by Alison Mello
He had missed something.
“I’m sorry, but what are you telling me? Is Summer awake? Is she going to be all right?”
He stared at the doctor’s firm features as he pinched the bridge of his nose and cocked his head to the side. He knew that look. He was giving him more bad news.
“As I said, Mr. Bryant, Miss Hamilton had an excellent team of skilled surgeons working on her various injuries, among which was a head trauma that led to a bleed on her brain. The surgeons removed a blood clot, which was life-threatening, but she hasn’t woken up yet. The brain, despite being surrounded by bone and protected by three layers, is a delicate structure. We will know more once the swelling reduces over the next few days or weeks.”
Weeks? Does this mean she may not wake up?
His gaze narrowed as he examined the doctor, and a slew of questions bounced around inside his brain.
“Can I see her?”
“Of course. I’ll get the nurse to show you the way. She’s in the ICU. And someone will be able to answer your questions night or day. I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you right now, but she’s young, and she has you at her side. The rest is in God’s hands.”
Rafe stared dumbfounded at the sympathetic man who gathered his notes and left the room. When he met Summer, she was young, oozing a palpable energy that reminded him of himself in his younger carefree and reckless days. But in a short time, he learned underneath the pretty façade lurked a well of insecurities. They were both damaged. This couldn’t be happening. She must wake up and pull through.
***
Rafe
Four weeks later
“Rafe—Mr. Byrant…”
A shake woke him from a sleep he had been determined to avoid. One minute, he had been chatting away, stroking Summer’s small hand, and talking to her about how he couldn’t drag his ass out of the chair and would be waiting here until she woke up. Then lack of sleep or food, or both, caught up with him. His military training meant he went days without sleep, but rubbing his neck and straightening his back last night, he had drifted away with ease. Staring at his watch, he had slept through the entire night.
“I didn’t want to wake you, honey, but they’ll be here soon.”
Rafe nodded. Over the past four weeks, he had developed an easy rapport with all the nursing and medical staff who cared for Summer, but as he knew it would, the truth of their relationship had come to a head the evening her parents arrived. A night he would never forget.
“Thanks, Sally. I’ll make a quick escape. I don’t want to rock the boat, but I’ll be back later. Same time. You know to call me if there are any changes, right?”
The nurse pressed her hand on his arm. “You know, I have to call her next of kin first, but I will call you to let you know if there is anything to report, like always.”
He nodded and leaned over Summer, clasping her hand to give it a squeeze as he brushed her long dark hair away from her pale cheek. Studying her delicate features, he kissed her.
“I know you can hear me, and I know when you’re ready, you are going to open those big brown eyes. Today is the twenty-fourth of January. It’s been a month, sweetheart. There’s snow outside, but hey, it’s a good day to wake up. I’ll keep you warm. Come on, just for me. I miss your smile so much.”
A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up at Sally, who stood next to him with tears in her eyes. He couldn’t take tears and squeezed Summer’s hand again, willing her to give him a sign that she understood. Lifting his head, he studied the machines, waiting for a signal, but there was no alteration to her slow, steady rhythm, and he sighed. Letting go, he slanted his lips over hers and lay a gentle kiss once more before pushing away.
“See you later.”
He strolled out of the intensive care unit with his jacket in his hand and walked toward the elevator as it pinged. The doors slid opened, and he stood motionless as Summer’s parents exited without a hair out of place, in complete control surveying the scene before them. Dressed in their sleek designer clothing, they looked ready for an award ceremony more than this clinical setting. There was no escaping them, and he waited for the man who made no effort to disguise his feelings for him to erupt because that was his nature.
“What in God’s name are you doing here? We had an agreement. You could visit Summer if you left by morning. I could have you thrown out.”
Mrs. Hamilton held a tissue over her nose and sniffed as she swept her gaze over him from head to toe. For a moment, he swore he saw sympathy in her eyes. “Tyler, please. It’s only five minutes. Besides, what harm can he do?”
