by Jen Peters
Brandt, who had argued and accused and stomped off, while she did the same.
Raine dropped the jacket into a heap and gave into her tears. Silent tears at first, and then she sank her head into her hands and sobbed. They’d been short tempered with each other, almost cruel, and every day this last week had ached and dragged impossibly without him being around.
In Seattle, she’d had purpose to her days but nothing inside. Back in McCormick’s Creek, she had begun with nothing but good intentions, and had become filled with purpose and forgiveness and a future she looked forward to. A future she had hoped might include Brandt.
And then that stupid committee had made its stupid decision, and she and Brandt hadn’t spoken in a week. Temper and pride had driven the wedge deeper, which seemed absolutely ridiculous now.
There was nothing like a life-threatening injury to make you see what was really important. He was. They were. These feelings they shared needed a chance to grow and become solid.
Now he might be gone. He was obviously badly injured, concussed and broken, and who knew if he would even come out of his coma. And if he did, what kind of rehab lay ahead of him?
And the biggest question of all: would he let her be part of it?
* * *
Brandt opened his eyes to a dimly lit room. He was in a bed, but not his bed. Short curtains hung across a window. A television sat high on the wall.
His limbs felt heavy, achy. He could see cords and pulleys, and he had wires all over him.
Scenes from the fire came back in a rush. He remembered finding the man who had gone back in for a cat, the call to evacuate, the ominous crack above the fire’s roar.
He must have caught pieces of the ceiling himself. And since he was still alive, someone must have come back in to get him. He wondered who, but wondered more how badly that person was hurt. He didn’t feel much pain, but if he wasn’t badly hurt, why was he in a hospital?
“Brandt? Are you awake?”
Raine’s voice came to him, then she appeared herself, worried and smiling at the same time.
“Hi,” he croaked. His throat felt drier than he expected.
“Want some water?” She held a cup with a straw.
Blessed coolness. “How’s the man? How’s Javi?”
Raine’s smile disappeared. “They got out, and Javi’s fine. They Life-Flighted the guy to Portland—he’s got pretty bad burns.”
Brandt tried to process that. He remembered thinking the man would probably die. He wondered what…
* * *
Someone pried his eyes open, flicked a light in them. “Still dilated,” he heard.
A moment later, he opened his eyes on his own. Raine had moved to the chair in the corner. “More water?” he asked.
She jumped up, held the cup for him.
“So what happened?” he asked. “Why am I all hooked up in here?”
“You got hit by a beam or something. You got a concussion and…”
“Yeah, I figured that from the flashlight checks. What else?”
“And you’ve got some broken bones.”
He wiggled his fingers. No problem. He focused on his legs, but couldn’t feel much. Panic rose as he tried to move them and couldn’t. “P-p-paralyzed?”
“Oh no!” Raine stroked his forehead. “Not at all. You twitched just fine when they pricked you. But your legs are broken in a couple places, and you’re in traction until you can have surgery on your thigh. You’ve also got a couple cracked ribs, and they’re worried about bruised kidneys.”
“Huh. Long list. But I’ll walk? I’ll be back on a bike? Why doesn’t it hurt?”
She smiled and pointed. “You’re on a morphine drip.”
Morphine must be a guy’s best friend. But boy, had he missed her smile. “Do that again,” he said.
Puzzled, she pointed again.
“Not that,” he said. “I want to see that smile again.”
She blushed and ducked her head, but the smile was definitely there.
“Yeah, like that. I’ve missed that.”
She jerked her head up. “You have? But I thought…”
He rubbed a finger on the hospital blanket. “I’ve been a bit of a jerk, haven’t I? A really stubborn jerk.”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“Hey, you don’t have to agree with me!”
Raine pulled a chair as close as she could and reached for his unencumbered hand. “You have been, you know. But so have I.”
“Ah, Raine.” He let his head sink into the pillow and closed his eyes. “Can we start again?”
“You want another chance to almost run me down?” He could hear the grin in her voice. She stroked her thumb against his and sighed. “We can’t start over, not really, but we can go forward from a better place. Your projects, my projects, we’ll make them work.”
He felt her hopefulness but didn’t open his eyes. “Might not be possible.”
She jerked her hand from his. “Oh? And why not, may I ask?”
He did open his eyes this time. “Not us, silly. My project.”
“Oh.” She took his hand again, brought it to her lips for a kiss. “So what’s so hard with your project?”
But it was hard to think, and his heavy lids were closing again. He felt her lips feather-light against his as he drifted off.
Chapter 31
Raine hardly moved from Brandt’s room. She waited through his unconscious times and his confused times, waited for information from the nurses, waited for his parents to arrive. At least the fire chief had been the one to call them.
Mr. and Mrs. Walker showed up that night, her in near-tears and him wearing a stoic mask. The nurses filled them in on the medical status, Raine filled them in on his visitors, his conversations, his attitude. Brandt himself slept through most of it, waking only for his mother’s kiss and to say, “I’m fine.”
“He’s not fine,” Mrs. Walker said adamantly.
