Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 8:30 p.m.
Dr. Dani’s house looked nice, Michael thought as he got out of Coach Diesel’s truck. Opening the back passenger door, he unbuckled the safety belt on Joshua’s booster seat and started to scoop him into his arms, because Joshua had fallen asleep within minutes of leaving the newspaper office.
His little brother had chattered nonstop as they’d walked to Coach’s truck, telling Michael about the coloring and the treats and the toys and his trip into the basement to see the old-fashioned printing press. Coach Diesel’s friends had taken good care of him, the one named Marcus even buying the booster seat for Joshua because he was too young to sit in a car without one.
Michael was more than grateful. Joshua would never need to know any of what Michael had shared with the lawyer, then the cops. At least the cops were pleased with the sketch the police artist had done based on his description.
They’d seemed to believe him. It was a weight off his shoulders. But the bald man was still out there, still a threat to both Michael and Joshua. More so now if he found out that Michael had seen him so clearly.
A light tap on his good shoulder had him straightening his spine in a rush. His gaze jerked up, then higher still because Coach Diesel stood next to him, hands moving. He’d driven them from the police station to the Ledger office and then here, since Dr. Dani had left her own car at the clinic.
“Let me get Joshua,” Coach signed. “You go inside with Dr. Dani.” He looked up and down the street with narrowed eyes and Michael realized he was looking for someone.
The bald man? Reporters? Either way, Michael wasn’t going to argue. He pulled his hoodie up and hurried to Dr. Dani’s front steps. She’d opened the door ahead of him, but before letting him in, she abruptly turned to face him.
“Do you like dogs?” she asked. “Joshua, too?”
Michael nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I forgot to ask before we started for home. I have a dog. He’s extremely . . . enthusiastic.”
Michael eagerly stepped around her, then laughed when a golden retriever crawled across the floor on its belly, commando-style, its tail wagging triple time.
She shook her head, smiling at the dog. “I told him ‘down’ and he knows hand signs.” She showed Michael the correct sign, then shrugged. “Technically, he’s still down, but he’s very excited to meet new people, so he crawls like that.”
Michael dropped to his knees, patting his thighs, laughing again when the dog bounded to him. A second later his face was getting bathed by the dog’s tongue. He buried his face in its soft coat and hugged its neck.
“He smells good.”
“He should. He had an appointment with the groomer today. She has one of those vans that comes to your house. We’re friends, so I gave her the key. She takes Hawkeye into her salon and makes him beautiful.”
Him. The dog was male. And named Hawkeye. “You named him after the Avenger?” he asked. The hard-of-hearing Avenger who wore hearing aids. It was the name he’d have chosen for a dog if he ever got one of his own.
“I did. I’ve been deaf in one ear since I was born. I thought Hawkeye was a great name for my dog, even though he has amazing hearing.” She leaned down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Right, boy?” She looked over her shoulder and signed the dog back to the down position. The dog instantly obeyed, but its tail never stopped wagging.
Coach Diesel was coming through the door, Joshua tucked into his big arms, the little boy still asleep. Dr. Dani quietly closed the front door after him, looking at the dog with her finger pressed to her lips. She pointed Coach toward the stairs, then gestured for Michael to follow her. He did, Hawkeye scrambling to walk at his side.
Dr. Dani had a room for each of them. Nice rooms with soft beds. Posters on the walls. Everything looked new. And safe. She pulled the blanket on the bed back and Coach put Joshua in it so gently that Michael’s throat hurt. No one was gentle with Joshua. No one but me.
He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. Thank you, he thought. If there was a God, he should be thanked, because this day could have ended up so much worse. Yes, the cops had talked to him about Brewer’s murder, but he’d had a fancy lawyer and Coach and Dr. Dani hadn’t left his side. The cops seemed to believe him. He wasn’t in juvie, so he called that a win.
This foster situation was turning out to be okay. A nice house, a safe neighborhood, a foster parent who was kind and who signed, a cool dog, Coach Diesel to keep them safe . . . And he and Joshua got to stay together. That was the most important thing.
