Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
A ll of his life, people had told Eli he was too nice. Until now, he hadn’t known what that meant. Was he supposed to be mean? Tough? Greet people by knocking their teeth out and stealing their chihuahua? What did people have against Mr. Nice Guy? But now that he found himself accidentally living with Darby, he began to understand.
That wasn’t how things started out, of course. He stayed at the hospital until she was discharged, slightly before noon the next morning. They were both a little punch drunk from their sleepless night. Darby was also a bit loopy from the high-caliber pain relievers they had her on, because she bordered on goofy. Given her previously reserved nature, it was kind of adorable to see her giggly. Eli, exhausted and in need of a shower, intended to drive her home and have done with it.
But she could barely walk.
Every step was agonizing. Not that Darby complained, but her lips pressed together and her face drained of color, so much that she practically collapsed semi-unconscious when he finally got her to her couch. He set her down and had to lift her feet, arranging them on the end of the couch before covering her with a crocheted blanket. Darby stared up at him in wide-eyed silence.
“So,” he began, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. I’m heading out, felt so cold and cruel when she was in such bad shape and so very alone. Instead he knelt beside the couch, bringing him in easier relief of her face. “What can I get you?”
Her lashes fluttered as they filled with tears she tried to blink away, and she gave a little sniffle that tugged at his heart. “Would you…could you possibly make me some tea?”
It was such a small request, but she made it with the abject humility of someone who wasn’t used to asking for help. “Yep,” he said and didn’t resist the urge to reach out and push the hairs off her face, the wispy ones that stuck to her tears.
“Thank you,” she wobbled, giving another little sniff.
“Any particular kind or should I root through your cupboards?” he asked.
That brought a smile. “It’s only fair if you do, since I rooted through yours.”
“Searching my cupboards must have been the most boring delusion in history,” he noted.
“I don’t remember any of them, so either they were all dull, or I didn’t rank them,” she said and frowned. Was she thinking of Asher? Wondering what she had to do with him, if anything? How would it feel to be unable to remember large swaths of time? Not great, and on top of that she now had to recover from surgery and tumor removal.
“Tea,” he said, bringing her back to the present, as he swept another hair off her cheek.
“’Kay,” she murmured sleepily, shooting him a tremulous smile.
He helped himself to her kitchen, which was much tidier and more organized than his. The tea and mugs were in the same cupboard, along with honey and cinnamon. Did women put cinnamon in tea? Eli grimaced, unable to hop on board with that concept. Darby had an actual teapot, and it was easy to assume that tea was something she took an interest in and drank often. Josie was a tea girl, and somehow he wouldn’t have put Darby into that same category. Why did he continue to think of her as being so removed from him and his realm? She was a woman, like every other. And after meeting Plushy and her ilk, he thought maybe she was better than most. He’d be hard pressed to imagine Darby scoring a date for financial gain, even if her marriage had ended up being financially convenient.
Thoughts of her marriage diverted him, while he waited for the water to boil. Was he low-key angry with her husband for taking advantage of her? Darby had been a kid, probably as beautiful as she was now. Her husband had been old enough to be her father, old enough to know that hitting on an eighteen-year-old was ten shades of wrong. And what of the mother who let her child marry an old stranger and move halfway across the country? Had anyone ever protected Darby’s interests and taken care of her? Watched out for her? Had her husband, after their marriage? Darby hadn’t hinted at any sort of abuse, but she’d also vowed off remarriage. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Unless she’d been so happy that she figured a second marriage could never top the first.
The tea whistled, startling Eli out of his deep thoughts. He had no right to think so much about her life, but it had been thrust into his with a giant spotlight on it. Here was a woman, a beautiful woman he’d previously elevated to mythic realms, believing she must have a host of men at her disposal, must be the center of popularity with her set. And instead she was completely and totally alone. Not only that, but she was suffering a serious illness that made her delusional. In reality Darby wasn’t too far removed from the impoverished and na?ve teenager she’d been before she got married. Her marriage may have moved her to a different location, but she’d remained isolated and sheltered. And now Eli was left to feel guilty over his former judgement. It was like Pride and Prejudice, if Elizabeth Bennet had dissociated and suffered hallucinations.
When he returned to the living room, Darby was predictably asleep. He set the tea on the coffee table and dithered. Technically, he had fulfilled his duty and was free to go. Darby was home and safe and asleep and he’d made her tea. But it was the thought of what happened after she woke that stopped him from walking out the door. What if she needed to get up and couldn’t? What if she was hungry? What if she started to wander again? Was she really cured, just because the tumor had been removed? How long would the effects take to go away? He should have gotten more clarification on that point.
