Chapter Twenty-Three
Erin woke up with a start. She turned to her mother, who was sleeping peacefully, the machines beeping softly. Someone had dimmed the lights since she’d last been awake, leaving only a soft lamp above and a soothing blue from the machine monitors. Squeezing the limp hand she held, Erin turned toward a soft scuffing sound.
A nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve gotta kick you out before the nurse shift changes. You can come back in after she’s been seen by the doctor.”
“Oh. Right.” Erin knew they had snuck her in against the official visiting hours. She was so grateful for the nurses’s tired smiles and gentle words. The doctor, too, seemed kind and knowledgeable. Even the room was welcoming, more like a modern styled bedroom than a hospital room—if she didn’t count the bed. At least her mother was receiving excellent medical care. Her pallor still scared Erin. Her mother’s eyes had fluttered open for a few minutes in the middle of the night.
“Erin,” she’d murmured. “You came.”
Desperate, Erin had spoken urgent words of love and apology, but her mother had drifted back to sleep without another word.
Erin stood, wincing at the twinge in her back. The metal and plastic chairs were not the most comfortable for sleeping, but she wasn’t about to complain. She forced a sleepy smile as she gathered up her purse and luggage.
Doug was propped up against the wall, an empty cup of coffee dangling from his fingertips. He straightened as she came out, rubbing his eyes.
“How is she?”
“I told you to go home and get some sleep,” she scolded softly. “But she seems well. Stable, they said. Right now it’s just the medicine keeping her sleepy, but they said it’s best she doesn’t move around too much anyway.”
His expression was sympathetic. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
He studied her. “No offense, but you look awful.”
“Now why would that be offensive?” she asked dryly.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.
“It’s okay.” She scrubbed at her face. Surely he was right anyway. Worry and lack of sleep probably imprinted dark shadows under eyes. Her hair felt unruly and knotted to the touch. “You really should head home, though. I can take it from here. You don’t have to wait for me either. In town, I mean.”
“Then how would you get back?” he protested.
She waved a hand. “I’ll figure it out, now that I have time. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to stay here, so there’s no point in you hanging around for this. And wouldn’t you miss work? You’d better drive back today.”
Doug had sped on the open night roads, pulling into the hospital at four thirty in the morning. She glanced at the clock now, surprised to see it was already eight.
“No, I—” He paused, unaccountably at a loss for words. “I want to be here. To help you, if I can. I’m not asking to start anything right now. I know it’s not the time. But if sometime in the future, you and I were to…”
“Doug, what about the girl you were with?”
“She’s just a friend,” he said dismissively. When she raised an eyebrow, he amended, “With benefits.”
She shook her head. He would never change—not that she’d been waiting for that. She doubted they would have worked in the long term, even if there hadn’t been the horrible situation with her mother and his parents.
He seemed to follow her line of thinking. “I’m sorry about what happened when you came. I had no idea that would happen. And then when it did, I panicked.”
She stopped with him with a hand on his forearm. “I understand. I did my share of panicking. It was a bad situation.”
His nostrils flared slightly. He looked away. “I know your mom didn’t steal,” he said tightly.
It was as close to an admission as she would ever get, and more than she deserved, really. It wasn’t their fight, it was their parents’. Maybe they could fight it—fight the precedent, she thought wryly—except they weren’t together anymore. Never would be again. What she had with Blake was so much deeper than anything she’d experienced before. She wanted Doug to find that with someone else. Neither of them deserved to settle for each other.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
His expression was earnest. “You don’t have to decide now. I just wanted to tell you—”
Whatever he was going to tell her was cut off by sharp footfalls and a commanding masculine voice. She looked up at the counter, and like a dream, Blake was there. He spoke quickly to the nurse on duty, who pointed in Erin’s direction. Blake turned, his gaze burning bright with concern and love and something else. Something territorial that made her heart skip a beat.
“Blake,” she whispered.
The space closed between them. His gaze never left hers.