Dr. Dani covered Joshua up, then opened the closet door, revealing boxes labeled PANTS, SHIRTS, PJ’S, SOCKS, and UNDERWEAR. She rummaged in the PJ’S box and pulled out a pair of Spider-Man pajamas. She put them on the foot of the bed, then pointed at the stuffed animals on the closet shelf below the boxes.
“Pick something you think he’d like,” she signed to Michael without voicing, so they didn’t wake Joshua.
Michael went straight for a soft dog plushie. “He has one kind of like this at home,” he signed, then carefully placed it next to his sleeping brother.
Dr. Dani gave Michael’s shoulder a pat. “This room is safe. Nothing that can hurt a small child in here. The windows are locked.” She tugged on one to demonstrate and it didn’t budge. “They’re also alarmed.” She pointed up at the ceiling, where there was a strobe light, dark at the moment. “If the house alarm or smoke alarm goes off, the lights strobe. Your room has the same. It’s set up to be secure and safe for deaf and hearing kids.”
Wow. He had not expected any of this.
She showed Michael a baby monitor on Joshua’s nightstand. “I carry the receiver in my pocket. It vibrates when there’s sound. If Joshua wakes up and is afraid, I’ll know and can get to him quickly. Your room has the same setup, plus I have a panic button for older kids. Press it if you need anything, okay?”
He nodded, overwhelmed. “Thank you. So much.”
She smiled at him, then the two of them turned to find Coach Diesel filling the doorway. He’d been staring at them. Or at Dr. Dani. Michael wondered what their deal was, but knew better than to ask.
He wasn’t sure they knew what their deal was, but he’d caught each of them looking at the other when they thought no one noticed. Kind of like high school, he thought with an eye-roll. Dr. Dani was even blushing. He didn’t know older ladies like her still blushed. She had to be at least thirty. Maybe older. But he knew better than to ask that as well.
Coach moved out of the way and Dr. Dani showed Michael to his room. It was . . . super-nice. Posters of sports stars—hockey, baseball, football, even soccer—covered one wall. A second wall had photos of dancers, ice skaters, and musicians. The third wall was floor-to-ceiling shelves. Covered with books.
Michael’s pulse gave a little start. He loved books. There were none at his house. It wasn’t a question of affording them. They had money. Their real dad had left them money in his will. It was supposed to be enough for them to live comfortably, which, for Michael, included books. His mother just never saw the point.
He glanced at Dr. Dani to see her smiling at him. “You like books?” she asked.
He nodded. “I love the library at school. I go whenever I can. I take Joshua to the public library, too. We take the bus. Can I . . . can I read any of them?”
She grinned at him. “Take your pick.”
He reached for Brian K. Vaughan’s Runaways, but yanked his hand back at the last minute. “What if I have to leave before I’m done reading it?”
Dr. Dani’s smile faded a little. “Then you can take it with you. I can get another.” She took the book from the shelf and placed it in his hands. “It’s yours.”
Holding the book to his chest, Michael stepped back as she made her way to the closet and started rummaging in the boxes she kept there. Coach Diesel had followed them into the room and now stood staring at the shelves of books. Kind of like he’d never seen them before. Michael wondered if this was the first time Coach had been here.
That was interesting. Watching the two of them might be more fun than TV.
Diesel pulled a sci-fi novel from a top shelf and showed the cover to Michael. “I like this one. Have you read it?”
Michael shook his head, unable to hide his surprise. “No. You like sci-fi?”
Coach’s lips twitched. “I do. I’m a gamer. I love sci-fi and fantasy stories. Books or movies or games, doesn’t matter to me.”
Michael perked up. “You’re a gamer? Me, too.”
“Tomorrow I’ll go home and get my system, if Dr. Dani says it’s okay.”
She looked over her shoulder at them with a nod. “Fine with me.” When she turned, she held pajamas, sweats, and an unopened package of briefs. She put them on the end of the bed.
“Coach, would you mind letting Hawkeye out? He can run in the backyard for a few minutes.”
Coach Diesel gave her a slow nod, some kind of unspoken, unsigned communication passing between the two of them.
