From the Beginning

by Tracy Wolff

  He lifted his head reluctantly. “Yes?”

  “I really want to kiss you right now.”

  “Thank God.” The sharp blade of desire was slicing him from the inside out.

  She laughed. “So, maybe, we can be friends that…kiss?”

  He was so down with that. Would be even happier if they could be friends that touched and made love and— He cut off the train of thought before he ended up throwing her down on the quilt and trying to convince her, in the most pleasurable manner possible, to see things his way.

  “Simon?” she prompted, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink color that only made him want her more.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He leaned in slowly, making sure to keep his eyes pinned on hers. He wanted to see her every reaction, to know if she was as into this as he was. Although if she wanted him half as much as he wanted her, they’d already be making love.

  But this was a start, he told himself. More than he’d dared hope for when he showed up here this evening.

  As he wrapped his arms around her slowly, he kept watching her, until she made a startled, needy sound that shot right through him and shattered his control. Lowering his mouth to hers, he took her lips in the gentlest kiss possible. A kiss that was twelve years in the making.

  Her lips parted and he savored the sweet, sweet taste of her, though he didn’t take the kiss any deeper. That’s not what tonight was about, not what this new phase in their relationship was about.

  As he kissed her, he repeated the words to himself like a mantra. Did his damnedest to keep his raging need under control. At least until she moaned and buried her hands in his hair, tugging him even closer.

  His desire slipped the leash. Wrapping his arms around her, pulling her slender body against his, he prepared to devour her. At least until he heard the long, agonized squeal of brakes on the street beside her house, followed by the unmistakable sound of two cars crashing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE SOUND OF THE CRASH galvanized Amanda as nothing else could. Ripping out of Simon’s delicious embrace, she ran to the front parlor. It was the room that gave her the best view of the street on that side of the house.

  What she saw when she got there had her turning to Simon, who was right behind her, and barking, “Call 911 and get my bag. It’s upstairs in the master bedroom.”

  Then she tore out of the house. When she got to the accident, for long, critical seconds she didn’t know where to start. Everything looked bad.

  But then the doctor in her kicked in and she started assessing damage. The first car had plowed straight into the front quarter panel of the second car, and from where she stood it didn’t look as if either driver was moving.

  Rushing around to the passenger side of the car that was hit, she opened the door and climbed in. The air bag had deployed and was slowly shrinking back, but she wasn’t sure how much good it had done. The man was groggy, his face bloody. His left arm was obviously broken and a quick glance at the way the driver’s side door molded around his leg told her they were going to need the Jaws of Life to get him out.

  “Sir,” she said in her most firm voice. “Can you look at me? Sir?”

  He turned toward her voice, but his eyes were blank as they stared into hers.

  “I’m a doctor. I’m going to try to help you, okay?”

  No answer. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment that he understood the question. She leaned forward in the dim light of the car, saw that his pupils were different sizes.

  “Shit,” she muttered, looking over her shoulder for Simon. In the distance, she heard a siren kick on and then Simon appeared, her medical bag in his hand. “He has some kind of head injury,” she told him. “Go check out the other driver.”

  As she took the man’s pulse, she spoke soothingly to him, trying to keep him calm. He wasn’t tracking very well, but she could tell he was in a lot of pain and the last thing she needed was for him to figure out that he was trapped in the car. He was already going into shock, despite the warm, humid night. She didn’t need anything to make his condition worse.

  She was in the middle of unwrapping a thin space blanket to cover him with—and keep him warm—when Simon’s voice rang through the night. “Amanda, I need you over here.”

  Responding to the urgency, she covered the man quickly and then flung herself out of the car. Vaguely, she registered that there were other people on the street, but she didn’t pay any attention to them. Certainly not after she saw the shape the other driver was in. Damn it, she’d picked the wrong car to go to first.

  Simon was leaning over the driver, his hand clamped to a wound on the man’s thigh that was gushing dark, rich blood. It was hard to tell in the light from the car, but she was almost positive it was arterial blood. Which meant he wasn’t going to last until the paramedics got here, not if she couldn’t get the bleeding stopped.

  “We’ve got to get him out of the car,” she told Simon urgently. “He’s bleeding out.”

  Simon responded instantly, and within seconds, the man was lying on the street, Simon on one side of him and she on the other, examining his wound. Something—a piece of glass or sharp metal—had sliced straight through his upper thigh to the bone, which meant the artery had definitely been hit.

  Damn it.

  “Give me your belt,” she told Simon as she frantically sought to find the bleeder. It was almost impossible, though—there was too much blood and it was too dark for her to see.

  Someone—one of her new neighbors, she assumed—rushed over with a flashlight. “Can I help?” he asked.

  “Yes. Shine that directly over his leg, please.” She took Simon’s belt from him and wrapped it around the man’s leg as tightly as she could. As far as tourniquets went, she’d seen better, but it stopped the bleeding enough that she could finally get her hands onto the artery.

