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“Go home, Derek.” Cecily shoved away the bottle of water her hovering big brother proffered—for the tenth time. “I’m all right. You being here isn’t going to make me heal any faster.”
“You scared me, Sis.”
“Will it make you feel better if I tell you I was scared, too?” She grinned. “Couple of cracked ribs, some bumps and bruises—”
“Don’t forget the reaction to the drug they gave you.”
She met his concerned gaze. “Derek, I am not Wendy. You got to me in time. I’m fine. Look.” She swept her arm around her living room. “I have books. Television. More food than I will ever finish eating, thanks to Sabrina—at your request, I’m sure. Please. Go home. You have a ranch to run.”
“Got people doing that,” he said. He planted himself in the easy chair as if he’d grown roots. She gave up.
“Speaking of running the ranch, how’s Grady doing?”
“Hair’s growing back. Cuts are healing, and his black eyes are a bilious yellow. He’s spending a lot of time with Ginger. Might make a ranch hand out of him yet.” Derek grinned—the first one she’d seen since she’d been rescued.
“They’re not going to prosecute him for his involvement with Enrique and Xiang?” she asked. Despite what she’d told Grady at the hospital, one could never totally rely on the legal system.
Derek shook his head. “Nope. He was a victim, and the pictures he took are going to help put Enrique and Xiang away for a good long time. There’s going to be a little housekeeping at the Colorado Springs PD, among other places, getting rid of the people those two had on their payroll. With the threat gone, Grady’s attitude has taken a turn for the better.”
“I’m glad. I knew he was a good kid at heart.”
Take that Bryce Barrett.
“He is.” Derek’s expression said he wasn’t telling her the whole story, but right now, she wanted him to leave her alone. All his hovering and clucking was getting on her nerves.
“You need anything? It’s almost time for your meds, isn’t it?” He went to the kitchen for her pills, returned with one, and tipped it into her hand.
“I’m not in that much pain,” she argued.
“Don’t pull that. If you’re in pain, you’re not breathing deeply, and that can lead to pneumonia. Hence, painkillers.” He handed her the water bottle. “Do your breathing exercises.”
“Yes, Doctor Cooper.” She took the pill, washing it down with most of the water left in the bottle.
“I can come back after supper. Bring you something.”
How about Bryce?
“Do you even listen to what I’m saying?” She gave an exasperated sigh. “What I need is some time to myself. Now go.”
He went to the fridge for a new bottle of water and set it next to the almost-empty one. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Derek! Go. Home. Now.”
He moved toward the door, hesitated, turned.
She took a book from the table, opened it to a random page, and pretended to read. The door closed. She counted to twenty. When Derek didn’t come back with one more thing to tell her, ask her, or show her, she relaxed. Almost. Derek was impossible to get rid of.
On the other hand, Bryce had shown up at the hospital Monday morning with a generic grocery store bouquet, though she appreciated the gesture. She’d insisted he prove Grady was all right, and she smiled recollecting the way he’d snuck out, procured a wheelchair, and whisked her to Grady’s room without the medical staff catching on. Later, they’d watched an episode of she didn’t remember what on the television, and then he’d disappeared.
Four days ago, and he hadn’t been back. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted.
Tears brimmed, but she told herself Bryce wasn’t worth crying over. He could either want her enough to accept her, or not. If not, she’d move on. It wasn’t like they had made any commitments to each other.
You could have asked Derek what the deal with Bryce was.
As if.
What she wanted was to go to work, but her supervisor had insisted she take another full week off, until she could sit at her desk for more than an hour at a time without needing major pain meds. Fuzzy heads and dispatching didn’t mix.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her pretend reading.
Not Derek’s quick rap followed by him coming inside. They’d already had the discussion about locking her door, but it was too much effort to get up and answer it, so she left it unlocked during the day.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
“Bryce.”
She leaned against the cushions, wiping the stray tears from her face. Told herself it was all right if she looked like hell—she had the I’m injured card to play.
“Come in,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s open.”
The door opened slowly, and Bryce hung in the doorway. Cecily waited for a few heartbeats—far too rapid heartbeats. Still, he waited, as if crossing the threshold meant he’d be stepping into a minefield.
And he might be right.
“Don’t just stand there,” she said.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she said, immediately ashamed at the snark in her tone—and that she’d uttered the words at all.
Bryce grabbed his ponytail, met her eyes, and dropped it. “Wanted to see how you were doing.”
Something in his tone sent red flags waving. “Wait a minute. Did Derek send you? Because if he did, I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Nope,” Bryce said. “Thought you might like some company. If you don’t, I can leave.”
He seemed as uncomfortable as she felt. Damn, they’d known each other long enough so there shouldn’t be any awkwardness—and he didn’t deserve snark.
“I’m sorry I snapped. Big brother’s been hovering, driving me nuts. I finally got rid of him. Please. Sit down.”
She didn’t tell him where, letting him choose whether he’d sit next to her on the couch, or on the easy chair, leaving the coffee table as a barrier.