When Coach and the dog were gone, Dr. Dani led Michael to the closet at the end of the hall. “Bathroom is first door on your left. Towels are in here. Hang them up if they’re still clean. If they need to be washed, take them downstairs to the laundry room in the basement. I’ll show you how to run the machine. You can wash your own clothes.”
He nodded, relieved. He didn’t want anyone seeing his bloody pants or briefs. It was humiliating enough as it was. “I will. Thank you.”
She gave him a knowing look, then opened the closet door and reached for a first aid kit on the top shelf. “Gauze and salve for your injury,” she said, all business.
His cheeks flamed, but he nodded. Think of it as a mugging. Coach’s suggestion had worked with the lawyer and it worked here, too. He relaxed and took the first aid kit from her. “Thank you,” he said again.
“If you need anything, text me. My cell phone number is on the card next to the bed. If you start bleeding, you need to let me know. You can text me or write a note and leave it on my desk if you aren’t comfortable telling me in person, but you need to tell me. I won’t embarrass you, but if you continue bleeding, I need to get you to another doctor.”
He drew a breath and nodded. “I promise.”
“Okay.” She pulled a few bright red plastic bags from the top shelf. “Biohazard bags. It’s just good practice to put your bloody gauze in one of these and seal it up. If you leave the bag in the cabinet under the bathroom sink, I’ll check there and collect it.”
He took the red bags gingerly. “Okay.”
“What about allergies? Food? Medication? For either you or Joshua?”
He shook his head. “Nothing that I know of.”
“Who’s your doctor?”
“I don’t have one. I guess Joshua did, because he got his shots when he was a baby. I went with my mother when she took him to his doctor visits. She was kind of messed up then. My dad had just died. In Iraq. She drank a lot before then, but the drugs started after my dad died. She was pretty stoned the whole first year. She got a little better, but then it got a lot worse.”
Dr. Dani’s expression softened. “So you’ve always taken care of Joshua?”
He nodded once, grateful that she understood. “Yeah.” He’d been the one to hold Joshua while the doctor stuck him with needles. He’d given his little brother his baths, changed his diapers, rocked him to sleep, fed him during the night. His mother had simply checked out.
“I took care of my little brother when he was an infant, too,” Dr. Dani said. “My mom and stepdad died when I was sixteen. Teething and midnight feedings were so much fun, am I right?”
He huffed a chuckle. “So much fun.”
She looked to one side, head tilted like she was thinking, then nodded. “Do you get services in school? Speech therapy, anything like that?”
“No, but I do have an interpreter, just like Greg.”
“No hearing aids or cochlear implant?”
He shook his head again, sadly this time. “My dad—my real dad—once told me that my mom was afraid to let them cut my head open. He wanted me to have the surgery, but she insisted it wasn’t safe. But it is. And now it’s too late.” He was fourteen, long past the time doctors did the implant surgery. Usually they operated on kids under two.
She lifted her brows. “Of course it’s safe, and it might not be too late. You’re a little old now, but if you’re interested, we can still look into it. For now, relax. I’m going to make dinner and maybe watch some TV. If you want to eat with Coach and me now, that’s fine. If you want time to yourself, that’s fine, too. If you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge. Help yourself to anything you find, just don’t eat in your room, okay? I hate mice.”
Michael grimaced. “Mice?”
“I’ve never had them, and I don’t want to start.” She looked around the corner, but they remained alone. “The basement is a rec room with video games and a TV.” She smirked. “I’m a gamer, too, but don’t tell Coach. I don’t think he knows.”
“You planning to hustle him?” he asked.
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. Take a shower, get comfortable. We’ll talk about all the serious stuff later, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Any questions?”
“Yes.” Why are you doing this for us? What are you going to want from us? And why do you have biohazard bags in your closet? But that wasn’t the question that rolled off his hands. “Are you rich?” He immediately winced. It was rude, but he’d asked and now he couldn’t take the question back.
She blinked her mismatched eyes in surprise. “No. Barely middle-class. Why?”
He gestured around him. “All this. The nice furniture, the books, the strobe lights. It all costs money. We had money and my mom never put in emergency strobe lights.” He’d always wondered what might have happened had there been a fire. He wondered if his mother would have bothered to wake him up.
He was sure Brewer would have left him to die.