“Ah,” Doug said from beside her. “I see my position here has been made redundant.”
Only then did she realize that her hand was still on his arm, how it might have looked as they sat close together. How it might seem that she had accepted help from Doug. For a bleak moment, panic overtook her.
Until Blake arrived and gave Doug a brief nod of acknowledgement. She fell into Blake’s arms without understanding the mechanics of it. One moment she was sitting on the hard-backed chair, the next she was encased in a warm, solid hug and this, this was what she’d so desperately needed last night. Almost as much as, even more than, the ride to her hometown. She had needed his strength, his support.
“Is she okay?” he asked against her hair.
“Yes, I—no, but—” And then all semblance of composure crumbled under the onslaught of his kindness. Tears sprang to her eyes, thick and hot. They wetted her cheeks and his shirt. Her breath couldn’t find a rhythm; it jumped and froze in erratic disarray. The sounds she made scared even herself—choking, gasping, sobbing and helpless with it.
Helpless, like she’d never wanted to be. Like she was. Like she wasn’t when he was near, because his broad embrace sheltered her. He steadied her.
It wasn’t the four hour drive that had confounded her as much as the knowledge that her mother was sick and she could do nothing to fix it. That hadn’t changed when she’d arrived at the hospital, and it didn’t change now that Blake was here. But he made the helplessness more bearable.
Her life was filled with opportunity, with joy. Her school, and soon to be her work. Her love for Blake. Her few but close friendships. But even the happiest song had a low note. And in deep, rumbling disquiet, she held tightly to him, finding refuge and temporary silence in his arms.
* * *
They weren’t sure what her mother would be up for eating, so Blake grabbed five different options, along with full meals for Erin and himself. All of it balanced precariously on the two-foot cafeteria tray. He stood in line behind a heavyset woman with short grey hair. When the person in front had finished paying, they both shuffled forward. The grey-haired woman set her salad bowl down beside her plastic container of pudding and a bottle of water. She fumbled in her coin purse as the young, bored-looking lady at the cash register rang up the total to just over eight bucks.
More fumbling. “I forgot…ah, something on my salad. I just need to—”
As if realizing her excuses were falling on deaf ears, she quickly piled her items back into her arms and stepped away from the cash register. The lady at the cash register gave him an expectant look. Wordlessly, Blake slid forward and began to lay out his items for the lady to ring up, but he kept an eye on the grey-haired woman. She did return to the salad bar and added a spoonful of ham, as if committed to the lie now. It was clear to the cash register lady and to himself that she hadn’t had the right amount of money. She surreptitiously returned the water bottle and the pudding to their proper places before returning to the end of the line.
He leaned forward and spoke to the cashier in low tones. “I’d like to leave money for the bill behind me.”
Understanding lit the young woman’s eyes. “I can do that.”
“And if you could…” He grimaced, trying to think of a way to make it less like charity. He didn’t care; he wished he could leave more, but he suspected the grey-haired woman would mind. “If you could say it was a chain, all morning, people had done it, one after the other.”
The corner of her lip tipped up. “That’s sweet.”
He shook his head but didn’t answer. It wasn’t sweet or special to give away what he had in spades. It was a trust fund. Even what little he had earned as a soldier and his short stint as temporary professor was built on the back of a wealthy upbringing and no student debt. He understood his privilege, and though he enjoyed the finer things in life—like brandy and a game of pool, for example—he wouldn’t make a mockery of it.
Piling the bags and drinks in his arms, he passed the gift shop. Balloons. Damn it. Or flowers, at least. He always forgot. He was no good at this hospital stuff. His body had broken out in a cold sweat when he’d arrived in the parking lot, and a vice had clamped his throat when he’d walked inside. Still, his step hadn’t even slowed. He’d known Erin was inside. He would walk through the halls of hell for her, and he figured a hospital qualified as such. Gritting his teeth, he took the elevator up to the seventh floor.