Mr. Hamilton shook free of his wife and arched his back, standing to his full height towering over her.
“He’s done plenty already. Sylvia, you go ahead. I’ve a few words I want to say to Mr. Bryant.”
Summer’s mother smiled but walked away, dismissed by her husband. In the brief time he had known the couple, he sensed an aloofness and distance between them. Of course, the stress of their daughter being in a prolonged coma could be the reason, but from the small details Summer had provided, he sensed their marriage was not a happy one. Although Mr. Hamilton’s opinion of him had been obvious from the start, he wondered if this slight shift in Sylvia Hamilton’s perfect façade might mean she held a different one. Not that it mattered now; he had no intention of causing an upset.
“My wife is a more generous individual than I am, but we are both on the same page, as far as you are concerned. Your sham of a marriage won’t hold up in court. If you have any common sense, you’ll accept my offer and disappear, never to return. Or I can have my private investigator dig around in your past. I’m sure he’ll find something of interest. Jake Edward Lord, the man Summer was engaged to will be in later, and the last thing we need is some down-and-out camping at her bedside.” Mr. Hamilton spoke low so no one else would hear but pierced his gaze on the wolf tattoo that crept out from his crumpled shirt that had seen better days. The tat was one of several he had inked over his body since being medically discharged from the Navy SEALS. To him, it symbolized strength and the fact he saw himself as a protector. It also fitted in with his need to go back to nature since leaving the teams. But to Mr. Hamilton, he suspected, it was a sign he wasn’t good enough for his daughter.
Could he be right?
Rafe could retaliate and argue the point. He knew without a doubt Summer would not care to see her ex, from what she had told him. But as the minutes ticked by, he knew he wouldn’t say a word; he couldn’t. Secrets had a habit of biting back when least expected, and right now, the Hamiltons were Summer’s best option. There was a high-pitched screech from inside Summer’s room, and a nurse rushed out to face them both.
“Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Bryant, she’s awake.”
He took a step, but Summer’s father pressed his hand on his shoulder.
“Time to walk away. I agreed you could visit until she was awake. Take this and get out of her life. Let her start over.”
A simmering rage roared inside, and he clenched his fists to stop himself from forcibly removing his obstacle to Summer, but right at that moment, all his doubts about being good enough for her, after everything she had been through, gripped him. The harsh man facing him pulled out a slip of paper and thrust it into his hands. He frowned and stared at the number of zeros on the check.
He’s paying me off.
“Take it. I’m sure you could use the money.” With that, the self-righteous man strode into the room. Holding the check, he imagined all he could accomplish with the money and how it would help his outdoor adventure business with his partners. Hearing loud voices from Summer’s room, he couldn’t help but creep closer, halting just outside but far enough away that no one would see him as he peeked through the blinds. Summer lay there, wide awake, and her mom hugged her. Mr. Hamilton remained at a distance from the bed with his gaze fixed on the door, waiting.
Rafe had every right to be there, to hold her, but he had made such a mess of eve
rything, and in truth, remembering her last words to him, the truth rang clear inside his head. She would be better off without him. At least for now.
CHAPTER 3
Summer
Eight months later
Summer Hamilton smiled at Betty Boop as she shimmied around the black retro wall clock and screeched Boop-Oop-a-Doop. Her scratchy voice announced eight o’clock, and right on cue, the roar of a motorbike engine growled outside. Moments later, the doorbell tinkled, and in swaggered a broad-shouldered man at least six foot in height, wearing a worn, black leather jacket, faded jeans, and a white Henley shirt. Taking long strides, the sexy Viking with his back-to-front baseball cap strolled with a determined, yet natural, swagger that made everyone stare as he headed to the back of the diner.
For the past several weeks, Rafe Bryant visited Betty’s every morning like clockwork, driving the young and old waitresses wild. Rumors flew around about the mysterious customer who caused heartbeats to soar and glances to linger over his impressive biceps, but as Summer collected her notepad and pen, she was business as usual as she strolled toward him. Standing there, soaking in the freshly ground coffee and bacon fragrance of the diner, she waited.
