Читать книгу First Responder On Call - Melinda Di Lorenzo - Страница 16

Remo smiled as Xavier put the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle in place, then let loose with a triumphant fist pump.

“Did you see that, Remo?” the kid asked excitedly. “There were fifty pieces, and I got them all.”

“I did see it,” he agreed. “And I’m pretty impressed. Should we put this one away and start another? Or do you want to go back to coloring?”

“Another puzzle.” But the kid no sooner started to pull apart the pieces than he stopped again and lifted a hesitant look in Remo’s direction. “Do we have time?”

“You mean how long until we see your mom?”

The kid didn’t answer immediately. He just flicked his thumb over the bumps of the completed puzzle. Remo waited. For the last thirty or so minutes, the little boy had been painstakingly pressing the bits together. Though he had to be tired and scared, he’d managed to elevate keeping a stiff upper lip to a whole new level. He’d chatted about cartoons and YouTube and his friend Kevin from school. The one thing he hadn’t brought up was his mom, and Remo was sure it was on purpose.

Even though the door to the subject had been opened now, Xavier’s next sentence came out in a small voice. “She says patience is a virtual reality.”

Remo fought a chuckle. “A virtue?”

Xavier nodded without looking up. “Yeah.”

“And she’s right, buddy,” Remo told him. “But I know you’re worried, and it’s okay to talk about it.”

The little guy sighed a deep, far too adult sigh before lifting his face and asking, “They’re going to fix her, right?”

“That’s their job.”

“Does that mean yes?”

For the first time in his life, Remo wished he was better at making grand promises he couldn’t personally guarantee. Reassurance was one thing, but sugar-coating wasn’t his forte. Even when it came to children, he believed it was better to be honest. Kind but forthcoming. Something he’d always appreciated as a kid himself, but not received often enough.

Everything will be fine was the last thing someone had said to him before his seven-year-old world imploded, and he wouldn’t lay that on someone else.

So instead he said, “It means they’ll do everything they can to make sure she’s fine, buddy. They have science and medicine on their side, and from everything I could see myself, she looked good.”

Xavier’s face screwed up like he was thinking about the lacking-of-promise answer, but when he spoke, it was to ask a seemingly random question. “Why are they saying your name?”

Remo frowned. “What?”

The kid aimed a thumb toward the hall. “Over the speaker thing. Like the one they have at kindergarten.”

Remo cocked an ear. Sure enough, a second later, a crackling page came to life.

“Remo DeLuca, if you’re in the hospital, please report to room 414. That’s Remo DeLuca to 414. Thank you.”

Xavier’s face lit up with hope. “Do you think room 414 is my mom?”

Remo ruffled the kid’s hair. “I sure do. And that’s good news, because 414 is the perfect room.”

“It is?”

“You bet. Should we put away the puzzle and go?”

Xavier quickly swept the pieces into the box, then jumped up, visibly excited and truly childlike for the first time since Remo had met him. Smiling, he let the kid grab his hand and tug him into the hall. Room 414 truly was good news. It was in recovery, but not intensive care. If the medical staff had found any issues with Celia Poller’s well-being, they would’ve moved her to one of the wards that offered a better chance for one-on-one care. Knowing that lightened Remo’s own steps as he led the kid to the nearest staff-only elevator. He was gladder than would be expected of a stranger, and he was eager to speak to Celia.

What would the woman have to say about her situation? He couldn’t help but wonder just how much she’d be willing to disclose. Maybe nothing. Maybe she’d see him as no more than the stranger he was. Or maybe—hopefully—he’d get lucky, and she’d choose him as a confidant. If she and her son were on the run, then there would be few people who understood it better than Remo did. The peculiar need to continue to help her and her son only strengthened as he acknowledged that his past had to be one of the main reasons behind it.

But there’s a difference between admitting it to myself and saying it aloud to a stranger.

He cast a glance down at the kid. The sandy-brown curls were pressed to the outside of Remo’s thigh, and the easy trust made his chest compress. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t make that trust worthwhile? Not the kind of man he wanted to be, that much was for sure.

The elevator dinged then, and he started to move forward before realizing that he’d acquired a human ankle weight—the kid was standing up, but was also sound asleep. With a chuckle, he reached down and scooped the boy up. As Remo cradled him to his chest and stepped out of the elevator, Xavier barely did more than sigh. Even when someone tapped Remo’s shoulder and made him do a startled spin, the little guy didn’t stir.

“Hey, DeLuca,” greeted the nurse attached to the hand that had made him jump. “I didn’t mean to scare y—whoa! Is that Celia Poller’s kid?”