He chose the couch, but the far end. Closer than the chair, but he didn’t have to look at her. He picked up the remote. So he wanted to watch TV? Like all their other non-dates. But he set the remote down without turning on the set. “Been thinking,” he said.
Had he come to break up from their non-relationship?
“About?” she asked.
“Everything.”
So he was going to break up with her. She didn’t have to make it easy. “Bryce, I know you’re not big on talking, but I need more than one word at a time. I don’t have the strength to pull things out of you. If you have something to say, say it.”
Bryce knew Cecily deserved more. But, like the coward he was around her, he changed the subject to something she’d like to hear. Something easier to talk about. He grabbed the remote again—trying to break the ponytail habit—and flipped it in his hand.
“Ginger’s doing well,” he said. “Grady’s made her his pet project—after he finishes his chores.”
“Derek mentioned it.” She paused, tilted her head the way she did right before she was going to ask a heavy question. He waited. Was she going to tell him to get lost?
She closed the book she’d been reading. “I got the feeling there was something else about Grady. Something that might upset me. Would you know what Derek isn’t telling me?”
“Not sure,” he said.
“Take a shot.”
“No, I meant I’m not sure it’s my place to tell.” If Grady had wanted anyone to know his stepfather was a pedophile—the real reason Grady had run away—the kid could tell her himself. Would Cecily try to fix Grady if she knew? Grady and Bryce had a few male-bonding moments at the hospital. Bryce wasn’t sure how much Grady had unwittingly revealed because of the pain meds, and they’d never spoken of either of their fathers again. “It’s nothing that will impact his work on the ranch. Just some baggage he’s got to work through on his own.”
He hoped that would satisfy her, at least for now.
“Okay, then. We all have our baggage.”
“Yep.” He knew hers would have her reliving what had happened in the Springs for a long time to come.
Her lips quirked. “So we talked about Grady, we talked about Ginger. Are you going to turn on the television or just play with the remote?”
How could he tell her he’d been reliving the day he’d found her over and over, kicking himself for not following her, for not believing her, for not being a person she could trust with something important? How he kept seeing her in the trunk, but in his visions, she’d been without a pulse when he’d checked for one? Seeing her unable to breathe when she’d had an adverse reaction to the drug she’d been given? How could he admit he was more scared than on any op for the Rangers? That he didn’t know if she’d ever want to see him again, and rather than be rejected, he’d spent four days telling himself he’d be better off without her in his life? Which, as he’d come to understand, was an out-and-out lie.
“You scared me,” he blurted.
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like Derek. I’ll say the same thing. I was scared, too.”
He took a breath. Get it in the open. “Did they ... did they ... hurt you? More than the cracked ribs?”
“Are you asking if they raped me?”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t reach out for her. He’d seen those pictures Grady had taken—listened to Grady describe what he’d seen when the cops came to interview him. Saw Xiang and his knife. Kept seeing Cecily in the trunk. “Did they?”
“Would it matter?” She twisted to face him, grimacing as the movement undoubtedly hurt her ribs.
“Not to me,” he whispered. “But—”
She reached over and grasped his hands. “Listen to me. They slapped me in the face. They hit me on the head. They kicked me in the ribs. They tied me up. Drugged me. They did not rape me. They never laid a hand on me like that.”
“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said.
“No, I can understand you wanting to know. At the hospital, the doctors automatically did a rape kit and it backed up what I told the cops. All the assaults were of the non-sexual variety.”
She squeezed his hands. “You look like you could use a beer. Or something stronger. You know where I keep it.”
He shook his head. “No thanks.” He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. “I love you.”
Her eyes popped. Her mouth dropped open.
Damn, he hadn’t meant to say it like that. Not tonight. Not right after he asked her if she’d been raped. He could imagine what she was thinking. If she’d said yes, she’d been assaulted—sexually, would he still have said it? Or was his affection contingent upon her not being raped by those creeps.
She scooted closer and rested her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair. Inhaled her scent. A sense of calm washed through him.
“Bryce?” She toyed with the snaps on his shirt.
“Hmm?”
“I love you, too.”
“You do?”
She laughed, then winced. “I accept you don’t know much about women. We don’t utter those words unless we mean them.”
“You think things can work? With us? Do we have enough in common? More than Ginger? For the long haul?” He ducked his head. “We do tend to argue a lot.”
“But never in a mean, personal way,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I think it shows you’re over your father. You don’t have any trouble speaking your mind, standing up to me.”
A sense of relief, of realization, washed over him. It took a moment to find his breath. “You might be right.”
Her smile was filled with a blend of humor and compassion. “Get used to saying that and things will work out just fine.” She stroked his jaw. “I think you do need that drink. I’d join you, but I’m taking pain meds.”
“I’m driving,” he said.
She smiled a smile he liked to believe was reserved only for him. The one that sent his heart crow-hopping and his blood south.
“You don’t have to leave.”