  She cursed as soon as she felt it. “Get two clamps out of my bag,” she told Simon urgently. She had hoped it was only nicked, but it was actually sliced straight through. The man screamed and tried to knock her hand away as she pinched one side of the artery.

  “I’m a doctor,” she told him as she held on tight, her other hand searching for the second half. “I know this hurts and I’m sorry, but once it’s done, you’ll feel better.”

  “What—”

  “Please, lie back down,” she told him. “Let me get this done and then I’ll explain what’s going on.” She breathed a sigh of relief as her fingers closed around the edge of the artery. She’d been terrified it had rolled up his leg and she was going to have to dig for it.

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Simon told her, his voice as low and calm as ever. Thank God. He held up two clamps. “Are these what you want?”

  “Yes. But I can’t let go,” she answered. “You’re going to have to put the first clamp on.”

  She wasn’t sure who was paler—Simon or the man on the ground—but after a second, he shook off the horror and merely nodded. “Where do I put it?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “Right above my fingers on the left.” She shifted her hand as much as she could to make room for his larger one, but it was still a close fit. Simon fumbled the clip for a second, but finally managed to get it on the artery, right above where she pinched it closed.

  “Give me the second clamp,” she told him tersely, and within seconds she had the artery completely clamped off. “The paramedics better get here soon.”

  “Did you get it?” her patient asked, the words low and slurred. He was obviously in shock, and as she felt for his pulse, she experienced a second of panic. It was weak, thready and way too fast. He’d lost far too much blood.

  “I did,” she told him soothingly.

  “Am I going to be okay?” he gasped.

  “You’re going to be fine.” She didn’t know if it was true or not, but she had no compunction about lying to the man. The last thing he needed right now was to freak out—more adrenaline would
only make his heart beat faster and the situation worse.

  “Thank you,” he said, his hand groping for hers. She let him find it, and squeezed gently as his eyes slowly drifted shut.

  “Hang on,” she told him. “Just hang on.”

  The next few minutes passed in a blur as the paramedics finally showed up and she briefed them on what she’d done. It didn’t take them long to get the arterial-bleed patient on a gurney in the back of the truck and speed away.

  The second man was more difficult to free because of the way his leg was trapped. But the fire department had him out soon enough and then the only people left were the police, who took a brief statement from her, and the tow-truck drivers.

  At that point, Simon slipped an arm around her waist. “You did good tonight.”

  She smiled a little. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You’re a fantastic doctor. No one has ever said differently.”

  “Yeah, but it’s been a long time since my trauma rotation. I was a little freaked out at first.”

  “No one would have guessed.” He turned her and slowly walked her up the sidewalk to her house. “But you need a shower. And those clothes are done for.”

  “I could say the same about you.” She looked him over, paused. Then added, “You can shower here, if you like.” Even as she said the words, she couldn’t believe they were coming out of her mouth. But she didn’t take them back, despite the searing look Simon gave her.

  “Much as I would like to take you up on that offer, I think I should probably head home. Based on the conversation we had earlier.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She fought not to show her disappointment, especially when he was only doing what she’d asked.

  But she must not have done a very good job of it, because Simon groaned, his jaw tightly clenched. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told her. “Not tonight, when you’ve still got way too much adrenaline pumping through your system to make such an important decision.”

  She nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Yeah. I am.” He didn’t move, though, just watched her carefully, his green eyes blazing.

  Which meant he’d been pushed as far as he could go. She was going to have to be the one to do the right thing. The only thing. Being careful not to touch him, she took the front steps two at a time.

  “Good night, Simon.”

  “Good night, Mandy.”

  The sound of her nickname on his lips weakened her knees and her resolve. But she forced herself to take the last few steps to the front door. She opened it, stepped inside, then waved before closing the door firmly behind her.

  It was the right decision, even though it was harder than she’d expected it to be.

  But it was the right one. She knew it was—if she started something with Simon again before she was ready, she was never going to heal. For most of their relationship, being with Simon had been all- consuming and she had easily lost herself in him. Now that she was finally on the road to recovery, she couldn’t afford to do anything to jeopardize that. Not if she wanted to find her way back to where she once was.

  When she was better, when she felt solid again, she and Simon could try to figure out the steps of their relationship. Until then, for the first time in her adult life, she was going to make herself a priority.

  That was cold comfort as she peered through the window next to the door, watching him watch her. Waiting for him to get in his car. When he finally left, she leaned against the door. Her relationship with Simon was complicated, painful, but it had also been the most important relationship she’d ever had, excluding the one with Gabby. Simon had hurt her more than anyone else ever had, but he had also brought her more love, more joy. Had taught her what it meant to truly love someone else when she’d grown up isolated and alone, taken care of by her mother’s relatives after her parents had died in a car crash, but never really loved. Never really wanted.

  Simon had wanted her then and he wanted her still. And while she didn’t want to forgive him for what he’d done, it was getting harder and harder to hold it against him. Not when she saw how severely he was punishing himself.