“Well, I’m nowhere near rich. I’m house poor, actually. I used to be an ER doctor, and that paid well, but the clinic can’t afford those kinds of salaries. I pay my mortgage and bills, but that stretches every penny.”
He frowned. “So you take in foster kids for the money?”
Something flashed in her eyes. It looked like hurt. “I’m sorry,” he signed.
“It’s okay. It’s a reasonable question. No, I do this because I had a deaf teenager come through my clinic last year. They’d been hurt.”
Michael swallowed. “Like me?”
She nodded once. “I wasn’t certified for emergency placement then, so they went into the foster system.”
“They?”
“The teen was trans. Their pronoun is ‘they.’”
Michael sucked in a breath that burned. He’d heard horror stories about what bullies in the foster system did to both deaf kids and trans kids. A deaf trans kid? Shit. “What happened to them?”
“Kids snuck up on them. Hurt them. They didn’t die, but it was close. They’re forever traumatized.”
“So you became an emergency foster parent.”
She nodded. “Yes. As for all the nice furniture and gadgets? You remember me telling you that Coach has rich friends?”
“Yeah,” Michael answered cautiously. “The rich guys just gave you money?”
“Pretty much.” She smiled. “See—and you might have to make a chart later to remember all this—my brother Deacon who you met today? His wife is named Faith. Faith’s uncle is the rich guy. His name is Dr. O’Bannion. You remember Marcus, Coach’s friend from the newspaper office?”
“The one who took care of Joshua. Yeah. And?”
“Dr. O’Bannion is also Marcus’s dad. He is very nice and very generous. When I was getting this place ready for kids, Dr. O’Bannion showed up on my doorstep with his checkbook. All the books, the games, the clothes in the closets, the jungle gym out back—it’s all because of him.”
Michael frowned. “Why did he do it?”
Her smile was gentle. “Sometimes people are just nice, Michael. It’s okay to trust. We’re good people. We will take care of you.” She closed the closet door. “Take your time. Dinner won’t be ready for an hour or so. We can watch a movie after if you want to.”
Michael’s eyes burned. “Thank you.”
She cupped his cheek. “You’re welcome. You’re worth it.”
He watched her go down the hall toward the front of the house. When she was out of sight, he blinked and the tears streaked down his cheeks.
No, I’m not worth it. But Joshua is.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 8:50 p.m.
Dani stopped outside of her kitchen doorway for just a moment, just long enough to brace herself. She was about to be alone with Diesel Kennedy. And it scared her to death, because she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.
She swallowed hard as she peeked around the doorframe to where he sat at the table, staring at his laptop, the expression on his handsome face one of intense concentration. He rubbed the back of his neck with one of his huge hands.
Hands that had held her so damn gently. Hands that had held Joshua so gently. Hands that had encouraged Michael when the boy had been so scared.
Think of it as a mugging, Diesel had told Michael. And it had helped the boy get through the telling of his abuse.
It had been a . . . specific thing to say, the expression on his handsome face oddly personal. She wondered about it now, watching him glare at his computer screen. Wondered if the advice had come from his own experience. But that was not a conversation she felt comfortable initiating. If he felt like sharing someday, she’d listen.
As if sensing her presence, he abruptly shifted his gaze from his computer to where she stood, one of his dark brows lifting in question. But he said nothing. Just watched her watching him.
Busted. Dammit.
Cheeks heating, she entered the kitchen, going straight to the freezer, grateful for the frigid air cooling her face. And for the freezer door that hid her from his intense scrutiny. “I got Michael settled,” she said, simply for something to say.
“Good,” he replied, the single word sending a shiver down her back.
She leaned farther into the freezer, clutching the door handle for support. She loved his voice, the gruff growl of it like a firm stroke over her skin.
“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously.
She closed her eyes, her face reheating despite the cold air surrounding her. “Of course,” she lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’ve been staring into the freezer for over a minute and haven’t touched anything.” He drew a breath and let it out in a loud whoosh. “If you want me to leave, I can watch the house from outside.”
Dani jerked her head out of the freezer and looked around the door in surprise. “No. I don’t want you to leave.”
