Читать книгу Medical Romance July 2016 Books 1-6 - Lynne Marshall, Amalie Berlin - Страница 19

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SWIMMING IN THE pool at work had rules, and one of those rules was the hours of operation. But at two thirty in the morning, after tossing and turning her sheets into a sweaty tangle, those rules meant very little even to the perennially law-abiding.

The last place Grace wanted to be was somewhere she’d spent so much time with Liam, but work was the only place she could find a pool where she knew it would be safe to swim alone at that hour.

It took a little explaining to get her past the guard, but as she flipped on the lights to the pool room she could already feel the stress starting to abate.

A swim was what she needed. Exercise to burn off excess energy. The comfort of the familiar. Maybe the water could give her even the metaphorical weightlessness she wanted, some way to return to her usual mental and emotional buoyancy.

She dove in and prayed the water would work its usual magic on her.

How long had it taken her to get over Liam the first time? Really get over him, not just take out her frustrations by kissing every cute boy who hadn’t immediately bored her?

Well, that was a depressing thought.

Because she’d never got over Liam. Not really.

She had eventually got to a place where it had hurt less and she hadn’t cringed when she’d heard his name. By the time his face had been plastered everywhere, it hadn’t even really hurt anymore. She’d built up a callus, which she’d vigorously exfoliated when she’d gotten tangled up with him again.

Kicking harder, she turned under the water, completing her first lap.

Three days and she hadn’t heard anything from Liam. Tonight she’d come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t. The paparazzi who’d found out where she worked had mostly given up following her—all except for a couple intermittent stragglers. Why bother watching her when Liam was clearly nowhere around? She went to work. She went home. She swam. It wasn’t terribly interesting.

Even if they saw what she did when she was home, it would probably only inspire pity in them.

She was considering getting some cats.

And learning a craft of some kind.

And moving in with people who shunned cell phones. Anything to keep herself from asking Nick about Liam. He’d stopped talking about his friend anymore when they spoke, and she didn’t know if Nick and Liam were even speaking to each other.

If they weren’t on speaking terms any longer, that would mean that her desires had interfered with her brother’s relationships. And if they were, it would be just as awkward between her and Nick, even if it was a different kind of awkward.

Cats, crafts, and shunning technology seemed like the safest outlets to turn her attention to.

Or maybe it was time for a change of scenery. Take another job with a sports team, somewhere other than California, New York, or Virginia. Maybe if she went far enough away, she could figure out how to put it all behind her.

* * *

Liam sat sideways on the sofa in his hotel suite, trying to wrap his ankle before his guest arrived. It had probably gotten to the point that he could stop wearing all the wraps and splints if he was careful, but he’d be cautious a little longer. He just couldn’t call Grace up and ask her.

He couldn’t call Grace up for any reason.

But Nick he had called, and Liam was now waiting for his oldest friend to arrive. With all that had gone on with Grace, and then with Nick’s reaction, he needed to figure out where they stood.

By the time he worked the little metal thing into the bandage to keep it in place, the door opened and Nick strolled in. “Hey, Miles let me in. He said you were working on your ankle.”

Nick stopped by the sofa and looked down at the bandaged limb. “That looks like the same technique you use to wrap gifts.”

“I don’t wrap gifts anymore. Hailey does it now,” Liam said, dragging a smile on his face even if it was just for show right now. He used to also have someone who would wrap his ankle for him, but that was over. And the reason why seeing Nick for the first time in more than a month felt like walking to an execution he’d volunteered for. “Thanks for coming. Want a drink? Bar’s stocked, as always.”

Liam got his sword cane and used it to meander over to the bar. Talking at the bar felt better than talking on the sofa. Less intimate, and Nick wasn’t the Watson who Liam had a history of getting intimate with.

Nick followed and reached for the Scotch and two short tumblers. A minute later they had ice and whiskey in them. Liam had given up the pain relievers last week, just in time for this conversation that required alcohol.

“So, do you want to talk about my sister?” Nick slid a glass to him.

Right to the point.

