Chapter 21

“Riley, man, you have to get some rest.”

Logan’s voice sounded far away. Cushioned in fog, just like his head. Which could be the lack of caffeine at seven a.m., the fading-too-fast effects of the last pain pills he’d dry-swallowed in the middle of the night, or the last drop of adrenaline in his body finally calling uncle. Riley leaned against the doorframe to Summer’s hospital room. He’d insisted on talking out in the hallway to let her sleep.

“Not yet.”

“If you weren’t such a stubborn pain in the ass, you’d be admitted and lounging in your own adjustable bed, too.” Josh hooked his thumb at the empty room across the hall. The one Riley had categorically refused to use. Being an official patient would’ve made it too hard to stay with Summer.

“I don’t need a bed.”

“You have a serious concussion.” Knox pointed at the thick wad of gauze covering the knot where the tree had clocked him. “I know how bad those can be. You guys had me hauled away in an ambulance after mine, remember?”

“Obviously my head’s harder than your fragile little brain dome.”

Knox hooked his foot under a chair and slid it toward Riley. “You shouldn’t even be standing.”

“My legs are fine.” But because he wasn’t stupid, he sat. Hoped that nobody saw how his knees more buckled than bent on the way down. “And I’m not running a 5K. I’m sitting next to my girlfriend’s bed. Watching over her. It’s not a high-intensity activity.”

“Your hand’s gotta hurt.”

Understatement of the century. Even though it was only a hairline fracture, the thing throbbed under the too-tight layers of gauze and ACE bandage. And they wouldn’t give him the good drugs because of the whole losing-consciousness-for-an-indeterminate-time issue.

What everyone seemed to forget was that Riley had been through much, much worse back in the Alps. Yeah, he was in pain. But he had an indoor bathroom, was wearing the comfortable scrubs they’d given him in the ER, and had wolfed down a burger around midnight. Riley had nothing to complain about.

Except for his friends hassling him.

“Geez, Knox, you’re a bona fide genius. What’s with restating the obvious? Yeah, I’ve felt better. But I’m sure that Summer feels worse. She’s the one that matters.”

Logan crossed his arms over the strings of his gray zip-up hoodie. “You heard the doctor. She’ll be fine. Setting her femur fracture went great. Couple of screws, a rod, bing bang boom. The operation took no time. She’s already been awake twice.”

“Drugged awake. That didn’t count. The first time, she asked us to get her a baby elephant to keep as a pet in the rectory hot tub. The second she just listed ice cream flavors.”

“Hope you took notes. Chances are high she’ll expect you to make good on that wish list as soon as we get home.”

“About that. You all should leave.” Riley rested his hand diagonally across his chest. Didn’t make it hurt much less. But at least it was something to try. “I don’t want Madison to get in trouble at the Library of Congress. She’s still new there. The doctors won’t clear either of us to fly, so there’s no point waiting around.”

Astounding and instant fury tightened every muscle in Josh’s face and the cords along his neck. “Your brains are seriously scrambled. We’re not waiting to take you home. We’re waiting because we fucking care, you insensitive dick.”

Oh, yeah. Riley felt the love wash right over him with those words. And he was miserable and exhausted enough to snap back. “You don’t have to be here, missing out on your own damn lives, to care.”

“We do.” Griffin frowned. Everything he did looked twice as official and important when he was in uniform. “We’ve always been our strongest, most able to get through anything, when we’re all together. You know that.”

He did. He knew it, and believed it, and had used the same argument himself numerous times.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry. I’m worried. Tired. Scared. And yeah, I’d sell Josh’s left nut on the black market for some OxyContin.”

“You look so bad right now, I just might let you,” Josh joked.

A gurney rushed by, full of squeaky wheels, the squeaky rubber of the orderlies’ Crocs against linoleum, and a babble of medical-speak. Riley wanted to jump up and tell them to be quiet. Tell them that Summer wouldn’t get better if she didn’t get rest.

Yeah, he’d officially gone around the bend.

“She said she loved me,” he blurted out. “Then she passed out before I could say it back.”

“That’s what this is all about?” Logan hooted. Threw his head back and laughed. Laughed so hard that he slid down the wall into a crouch, bent over, and kept laughing. Next to him, Knox snickered.

Riley didn’t bother to check the rest of his friends. The assumption that it’d be more of the same pissed him off enough. “I thought she was going to die. That she wouldn’t know how I felt.”

“Do you know how you feel?”

“I love her. I want to tell her, more than anything. But she needs to wake up and be in her right mind to hear it.”

There was a loud clatter from inside Summer’s room. Riley bolted out of the chair. Then he instantly grabbed the back of it as the world swam before his eyes and the ground spun in circles.