“Morning, Sunshine.”
His deep honeyed voice created an outbreak of shivers that skittered down her spine, knocking her off balance. Those two ordinary words embraced her in a peculiar fuzzy warmth. But as she met the wide ice-blue eyes that stared hard into hers, the sensation receded, and she regained her composure.
“Morning. And you’re right on time. Are you this punctual for everything, Mr. Bryant?” she replied, smiling.
He removed his cap, and his eyes narrowed before he spoke. “I try to be, but it doesn’t always go to plan. Anyway, what’s with the Mr. Bryant? Come on, it’s Rafe.”
She smiled and nodded. “Okay, can I start you with your usual Americano, no milk, no sugar?”
The man sat before her with his attention focused on the laminated menu, only glancing up at odd moments to stare at her as she waited for a response. Summer used his preoccupation as an opportunity to study his rugged features, from his piercing eyes framed with long, dark lashes, to his straight nose and generous, wide lips fixed into a rigid line. A neat moustache and trimmed beard completed the handsome portrait. Every now and then, Summer noted how the easy-going man loved to tug on his whiskers.
She scribbled down his order, keen to move away, despite the fact he hadn’t given it yet. He was a creature of habit as he always demolished the same breakfast, and she would bet her tips what she had jotted down would be correct. Staring around the cheery Betty Boop-styled black, white, and red diner, customers spilled into every available seat. An Elvis song played in the background, and the need to hurry Rafe drove her.
“I’ll get your coffee and be right back to take your order.” The words tumbled out, and Summer waited for his accepting nod. Words were short and not forthcoming from the man she guessed to be in his middle thirties. She stared at his tan left hand that held a platinum wedding ring and wondered about his wife. All the girls wondered.
“Sweetheart, there are other customers here waiting for you besides the old man. We’re starving. Can’t you hurry it along? We need your attention too,” a male customer bellowed at the top of his raucous voice.
Summer snapped her head around to examine who it belonged to. There was always one customer who demanded instant attention. She gave the young man with a crew cut a nod to let him know she would be there soon, but a callused hand grabbed hold of her wrist. Summer flicked her gaze to meet Rafe’s serious expression.
“He should learn some manners. Get someone else to serve him.”
The words were uttered in a hushed voice, and she slid her hand out of his clasp.
“I can’t do that. It’s my table. I’ll bring your coffee over. Can I get you the usual to eat?” She kept her voice as light as possible. The Viking rubbed the back of his neck as his attention wandered to the impatient man behind her. Finally, he sighed and nodded.
“Okay, two eggs, sunny side up, bacon, sausage…”
Without thinking, she finished his order. “Hash browns, wheat toast, and fresh OJ. Yeah, I know. I’ll put in the order.”
Rafe’s head darted up, and their eyes locked for a moment. The knowledge she knew his order by heart wasn’t missed by him. For the first time, his mouth broke into a wide, breath-stealing smile. He sat back against the booth as she grabbed the menu from the table. Summer spun away, embarrassed, yet unsure why. Part of her job as a waitress involved getting to know the regulars and making them feel welcome.
Unfortunately, the odd one or two took the friendly service too far.
Like the jerk she needed to serve next. Summer didn’t date colleagues or customers. In fact, Summer hadn’t been on a date for well over a year. In many ways, she embraced her solitary life and didn’t want to complicate matters by including anyone else. A car accident last Christmas almost claimed her life, and although she survived, she wasn’t the same person anymore. In fact, she was still trying to figure out who she was and what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. The doctors had explained when she woke from the month-long coma that she was lucky to have survived.