It had been a relief to leave for a little while. He’d driven Erin to her mother’s apartment so she could shower and pick up a few necessities. The apartment was small, modest. Erin’s room still held swaths of pink reminiscent of a happy and hopeful teenage girl. It was the kitchen that had struck him most of all. His own kitchen was ridiculously large with an island and a wine fridge. This kitchen had been barely able to hold two people standing side by side. The small wedge of a countertop was covered with mail and keys and pens. There was no microwave. Whether in his family’s expensive home or in the bachelor pads of his Army buddies, there was always a microwave. Here there was simply no room for one. No TV dinners. He imagined a teenaged Erin cooking something small and light on the stovetop—soup or noodles. Not a bad life, but it was a splash of cold water on his face.
In the hallway, the ceiling was weighted down by something unknown, turned yellow and black. The toilet in the bathroom actually tilted at an angle. The whole apartment was falling down, in shambles, but his thoughts kept returning to that kitchen. An old magnetic picture frame held a picture of a childhood Erin with a huge grin and no front teeth. He imagined her pride in her home, her mother. He imagined someone ridiculing her, finding that weakness and using it to twist the knife.
He understood better why Erin had doubted them as a couple, what she’d doubted in him—and herself. She might judge you, she’d said about her mother, but what she’d really meant was that she herself had judged him. Ironically, his biggest fear, his face, had been nothing to her. Not even a hurdle. She’d been worried about status, about money, and he couldn’t care less. He’d rather give it away, give it to her, than let it stand between them. The barriers keeping her from him were crumbling now, slipping under their own weight—already gone.
After she’d had a chance to shower and change, they’d returned to the hospital, where she had rushed upstairs and he’d lingered downstairs to grab lunch. His footsteps slowed as he approached the hospital room. Nervous about something? he mocked himself. It appeared no matter how old he got, meeting the parents would always hold uncertainty. And, he had to admit, these were hardly ideal circumstances.
Knocking shortly on the door, he pushed inside. Erin’s mother, Sophia, was struggling with her pillow, sitting up in the hospital bed. Erin was nowhere to be seen. After a moment’s hesitation, he set the food down and went to help her. Making a small soothing sound, he tucked the pillow behind her and helped her lean back. She calmed under his slight touch, and he withdrew quickly. Not quickly enough.
“I remember you,” she said without opening her eyes. Her hair was darker than Erin’s, her face more weathered, but he could see the resemblance in the shape of her nose and the set of her mouth.
“We met earlier. I’m Blake.” Erin had insisted on introducing him this morning, but her mother had been too drowsy to register much.
“You’re her boyfriend. The one she didn’t tell me about. Why didn’t she tell me?”
Oh, he had plenty of guesses and none that he would say out loud. “We haven’t been seeing each other that long.”
“Long enough. I saw the way you looked at her. You love her.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me. You’re too old for that, and I’m not old enough.”
He allowed a small smile. “Sorry.”
She peeked an eye open at him. “What’s wrong with you that you’re so bad? And don’t tell me your scars. I wouldn’t even have known if she’d mentioned you over the phone.”
He cleared his throat. “I think she was worried you’d have a problem with my financial state.”
“Are you unemployed?”
Technically, he had been. Not anymore. Neither of those had been the problem. “My family is wealthy.”
Silence. Then, “I see.”
“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
“I hope you don’t think you’re going to throw your money around and get what you want.”
The only thing he wanted, he already had in the form of her daughter. Did twenty bucks in the cafeteria line count as throwing it around?
“No.” He bit his tongue to keep ma’am from coming out. It wasn’t a slight to her age, just a sign of respect that had been drilled into him in the military.
“Or making demands on Erin—”
“Of course not,” he cut in smoothly.
“Well.”
“Well,” he repeated. “I assured her that I’d win you over with my charm. Since I don’t have any charm, we’ll have to come to an understanding instead.”
She paused. “Are you threatening me?”
