateway to hell?”
Madison shuddered and stuffed the pillow under her legs. “I apologize. Really, sincerely. Don’t kick me out. I can’t sleep over there.”
“Back to the topic. So you two are…” Skye waved a hand in the air.
“What she means to say is, so you two are doing the humpty-hump?”
“Madison!” Veronica covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the laughter. “What a lovely image.”
“You’re telling me,” Madison agreed. “So?”
“We enjoy spending time together.” There. That was as close as they were going to get.
“Riiight. I’m assuming a good chunk of that time is horizontal.”
“Madison.”
“Just saying. I love him like a brother, but I’m not oblivious to the charm and attractiveness of Dwayne Robertson.”
Skye sat up and gave her a good long look. “Are you happy?”
“Oh, yes.” That didn’t require any thought at all. Her life was right where she’d always hoped it would be, and where she’d thought for so long she’d never get to.
“Hmm. Well, this is lovely and mushy and all, but back to me.” Madison tossed the pillow back at her and she let it hit her chest before wrapping an arm around it. “How will we celebrate this lovely occasion of me being out of the ER?”
They were silent for a moment, the only sound a lawnmower a few houses down.
“Shopping?” Skye asked, almost hopefully.
More silence, then Madison said, “I could go for that.”
Veronica bit her lip. Buying more things wasn’t really an option. But the thought of spending the day with her friends, that was more appealing. “There’s an outlet mall about an hour north of here. Maybe since we all have the whole day off, we could—”
“Sold!” Skye jumped up and pumped her fist in the air. Pointing a finger at Madison, she said, “You go change out of those scrubs, meet us back here at oh-whatever-hundred.”
Madison laughed. “A year with my brother and you still don’t know military time?”
“I’m incorrigible,” Skye said back, in an almost dead-on imitation of Tim.
“That’s so my brother. Okay, I’ll run home and change. And then we can head out. But first we have to stop and grab me something to eat. I’m starving.”
“They have a huge food court,” Veronica offered.
“Fantastic. Cheap shopping and some junk food on top. Perfect girls’ day out.” Madison headed for the front door. “Let’s get this show on the road!”
***
Dwayne flipped from ESPN to ESPN2 to catch the second half of the next game.
“You didn’t TiVo it? Damn, man, we can’t watch the first half now.”
He tossed Jeremy a disgusted look. “I didn’t realize I was going to have company tonight, so you’ll have to forgive me for not taking your wishes into account.”
“All is forgiven.” After a long pull of his beer, he set the empty on the coffee table and resettled in the armchair. “I’m surprised you’re not with your lady love tonight. You guys have been almost inseparable for the last two months.”
“Lady love? Christ, Jeremy, who talks like that?” Dwayne rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest. “She’s just hanging with Skye and Madison, as you well know. Don’t give me that look. I know you check in with Madison when you’re not together like an old married couple. You wanna pretend you’re not whipped like Tim, but you got it just as bad.”
“And you don’t?” Jeremy shot back.
Dwayne shrugged. “Maybe I do. I don’t seem to have the same problem with it as you do.” Whipped? Nah. Not really. But he did like knowing what Veronica was up to. Was that a crime? Nope. Just considerate. Yeah, considerate. Not whipped. That was stupid.
As the whistle blew on a play, someone knocked at the door.
“You order food?” he asked Jeremy, who shook his head in response.
He frowned and went to the door, expecting to not answer when he checked the peephole. But his frown morphed into a wide grin when he saw Veronica standing on his doorstep.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” He pulled her into a hug before she could answer. Her arms wrapped around his torso like she was trying to keep her balance, burying her face in his chest.
Taking a few steps back, taking her along with him, he shut the door.
“You have company,” she said, voice muffled in his shirt.
“It’s just Jeremy.”
“Love you too, bro. Hey, Veronica.”
“Hi.”
She was soft-spoken by nature, but even so, her voice sounded much less steady than it should have. He rubbed a hand down her back. “You okay?”
She tilted her head to look him in the eye, and he could see the paleness of her skin, the slight flush that had nothing to do with pleasure.
“Hey, you feeling all right?” Automatically, his hand went to her forehead. What he was feeling, he didn’t know, but her skin felt cold to the touch, slightly damp with perspiration.
“I was fine, but a few minutes ago, just before I turned into the parking lot, my…” She drifted off, then peeked around his arm to see if Jeremy was still listening.