  Confused, frightened, but also happier than she’d been in a very long time, Amanda slid silently to the floor. And wondered how on earth she was going to stop herself from falling for him. Again.

  AFTER A NEAR-SLEEPLESS NIGHT, Amanda stood in her dining room, drinking convenience-store coffee and watching as her contractor systematically destroyed her kitchen, ripping it down to wall studs and subfloors.

  There had been something cathartic in seeing the bare bones of the place, in knowing that very soon it would be whole and beautiful and, most important, functional again. In knowing that there was a timeline to completion.

  If only her own life could be put back together as cleanly and quickly.

  That wasn’t going to happen, though. Not as long as she was in charge, bumbling her way along the road back toward sanity. It was a new path for her, one she didn’t know well, and she figured she’d end up making a few mistakes along the way.

  Brick by brick, she reminded herself as she took another sip of coffee. One thing at a time, and today that involved picking out paint for the master bedroom and bathroom, as well as buying a bunch of supplies to help her do the work.

  After saying goodbye to the workmen, Amanda headed toward the closest home-repair store. She had a feeling she would know every inch of it before she was done with her house. It didn’t take as long as she thought it would to pick out colors for her suite of rooms—cool, soothing blues that would complement each other and, she hoped, would have a calming effect on her.

  She also stocked up on brushes, rollers, scrapers, paint trays, stir sticks and any and everything else she could think of. She also got a soft white paint for the ornate trim that lined the ceiling and floor of most of the rooms—the contractor had told her it was in decent shape, something she was grateful for as she’d fallen in love with it at first sight. She also bought a ladder, which she paid extra to have delivered since she didn’t want to ruin the paint on her brand-new SUV by strapping it to the roof.

  She left the store, loaded down with supplies and feeling more optimistic than she had in a long time. It felt good to have a project. As she put the supplies in the car, imagining the satisfaction of standing in her bedroom when the painting was completed, her mind drifted to Gabby and how much fun her daughter would have had directing the action as Amanda painted. Gabby had always been a bossy little thing and playing contractor on a job like this would have thrilled her to no end.

  Amanda braced herself for the debilitating pain that thoughts of Gabby still brought. But they didn’t come this time. Instead, a sweet warmth filled her, one that had her remembering again how good it had felt to be Gabby’s mother.

  Filled with purpose, and more than a little excited, Amanda slammed the tailgate shut and climbed behind the wheel of the SUV. Remodeling a house was such a contrast to practicing medicine in poverty-stricken nations. Still, she was chomping at the bit to try.

  Thinking about Somalia made her think of Jack. He’d emailed her numerous times in the past couple of weeks and she hadn’t bothered to respond. Maybe it was time to change that.

  Pulling out her smartphone, she started to dial the number of his satellite phone, but in the end, couldn’t do it. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not yet. It was hard enough getting through the day when the only people she needed to talk to were the contractor and Simon. Adding someone else to the list—especially a friend like Jack, who had a tendency to get right to the heart of things—might upset the delicate tightrope she’d been walking.

  Still, she couldn’t totally ignore him. Instead, she dashed off a quick email telling him what she’d been up to and promising to call soon. Then she put the phone away and pulled out of the parking lot, determined to focus on the first project she had waiting for her at home.

  Caught up in her thoughts, she made a wrong turn and ended up in a part of
Atlanta she had never seen before. A quick glance around told her it wasn’t an area she necessarily wanted to be in, even in the middle of the day. She locked her doors as she stopped at a red light, planning to make a quick U-turn the first chance she got. She froze when she saw a sad, decrepit-looking clinic at the corner on her left.

  Unable to look away, she stared at it through the entire light, and when she finally ended up making that U-turn, instead of heading back to her house, she pulled into a small parking lot behind the clinic.

  She sat in her car for a minute, debating whether or not she really wanted to do this. Whether or not she was ready for it. But then she remembered the night before, the pride and the exhilaration that had come when she’d stopped that man from bleeding out. And she knew, ready or not, she was going to take the next step forward on her journey.

  She was at the door of the clinic before she realized she wasn’t exactly dressed for a job interview in her jeans and white T-shirt. But she knew she was going in, anyway. If she walked away now, she wasn’t sure she’d get the nerve to come back anytime soon.

  Her first glimpse of the clinic might have shocked her if she hadn’t spent more than a decade working under conditions in hard-hit developing nations. The walls were dingy and stained in numerous places with God only knew what. The chairs that lined the walls, crammed to capacity with tired, sick patients, were the folding kind, the paint peeling off many of them. And the small clinic staff that was trying to take care of everyone was obviously overwhelmed.

  Amanda waited a moment, tried to decide how she felt about being here. Maybe it was too soon. But as an obviously sick baby began to wail in high-pitched distress, all she felt was a sense of homecoming. As if she was finally back where she belonged.

  This wasn’t Africa, wasn’t For the Children, but she’d already figured out that she couldn’t go back there. She looked at the waiting patients. Many of them seemed to have put off coming to the doctor until they had no choice, and Amanda suddenly realized that she wanted to do this.