Remo looked down, then smiled and feigned surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned, Jane. Where did he come from?”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “Pipe down, DeLuca. I’m just surprised to see that the patient’s claim about you having her kid was true. I wasn’t aware that you had any friends.”

“I have you, don’t I?”

“I’m friends with your mother. You’re just the leech along for the ride.”

Remo’s smile became a grin. “Your bedside manner must be impeccable.”

Jane’s eyes crinkled, but she put her hands sternly on her hips. “No complaints yet.”

“Today or...”

“I did say pipe down, didn’t I?”

“Not sure. I’ve been told my listening skills aren’t great.” He paused, then turned serious. “How is she?”

Jane studied him curiously. “She really is a friend?”

Remo forced a casual-sounding evasion because it seemed odd to admit that not only was she not a friend, but that he didn’t know her at all. “Not on duty, so she can’t be a patient.”

“Right. Well. Your friend is doing just fine. Worried about her kid and a little groggy and understandably confused, but aside from that, she’s all right. CT scan came back normal, so...” She shrugged. “You know the drill. And I won’t tell anyone if you wanna sneak a look at her chart.”

“Thanks, Jane. Room 414?”

“You got it.”

He started to turn away, but the nurse’s voice stopped him. “Remo...”

He braced himself for a comment similar to the one made by the hospital administrator. Something about the kid’s age or size. Instead, Jane met his eyes, bit her lip, and shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just glad to see you’re not as friendless as I thought.”

Remo swallowed. He tried to muster up a joke about Jane getting soft in her old age, but he couldn’t quite manage it. So he just nodded, then finished his turn, and made his way toward room 414.

* * *

If Celia hadn’t been stuck in her bed and attached to an IV, she would’ve paced the room a hundred times over. Maybe a thousand. It felt like a millennium since the page for Remo DeLuca had come through the speakers. Where was he? Did he have Xavier with him?

Please, God, let him have Xavier. Because if he doesn’t...

The thought trailed off. She closed her eyes. She refused to let her thoughts go to any kind of dark place. The blue-eyed paramedic would have her son. He’d bring him in. And then she’d take him far away from the hospital and whatever unknown danger it was that lurked on the frustratingly dim periphery of her mind.

“Hurry up, Remo,” she murmured.

“Don’t want to go too much faster or I might drop him.”

The unexpected reply—spoken in a slightly dry, slightly familiar masculine tone—made Celia’s eyes fly open. And even though she was expecting him to be standing there, seeing the dark-haired, blue-eyed man in the doorway made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. When she’d seen him before, she’d been out of it, and he’d been either crouched down or sitting. Now that she was a little more lucid, and he was on his feet, she couldn’t help but note a few things. One, he was tall. Six-five, probably. Two, he was intimidatingly broad-shouldered. And three, he was breathtakingly handsome. The kind of man who would draw the attention of every woman within a three-mile radius. And his looks were so distracting that it actually took Celia a few heartbeats to clue in that what he’d said actually meant something—the “him” he’d mentioned was her son. Held tightly against his wide chest, his sandy-colored lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks.

“Xavier,” she murmured, her voice breaking with the one word.

The big man stepped into the room, then to the edge of the bed. “You want to wake him?”

Celia exhaled, then shook her head. She had no idea what time it was, but it was definitely well into the wee hours of the night. Xavier needed his rest. Especially since they were going to have to be on the move again. Soon.

Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Celia met Remo’s eyes. “Could you maybe put him on the bed?”

“Sure can,” replied the blue-eyed man.

With more care than his big frame ought to have allowed, he leaned down and gently settled Xavier into the small space between Celia and the guardrail. She tried to offer him her gratitude, but she was too overwhelmed to speak. Her son’s body was warm and soft, and he gave off just a hint of baby powder scent that she recognized as the fabric softener she used in his laundry. The relief at knowing he was okay made her want to weep. But she knew there was no time for indulging. She gave Xavier a brush of a kiss, then peeled off her blankets and eased sideways.

A strong hand abruptly took hold of her elbow, stilling her movement. With the contact, a zap of heat slid along her arm. She looked up, startled. The big man was staring down at her with his eyes fixed on her face. She stared back for a moment before her gaze slid to the spot where his palm met her skin. Seeing his large fingers wrapped around her elbow did nothing to change the peculiar little zaps she felt. Warmth continued to radiate from his touch—maybe it even heightened—and Celia couldn’t pretend that it was unpleasant. Then Remo seemed to notice the extra attention she was giving their position, and he quickly dropped his hand back to his side and stepped a little farther from the bed.

“Hang on there,” he said softly, glancing toward Xavier and dropping his voice even lower. “Are you trying to get out of bed?”