Without looking behind him, Dwayne said, “Jeremy, we’ll be right back.” He guided her to the kitchen and propped her up on one of his barstools. “Okay, talk.”
She spread a hand over her stomach. “I just don’t feel great, that’s all. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” But the glassy look in her eyes, the odd tint to her skin said otherwise.
“You sure you don’t want me to run you over to a doc-in-the-box? There’s one a few blocks down.”
She shook her head, then let it drop to the counter as if she regretted the movement immediately. “No. Please no. Just let me stay here until the room stops moving.”
Okay.
What the hell was wrong? It was starting to freak him out. Hundreds of illnesses, diseases, and ailments started running through his head, most of which likely weren’t even connected to an upset stomach. Pulling back on his imagination, he tried for something more helpful. “I’ve got some antacids; think those would help?”
As if just the mention of putting something in her stomach hurt, she groaned. Then, without warning, she slid off the stool with all the grace and elegance of a wounded animal and ran toward his bathroom, bumping her shoulder into the wall along the way. The door shut behind her with a snap, and he winced as he heard the unmistakable sound of retching.
She could be coming down with a summer bug, he reasoned with himself as he got a washcloth from the hall closet and dampened it with cold water at the kitchen sink. Or maybe she could be…
Pregnant.
No. No, not a chance. He wrung the washcloth out with a little more force than necessary, caught himself, and started the process over again with steadier hands.
He wore protection, always. And he… shit.
The first night the condom split.
But no. She said she was on birth control. It would be fine. It had to be. She told him it was fine.
He wanted to believe her.
Clearing his thoughts, he knocked on the door and opened it just a crack. “You okay, darlin’?”
“Does it sound like I’m okay?” It was the closest she’d ever gotten to being peevish with him, and he found the whole thing making him smile for some stupid reason.
“Here’s a washcloth.” He held the cloth out with two fingers, not daring to open the door further to look at her. If he knew women—and he thought he did—she wouldn’t take kindly to his walking right in on her in such a vulnerable state. When the cloth was jerked out of his hands, he smiled.
“Thank you,” came the reluctant reply.
He wanted to ask. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand she tell him.
Are you pregnant?
A jingle sound came from the living room that didn’t belong to the TV.
“That’s my phone,” she croaked. “Can you see if it’s Madison? And tell her I don’t feel well so I won’t be back home for a while?”
You won’t be back home at all. Not tonight anyway, if I have anything to say about it. He headed back to the kitchen where she’d dropped her bag, searched through it for a moment, checked caller ID, and flipped it open.
“Hey, Mad.”
“Dwayne?” The voice on the other end sounded vaguely like Madison, but more like a version of Madison that had been drawn and quartered, then run over by a herd of cattle.
“Yeah, Veronica’s… busy. She asked me to answer her phone.”
There was a pause, then a sigh. “So she got to your place okay?”
“She’s not feeling too hot,” he admitted.
“Well, that confirms it.” A clank, a bang, and a groan followed.
“Confirms what? Mad, are you okay?”
From the corner of his eye, Dwayne could see Jeremy sit up straighter in his recliner. Then lean forward, but toward the TV, as if that was his main focus.
Right.
“Food poisoning. I just got off the phone with Skye. She’s sick too. If Veronica’s miserable, that’s three for three.” She moaned, and he heard something flop, like maybe she fell into bed. “Stupid food court burritos.”
“Food poisoning.” Not pregnancy. Never had the idea of bad Mexican burritos ever had him so relieved.
When he heard a groan in his ear, he snapped back to the moment. “Madison, do you need something? Can we bring you anything? Jeremy’s here; I can send him with—”
“No,” she croaked. “Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to make sure Veronica got there okay and wasn’t keeled over somewhere on the road. Can you watch over her?”
“Of course.” He wanted to ask. But who will watch over you? when he saw Jeremy tossing his empty can in the trash and grabbing his keys from the coffee table.
Well, that answered that one. Madison may not like it, but he felt a hell of a lot better about it if someone was with her for the next few hours. “Call me if you need anything. You know I’ll come get you.”
“I know. But thanks.” She clicked off without saying good-bye, in true Madison fashion.
He shut Veronica’s phone and set it on the kitchen counter, watching Jeremy and fighting a smile.
Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets and looked uncomfortable.
Amused, Dwayne asked, “Going somewhere?”
He shrugged, took his hands out of his pockets, then replaced them immediately. “Yeah, well, you’ve got Veronica here so…”
“Yeah.” He smiled then. “Drive safe.”