“For God’s sake, take it slow.” Josh took his arm, steadied him. “For the record, I think that means she heard you.”

A couple of deep breaths later, pain still bore into his temple like a railroad spike, but he wasn’t seeing double…or triple, for that matter, anymore. “Thanks.”

“Go on in,” Logan said. “We’ll hit the vending machines, then be back to take you to the hotel for a nonnegotiable nap.”

“But—”

Knox held up a hand to cut off his protest. “We’ll call the girls and have them come sit with her.”

With a dip of his head, Riley asked, “Does love turn everyone into this much of an idiot?”

“Damn straight.” Josh groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s run its idiotic contagion through all four of you worse than the Black Death.”

“Did you just drop a history bomb into the conversation?”

“Whatever. Go claim your woman, Ry.”

Grinning, Riley—slowly and very carefully—spun on his heel and pushed the cracked door wider. Summer was indeed awake. Sitting up, eyes open. She held a water pitcher in her lap as the matching mustard yellow cup rolled across the floor. Riley picked it up and waited for an explanation.

“I woke up thirsty.”

“Okay.” He went into the bathroom to get a clean cup. Poured her water and watched as she sucked down half of it in quick sips. “There’s a button—right next to the one you used to raise the bed—to call the nurse. When you need anything.”

“I know. But it was just water. I was fine until I heard you talking and…I got distracted.”

Riley set the pitcher down on the rolling table. Then he smoothed her hair out of her face. Her beautiful, smiling face that wasn’t the least bit marred by the scratches on her cheek. “How do you feel?”

She flipped her hand back and forth. “Like enough of the painkiller is still there to keep the worst of it at bay—but like enough has worn off so that I know that a freaking big tree landed on me.”

“You’re going to be fine.” There was a good chance he said the words as much for his benefit as for Summer’s. It was just so damn wonderful to stare into those dark chocolate eyes again.

“I know. They explained everything before I went into surgery.” Summer grimaced. “Especially the part about how I didn’t pass out due to internal bleeding or anything cool like that. More of a PTSD flashback. My brain refused to accept that I was in serious danger again. Combined with the pain, it gave up and I blacked out.” She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head back and forth. “I’m a wimp.”

“You’re a survivor. That’s what matters.”

“You didn’t give yourself the luxury of being scared. You walked for miles, bleeding, hurt, to get me help.” Gently, she kissed the top of his bandaged hand. “That’s what a real survivor does. You weren’t scared at all.”

From the moment Riley had dragged himself back up to consciousness, there hadn’t been a moment that fear didn’t knot his gut. “Wrong.” He dragged a thumb along the swell of her lower lip. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.”

Riley pulled over the chair he’d been in for too many damn hours, watching over her motionless body. He plumped her pillows. Smoothed her hair. Glared at the series of straps on the brace around her thigh, with her Betadine-yellow flesh peeking through. Hated how uncomfortable they must make her. And then he couldn’t think of any more ways to stall.

“So…about when you passed out. We were in the middle of a conversation…”

Color flooded into her too-pale cheeks. “I heard what you said.” She bit her lower lip. “Just now. In the hall.”

“Okay.” Now what? Was he just supposed to blurt it out? This wasn’t a romantic moment. There was a kidney-shaped container at her hip in case she needed to throw up, for God’s sake. Would she rather wait for the big declaration? Would she worry it wasn’t real? That it was just a knee-jerk reaction to an ambulance ride and surgery? Or that his brains were too scrambled from the concussion to really mean it?

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said in a rush. “I knew I was passing out. Didn’t know if I had internal injuries and might not wake up again. I couldn’t risk doing that without sharing my feelings. It was selfish. I’m not pressuring you.”

Huh? Didn’t she want to hear it? “Why not?”

“Um, because this has been a very weird twenty-four hours.” She reached out to stroke along the edge of his bandage near his eyebrow. “You don’t need anything else on your plate right now.”

“But you said you heard me. In the hall. So you know.”

A shadow of her usually sassy smile lifted the corner of her lips. “I know what I heard you say to them. That doesn’t mean you’re ready to say it to me yet. It certainly doesn’t count as me officially knowing it.”

“So what—you’re trying to get credit for being all sensitive and not pressuring me?” It echoed their entire relationship that she was going to annoy him into spitting it out. “Fat chance, Sheridan. You’re not one-upping me on this. Even with the rain pounding down, you clearly said that you love me. I’ve waited fifteen goddamned hours for you to wake up and let me respond.”

Her grin widened into a definite taunt. “Slowpoke.”

“Really? That’s how you want this to go?” If she got to tease him, he’d dish it right back. They were both having fun now, which made the whole thing easier than Riley could’ve imagined. “Because I was going to take you to a romantic dinner at 1789 over in Georgetown. A little champagne, candlelight, crab fondue.” Riley circled his finger around her narrow wrist. “Maybe a little sparkle to wear on this wrist to commemorate the occasion.”