“I would never presume to.” At least partly because he had nothing to threaten her with. In fact, he wanted to get along with her, he hoped to. But he wasn’t going to let anyone get between him and Erin, not even the woman who’d raised her.
Her expression was mildly pissed off. And amused. He’d seen that exact smile on Erin, and it meant he was off the hook. Of course, that didn’t prove anything. Erin liked him a lot better than this woman did.
She managed to look intimidating from her supine position. “It’s no business of mine what’s in your bank account, but if you hurt her, I will find you.”
He let the threat hang in the air. She was short and slight. At a disadvantage financially and socially. There was nothing she could do to him, and they both knew it, but the intensity, the worry in her eyes squeezed a fist around his heart. He understood how much she cared for her daughter. He appreciated that she’d raised her to be strong, and smart, and confident. Now that was his job. His responsibility, his privilege.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, because she’d given him an order and he swore to follow it. He would have done it anyway. Nothing was more important to him than Erin’s safety and happiness. But if it set her mind at ease, he let his resolve show in his eyes. She studied him—his direct gaze, his disfigured skin. She didn’t flinch, but then he already knew Erin had come from tough stock.
“You’ll do,” she finally said.
Well, at least that part was worked out.
Now they needed to make sure she was discharged and healthy. He also needed to speak privately with Erin, to somehow make it up to her that he hadn’t been around when she needed him. And to double-check that she knew he hadn’t been cheating during that time. He had a full day ahead of him, basically.
Turning to the plastic bags, he began to pull out options. “We have Jello. Yogurt with granola topping. Tapioca pudding.”
She stared at him, unimpressed. Wordlessly, he found the container with his own loaded cheeseburger and flipped it open.
With a relieved sigh, she accepted it. “You and I just might get along after all.”
* * *
The county hospital was an old building that, if Erin were honest, was better suited to a prison than a hospital. Its rectangular shape bled inward with concentric rectangular hallways. She stood on the outmost ring, where thin, barred windows drew afternoon light onto the grey rubber floors.
“Ms. Raider.”
Dr. Parkins had grey hair, an ever-present clipboard, and a kind smile. What the building lacked in charm, the people made up for with their thoughtful care for her mother.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, definitely. I’ve just been in to see your mother. Her condition is improving and we’re moving forward to the recovery phase.”
Relief swept through her. Her mother had seemed good during lunch, even making light conversation with Blake, but she was glad to have it confirmed. “That’s wonderful. When can she go home?”
“She can be discharged as soon as tomorrow, but she’ll need a high level of support. She shouldn’t be up and walking around for another week or two.”
“I understand,” she promised. “I’ll stay with her.”
After a few more instructions, the doctor started to walk away.
“Um, Doctor?” She felt weird asking him this, but she’d made two full circuits around the hospital and hadn’t found what she needed. “Can you tell me where the restrooms are?”
He smiled kindly. “They’re on the other side, near the elevators. But there’s a smaller one down that hallway, third door on the right.”
She made her way down the small offshoot hallway and came in sight of a large, thick window with no bars. It overlooked the city, in all its glory—or lack thereof. She could recognize many of the old buildings downtown and even the stadium of her high school, which was larger and taller than the school’s building. The mostly flat skyline filled her with a sense of nostalgia for a simpler time and a smaller world. Now that she’d seen what lay beyond, she knew she’d never move back to this town. Still, she felt gratitude for the mostly happy childhood it had given her.
A few chairs were lined up against the wall, and unlike those in the main waiting area, these were empty. She passed a utility closet stacked with white sheets and what appeared to be hospital gowns before finding the restroom.
After, she washed her hands and studied herself in the small mirror. No surprises there; she looked exhausted. She felt exhausted but also pleased. Her mother was well, even though there was her recovery to oversee. Blake was with her, even though they still needed to talk privately. Things weren’t perfect. Even better, they were real.
As she stepped outside, she almost averted her gaze when she noticed someone else in the hallway. Then she paused.
“Blake?”
