CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Someone pried open Boomer’s right eyelid and a bright light seared his retina.
Damn it to hell, he tried to say, but nothing came out but a whoosh of air.
“You’re awake.” The light went away and Boomer turned his head toward the source of the words.
The swelling must have gone down around his eye, because he could see out of it without having to prop his lids open with toothpicks. He tried to speak again, with no more success than before. He reached up, felt the plastic tube coming out of his mouth. What the f—
A large hand grabbed his wrist. “Oh, no you don’t,” the man said.
Slowly, as the flash on his retina diminished and he blinked, a bearded, round face came into focus.
“You’re intubated,” the man said. “Hang tight, buddy. Let me get the doc down here to remove it.”
Boomer tried to nod, but even that was uncomfortable with a tube in his throat.
The nurse—at least, Boomer assumed the man was a nurse because he was calling the doctor—pressed the call button and made his request.
While Boomer waited, he turned his head from side to side, taking in the hospital room. In the corner, the male nurse in navy scrubs was scribbling something on a clipboard. Behind and to his right came the steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor. He had an IV in the back of his left hand and tight white bandaging around his rib cage.
Then the door opened and a man old enough to be his grandfather stepped up to his bed, sporting a white coat and a black stethoscope around his neck.
“I’m Dr. Whitcomb,” he said, shaking Boomer’s hand. “Ready to get that out?”
Boomer nodded as best he could.
The doctor did whatever he needed to do to get the tube ready to be removed, then said, “Take a deep breath and exhale.”
Like a good Marine, Boomer did as he was told. The tube was tight in his trachea, and it felt like the doctor was pulling his lungs out with a treble hook. He coughed as the tube slid free and the nurse held a cup of water to his lips. He sipped, coughed again, then sipped some more.
“H-h-how l-long,” Boomer rasped out. His throat felt like a miniature ninja had had a sword fight with his vocal cords.
The doctor leaned on the bed rail. “A week, give or take. We had you sedated while you were intubated, to keep your airway open until the swelling went down.”
Reaching up to his throat, Boomer felt a long, itchy scab under his jawline where the rope had bit in. He closed his eyes. Fuck, that had been so close.
Something bumped his shoulder and he opened his eyes again.
“Stay with us,” Doctor Whitcomb said. “I need you awake for a little bit so I know you can maintain your airway on your own.”
Boomer nodded. So much easier to do that without the tube. “What about the rest of me?” His voice squeaked occasionally when he talked, like the bathtub squeaky-toy version of Donald Duck.
The fact that he wasn’t in a neck brace answered his first question. His neck wasn’t broken.
“Three cracked ribs, multiple deep contusions—bruises,” the doctor explained. “Superficial abrasion around your neck that’s almost healed. Sutures on your brow and back of your head. Somehow managed not to break your neck or crush your larynx. As the swelling goes down, your voice should return to normal. Right now, what you need most is rest.”
The doctor was wrong about one thing: What he needed most was Sidney, but despite her coming back, despite what she’d told him, her return didn’t mean he could have her. His throat tightened and the next words were even harder to get out.
“W-what’s this?” Boomer held up the hand with the IV.
“Fluids and pain meds.”
“Stop the pain meds.”
“That’s not advisable. The broken—”
Boomer reached across and yanked the IV catheter out of the back of his hand. Clear liquid dripped onto the floor and blood dripped down his hand. “No pain meds.”
The doctor stared at him, eyes narrowed, then finally said, “Suit yourself.”
The nurse moved in, stopping the fluids and staunching the blood.
“I’ll be by in the morning to check on you,” the doctor said as he turned to go. “Call the nurses if you change your mind about your pain management.”
“I won’t.”
The doctor looked at him for a second longer, then tugged the door open and left the room.
“You up for some visitors?” the nurse asked. “Your wife and daughter have been itching to see you.”
“Wife and daughter?”
The nurse’s face went blank and his eyes rounded. “Should I get the doctor? Amnesia is not usual in these situations, but any traumatic—”
Boomer’s heart kicked at one of his cracked ribs and he sucked in an excruciating breath. Sidney must have lied so she could get in to see him. “No. I remember them. Let them in.”
The nurse left and not long after, Sidney opened the door and ushered Pepita in ahead of her. Pepita was dressed in hand-me-down jeans tucked into brand-new pink cowgirl boots, an oversized USMC T-shirt that must have come from Mac, and a straw cowboy hat dangling across her shoulders from a thin keeper strap around her neck.
“Señor awake.” Pepita hurried over to the bed. She wrapped an arm around his neck and gave him a quick hug.