Raine took her hand. “I know that, and he knows it too. But he reassures everyone that way—doesn’t want them to worry.”
“He needs to come home,” she cried.
“He needs to be in the hospital,” Mr. Walker scolded. “You couldn’t nurse him like he needs.”
Raine set her own fears aside to soothe the worried parents—she’d dealt with nervous and frantic hosts a number of times. Once she managed to send Brandt’s parents off to their hotel, she made do with the recliner in his room until they took him for surgery late that night.
The next day, Mr. Walker was the one demanding things: a better room, a dedicated nurse, a transfer to OHSU in Portland.
Brandt looked at the hip to ankle cast on one leg, and the short one on the other, closed his eyes, and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Dad.”
“Look, son, you’ll get the best treatment up there. Specialists who—”
“Dad, I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”
“But I want—”
Brandt opened his eyes, caught Raine’s look, and stared his father down. “It’s not about what you want, Dad. And besides, they’re moving me on Monday.”
Raine leapt from her chair and whooped. “Home! That’s great!”
“Home to Portland,” his mother said.
“Home to Riverview in McCormick’s Creek,” Brandt insisted. “It’s not big, and it’s mostly old people, but they’ll be able to take care of me until these casts come off.”
“That’s ridiculous,” his father said.
Brandt just looked at him. “I’d need a rehab center in Portland, and it would drive me crazy. I’d rather be home.”
His mother dropped her gaze to the floor, then to the casts. “I can’t take care of you there.”
He touched her arm. “Mom, think about it. You hate hospitals. You hate nursing sick people. This way we can FaceTime—you can talk to me all you want, scold me about doing my exercises, whatever, but you’ll be happier.”
Raine watched them as his mother lean
ed her head down to his. She wondered if she knew her own mother as well. She looked over at his father, to see his glowering face soften.
Brandt looked up too. “And you’re busy, Dad. You have business deals going on that can’t wait. Isn’t it easier this way?”
“Easier doesn’t mean right,” the older man grumbled.
Brandt shrugged and then winced at the movement. “In this case, easier is right, since it’s what I want, too. Can you handle that?”
His father sagged a bit. “I suppose I’ll have to.”
“Dad, you call me whenever you get a chance. If I’m awake and not getting poked and prodded, I’ll answer. Every time, I promise.”
His mother looked over at Raine. “You’ll be there with him? Fluff his pillows and all that nonsense? He’s grumpy when he doesn’t feel good.”
Raine looked at him, then back at his mother. “I’ll be there. And I’ve seen him grumpy already.”
She sure had. He’d given her some of his worst, and she was still here. Despite his aching legs and sore back, he had a feeling she’d stick around.
Chapter 32
Home. Sort of home. The nursing home smelled of disinfectant and old people, but Brandt was back in McCormick’s Creek and that was close enough. He’d had it with nurses checking his vitals a gazillion times a day, plus his parents fussing. They now expected updates several times a day, but Brandt figured that was a small price to pay for some quiet.
He rested that afternoon, better sleep than he’d gotten the whole time in the hospital. His dreams were light and easy, only one with fire in it, and as long as he stayed on his side, he was halfway comfortable.
Raine woke him when the nurse brought a pain pill. He took it, then pulled Raine down beside him. She looked down at him with the most loving, caring look that he could imagine and stroked his hair.
“I’ll give you half an hour to stop that,” he said.
Raine drew back. “What?” He saw the moment the actual meaning of his words sank in, and she laughed. “Maybe five minutes,” she said.
“And then you can kiss me silly.” He closed his eyes, the smile still on his face. She stroked his hair another time or two, then he felt her lips on his.
He scooted over so she could lay next to him. They smiled, touching forehead to forehead, and it was his turn to stroke her hair.
“Half an hour to stop this?” she teased.
“Oh, no way!” He cupped the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his.
A delicious kiss later, she straightened. “Don’t want to overstress that healing body of yours, you know.”
He smiled. “Kisses are the best medicine. Don’t you remember from your childhood?”
Raine shook her head. “That was not a mother’s kiss.”
“I should hope not! It was far, far better. Therefore, far more effective, so I think I should have another one.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I think you’ve had enough for one day.”
“One day?” He faked outrage. “Maybe one hour, but even that’s too long.”
“We’ll see, fireman. You’ll be up and around in no time, chasing nurses and planning your rally event for next year.”
Brandt felt the air go out of him. “There won’t be a rally. Not with me laid up and not without extra money.”
Raine sat in a chair and wagged her finger at him. “Now that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Pessimist. While you’ve been loafing in that hospital, I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“I know. And you’d better watch out. I have superpowers that I plan to use on your behalf, just as soon as you tell me where all your paperwork is.”
He huffed and pulled himself up slowly. “A mountain bike event is different than anything you did in Seattle. And you don’t even ride!”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It may involve mountain bikes and ambulances, but the rest of it—licensing, catering, facilities, promotion, staff and volunteers—those are similar for all events. And I bet I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve that can help.”