He turned at the sound of her voice. “What are you doing back here?’
He had been looking out the large window, his body drawn in lines of tension, leaning toward the window as if he could break free. His eyes were clouded with something dark and unsettled.
She gestured vaguely. “The restroom. Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
But he wasn’t. She took a step forward. “You know, with Doug. Nothing happened.”
He turned to look at her. “I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I know I have to make that up to you.”
“No. It’s not like that. I just didn’t want you to doubt me…” The way she had doubted him once.
His smile was wry. “I was playing pool, if you were wondering.”
“I did wonder…but I wouldn’t have accused you of anything. I trust you.”
It sounded so simple, but she felt her surety reverberate through her bones. He wouldn’t have cheated on her. He wouldn’t do that to her; he wouldn’t even do that to himself. Cheating, at all, would be beneath him.
“Do you want to go back to the waiting room?” she said, reaching for him.
“You go. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She had a memory of watching him stare out the window, of feeling his inner turmoil well in the air around him. Only this was worse. More acute.
She frowned. “You’re tired. I’m sorry. I’ve been inconsiderate. You should go back to the house.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here for you.”
Though he must be tired, she doubted that was the real problem. She stepped closer, noticing the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. The stubble on his jaw simply made him more handsome, but the shadows under his eyes gave him a vaguely haunted look.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
He waved dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just…hospitals. They have this effect on me. I’ll get over it in a minute.”
Her heart sank. He must have had horrible memories from hospitals. Once, very briefly, he’d explained some of the treatment he’d gone through after the explosion. The skin grafts and reconstruction. Weeks in an enemy torture chamber and then months under a doctor’s scalpel. God.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”
He cut her off fiercely. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you even had to see me like this. That’s why I came out here. It’ll pass.”
“You shouldn’t have to go through it alone,” she said softly. She couldn’t take away his waking nightmares, but she could hold his hand.
Turning away, he muttered, “Just go.”
“I can’t do that.”
Taking his hand, she led him into the small linen closet and shut the door.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said as he leaned against the wall. Clearly he’d been holding it together for her sake, and for the sake of anyone watching. Even she felt relieved to see him relaxed, so she could only imagine his discomfort. Easing him, even for a moment, was well worth the risk of discovery.
He stared at her through slitted lids. “What now?”
The challenge in his voice raised her chin. He wanted to push her away, she could tell, but he wouldn’t. He was incapable of leaving her any more than she could leave him. She brushed his lips with hers, enjoying the way he released a pent-up breath. She feathered light kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other before he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged her, tilting her off balance. She fell into him, but he was prepared; he caught her. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and took over the kiss, deepening it, alighting her with dormant arousal.
The thickness against her belly reminded her that it had been weeks since they’d made love. They would have today, if this hadn’t happened. No doubt they would have been ensconced in his bedroom, lounging on his bed, starving but with no desire to make the trek downstairs for food.
She put her hand to the ridge in his jeans, rubbing firmly. He sucked in a breath.
“What are you doing?”
She smiled against his mouth. “Following through on a promise.”
With long, even strokes, she worked him through the denim. A slight flush of arousal crept up his neck. Between the time apart and his emotional upheaval a few minutes ago, he was already at the edge, releasing soft grunts on every slide of her palm. She squeezed softly, enjoying the way his eyes had gone from tormented to a very different sort of anguish.
Her hand sped up until he was panting against her collarbone, his hips rocking gently into her hand.
“Erin, baby. You have to stop.”
“I know. You’re right.”
She dropped her to her knees and unzipped his jeans. His cock fell out heavy, the head already glistening.
“Please.”
“I know,” she repeated in a whisper. She took him into her mouth, sucking off the pre-cum and licking it up. She paused with her mouth encircling the head while her hand stroked the iron-velvet length of him. His stuttered groans drifted down to her ears, telling her how hard and fast he needed it. Very hard and fast.
