Chapter Sixteen #2
How could she have thrown away the only real happiness she’d ever known since her mother died?
She’d been an idiot. How many deals had she and Owen cut since he’d returned?
Enough that she should’ve realized they could find compromise this time too.
Maybe she could’ve had it all—adventure, career, and the man she loved.
But she’d panicked instead of giving him a chance.
What if she’d trusted him enough to toss aside her pride and risk asking him to work this out?
What if she hadn’t been afraid to tell him she loved and needed him?
What if she’d fought for him and the life they could have together?
Then the world went black.
*
When Dylan hit Carly with the board, he sent her flying to land in a crumpled heap five feet away.
Rage and gut-wrenching panic erupted inside Owen.
He charged Dylan and tackled him. Left hand holding the kid’s shirt, he pounded his right hand into Dylan’s face.
Hands clawed at his shoulders, trying to yank him off.
“You have to stop, Owen,” Ryder pleaded.
Owen glanced over his shoulder to see Ryder’s face twisted with fear and concern. “Carly’s hurt. She’s bleeding bad. I don’t know what to do.”
Carly needed him.
Owen crawled off Dylan and rushed to Carly as the police arrived. Blood spurted from a long gash in her arm, and a broken bone protruded from her skin. His body shook. His vision blurred. His mind went blank. He couldn’t breathe. There was so much blood. He was going to lose her.
The hell he would.
He tore off his shirt and tied a tourniquet above the wound to slow the blood loss. All the while he barked out orders. For one officer to call for an ambulance, for Ryder to explain the situation to another, and for someone to keep Dylan the hell away before he finished the beating he started.
“Hold on Carly. Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you.”
*
Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythmic annoying sound worked its way through the cotton stuffed inside Carly’s head. She tried to open her eyes but quit when the pounding in her head increased. What was that noise, and why wouldn’t someone turn the stupid thing off?
Slowly the fog enveloping her brain lifted, and she pieced together the memories. She remembered sneaking into Ryder’s graduation, but what had she done after that? Reese’s house. She’d been sitting on the couch, watching a stupid horror flick while stuffing her face with butter-laden popcorn.
Then Owen called.
Memories tumbled over each other. He said Ryder had crashed into a ditch, and he was going to help.
He told her to stay put, but she’d been worried about Owen and Ryder.
Unable to bear them getting hurt, she’d gone to ensure that didn’t happen.
When she arrived, Dylan had been brandishing a broken piece of fence like a sword. That was how she’d gotten hurt.
Her eyes sprang open and the first thing she noticed was flowers. On every available surface. Arrangements of roses, daisies, carnations, lilies, and countless others created an explosion of color as if she were in a florist shop. People had sent her flowers?
She took in the rest of her surroundings. Sun streamed in from the window to her right. A few rays landed on her in a hospital bed. Her left arm, encased in bandages, rested on a pillow. Monitors behind her tracking her vital signs accounted for the annoying beep.
“You’re awake. Thank the good Lord.”
Carly turned toward the familiar voice. Her father sat in a small, boxy chair in the far corner. Her heart sank with disappointment. What had she expected? To find Owen keeping a vigil after she’d broken up with him?
“We’ve been worried. You’d lost so much blood. When they brought you in you needed a transfusion before they took you to surgery. It took an orthopedic surgeon three hours to repair your arm.”
She remembered Dylan charging Owen and her running toward them. A fist pinching her heart, Carly forced her question past the lump clogging her throat. “What about Owen and Ryder? Are they okay?”
Her father nodded. “Worried and mad as hell at you for throwing yourself at Dylan, but other than that, they’re fine.”
“Thank goodness.”
“What about Dylan? What happened with him?” she asked.
“He’s come down from whatever he took. His parents are working to get him into drug rehab.” Her father went on to say she’d have to talk to the police about pressing charges.
“Rather than going to jail, I want Dylan to get the help he needs.”
The door swung open. “I told the police the same thing,” Owen said as he stepped into the room.
Tall and incredibly handsome, the monitor beside her bed beeped faster. How could he still make her heart race when she knew he didn’t fit into where she saw her life going?