He snagged her hand before she could pull it away. When he had her attention, he said, “Gracias, Pepita.”
Her teeth flashed bright behind her huge smile. Then Bryan shifted his gaze to Sidney and he held out his hand for her. She stepped to the bed, sat on the edge, and linked her fingers with his. Her hand was warm and calloused and somehow delicate at the same time.
“And thank you,” he said to Sidney. “Wife and daughter, huh?”
Tears welled in her eyes. She swiped at them with the heels of her hand and laughed. It was wet and happy at the same time. “Mac’s idea. So we would be allowed to visit.”
He palmed the back of her head, pulled her in close, and pressed his lips to hers. She smelled of horses and fresh-cut hay and clear sunny days. When he teased the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened for him and he deepened the kiss.
Pepita made a derisive sound in the back of her throat and slapped her hand over her eyes. Sidney leaned back, her skin flushed an enticing shade of red he wished he was healed enough to explore.
“You okay, Pepita?” Boomer asked, trying to ignore his growing hard on. At least something on him still worked.
“We’re good.”
“Eli? The horses? Donkey?”
“Fine, fine, and fine. At least, not anything extra grain and hay can’t fix.” Sidney’s gaze landed everywhere but on his face. WTF?
Boomer groaned at the awkwardness. He’d shot the shit with strangers about the weather and it had felt more natural. Then he realized what the problem was. He owed her a big fat apology.
He traced his thumb over her knuckles, trying to find the words as the strained silence vibrated between them.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last. When she stiffened, he quickly went on, not wanting to give her the chance to pull away. “For everything. For not protecting you, for not being there when you needed me most, for—”
“Bryan—”
“If I had—”
“Bry—”
“I’m a Marine, I had the training—”
She shut him up with a kiss that was as light and sweet as it was haunting, as if the Sidney he’d known was gone and an empty husk remained. That terrified him more than the sight of the noose had.
Pepita grumbled again, but she was too busy twirling around on the doctor’s stool to really pay them too much attention.
The color drained from her face. “I’m the one who should apologize.”
“You?”
“I’d made you a promise. At the last second, I couldn’t keep it.” Then her face fell and twisted, the color rushing in, making her skin blotchy and her nose run. “As I watched you hang there, my heart beat black and all I wanted was revenge. Revenge on the man who was taking you from me, revenge for having to make an impossible promise, revenge for my weakness for not being able to keep that promise. In those final seconds, all I wanted was the bastard dead. Nothing else mattered. Not me…not you…just him. Dead.” She choked on a sob and tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her.
“Irish—”
“No, l-let me finish.” When she’d collected herself, she met his gaze and her brilliant green eyes dimmed, losing all luster. “But mostly, I’m sorry that I’m not sorry that I let you down. Because as bad as what you went through was, you lived. And for that I will never be sorry.”
Boomer glanced away. He’d been a selfish, selfish bastard. “I was wrong to have you make that promise.”
“You’ve got that fucking right,” Sidney said, but she couldn’t hide the tight grin.
He returned her smile and the light behind her eyes brightened by a few watts. “At least you got El Verdugo. That makes the hanging almost worth it.”
Sidney dropped her gaze to her lap.
He was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
“I must have missed. In the confusion, he got away.”
Boomer dropped his head back on the pillow, his jaw slack. “Tell me what happened.”
Sidney pulled up a chair and spent the rest of her visiting time filling him in on how Mac and Hank had radioed in their position and how the drug task force helicopter had sent men in, fast-roping down from the helicopters to contain the situation. How when she’d checked the line of handcuffed men, El Verdugo wasn’t there.
“Unfortunately, Sheriff St. John came by the other night and told us that while the task force had found some heroin and marijuana on some of the men, and traces of it in their packs, they didn’t find enough to lock them up for very long. The kidnapping charges, they’re still figuring out. They’d hoped some of them would turn on El Verdugo, but they’d rather spend time in jail or be deported than talk.”
“So basically, the authorities got nothing.” Bryan frowned and grunted his frustration. “With El Verdugo still out there, it won’t take him long to hire more men, to get his routes up and running again.”
“Basically.” Sidney shrugged. “I still don’t understand why El Jefe brought us to the camp if he was the one who stole the fake diamonds. He knew you were lying the whole time.”
“What better way to avoid becoming a suspect than by bringing your boss the man who admits to stealing them.”
“The truth was bound to come out,” Sidney said.
“Eventually, but I think he’d planned on either him or me being gone long before that happened.”