“I’m good with both gold and silver, but I thoroughly dislike rose gold.”

“Tough. Because that plan’s off the table. You’re stuck hearing from me right now. On scratchy hospital sheets instead of fine linens.” He pointed at her noisy IV and heart rate monitor. “With beeps and alarms instead of classical music. Not to mention that you’re really missing out on how handsome I look in a three-piece charcoal suit with a navy pocket square. I love you, Summer Sheridan. I love you right now when we’re—hopefully, for God’s sake—at our worst, and I love you when we’re at our best. I love you and I’m really grateful that you love me.”

Her smile lit up the room. “Well, what are you waiting for? Kiss me,” she demanded.

“I want to,” Riley said hoarsely, his throat thick with emotion. Because this was the happiest he’d felt in his entire life. Love pulsed through him with every beat of his heart, and he saw it mirrored back at him in Summer’s adoring expression. “I don’t think I can get to you, though.” He tried. Leaned forward maybe a whole inch.

Very, very bad things happened. Vertigo and double vision and pain all attacked simultaneously. He even thought about making a grab for her puke pan. Instead, he slowly eased back to vertical and breathed through it. White-knuckled her metal bedrails and clamped his eyes shut until the vertigo at least subsided.

“Riley?” Summer’s hand covered his on the rail. “Omigosh, should I call for the nurse?”

“No,” he got out between gritted teeth.

“Should you be in bed?”

“Depends on who you ask.” But he had a signed Discharge Against Medical Advice in his pocket, so he didn’t have to be anywhere but right here to help Summer.

“I didn’t realize exactly how bad a shape you’re in.”

Opening his eyes, he tried for a reassuring smile. It probably came out as more of a grimace. But maybe she had enough drugs in her not to notice the difference. “My concussion will heal a hell of a lot faster than your leg. It’s just a bad headache. With a few extra-special effects that kick in when I move too fast.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Nope. Not going there now. Not when he was barely holding himself together. That was a conversation best saved for when they weren’t both miserable. “We’ll talk about it later.” Riley started to lean back, but Summer tugged at his sleeve.

“No, I want to apologize. The hike was my idea, so I’m sorry that it ended so horribly.”

“That’s what you’re sorry for? How it ended?”

“Yessss?” Confusion dragged out the word. “What else were you looking for?”

Riley choked off the surprised laughter in his throat. The are you fucking kidding me laughter. Because he was trying his damnedest not to upset the woman in the thin blue hospital gown. Unleashing all the thoughts and furor roiling in his head would be a worse idea than whoever had unleashed light beer on the world.

“Never mind. Like I suggested once already, we’ll save it for later.”

“Riley.” Her dark brows knitted together. “If something’s bothering you, tell me. Goodness knows that historically we haven’t held anything back from each other. We shouldn’t start now.”

Threading his arm past her IV line, Riley leaned back, out of her reach. “You’re barely conscious from surgery.”

“I’m plenty conscious. Unlike you, I’ve got a fully medicated night’s sleep under my belt.” Summer pressed the control to raise her bed the rest of the way to a completely upright position. “And now that I know something is up, I certainly won’t be able to get any rest until we finish this.”

So after he’d kept vigil all night, watching for the slightest sign of discomfort while she slept, it’d now be his fault if she couldn’t slip into a post-breakfast nap? That tiny thread of control—all Riley had left after the events of the past twenty-four hours—snapped.

“Fine. There is, in fact, a laundry list of things for which you need to apologize.”

Her right eyebrow shot up. Her lush lips pursed into what, any other time, would’ve been a sexy pout. Right now? It was waaaay more accusatory than sexy. “Is there?”

Yeah, those two little words were so icy Riley was surprised frost didn’t form on the bathroom mirror. Didn’t stop him, though. He’d tried several times to hold back, and she’d insisted on hearing what he had to say. “Every choice you made was wrong, Summer. Every choice you made was guaranteed to leave us exposed to danger.”

“Exposed to danger?” She huffed out a breath. “You make it sound like we went into a war zone without ammunition or armor. I took you to a forest preserve. How was I supposed to know there’d be a storm?”

“You absolutely could have known.” Bracing on his elbow, he levered himself out of the chair. It didn’t matter that each step felt like a rock was being rapped inside his skull. Riley needed to pace out the anger he’d been tamping down for so many hours. “But you didn’t check the forecast. You left our phones—our only means of getting help—in the car. Deliberately. You didn’t pack appropriate supplies. No Mylar blanket, which takes up less room in your purse than a wallet. No flares. No water.”