That was a silly question. She loved him and suspected she always would. He possessed so many wonderful qualities—honor, loyalty, and he made her feel special in a way no one else had. But she’d hurt him again. How could he ever forgive her? How could she ask him to?
Her dad stood, leaned over her, and whispered in her ear. “He’s been by your side until I forced him to get something to eat a while ago. Before you give up your bone, make damn sure what you think you’ll get is worth it.” Then he kissed her on the cheek and strolled out of the room.
After the door closed behind him, Carly sneaked a glance at Owen.
A scowl marring his handsome features and a five-o’clock shadow adding to his stark appearance, he stalked across the hospital room.
Stopping to stand at the foot of her bed, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. He towered over her, leveling her with a stare capable of making a person confess sins he’d only considered committing.
“With my memory problems, I can’t be sure, but what I remember is you saying all you’d do was call the tow truck.”
Not about to be intimidated, or at least not much, she locked gazes with him and titled her chin upward. “When you asked if that was all I’d do, my exact words were, ‘I know when I’m not wanted.’ I never agreed to stay away.”
His scowl and the furrow between his brows deepened. “What the hell were you thinking running in front of Dylan? You could’ve been killed.”
“I was thinking about you and Ryder, but mostly you.” She clutched the sheet in her sweaty hands.
“Why didn’t you let the police deal with him?
If Dylan had hit your head, or you’d fallen and hit your head—” Her voice broke, and she bit her lip to regain her control, burying the images of what could’ve happened.
“You’ve worked so hard and come so far, but you could’ve undone everything by going all commando hero protecting my brother. ”
“I’m trained to deal with terrorists. I can handle one teenager.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When his gaze returned to her, weariness had replaced his anger. “Don’t you have faith in me?”
“That’s not what it was about. I couldn’t handle anything happening to you. Not when I love you.”
Owen shook his head and chuckled. “Breaking up with me is a damn strange way to showing it.”
“Love isn’t always enough to make a relationship work.”
How could she make a choice between staying in Service with Owen—not that he’d take her back—but how could she decide when one choice, leaving, was a huge unknown?
Her phone on the bedside table rang, cutting her off. Thankful for the reprieve, she mumbled an, excuse me and answered her phone.
“Ms. Maddux, this is Sharlene Brown from the Denver Rehabilitation Center,” the voice on the other end said. “I’m calling to schedule an in-person interview for next week.”
Carly leaned against the pillows piled behind her. She’d gotten an interview with the best rehab clinic in Denver. This had to be a sign. Fate’s way of telling her she needed to explore her other options.
“Your clinic has an excellent reputation, and I want to be considered for the job, but I doubt I can come to Denver next week. Unfortunately, I was in an accident last night,” Carly said, and explained what happened.
“How awful. I’m so sorry, and I won’t keep you long, but with your excellent qualifications and references, we’re willing to hold the job open until we interview you. Call me when you’re released, and we’ll schedule a time.”
“Thank you so much.”
Carly returned her phone to the table and waited for excitement to burst through her.
But instead of that giddy feeling, an emptiness spread throughout her body.
She couldn’t help but think she’d be leaving behind the people who mattered in her life, especially Owen who made her feel as if the pieces of her had been put together.
That she wasn’t fragmented and alone. Choices shouldn’t be this hard.
“Sounded like that was about a job,” Owen said.
She nodded. “I had a phone interview with the clinic earlier last week. If I’m lucky I’ll have a job before I move.”
Owen moved the chair her father had vacated closer to the bed and sat. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You said you loved me. What if I asked you not to go?”
There it was. The question she’d dreaded and yet, prayed for.
“We’ve been over this. When we started seeing each other—” When she stumbled over the words, she paused. Seeing each other? What a stupid phrase and so inadequate for what they’d embarked on. “I told you I didn’t want anything serious. I don’t know what more I can say.”
“You may not have anything else to say, but I do, and I’m not leaving until I say my piece.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You owe me that much.”
His soft voice, a plea for her to hear him out, hammered into her soul. Unable to speak or deny his request, she nodded, and prayed she could hold herself together.
“Addie came to see me a while ago. We talked about Landon, the Army and why I wanted to return to active service. She asked me if I had one day left on earth, how would I spend it. I knew I’d want to be with you. I love you, Carly. I’m not sure I ever stopped.”