Liam nodded, took a drink of the Scotch and looked for the words. Unlike with the Trench Coat talk, he hadn’t planned any of this beforehand. He was by turns apologetic with Nick and angry with him, but before he got to his apologies, there were things he needed to know.

“Yes. And I asked you here because you’re my best friend so if there isn’t honesty with us, then this friendship isn’t worth saving.”

“Is there some reason it’s going to be in jeopardy?”

“You might think so after I tell you what happened with your sister.” Liam downed the Scotch and slid the glass back to Nick with a nod to refill it. “But first I need to know something.”

Nick didn’t sit. He stayed standing on the other side of the bar where the booze could be easily reached. “I think I know what happened with my sister. You dated her. You kissed her. You said you weren’t going to do anything else, and then you ended up at a wedding with her. So I’m guessing that something else happened in there somewhere.”

“Something else happened.”

Another two fingers of booze slid back to him and Liam took another good pull at it—they always stocked the good stuff at this hotel, but this bottle could be smashed over his head just as successfully as rotgut.

“More happened. A lot happened. But, speaking of things that happened... You’ve known about her feelings for me for a long time. So I have to ask—when she had her accident and was in the hospital, why did you never tell me? She’s got scars, she said that a motorcycle wreck derailed her from her career goals, and I would swear on a stack of bibles that you never said one word to me about her getting hurt.”

“That’s because I didn’t.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck and then leaned on the bar. “Your dad died that day, Liam.”

* * *

It was a week and two days since the wedding, Grace spent most of her evenings alone with wine and movies. Tonight she’d added her cell phone, and now sat replaying a voice mail over and over, with her thumb hovering over the delete button, unable to bring it down.

Liam’s bosses—the producers and whoever she’d spoken to on the phone about him—had called to offer her a job on their set.

High action, medieval, dragon-chasing fantasies could injure the actors and stunt crew just as effectively as thrillers and movies where the good guys fought the bad guys with high-speed chases and pyrotechnics.

Even though the phone call had felt like a job interview at the time, she really hadn’t expected anything to come from it. And she still didn’t know how to respond.

She wanted to say yes, and she wanted to scream at them to lose her number.

It was just a reminder of that door she’d left open for him. A door that any sane person would’ve closed by now.

She took another drink of her favorite sweet red wine and set the glass down, then pressed the button.

Delete.

The doorbell rang, and she continued to sit. Dealing with people didn’t sound like something she could do right now.

She got up and turned to her bedroom to get as far as she could from the door. After she got another glass of wine.

“Grace?” Her name shouted through the door reached her just as she was about to shut herself in her bedroom.

Her hand started to shake.

That was Liam’s voice. Liam was at her door.

The bottle felt heavy and awkward as she headed for the door, gripping the bottle with both hands lest she drop it.

Opening locks and latches with her hands full of wine bottle didn’t work. She bent and set the bottle on the floor. When she finally got the door open, the first thing she saw was his eyes.

Still dark blue. But hopeful. He’d shaved and the man’s trademark stubble was gone, leaving that broad, manly jaw completely bare.

She looked down at his feet next. Wrapped, but not in the splint.

And wearing nice dark gray slacks and a button-down shirt. No tie, and also no sexy lean or smoldering looks. This wasn’t Hollywood’s Beautiful Bad Boy. This was...not a booty call.

This was him trying to make a good impression.

Without saying a word, she focused on the various things in his hands.

A bouquet of daisies and roses in the crook of one arm.

A heart-shaped box of candy in the crook of the other.

And in each hand a ceramic figurine. A kitten in one hand and a puppy in the other.

Her words came back to her.

Her old rewind fantasies.

Quintessential boyfriend gifts because...he had relationship feelings.

One hand flew to cover the base of her throat and she held back a cry that wanted to collapse her chest.

Worry in his eyes, Liam stayed standing there in front of her, waiting in silence.

It took her a minute, but when she managed a full breath without whimpering Grace lowered her hand again and folded her arms across her ribs. She wouldn’t touch him. She wouldn’t throw herself at him. He’d shown up, and that was a lot, but he had to say some stuff too.