She shot an arm straight up into the air. Wiggled her outstretched fingers. “We had plenty of freaking water raining down on us!”

Riiiight. Because being a smart-ass would get him to drop the subject.

“You teased me—like you always do—mocked me about overpreparing until I agreed to leave my multitool in the room.”

Summer pounded her fist into the mattress. “That thing has a corkscrew and knives smaller than my pinkie. Nothing in there unfolds to a chain saw large enough to get that tree off of me.”

Still with the smart-assery. Yet it still had zero effect on Riley. Besides pissing him off more. “A tool that I could’ve used to create a splint for my hand, or cut a branch to use as a walking stick so that I wouldn’t have fallen down a whopping fourteen times on the hike out to get you help.”

“Oh, God, Riley.” All the fire and bluster drained out of her face. As did all the color. “It was just supposed to be a simple walk in the woods.”

“That’s all anyone ever hopes for,” he burst out in a snarl. “You have to plan for the worst, and be happy with whatever life ends up dishing out. I had zero control out there. Zero preparation. It was my worst nightmare come true, all over again.”

“You were scared.”

“I was scared I wouldn’t be able to save you!” he yelled. How did Summer not get it? “I don’t care two flying fucks about myself. That tree could’ve been crushing your femoral artery. You could’ve died before I got halfway to the parking lot. I’ve bent over backward, for years, learning and studying and being ready eight different ways for any possible thing that could go wrong. And when something finally did, I couldn’t do anything for you. Do you know how fucking terrified I was that you wouldn’t make it?”

“I didn’t think—”

“You sure as hell didn’t. You never do. You barely tolerate me doing it. Most of the time, that works for you. But not always. And that scares the shit out of me.”

Hand at her mouth, Summer murmured, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know. You just wanted to have fun.”

Riley leaned against the wall for support. It all came down to their individual stories. They’d both survived horrific events. They each dealt with the emotional backlash in completely opposite ways.

So opposite that it’d be impossible to ever meet in the middle.

“You think if something does go wrong, horribly wrong, it’s inevitable, so why plan for it? I know you couldn’t protect yourself against being shot. That there was nothing you could’ve done to improve that situation. But that isn’t always the case.”

“It is impossible to plan for every stinking scenario, every day of your life.”

“Agreed. It is very possible, however, to use logic. To take basic precautions.”

“You and I have different interpretations of what are basic precautions. I believe you have to live your life. Not be trapped in a shell of fear and worry.”

Her words seared at his already flayed heart like acid. Is that how Summer saw him? Did she really think the simple acts of checking the weather and always carrying a phone labeled a person as phobic and paranoid? Everything he was demanding fell under the heading of common fucking sense. What if her car broke down and she couldn’t call for help? What if she locked up her shop one night and noticed a man following her down the dark, empty street?

Riley would not walk around consumed by fear for her twenty-four/seven. Not for the simple reason that she wouldn’t take the most basic steps in the world to take care of herself. That she wouldn’t value herself enough to try and plan and hope for a future.

That she didn’t actually love him enough to want to take steps to ensure they could have a future together.

Stepping forward, Riley gripped the footboard with one hand. He started to fist his broken hand, was rewarded with a slice of white-hot pain…and kept going. Pain was pretty much in his cards for the foreseeable future.

Might as well get used to it.

He took one last, long look at her delicate features, her molten chocolate eyes, and knew that his next sentence would end it all between them. But he had to say it. It was the only way to protect himself.

“If I can’t trust you to keep yourself safe, Summer, to someday keep our kids safe, what is the point?”

Impossible to think that silence could fall in a room with so many beeps and squeaks and overhead announcements and gurneys and carts banging out in the hall. But it did. Like a three-hundred-pound linebacker falling on a Nerf ball.

Finally, she pointed a finger at her heart, at his, and then back. “Didn’t we just say we loved each other?”

“I do love you. But the feeling isn’t enough. You have to be willing to back it up with actions. You have to believe we’re worth fighting for, planning for. That the future is worth planning for. Can you tell me right here, right now, that you do?”

“We can’t control what will happen, Riley. Fighting for it is a waste of time. We just have to roll with whatever Fate throws at us.”

He’d heard her say numerous versions of the same thing over the past few weeks. Riley had hoped he’d just given her a reason to believe in more.

Guess not.

“You realize that you just called hope and love a waste of time? We’re done here.” Riley had to walk out, now. Before he embarrassed himself by begging her to try harder, to give them a real shot.

“Riley, you can’t control the world. And you can’t control how I feel about it.”

“I know.” He paused with one hand on the doorframe. “I’m glad you’re okay, Summer. I’m glad you pushed me out of my comfort zone. I had a lot of fun with you. But as for giving falling in love a try? I’d call it an epic fail.”