“But what if—”
She pressed a finger against his lips. “Uh-uh. You just tell me if you have a folder or something with all your information, and then let me get to work.”
He didn’t know if she could really help or not, but he was too tired to fight it now. “The office in the shop. A blue folder in one of the drawers, and my laptop is in the living room. Keys to the shop on a hook in the kitchen.”
With that, he lay back down and watched her gather her purse and book. She pressed a kiss to his lips and waggled her fingers goodbye.
She was quite something, this woman he was falling in love with.
* * *
Raine let herself into Brandt’s cottage, finding the laptop and office keys easily. She didn’t try to pry, but couldn’t help getting glimpses into Brandt’s life. The photos on the wall spoke of incredible adventures, far more than just mountain biking, and she understood more why he couldn’t live in a city.
He was tidier than she would have expected for an outdoorsy bachelor, and she found a picture of his parents, which she did expect. What surprised her was that he also had a picture of his brother—from all she’d heard, she had thought they were estranged.
She smiled. Even if he didn’t want to be near his family while he recuperated, they were important to him.
The smile was still with her as she parked next to Trailhead Bikes. She’d waved at Shauna leaving the Sunshine Cafe. Mac was tidying up after the hardware store’s Grand Re-Opening sale over the weekend. Sam’s IGA was busy, and she was surprised at the proprietary feeling that came over her.
The change was happening—Raine was fitting in again. The right way this time.
The front lock was a bit tricky, and she was fiddling with the key when she heard footsteps. “Hey,” came Robin’s voice.
Raine jerked her head up. “Robin, hi!”
“Mom’s making cinnamon rolls for Brandt, and she’s out of oranges. Again.” Robin rolled her eyes, then looked down sheepishly. “I’m sorry he got hurt. How’s he doing?”
“Uh, he’s doing okay,” Raine said. “Frustrated and still on pain pills, but not the morphine anymore. And he’s glad to be back up here.”
Robin nodded. The silence stretched, but Robin didn’t move on.
“We’re having a pizza party tomorrow night,” Raine said. “Would you like to come?”
Robin gazed blankly across the street, then said, “No, but Mom will be there.”
“With the cinnamon rolls. Right.” Raine smiled as the lock finally opened. “I’ve got to go.”
“Me too,” Robin said. She took a step then turned halfway back. “Bye, Raine.” She walked quickly away.
Raine stood in the doorway, heart pounding. Robin had called her Raine.
Chapter 33
Raine spent Tuesday wheeling Brandt down the hall to the covered patio so he could sit in fresh air, commiserating when he complained about how weak he was, re-introducing him to Monopoly and getting trounced for her efforts, and planning their respective events.
She was full of questions and answers and ideas about his mountain bike rally. She also drafted new letters for potential sponsors. He helped her outline what she wanted in her three events, when to time them seasonally, and who to talk to first.
Besides business, Raine reveled in his stories of growing up, the times when he and Vaughn had built a tree fort by themselves, tried to sell lemonade on a frigid spring day, and had Nerf gun fights all over the house. His first adventure had been getting lost at a summer camp one year. Everyone had been searching for him, while he’d been blissfully climbing rocks to see how high he could go.
“Which led to mountain climbing?” Raine thought she knew the answer, but he surprised her.
“Besides being grounded for a month, it mostly led to wanting to do something more exciting than summer camps. I was cabin boy on a fishing trawler the next year,
and then I learned how to snorkel. Mountain climbing took a while to pull me back in.”
Raine traced the outline of his hand. “You won’t miss all of that while you’re here in McCormick’s Creek?”
He shook his head. “I’ve had some great adventures, but I got tired of jumping from one thing to another. And other things have become more important to me.” He picked her hand up, kissing her knuckles one at a time.
“Other things?” she whispered.
“Other things. Other ideas. Even other people.” He kissed the palm of her hand.
She was more important to him than adventures? Raine gave the thought some time to settle, and realized it felt good. It felt…right. Or so said the little voice she was hearing.
“What about you?” Brandt asked. “What childhood adventures did you have?”
“Not much compared to yours. I tried to learn to skip rocks, but ended up hitting a duck in the neck instead. We went camping once, but it wasn’t any fun without my friends. I did take some horseback riding lessons when I was eleven.”
“I’ve never been on a horse,” he said. “Bikes are the way to go. They don’t have to be fed, and they don’t bite or kick.”
Raine snorted, covering her mouth quickly with her hand. “My horse never bit anyone. He did kick another horse, though. But bikes can’t nuzzle you, or ask to be scratched under the chin, or whinny when you call them.”
“You can scratch me if you want.” Brandt lifted his chin.
She planted a kiss there instead. “Silly man. I think it’s time for your nap.” She wheeled him back to his room, helped him maneuver onto the bed, and tucked him in.
He sighed. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep? What if I’d rather look at you?”
The nurse came with his pain meds, and he swallowed them dutifully. “I think I’ll be watching you snore after those kick in,” Raine said.
Ten minutes later, her words came true. The hard planes of Brandt’s handsome face relaxed in sleep, and a soft snore escaped with each breath.