He couldn't move, and it wasn't merely the fact that his wife had drained him of all his remaining and depleted energy. His head pounded from temple to temple, which was actually a relief. Usually the pain rose from his neck and struck behind his eyes.
Being stuck in this position wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't draped over her like a damp blanket, every inch of her body trapped beneath his. When he turned his head, all he had to do was purse his lips to find that taste of heaven below her jaw. “They'll find us like this in a week.”
Completely unmoving, she hummed a response and her pulse kicked under his lips. She smelled of her shampoo, which, oddly enough, set his world a little righter—headaches be damned. Obviously, he was a lost cause, and ridiculously unable to separate himself from this woman. Of course. What an idiot that he thought he could save her from himself.
You can save her. Let her go.
Hawk separated from her without letting go, rolled her into his side, and stared at the ceiling.
I'm going blind.
I don't know if I'll be able to take care of you and the kids.
I won't be able to see you when you're in my arms and coming...
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat up. Fear, like a vise, closed his throat. He was a coward, and yet he couldn't say anything. If he did, his world would be forever changed. He needed more time to figure out how to make this work. A new life, a new job?
He’d seen the effects of brain injuries. They weren’t pretty. He’d been so self-pitying and burying his trouble, he hadn’t done the one thing that made him the success he’d been his entire life—plan. He needed a way to convince her that he could still take care of her, still provide for his family. She didn’t have to have lunch with another man. Resentment knotted within his chest, and he rubbed at it, shoving those feelings aside. She didn’t deserve cheap jealousy…
Hell, she deserved a nice lunch out with someone who made her laugh.
He just wished he’d been the one to give it to her.
With his vision coming back, he peeked over his shoulder and found her passed out, sleeping against the blue sheets. He rose and stretched then pressed a soft kiss to the bruising on her face. He banked the rage, boiling inside him for the stranger who would hurt her, and it occurred to him, he was doing an awful lot of holding back—the rage, the jealousy, even his affection.
He rinsed off in the shower and then stepped into his jeans, before padding barefoot to the kitchen. He rummaged around for something to eat until he found an almost empty box of NutriGrain bars.
As he peeled the bar of its wrapper, he flipped over the pamphlet on the counter, which advertised for the shuffle board tournament on Thursday. There were bus tours as well. One that ran for a three-day trip to the Mayan ruins. They could join up with the retirees and live a sedate, safe life.
He frowned, his fist clenching on the pamphlet.
In the past, he would rent a motorcycle and they'd take to the countryside alone, only a backpack and a tent. Crumpling the glossy pages, he threw them across the room, not satisfied in the least when they floated eight inches in front of him and dropped to the floor.
Resting his palms on the counter, he bowed his head. “Help,” he whispered—to no fucking one. He knew in that instant he would take that sedate life as long as she agreed to live it with him. How could he ask it of her? She wasn't even out of her thirties. Young and completely alive when it seemed like his own life was slowly coming to an end.
Could he take the things from her that made him love her? Her laughter behind him when he let loose on the open road, her legs snug against the back of his, astride his motorcycle. Long hikes through mountains, longer nights cramped in a small tent. Scuba diving, Sunday drives, movie night…
She was the fuel to his fire.
Mine, he thought.
“Hawk?”
His gaze shot to her, with her rumpled clothes and messed hair. Slim legs met short shorts and another one of her tank tops―blue, to match her eyes.
“I didn't want to wake you. I―” He cleared his throat uneasily. “I needed a drink of water.”
Pulling a bottle from the fridge, she handed it to him and stood at his side facing the island counter. His grin came sheepishly, and he held up the cereal bar. “I was also hungry.”
Her eyebrows wagged up and down. “Mmhmm. Me too.”
Hawk gave her the bottle back with a grin. They had worked up an appetite.
“You’re okay, aren’t you, Hawk?”
“Sure. What do you mean?” His heart pounded against his ribcage.
“I found your pills,” she said dryly.
He winced. “Oh.” Crap. He turned her, and they stood face-to-face. Worry vibrated through her, as he brushed at a stray hair on her forehead. “It's just the headaches.”
“Headaches.” Stacy frowned in thought. “Is this from your head wound? From the scar tissue?”
“Maybe. They don’t know. I don’t know….” Just seeing her raised a panic in his chest, and he couldn’t force himself to tell her, even when he knew he should.
He popped the last of his breakfast bar into his mouth.
“What do you know?” Sarcasm this time, but at least she didn’t seem mad… yet.
“I know that I want to go to the Mayan ruins with you.”
“The ruins.” She stated, no inflection, with narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like it. You’re being evasive. People don’t take codeine for headaches.”
“My headaches are small beans compared to what happened to you while I was gone.” The panic turned to anger and quickly to fear. He blew out a breath and kissed her mouth. “I heard you when I was passing by the café.”
“Why didn’t you stop?”
He shrugged. “Tired.” And I couldn’t see jack, anyway.
He needed the illusion of normalcy—for a while—so he kissed her quiet, deepening the caress degree by aching degree. “Come on. Let’s leave the coast behind for a while, and get away.”
She laughed, side-stepping him—following the counter to the sink. “You can’t distract me that easily. What did the police say?”
He wasn’t surprised that she knew he’d talked to the police. “They found your gun in a pawn shop about five blocks from here. Some kid brought it in. They have a description. They’d like you to come down to the station, corroborate with the store owner and talk to their sketch artist.”
Stacy blew out a breath. “Wow. That was fast.” Her hands shook a little when she brought them to her lips. “Okay. Should I go now?”
Safety first. And never leave her side. “I think we’ll go together.”
She eyed him suspiciously, too smart not to catch what he was really doing. “Fine then, the police station, and then first thing tomorrow, we’ll drive inland. Jamie will be thrilled as he’s always saying his motorcycle needs practice.”
“Actually.” Hawk picked up the pamphlet from the floor, doing his best to flatten it back to its original form, and handed it to his wife. “I thought we'd do something different—safer. We could join the tour group. Stay in a decent motel. Lunches are provided.”
“Oh for the love of—” She slapped the counter and grabbed the brochure from his hands. It took her a while to come to a conclusion―whatever that happened to be―and as he watched her frown at the paper, part of him wanted to laugh; the rest of him wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her back to bed.
Hawk came up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Come on. It'll be fun.”
“It'll be different.”
He chuckled as he lowered his head to the nape of her neck. “Let's call it our first venture into adulthood.”
“So, you're ready for a little adventure, huh?” She turned, tilted her head, and he took advantage of her exposed neck. Delicate, agile fingers slipped inside his waistband, and he couldn't help laugh even as he rose to her touch.
Sucking in a breath, he captured her wrist, removing her hand to kiss her palm. When she sighed, he tossed her over his shoulder and, with a solid smack on her rear, took her back to bed.