She must have felt his stare, because she opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He felt caught, a little stalkerish and sheepish for lingering, but Darby solved that problem. Slowly, she eased out her hand and extended it. Was it an invitation? Was she beseeching? Pleading? Eli had no idea. All he knew was that it was impossible to leave. He took that hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it, and then sat down. Darby resettled herself and edged a little closer, resting her head on his leg.
“Your tea is ready, honey, no cinnamon,” he said.
Darby gave a contented little sigh.
Eli reached for the remote and turned on the television. When his hand was done with that motion, it settled on her shoulder. She sighed again, relaxing further into the couch. His heart kicked, and he made a solid effort to stop it. Sometimes lately he’d begun to feel like he was the one dissociating from reality, the reality being his undeniable attraction to Darby. But he swore to her that he wouldn’t hit on her, that he wouldn’t be yet another man who was swayed by her beauty, who only wanted her for one thing. If he couldn’t set that attraction aside and be a friend to her when she had no one else, what kind of man was he? But the constant struggle between his nobility and his base male instinct left him exhausted. So far nobility had won the battle every time, but for how long could it continue? Especially with her soft and tumbly hair spilling over his leg, his hand making soothing passes on her shoulder and back?
He took a deep breath, trying not to fill his lungs with her, aiming for a point of sanity on which to center himself. The television wasn’t much help. Darby favored reality TV, and Eli couldn’t make himself care about the dating habits of self-involved and shallow strangers.
“Your tea is going to get cold,” he croaked, because caring for her physical needs was something he could latch onto. She needed to eat and drink, to be made comfortable and have her pain eased. That he could do, in the most basic sense. She proved how much she needed his care when she struggled to sit up on her own, wincing when pain stitched her abdomen. He put his arm around her, gently levering her to a sitting position before handing her the tea. She sipped it, eyes on the TV.
“This is some mindless drivel,” she noted.
“Yup,” he agreed.
“You’re judging me, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Nah,” he said, and he wasn’t. He and his friends played stupid, pointless games. As a teenager, he’d had a fairly serious video game addiction, before he got it under control.
“I’m judging me,” she said. She drained the tea and set it aside. “I’m getting quite the view of my sad life, through your eyes. How pathetic is it that I watch these shows because it makes me feel less alone? Like these are real people, and I’m vested in their lives.”
“They are real people,” he pointed out. “Real, awful people.”
She laughed, but it was a sad, tremulous laugh. “I thought I was doing so well, thought I had it all together, but my life is a disaster, Eli.” She sniffled, and tears began to leak slowly out of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
Eli stood and retrieved a box of tissues for her, noting that it was a girlie thing to keep tissues on hand. His sisters and mom always had tissues, too. He pulled one from the box and put it in her hand. “Listen, you’re going through some big life stuff here. A tumor, surgery, delusions. It’s okay to feel bad, maybe even to fall apart.”
“But it’s about so much more than that,” she said, dabbing at tear-stained cheeks that did nothing to detract from her appeal. “I think I’m seriously messed up.”
“Darby, last week I had dinner with a woman who has a layaway plan for guinea pig medical devices. Please believe me when I tell you that you are winning at life right now, okay? Seriously, if you’ve never dropped magic mushrooms with the therapist you’re having an inappropriate relationship with, you are on top of the world.” He gave her an encouraging smile, congratulating himself on keeping his emotional distance. Friend, friend, friend, the little mantra in his head chorused, and he thought it was winning because he was doing it, he was sitting close to her, comforting her, and staving off the desire to haul her close and kiss her senseless. I can do this, I can totally do this. I can be a friend to Darby, and nothing more.
“How do you kiss with those things on?” Darby asked, pointing to his braces, and it was all Eli could do not to jolt. Was she in his head? Did she know it was taking every drop of willpower he possessed not to kiss her in this moment?
“Very carefully,” he said, swallowing hard. Why did she have to go there? Was he really doing that poor a job disguising his attraction, or was she genuinely curious how a grown man handled kissing, while wearing braces?
“Huh,” she said, and then she did the impossible by slowly tipping forward and kissing him senseless.
He very carefully kissed her in return, until she gave one of those contented little sighs and leaned, ever so slightly, into him, surrendering to the kiss. Then it became harder to be careful, to tread lightly, to remember the pain in his lips from the press of his braces. Only her surgical wound and fragility held him back from hauling her into his lap and kissing her properly. As it was he kept some distance between them, kissing her with the chastity usually reserved for Victorian maidens, and also women who’ve just had abdominal surgery, apparently. His fingers eased into her tumbly hair, reveling in the feel of it, when the sound of shattering glass lurched them apart.
They stared in dismay and confusion at the broken window and the giant rock now resting on the floor.