His massive shoulders relaxed. “Okay. I thought I was . . . y’know, making you uncomfortable.”
Well, yeah, she thought. But not the way he thought. She closed the freezer door and went to the sink to fill the kettle. “Of course not,” she said, then clenched her jaw. This was ridiculous. They were acting like they were Michael’s age.
She put the kettle on and turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “Meredith says you like tea. I have some chocolate mint. Would you like that?”
He relaxed further, and she had to fight to keep her eyes on his and not drop to his lips, which were curving in a smile. He had the nicest mouth.
He had the nicest everything. She could admit it, even if only to herself.
“I would,” he said. “I’m kind of a chocolate addict.”
“Me, too, but I try to limit my chocolate intake.” She made a face. “I’m careful with my nutrition. Helps keep my immune system healthy.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “That’s important. You’ve got a physically demanding job, especially considering so many of the people you see on a daily basis are communicably sick. And now, fostering two boys? Two boys who come with a helluva lot of stress? You need to stay well.”
She narrowed her eyes, studying his face, searching for any indication that he was setting her up. Waiting for the inevitable “but.” But no “but” followed. He was serious. Absolutely sincere.
His eyes narrowed back at her when she remained silent. “Why are you looking at me that way?” he asked.
“Because my family says that, but then they suggest that I should stop working so much or that I should give up medicine entirely or that I shouldn’t foster kids who might be ‘dangerous.’” She used air quotes.
He tilted his head to one side, appearing distressed. “Who says that to you? Deacon?”
She chuckled a little darkly. “No, he knows better. I have kicked his ass in the past and I can do it again.”
His lips twitched. “I’d pay money to have seen that. How old were you?”
“Thirty-three.” She grinned at him, suddenly at ease. “It was last month. He was testing my self-defense moves. Snuck up on me. Ended up staring at the ceiling.”
He returned her grin, making her heart flutter again. “Then he deserved what he got,” he said decisively. “Does Adam say you should quit?”
“Never. And if he thinks it, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself. He’s seen me kick Deacon’s ass.”
“Then who wants you to quit?”
Sighing, she got mugs from the cabinet and filled the teapot infuser with loose tea, just as she did every evening, finding comfort in the routine. “My aunt Tammy, mostly. She and my uncle Jim took us in after my mom and stepfather died, and we’d lived with them off and on before that.” She winced, remembering. “Not the happiest environment for kids. Adam got it worse than we did. Uncle Jim was a drunk. Still is.”
The kettle boiled and she filled the teapot. Taking it and the mugs to the table, she sat directly across from Diesel with a sigh. “He’d hit Adam sometimes. Mostly he was emotionally abusive. Adam’s still struggling with it.”
Diesel nodded. “I know. He’s talked to me about it a time or two, when I’m over at their house visiting Meredith. She’s good for him.”
Dani smiled. Adam had never been happier since he and Meredith Fallon had finally gotten together after a year of dancing around each other. Kind of like Diesel and me, she thought, her smile fading.
She couldn’t offer Diesel what he really wanted—the happily-ever-after that all their friends had found. She wanted that, too. But she’d also wanted it with Adrian, had even accepted his marriage proposal, only to later break him. Literally.
Roughly she pushed aside the mental picture of Adrian’s body lying on the rocks, his final words ringing in her ears. Are you happy now? I hope you’re a better doctor than you were a lover.
She was. She was a damn good doctor and that would have to be enough. Maybe someday she could be a better lover, a better person, but that wasn’t today.
She wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And Diesel Kennedy was too nice a man to have to settle for anything less than a woman who could love him completely. And not “maybe someday,” but now.
“Meredith’s very good for him,” Dani agreed quietly. “She’s exactly what he needs.” And I’m not what you need, even though you think I am.
Diesel’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he reached for the teapot and filled their mugs. He just watched her, his gaze steady and unyielding.
Kind of like the man himself.
“So your uncle and aunt want you to quit?” he finally asked.
“Yes.” She nodded, grateful that he’d pulled back to the topic at hand. “They’ve never gotten over my diagnosis. You know, my status.”
He didn’t blink. “That you’re HIV positive,” he said, putting it right there on the table between them.
