Читать книгу Never Been Kissed - Linda Turner - Страница 7

Every Labor Day the Jones family gathered for their annual picnic, and this year’s get-together was wilder than ever. By 10:30 a.m., the beer and sodas were flowing, the barbecue was sizzling on the grill and a spirited game of volleyball was in progress on the beach. The object was to win, at all cost, and cheating was not only allowed, but heartily encouraged. Laughter echoed up and down the beach, along with the ribald comments from the cheering section on the sidelines.

In the past Reilly Jones would have been right in the big middle of the game, leading his team to victory and enjoying every second of it. But not this year. He didn’t feel like playing—or mingling with the family. He wouldn’t, in fact, have even showed up if it hadn’t been for his older brother, Tony, who’d nagged and bitched and hounded him to put in an appearance until he’d finally given in just to shut him up.

Standing alone, well apart from the rest of the family, Reilly stared broodingly out to sea and knew he shouldn’t have come. He didn’t belong here. The trouble was he didn’t belong anywhere and he hadn’t for a long time now. Ever since Victoria had died.

Pain lanced his heart just at the thought of her. God, he missed her! Every second of every day. He’d been told that with time, the hurt would lessen and eventually fade, but it had been eight months since a teenager in a stolen car had slammed into her and killed her, and the pain was as fierce today as it had been that fateful day. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t work. There was a gaping hole in his heart, in his life, where she had once been, and all he wanted to do was die so he could be with her again.

Behind him he heard a footstep and didn’t have to turn around to know his brother had joined him. Tony had appointed himself his personal guardian angel, and lately he seemed to always know when his thoughts were at their lowest. Not taking his eyes from the shadowy blurred images of Catalina in the distance, Reilly said gruffly, “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid like drown myself or anything. I was just thinking.”

Tony, to his credit, knew better than to ask him about what. The answer, as usual, was written in the sad, grim lines of his somber expression. Victoria. There’d been a time when Tony had envied his brother the rare love he shared with Victoria, but not anymore. Her death had nearly destroyed Reilly, and Tony didn’t know if he would ever recover from it. He hadn’t laughed since the day she died, and eight months later the grief that tore at him was stronger than ever. He’d turned his medical practice over to his partners and had lost all interest in life. When he wasn’t sitting at home in his study staring at her picture, he was either at the cemetery or in his car, driving the endless freeways of L.A., looking in vain for a peace that was nowhere to be found.

And Tony didn’t mind admitting he was worried about him. He was slowly destroying himself, and if something wasn’t done soon to pull him out of the depression he had slipped into, he was going to be in serious trouble.

“I’ve been thinking, too,” he replied, “and I think you should get out of here.”

Surprised, Reilly dragged his eyes away from the ocean to arch a dark brow at him. “What’s gotten into you? For the last two weeks, you’ve done nothing but preach about how important it was for me to come to this thing, and now you’re telling me to leave?”

“Not the picnic,” Tony corrected him quietly. “L.A.”

That was the last thing Reilly expected him to say. “Are you serious?”

“You’re slowly killing yourself here, grieving yourself to death,” he said bluntly. “With Victoria gone there’s nothing here for you anymore. So sell everything—the house, your practice—and get the hell out of here while you still can.”

It was a logical suggestion—and everything inside Reilly rebelled at the thought. He couldn’t leave L.A. His last memories of Victoria were here. Everywhere he turned he could see her, hear her, smell her. How could he turn his back on their home and the life they had built together and start over as if she had never existed? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t!

But even as he opened his mouth to tell Tony he would never even consider such a suggestion, he knew deep down in his soul that his brother was right. The grief that already consumed his every waking and sleeping moment was on the verge of swallowing him whole. If he didn’t do something soon to save himself, he was going to be lost.

“Where would I go?”

Encouraged, Tony said, “Do you remember Steven Michaels? He was my chemistry lab partner in college.”

The name conjured up images of a tall, gangly kid who had been all arms and legs and six foot five if he was an inch. Frowning, Reilly nodded. “Yeah. He should have played basketball. What about him?”

“I ran into him last month at a convention and he was telling me about an uncle of his who’s looking for someone to join his family medical practice and eventually take it over so he can retire. His name’s Dan Michaels. I think you should consider calling him.”

“I’m a heart surgeon, Tony.”

“You’re a doctor,” he reminded him. “You take care of sick people. Just because you normally spend your days operating on people’s hearts doesn’t mean you can’t treat colds and allergies and high blood pressure instead. Think about it. It might be a really nice change for you.”

Reilly had to admit he had a point. There’d been a time when he’d thrived on the stress and challenge of surgery. But that was before he’d lost Victoria. Now the operating room—like everything else—held little appeal. But a family practitioner? Could he be content with that?

“So where is this uncle’s practice?”

“Colorado,” he replied. “A little town called Liberty Hill. From what I understand, it’s southwest of Colorado Springs. It’s right in the middle of ranching country, but Aspen’s not that far away.”

It sounded like a wide spot in the road, as different from L.A. as day was from night, and Reilly knew that if he had any sense, he’d laugh in his brother’s face and tell him to think again. If he was going to start his life over, it was going to be someplace where he could at least get Brie without people asking him what it was.

But even as he tried to convince himself that he needed to live someplace more sophisticated, he knew it didn’t matter. L.A., New York, Liberty Hill, Colorado. What difference did it make where he lived? Without Victoria, he wouldn’t care if he was in the middle of the Sahara.

“All right, I’ll give this Dr. Michaels a call if it’ll make you happy,” he said with a grimace. “Give me the number.”