Her stomach had just tied itself in a knot, and she probably couldn’t even have moved from in front of the door if the apartment had been on fire.

Don’t say the wrong thing.

She nodded to his hands. “What’s all this?”

“It’s candy, flowers, a kitten and a puppy,” Liam said, not a hint of their usual flirtation in his tone. He looked nervous. And he sounded insane.

“The kitten and puppy were supposed to be real. And alive. Not ceramic.”

“I’m new to commitment, Gracie. I didn’t think I could handle taking on two animals if you told me to get lost so I went with figurines.” He nodded to the apartment, and then to his arms. “Can I come in? Or can you take the breakables?”

“Are you here to ask me to go steady?” Even as she said the joking words, her heart leaped at the idea. It was a beginning. And they’d come this far. If he took this first step, he wouldn’t turn back. Liam didn’t know how to quit.

“Yes. And anything else you’re willing to risk on me.”

She unfolded her arms and opened the door wide enough to reach for the flowers and candy, relieving him of the items perched most precariously on his arms.

“Did I have four arms in your rewind fantasies? Or a pet carrier with the animals in it?”

“It’s a lot to carry. I did say those fantasies were insane at the time.” She stepped back from the door and nodded to him and the floor. “Don’t kick the wine.”

Turning to the hall table, she set down what she’d taken from him and then looked back, waiting. Afraid to let her hopes get too high. Terrified because they were already soaring.

“I had a long talk with your brother,” Liam started. He stepped in and set the knickknacks down then closed the door.

“About me?”

Vulnerability, she saw it in his eyes. It was there in hers if he was looking closely enough, and he always looked closely. “And me.”

His hands rubbed together roughly. He seemed to realize what he was doing and stuffed them into his pockets instead. “And also why he didn’t tell me about your accident.”

It was something she’d wondered too, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask Nick yet. And right now it seemed very important for her to hear anything Liam wanted to bring up. Let him talk. At least as long as he had something to say he wouldn’t go. She could hear his voice. Watch his mouth forming words—any words. She could see that he’d nicked himself shaving before coming over.

“Why didn’t he tell you? Was it because he knew about...my trench-coat antics?”

He shook his head.

“He didn’t tell me when I called him, because it was the day my dad died.” The words came softly, but he made no move to hide the rawness in his voice. “And he knew I’d still drop everything and run to your family at Cedars. He said it was the last thing I needed to deal with.”

Grace nodded as she absorbed this. Nick had done what he’d thought was the kindest thing to do for Liam, and she might’ve made that same decision. He’d had no way of knowing what had been going on with them—she’d certainly never told anyone about the night she’d gone to his apartment. He’d probably only known they’d stopped talking about one another, if he was even perceptive enough to pick up on that at twenty. “That was probably the right thing to do.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Liam said, taking a step closer to her, close enough to touch her if he wanted to. Or for her to touch him if she was brave enough. “It was an attempt at kindness, he did it because he cared. But the truth is... Cedars would’ve been the best place for me. I tried to make a family with my father when I got old enough, but we were both too damaged to know how. And when that ended, the best thing I could’ve done would’ve been to go to my real family. The best thing for me, I mean. You all had a lot to deal with at the time. So I could’ve understood if he’d not told me because you all couldn’t deal with one more broken thing that day.”

She still didn’t know if she should touch him, but she needed to, and he needed it too. He’d come as close as he could and had left that final step to her, so close her head craned back and she could feel his breath fanning her skin. Accelerated, scared. She lifted a hand and rested her palm against the solid heat of his chest, and then used the other to brush away a trace of blood beside that razor nick. “That would never have happened.”

“I know,” he whispered, catching the hand at his jaw and holding it there while he looked down at her, his worry fading as fast as hers started to fall away.

“But I realized something after my talk with Nick. Something I’d been missing. Family takes care of each other, I got that part right. But the part I messed up is...real family never give up on one another. They never...” His eyes closed and he bowed his head forward until his forehead lightly touched hers. Slowly, his arms crept around her waist, the slightest tremble evident in his broad frame.