After Jeremy left, he listened for the sound of his motorcycle starting, then fading out. Then he headed back to the bathroom where his girlfriend was draped over the small tile floor.
“Darlin’, you doing better?”
She mumbled something into the ground, and he felt a moment of panic. When was the last time he cleaned his bathroom? Okay. The weekend. That wasn’t too bad. Having a female over regularly had kept him on his toes with cleaning.
He sat down, back supported by the door frame, and scratched her back lightly with the tips of his fingers. She sighed and turned one cheek to the floor so she could squint at him.
“That feels good. Please never stop.”
“You got it.” The moment stretched, both quietly sitting on the bathroom floor, his fingers drawing patterns over her shirt, which was quickly cooling from the perspiration she’d been coated with. The fabric still stuck to her back like a second skin, though.
“You wanna change out of those clothes and into a pair of my sweats?”
Looking a little stronger, she propped her cheek on her forearms and looked at him. “You sure you want to risk your clothing?”
“To make you more comfortable? No risk at all.”
She gave him a beatific—if a little weak—smile. “Then yes, I’d love… a change of clothes.”
His heart tightened and did a slow roll as he stood. Why? She asked for sweatpants. That shouldn’t freak him out so much. What made his body react so…
Love. For a second, he thought she was going to say she loved him, even if it was just for his sweats. He shut his fingers in his dresser drawer and bit back a curse. How did that feel? Was the way his heart pitched and tumbled in his chest a good sign, or a bad one?
Things were good. Great. But was he ready to step out and make that next leap of faith into love?
He stood in the hallway, watching as she pushed up off the floor and sat back against the bathtub. Her skin was sheet white, her eyes had dark circles, and her bottom lip looked almost bruised from biting it. Her hair stuck up in some crazy nest on one side, flat and damp on the other. She was, in total, a complete mess.
But she was his mess. And he wanted nothing more than to take care of her at that moment.
Maybe that was love. Maybe it took a bad burrito to kick him over the edge. But for right now, he’d just enjoy the feeling without a label. Labels could come later.
Chapter 19
Jeremy rode into Madison’s apartment complex, guns blazing. Or, rather, temper blazing.
She’d called Veronica, but not him. He understood why she’d called her roommate first. Driving down the road while you were sick was no joke, and he didn’t begrudge that one. But her second call should have been to him. But there was no second call. And he’d immediately heard her shoot down Dwayne’s suggestion to send him over to help.
Why? Why didn’t she want him here? She was sick, and she needed help. That’s what people did for each other when they were in love.
But she didn’t want him there. Yet here he was, standing on her doorstep like an idiot. Other than being a complete
fool, of course.
He gave himself to the count of five to either knock or leave. One or the other. By the time he hit ten, he knew he wasn’t leaving. It took until fifteen before he actually raised his fist and rapped on the door.
Silence. He was positive she was there, since her car was in the parking lot. But he didn’t hear a word. Not a sound, not a creeping by the door as if she’d checked the peephole and decided not to answer. Nada.
“Madison?”
Now she’d have to acknowledge him.
As the silence stretched out, he thought or maybe not.
Starting to worry—Veronica seemed like death warmed over, and Madison seemed to be the same—he felt zero remorse reaching for his spare key she’d given him. Though he didn’t use it often, preferring to knock in case Veronica was in there and he startled her, he used it occasionally when she asked him to. But first, he tried the doorknob. And when it twisted easily, he sneered and walked into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
“Madison, it’s me. Your front door was unlocked. And by the way, that’s a great way to get yourself robbed and killed.”
Nothing. Not a curse, not a flying vase, not even a weak insult.
Okay, now he was officially scared.
Creeping in slowly, he cleared the living room and kitchen first. No Madison, but he did see what looked like the beginnings of homemade soup scattered. A chunk of ham waited to be chopped by the butcher knife lying next to it on the carving board. A recipe book was tilted open. A large, empty pot sat on one of the back burners, luckily still turned to off.
“Mad. Where are you?”
He headed for the one place he prayed she wasn’t in, but found her anyway.
Sprawled in the empty bathtub, she looked like a drunk still sleeping off a night of pure booze-soaked debauchery. Or a woman on the wrong end of a bachelorette party. Head lolled at an uncomfortable angle, one arm draped out of the tub in a position that she’d regret later, both legs curled into her chest, as if trying to make the pain go away, fresh tear tracks damp over her cheeks, still spiking her eyelashes that rested against the thin skin under her eyes…
Officer and the Secret (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 20