She fought the urge to flinch, although just barely. After nearly four years of living with HIV, she still hated to hear the words spoken so baldly. Some days she almost managed to forget she had it.
Almost.
She nodded briskly. “Right. Tammy and Jim are convinced that I’m hiding information about my condition, that I’m sicker than I claim.” She rolled her eyes. “Or that I’ll give it to a patient or to one of them. That’s mostly Jim. It doesn’t matter that my levels are undetectable and have been for years. It doesn’t matter that I’m diligent about protective wear. They’re constantly reminding me that my clock is ticking and that life is too short to slave in a free clinic for people who ‘don’t deserve it.’ Every so often they ask me if I’ve got AIDS yet. Aunt Tammy’s even found long-term care for me, you know, for when I ‘succumb.’”
Diesel grimaced. “God.”
“Yeah,” Dani agreed bitterly. “They treat me like spun glass. Like my life is already over. I’ve gone as far as showing them my latest lab results. Always undetectable. But they don’t believe me.”
His brows drew together. “Why would they mistrust you?”
She sighed. “Because I didn’t tell them about my status. They had to hear about it on the news when I was outed.” When a kid at Greg’s school had somehow found out and spread the word, two and a half years ago.
Diesel’s mouth tightened. “I read about that.”
She chuckled bitterly. “In the Ledger?”
He nodded once. “Not at the time it happened. Marcus and Stone were in the hospital and we were all busy keeping the paper running.”
“I remember,” she said, pushing her bitterness aside, because so many other things had been happening at the time her status was revealed to the whole city. A serial killer had been on the loose, Deacon on his trail. The man had been after Faith, and after discovering that Faith and Deacon were lovers, had abducted Dani and Greg to lure her to him. “That was a busy week.”
His gaze darkened. “That bastard hurt you.”
“Not really. He busted my lip, but it healed. He hurt Deacon a lot worse.” Her older brother had nearly died when he’d been stabbed while taking the killer down. She sighed, remembering her younger brother’s terror. “Greg still has nightmares about it. He was abducted along with me.”
“I know.” Diesel’s eyes were still dark, anger glittering in the chocolate depths. He looked . . . dangerous. It gave her an unwelcome thrill. “The bastard tried to use the two of you to force Faith into surrendering herself to him.”
And it might have worked, but for Faith’s quick thinking. Dani owed a lot to her sister-in-law.
She forced herself to smile. “We’re all okay, though. Greg saw a therapist for a long time, and the nightmares seem to be more infrequent.”
“And you?” he asked, so seriously that it made her heart hurt. “Did you have nightmares?”
Dani’s smile faded. “Sometimes I dream that I’m trying to stop Deacon’s bleeding but he dies anyway. I thought I’d lose him for sure that night.” But most nights she dreamed of Adrian, his body lying broken on the rocks.
“But you’re a damn good doctor,” Diesel said gruffly. “Which is why I can’t believe your family would want you to quit. Don’t they understand how HIV is transmitted?”
She studied him carefully, remembering the night she had been stabbed outside the clinic. Diesel had been there, watching over her. He’d been the one to carry her into the ER, her blood all over him.
“Do you?” she asked. “Because you never freaked out when I bled all over you. You never even asked me if my levels were detectable.”
He blinked, his anger abruptly gone. In his eyes she saw a sweetness that hurt her heart even more than his caring about her nightmares.
She had to look away. I don’t deserve that sweetness. I’m going to hurt him.
“I know how it’s transmitted,” he said quietly. “I was a little rattled when the doctors put me in a decontamination room, checking me for open wounds. I didn’t know about your status until then. But I figured that you wouldn’t have been endangering your patients if your levels were detectable.”
Swinging her gaze back to his face, Dani sucked in a breath. “Really?”
“Really.” He sipped at his tea and made an appreciative sound. “This is good.”
He was trying to change the subject and she wasn’t sure why. “Diesel,” she said, leaning across the table urgently, gripping his forearm. “You got tested, right? I told you to that day you visited me in the hospital.” When she’d told him that she wasn’t looking for a relationship and that he should move on and find someone else. “I know the doctors told you to. I made sure they did.”