As Summer navigated her way around the tables, smiling at familiar faces, she traced the outline of the three-inch scar that ran over the left side of her temple, a permanent reminder of how lucky she was. Physically, her injuries had healed, but a huge chunk of her died the day of the crash, leaving a gaping hole, and nothing fixed it. After the accident, the memories surrounding the crash and most of the twelve months prior had been lost. Retrograde amnesia, the doctors had said. The noise in the diner rose sharply, and her heartbeat stampeded in her chest, making her dizzy. She wiped her clammy hands down over her hips and closed her eyes as the walls closed in. All the colors coalesced, and she breathed deeply to stop herself passing out.
Breathe, just breathe.
Tuning out the sights and sounds of the diner, she focused on the rhythm of her breathing, allowing enough oxygen in and willing the uneasy sensation to pass. Having a panic attack here at work was so not happening. She blew out long, steady breaths, keeping an eye on her surroundings. In the early morning rush, no one noticed, and once her heart rate returned to normal, she pushed off, heading for the table where the young man from earlier shouted. Summer studied the group of well-dressed but loud males whistling as a group of attractive women passed by.
“I’m sorry about the wait. My name’s Summer, and I’m your waitress. Can I start you off with some drinks or are you ready to order?”
The group of three men zoned in on her. The rude one with short brown hair and a dimple in his cheek leaned over and grabbed her hand, pressing it against his crotch, laughing. A wave of revulsion filled her as he pressed it tight against his shorts, and her heartbeat thumped inside her ribs. Swallowing down her annoyance, she leaned over and whispered low in the man’s ear. In an instant, his laughter died. He froze and shoved her hand away in disgust. His friends howled with laughter as he slid away from her.
After that, there were no further issues with the group, who ate their food and left. Today was a long shift, and she hoped the rest would pass quickly. Summer collected the empty plates from the table, and a warm breath of air blew against her neck.
“What did you say to that creep?”
She twisted around. Rafe stood inches away, and Summer held the plates while she stared out the large glass windows.
“I simply said that touching his mini wiener wasn’t impressive and certainly nothing to brag about.”
He arched his eyebrows and smiled. The giant towered over her five-foot-five height. She was sans makeup and didn’t possess girly curves. Even her breasts were no more than a handful. In her mind, she wasn’t a beauty. At best, in the right light, with her hair worn down instead of its usual tight ponytail, she was cute, and she wondered why this man noticed her. Not many did.
Without anoth
er word, he left her side, and she strolled toward the kitchen. Five minutes later, Summer returned to clear Rafe’s table as he prepared to leave. He collected his cap from the seat and tapped it against the palm of his hand as a river of lines broke across his forehead.
“You know, you should be careful around assholes like that. They don’t like to be made a fool of, especially with their friends as witnesses.”
His genuine concern stalled her, and she ran her eyes over his serious face as she pocketed the tip. She lingered a moment before offering a response. His worry was touching but unnecessary. She was able to look after herself. “Thanks, but honestly, his sort are more mouth than action. Harmless, really.”
Summer made light of the situation because she wished to put the incident behind her. He massaged his short beard, and she thought he might say something more. Instead, he placed his cap on his head and trudged away. The tinkle of the bell announced his exit, and the breath she held escaped. The growl of his motorbike burst to life, and Rafe rode away, spitting the dust and gravel up behind him. Despite the bad boy image he exuded, she suspected underneath the brusque and granite exterior was a good man at heart. Summer continued to wipe the table down until her face shone in the white laminated surface. Moving to quiet Bridgton, Maine, was the first step in rebuilding her life, even if the solitary existence, at times, grew unbearable.
The rest of Monday passed in a whirl as tourists came and left. At nine p.m., Summer flipped the sign over to ‘CLOSED,’ although no one had entered in the last hour. She slumped against the back of the door, ready for a long soak in a steaming bath with some lavender oil. Sam had emptied the till earlier. Nicki, her friend and one of the waitresses, had helped to clean and tidy everything away. After checking the back door and running a final sweep through the diner to ensure the security alarms were switched on, lights switched off, and the doors locked, she left. Summer strode out the front door, holding her bag close to her chest to stop the cool breeze from touching her skin. It was dark by seven and the temperature was brisk, leaving no doubt fall had arrived.