This was real. He was really doing this. It may not have come easily, but it did come. And she was going to say yes to whatever he offered because she’d learned those lessons early about how to treat the people you love, and he was still getting there.

“They never give up on someone they love,” he said, as if touching strengthened him enough to go on. “My parents gave up. On life. On me. On everything. They worried about their desires first. When you were hurt, Nick didn’t keep the information from me to keep me away from you or your family, he did it because he was trying to protect me. And maybe he was trying to protect you too, because you have terrible taste in men, Gracie.”

She laughed, her hands moving up to cup his cheeks. “No, I don’t. I had good taste when I picked you. But when it didn’t work, all my efforts to find a stand-in Liam failed. Turned out bad boys are easy to find but it was impossible to find one with your heart. With your charm. Your kindness and honor.”

Tears rolled fat and wet from her eyes.

He tilted his head, kissed her eyes and nosed away the tears on her cheeks. “Don’t cry. I don’t ever want to make you cry again. If you’ll still have me.”

“What am I having you for?” She leaned back to look up at him once again, and slid her arms around his neck.

“Whatever you want. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

He held her gaze, those deep blue eyes open and full of love. He hadn’t said it directly, but she’d known beyond doubt that he loved her since their only night together. She just hadn’t believed she could wait for him to come around to the same knowledge.

“Do you want marriage?”

“I want you.”

“Do you want children?”

He said again, “I want you.”

“But you were worried about those things before, them being...contraindicated in a relationship with you.”

“Contraindicated?”

“It’s medical talk. It means don’t mix this and that. Like ibuprofen and wine, and I suppose that in this case I’d be the ibuprofen...”

“You would certainly be the ibuprofen, you dull the pain and keep me upright. It’s not sexy, but it’s not wrong,” he said, and then answered her question. “My objections have all been about the ways that I would screw it up and knowing I couldn’t live with myself if I did. I told myself I didn’t want marriage and children because I don’t trust myself. I still don’t trust that I’ll have the right instincts. I’ve been terrified that I’d fail them and you. But after I talked to Nick, after I pieced together his motivation, my motivation, and your motivation, I realized what’s been missing in me.”

She shook her head, not understanding.

“When you Watsons screw up in relationships, when you make the wrong calls for the people you love? It’s because you’re trying to do what is best for them. When I’ve been making the wrong calls, it’s been because I was afraid and trying to do what was best for me. But I know it now. I see the difference. I finally get it. And I know I can do better.”

He stopped, tears standing in his vision. So open. If he said another word she’d break. They both needed a moment to touch before even one more word came. She tugged his head down, the barest urging needed.

His mouth closed on hers and he pressed her back, two steps and he had her once again against the entry wall. Only this time the need that drove him was toward closeness, to starved kisses, until they were both left gasping for air.

“Please take another chance on me.” His forehead went back to hers, the rest of his body melding to hers. His words came slowly, with pauses for breath, but he didn’t stop long enough to catch his breath properly. “I can promise, right now, that I’ll want you. Forever. I’ll love you forever.”

He’d said it! Again a breathless laugh bubbled up, and she could only nod.

“Be patient when I screw up, because I’m going to screw up, I know I will, but I’ll do it for the right reasons. Teach me how to make a life together—a real life, not some surface-deep Hollywood sham of a relationship. I want you, Gracie. I love you. And I understand now.”

One tear fell onto her cheek, and then another. It took her a moment to realize they were his.

“One life, nothing held back. Deal?” Her voice, still not strong, wobbled over the words, and she smiled even as they both cried.

He nodded. “Deal.”

“Now take me to bed.”

He laughed, nodding and swooping her into his arms to head for the bedroom. And she let him. His ankle was wrapped, and it felt too good to be cradled against his chest.

She leaned up and kissed his ear, then nuzzled in close and whispered, “I got some new lacy black underwear...for next time...”

Because there would be a next time. A lifetime of next times.

* * * * *