He froze, his eyes dropping to where she was touching him. When he looked up, the sweetness was gone, replaced by a hunger that made her suck in another breath, shivers racing all over her skin. She let him go, breathing hard, wanting to look away again, but unable to.
“Did you get tested?” she whispered. “Please tell me you did.”
He leaned forward in his chair until their faces were only inches apart. “Every six months for the last eighteen,” he whispered back. “But I knew I’d be negative. You were working in the emergency room at the time. I knew you wouldn’t knowingly place anyone in danger, so you had to be undetectable. Undetectable means untransmittable, right? That’s what the experts say.”
“Right,” she murmured, but his closeness had shivers running down her spine. Her gaze slid to his lips, wishing she could feel them on her own. Just once. But once would never be enough. So she eased back into her chair and closed her eyes, flattening her hands on the table, willing her heart to slow to a normal rhythm.
Which would be so much easier if he weren’t looking at her. Even with her eyes closed she could feel his gaze, heavy and wanting.
And she wanted, too. So much.
She swallowed hard. “Every six months?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m fine, Dani.”
“I should have asked you directly long before today. I’m sorry.”
She flinched when his hand covered hers, large and warm. “Given how your uncle and aunt have been treating you, I guess I understand why you didn’t want to bring it up,” he said calmly. Soothing me.
The seconds ticked by as neither of them moved. He sat patiently, his thumb caressing her skin, as shame washed through her.
Look at him. He deserves that much. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, just as she’d known he would be. There was no recrimination in his gaze. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she managed to choke out. “I still should have asked you. Thank you again . . . for saving my life.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I wouldn’t have been able to watch you die, even if I’d known your status before you were stabbed.” He held her gaze for several more hard beats of her heart, then pulled his hand away.
She almost grabbed it back. Almost.
“Returning to my original question,” he said, “don’t your aunt and uncle understand how HIV is transmitted?”
She blew out the breath she’d been holding, grateful once again that he’d pulled them back on topic. “I really don’t know. I’ve explained it to them. It’s really just Jim who’s the ass about it. Tammy doesn’t fight him on anything, though. Which is why I’m so glad that Greg lives with Deacon and Faith now. Living with Tammy and Jim wasn’t good for him. Jim has very strong beliefs, most of them ones I don’t agree with. He pretty much hates anyone who isn’t like him.”
“Which is why you didn’t tell them about your status,” Diesel said, then shrugged one massive shoulder. “Makes sense to me.”
Do not look at his shoulders. Focus. “My brothers knew and so did Adam. But none of us had told Tammy and Jim. I asked the boys not to. When the news broke . . .” She stared down into her tea, feeling her cheeks heat as she relived the humiliation of the entire community learning of her medical status. “Tammy and Jim were very angry with me. They had a right to be, I guess.”
Diesel’s chair creaked a second before his hand entered her field of vision, one thick finger tipping her chin up. Once again, his face was a breath away from hers.
Expression fierce, he held her gaze. “Why were they angry with you?”
She swallowed hard, unable to look away. His eyes were dark and held a touch of wildness that made her heart beat faster. “Because I was stupid enough to get HIV. Because I was selfish enough to keep on working. Because I was cruel enough not to tell them before.”
“So they could already be telling you to quit?” he gritted out, clearly angry himself. But on her behalf. “That your ‘clock is ticking’? That the people you serve at the clinic don’t deserve care? They were selfish and cruel. Not you.”
“I can be selfish,” she whispered, her eyes stinging. I’ve been selfish with you, secretly basking in your attention, knowing I can never be what you need.
His head tilted as he studied her so intently she wanted to look away. But still she couldn’t.
“I would hope so,” he said softly. “I hope you can be selfish, at least sometimes. You’re always doing things for other people. You deserve to do something for yourself.”
She blinked once, sending hot tears streaking down her cheeks. Wishing she could have him. Wishing she could at least try. “You’re too nice, Diesel. You’re going to get hurt.”
His eyes flickered with . . . what? Apprehension? Regret? “Who’s going to hurt me, Dani?”
She drew a breath. “Me.”