“Most likely.” She smiled and patted his hand. “All I care about now is getting you back to the ranch—” Bryan frowned. “What was that?” Slowly, Sidney stood up. “Why did you make that face?” Her words were wary.
“I…I don’t know if I’m coming back,” Boomer said. The words physically hurt to speak, as if they were little bombs of deadly truth.
Sidney stepped back. “Of course you’re coming back. Your friends are there. Mac is there…I’m there.”
He closed his eyes because he wasn’t strong enough to tell her to her face. “When I’m discharged, I’m checking into a rehab facility.” He opened his eyes. “After that…”
Her chin went up a notch, but when she swallowed it was with such difficulty it was as if she’d been the one who’d swung by her neck like a piñata, not him. “Will I see you when you get out?”
He wanted to tell her yes. That he wanted her, that he needed her, that he loved her. But he needed to find the man he used to be, before Fallujah, before a traitor took his leg, before the booze, before the drugs. He needed to find that man for himself. Without that man, they had no future. He already knew how devastating it was to make a promise he couldn’t keep. He couldn’t do that to her again.
He shrugged in reply.
* * * *
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the receptionist at the rehab facility said in a tired, apathetic voice, as if she’d repeated the same words over and over again until they’d become rote. “If a patient doesn’t wish to have visitors, then you can’t go back there.”
“Could you tell him that Sidney is here to see him? If he knows I’m here—”
“Ma’am—”
Halfway down the long hall, a heavy door clicked closed, echoing down the artificially cheerful space. Sidney glanced up and her heart climbed into her throat, making it hard for her to swallow, to breathe, to talk. Bryan stood by the wall, his gaze locked on her.
He looked good. Thinner than he’d been, but even from that distance, she could tell the bruising and swelling on his face had resolved. The way he stared, there was no doubt he’d recognized her.
For weeks she’d dreamed about this moment. About seeing him again, reconnecting. How she would run into his arms and he would scoop her up and swing her around the way men do in all the movies.
But that was the silver screen. That was a fiction people shelled out good money to see because the truth sucked hairy, white donkey balls.
She raised her hand and waved and waited for that sexy smile. Waited for him to run down the hall to greet her. He didn’t smile or wave or budge.
He stood there, blinking.
Reality was a bitter bitch of a pill to swallow—it sliced and diced and filleted her flesh as it went down, nicking her heart as it slid past.
Her brain couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was backlit and he didn’t recognize her. Maybe… “Bryan.” Her voice came out thick, but loud enough to carry.
He blinked once more, then turned and retreated down the hall, his shoulders hunched, his head down like he was trudging through a hurricane.
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, this time actually sounding contrite. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The heat of embarrassment rushed up and Sidney knew her face would be only a few shades lighter than her hair. She nodded to the woman and headed for the exit.
When her hand depressed the bar on the heavy institutional door, the receptionist said, “If it helps any, he’s refused all visitors, not just you.”
Instead of replying, Sidney pushed through the door and out into the Rock Springs sun. At her truck, she collapsed against the door and tried to catch her breath. Not easy to do when her heart was bleeding out into her chest.
Knowing he had refused all visitors didn’t make her feel any better. It meant he was isolating himself from everyone who loved him, supported him. That couldn’t be good.
Maybe he needs some space. A growl of frustration clawed its way to the surface, and Sidney channeled Bryan and said, “Fuck space.”
* * * *
“Somehow this doesn’t feel right.” Sidney said to Mac as she dumped her suitcase and a trash bag full of Pepita’s clothes on the floor of Bryan’s cabin.
The curtains were open and the early afternoon sun streamed in, highlighting the dust motes circling in the air. The cabin had sat unused since Bryan had gone into rehab, and in the weeks that had followed, dust had settled on all the surfaces. It would take a few hours of good scrubbing and mopping to get it livable.
“You and Pepita need the space. That room in the barn was never meant to house two people. Besides, it’ll look better that you have your own space when the foster agency comes for their home inspection next week.”
Mac moved to the bed Bryan had been using, pulled out an Army green duffel from beneath it, and started packing it with his clothes and personal items. She plucked his dog tags from around the top post of the bed, held them in her hand and stared at them.
Sidney stepped over and ran her index finger over the letters of his name stamped into the piece of metal. “Is it okay if we leave these here?”
Mac glanced up at her. Her face was devoid of makeup, as usual, and her brown hair was in a ponytail sticking out the back of her USMC baseball cap. Mac swallowed hard. “Yeah, I think he’d like that.”
Mac replaced the dog tags, then plopped on the edge of his bed. “Sidney…”
“Uh oh,” Sidney turned one of the kitchen table chairs around and sat down. “That doesn’t sound good.”