Carefully, she worked him in deeper until the spongy head touched the soft cleft of her throat. She eased him out and then in again—farther in until the head pushed through the circle of muscles. His hips jerked suddenly and she gagged slightly. Before he could pull away or reconsider, she set up a swift pace—but she needn’t have worried. He tightened his fingers in her hair, asking for more, needing it.
His other hand was clenched tightly, his knuckles white. She reached for him. As soon as her fingers touched his, he opened his fist and held her hand. Their fingers tangled together, grasped each other, connected in a way more intimate than her mouth on his cock.
“Erin.”
That was the only warning he could manage before he shot warm, salty fluid into her waiting mouth. She swallowed down the copious amount, more than usual. With a shudder, he released one final spurt onto her tongue before sighing back against the wall. Lovingly, she licked up any traces of his cum from his cock before righting his clothes.
Her eyelids felt heavy, her sex throbbing for attention, but she wouldn’t ask for anything, wouldn’t expect it. This had been a gift.
She’d never understood the way some people could say “just sex” as if it didn’t mean anything—sex had always meant everything. It meant trust and respect. Here, now, it meant love. If anything, it was too much, overflowing with emotion until she had to avert her face just to manage.
He turned her chin toward him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She shook her head tightly.
For a moment, he was still. She felt his gaze studying her, but she couldn’t have said anything. Finally he straightened and turned her so her back was against the wall still warm from his body. Without a word, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down.
“Blake,” she protested. “We couldn’t.”
He raised a sardonic brow but didn’t reply. Of course, they had just done the opposite. Her objections seemed silly in that context, but she had done that out of comfort, both for him and for her. And besides, logistically it was far easier to perform on him than on her. But he had it covered. His hand slipped beneath the elastic band of her panties and down into her wet folds. She gasped at the contact and grabbed his wrist.
His other hand lifted the hem of her T-shirt and tugged down the cup of her bra. Cool air washed over her breasts, tightening the nipple. For a moment, he simply stared.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and she felt gorgeous. It was more than the word; it was in his expression and his hands. She felt worshipped. Cherished.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, worrying the taut flesh with his tongue until she felt a gush of wetness slicken her where his fingers played. He teased her other breast while his fingers found a quick and maddening rhythm. Her mouth fell open and a sharp cry escaped her.
“Shh.” He put his hand over her mouth, muffling her helpless sounds while he drove her higher and harder.
Her hips swiveled onto his hand in a desperate bid for release. It eluded her, until she sobbed against his mouth. From the corner of her vision, she could see her breasts move as her hips undulated. They drew him, his gaze, his mouth. He couldn’t stop touching her and licking her. She couldn’t stop rocking in excruciating pleasure. They were locked in shadows of arousal and agony, one bleeding into the other and then back again.
Finally he tore himself away from her breasts. He placed his lips above her ear, murmuring words of sex and longing. You’re so beautiful. So sexy. So wet all over my hand. I can feel how hot you are there, how tight, can you? Do you wish it was my cock inside you, filling you up? I do.
Her cries grew louder, and his hand clamped down tighter. Tears of need slipped from the corners of her eyes until he found the words to push her over. This sweet cunt, pretty cunt. It’s mine. This and all of you. You know that, don’t you? Now come for me. Let me feel this hot little cunt come all over me. And it did, her muscles clamping down hard as an explosive climax swept through her and left her breathless and wrung out.
As she slowly returned to earth, he pressed light kisses across her mouth, mirroring the comfort she’d given him. With short strokes, he calmed the quaking, shivery muscles of her sex.
“There,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
She marveled at how easily he had turned the tides. How quickly he had turned his own reward into hers. She’d wanted to bring him comfort, but his happiness was too tied up in her own, tightly woven threads she never wanted to unravel.
When he pulled away from her, he licked her juices off his fingers. She stared in hopeless fascination. Tilting her head back, he kissed her deeply, pushing her own musky flavor onto her tongue and, she knew, tasting the salt of his own release.