“He’s a sound sleeper,” she replied in a normal voice. “And I’m not trying. I’m doing.”

He took a small step forward, his hand coming up again. Celia tensed with the anticipation of another touch, but he stopped just shy of reaching for her, and a strange stab of disappointment pricked at her for a moment.

There’s no time for this, she told herself. Even if I don’t really know what “this” is.

She gave her a head a little shake, then pushed the blankets down even more. She put her hand on the guardrail opposite her son and pulled her body down the bed.

“Okay,” said Remo. “That’s not happening.”

Celia frowned up at him and continued her shimmy. “What’s not happening?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re not getting out of bed.”

“How is it your business?”

“For starters, I’m a medical professional, and I don’t think you’re well enough to be going anywhere.”

“Are you my doctor?” She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, pretending that a rush of dizziness didn’t accompany the motion.

His eyes hung on her bare knees for a moment, and Celia fought a creeping heat in her cheeks. Apparently, finding her pants was the first order of business.

Remo cleared his throat, his gaze back on her face. “I’m not anyone’s doctor. But I was there immediately after you sustained your injuries, and even if you weren’t hooked up to an IV, I could tell you from what I personally saw out there that you’re not in any shape to be up and moving around.”

“You said that already.”

“Because it’s true.”

“But you’re not a doctor.”

“No.”

She took a breath and formulated what she hoped was a believable lie. “Look. I don’t like hospitals, I have terrible insurance, and I feel all right.”

“Celia.”

She was surprised to hear genuine worry as his voice wrapped softly around her name. And she responded without thinking. “Do I know you?”

His dark brow furrowed, making his already oh-so-blue eyes appear that much more vibrant. “You don’t know if you know me?”

Celia fought a wince. “Of course I know.” And she did. Or she thought she did. Hadn’t she been thinking of him as the blue-eyed stranger? She blew out a breath and muttered, “It doesn’t matter.”

But apparently it did matter to Remo. His long legs brought him to the end of the bed in less time than it took to inhale again, and he quickly grabbed her chart and began reading it. Celia watched as his tense expression eased, then hardened, then eased again. What did he see? What would make his face change like that?

Who cares? Why are you just sitting here, staring at him, anyway? You’re supposed to be moving!

She tried to shake off whatever it was that held her pinned to the spot, but Remo lifted his gaze, and she was immobilized again. Held by the intense mix of emotion in his eyes.

“You didn’t suffer a head injury,” he said.

“You’re making that sound like a bad thing,” she replied.

“I’m concerned that you’re experiencing memory loss.”

“Did I say I was experiencing memory loss?”

“You asked if you knew me.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” she argued.

“So tell me what you did mean,” he said.

“Maybe I meant that as a pickup line.” Her face warmed, but she ignored it. “As in...haven’t we met somewhere before?”

He didn’t smile, or even bite on her lame attempt to deflect. “Did you tell your nurse about the confusion?”

She shook her head and lied again. “I didn’t tell her because there was nothing to tell.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Tuesday.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

“Yes! And I’m not going to tell you. The nurse already went over all of that.”

“So it’s just me you don’t remember?”

“It doesn’t matter if I say yes or if I say no... Either way, you’ll take it how you want.”

She started to move again, but he stepped closer once more, and this time, he did put his hand on her.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low, urgent, and earnest, all at the same time. “We don’t know each other. But to reiterate. You were just in a pretty serious accident. You lost a lot of blood. You’ve had a transfusion, you’ve been stitched up, and you’re on some intravenous antibiotics. All of that—combined with common sense—should be enough to keep you in that bed.”

As logical as his words were, Celia couldn’t quite concede. “And if I don’t agree?”

“Then I’ll call the nurse—whose name is Jane, and who I’ve known for twenty-five of my thirty-one years—and I’ll ask her nicely to sedate you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I sure would.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Then you’d better give me a damned good reason for that,” he replied. “And it better be more believable than a hospital phobia, too.”

“My son...” Celia felt tears well up, and as she dropped her gaze and fought to either hide them or hold them in, whatever further lie she’d been about to issue got lost completely.

Remo spoke again, his voice gentle. “Xavier is only going to be in more danger if his mom’s too weak to help him.”

She lifted her head in surprise. “How did you know he was in danger?”

The big man’s expression shifted subtly, and Celia realized her mistake even before he pointed it out.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “But now I do.”

She pushed her lips together and looked away. After a second, Remo let out a sigh.

“I want to help you,” he told her. “But if you’re going to keep lying to me, I can’t do it, Celia. I need a little trust here.”

She echoed his words back to him. “Then you’d better give me a damned good reason for that.”

His jaw ticked. She waited for an argument. But what she got instead was his story.