A smile flashed across Mac’s face, but it was weak and perfunctory. “Boomer has lived through a lot, even before what happened on the mountain, and as his friend—”
“Wait, wait.” Sidney held up a hand, and was only half kidding when she said, “Is this where you tell me if I break his heart you’re going to kill me in my sleep? Save your breath, because it’s pretty clear I don’t have that kind of power over him.”
“Just give him some time—”
Sidney shot out of her seat, gesticulating with her hands and arms. “Are you freaking kidding me? I’ve given him nothing but time! It’s been over three months. I’ve tried to see him, but he refused. I’ve called, I’ve written, and it’s like everything I’m sending out is being sucked into this big void, this black hole of…of…nothingness. It’s like I don’t even exist. So yeah, don’t think you have to worry about me hurting him. Whatever we had—”
“Whatever you had was pretty damn special to him,” Mac piped in. “I saw the way he looked at you, the way he was when he was around you. I hadn’t seen that kind of light in his eyes in a very long time. Whatever happens, I want to thank you for that. It was good for him to feel that kind of love again, to feel something beyond the emotional and physical pain he bears every single day.”
Sidney’s throat tightened and she fell back into her seat before her legs dropped from beneath her. Then she glanced back up at Mac and gave voice to the thing she’d feared most since their rescue. “What if he doesn’t come back to me?”
Mac zipped his duffel and kicked it back under the bed. “Well, if it were me…” When she finally glanced back at Sidney, a smile was on her lips and she said, “I wouldn’t give him that option.”
“You said to give him some time.”
“Yeah, well. I take it back. Screw time.” Mac glanced at her watch. The timepiece was a lot like Bryan’s, with a big black face and all sorts of dials. Even though it was bulky and masculine, it suited her. “It’s Saturday. You still have plenty of time to get to the facility before visiting hours are over.”
“I tried that. Many times. He refuses to see me.”
“One of the reasons I hired you,” Mac said, “is that you didn’t strike me as someone who gave up easily. You fought for your job, for your reputation. Now fight for Boomer.”
The darkness that resided in her chest where her heart used to be brightened like someone had flipped the breaker back on. Her heart kicked in her chest, proving to Sidney it wasn’t dead, and she smiled.
“I’ll pack a bag for me and Pepita and—”
“Just worry about yourself. Hank and I will take care of Pepita. We’re going to the rodeo tonight. She can bunk with us overnight if you decide to wait him out.”
“Thank you,” Sidney said. “I owe you one.”
“Just bring him back and we’ll be even.”
“Deal.”
Outside, a truck door slammed, and then another, but Sidney was too focused on getting her backpack packed for the overnight trip to pay it any attention. She dug into her suitcase and pulled out a couple of T-shirts and some underwear.
Behind her, the cabin door opened and Mac said, “Hey,” though it came out a little breathless, like someone had knocked her to the ground. What the…?
Sidney turned around, vaguely aware that one of her bras dangled haplessly from her hand. In the doorway stood Bryan, with his hair a little too long and his clothes a little too loose.
“Hey yourself,” he said back to Mac, but his eyes were glued to Sidney.
Mac stepped up to him and socked him in the bicep hard enough to bruise.
“Ow, what the fuck?” He turned his attention to Mac.
“Of all the things they taught you in rehab, I hope to hell they taught you how to grovel, Marine.”
Without waiting for a reply, Mac stepped around him onto the porch and closed the door behind her. Her voice carried into the cabin as she berated Hank for keeping Bryan’s homecoming a secret.
Bryan stood there with his hat in hand, literally, and, by the sheepish look on his face, figuratively. He glanced around the cabin and she wondered if he was taking in the fact his belongings were packed away. Then he noticed her suitcase and the backpack and of course the bra in her hand.
A slight smile twisted his lips. “Going somewhere?”
Tossing her bra onto her suitcase, she stepped over to him until she was no more than a foot away. Her hands shook and the blood rattled and whooshed past her ears, sounding like a washing machine in bad need of repair. She thought about lying, saying she was unpacking, but this was no time for head games or half-truths or lies.
She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye, and said, “I was coming to see you, and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
He stood there like he had in the hallway of the rehab facility weeks before and blinked at her. Then her lungs started to burn. She took a breath and then another. When she thought he’d turn away and walk out of her life the same way he’d walked down that hallway, his lips turned up into a face-splitting grin, his teeth flashing behind his beard.
He cupped the back of her head. “I love a woman who doesn’t know when to quit.”