Chapter 26 #2
Only it wasn’t his brother standing on his doorstep at all, but Lyndie, cradling Lucifer against her chest. The soft, short layers of her fiery hair were everywhere, and he might have hauled her in close and kissed them both to oblivion, if it hadn’t been for the look of pure misery on her face.
“He’s hurt, he’s limping—” She gulped in some air and hugged the kitten tighter. “I left him at home all alone.”
“Cats are fine alone.”
“Not this stupid cat. He took himself for a joy run along my counters, and I think he fell off. I think he broke his paw. I think—”
Her voice cracked, and he looked from Lucifer back to Lyndie, shocked to his toes to see her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Oh, baby,” he breathed.
“I know. I’m a terrible mom. I—”
“Shh.” He took Lucifer from her arms and settled him against his chest. Then he looked the cat over, frowning at the paw, which appeared unusually swollen. “I’m afraid we’ll need an X-ray for this.”
“An X-ray?”
“Come on.” He took her hand and led her back to her truck, opening the passenger side for her. He put Lucifer on her lap.
He walked back around, started the engine, and pulled onto the street before he glanced at her. “You’re really shaken if you’re letting me drive without an argument.”
“I never…” She let out a mirthless laugh.
“I never even thought about a vet.” She stared at him.
“I deal with emergencies for a living, and I got so panicked over the damn cat that isn’t even mine…
I just came to you thinking you could fix it.
The stupid cat likes you. I just drove straight over here without thinking—”
“I’m glad you came to me.”
She let out a sound that managed to perfectly convey her confusion. “I’m glad someone’s glad.”
The vet clinic was only down the road. When he pulled in and parked, he leaned toward her. “You came because some part of you wanted to see me.”
Her eyes never left his. “Maybe.”
He stroked her jaw, sank his fingers into her wild hair. God, what he’d give for another night with her. “I know you hate to ask for help.” He put his mouth to the spot beneath her ear, enjoying her quick and shallow breathing. “So I won’t ask you to admit it out loud.”
She laughed, but it seemed to back up in her throat when he cupped her face and looked into her eyes.
“And when we’re done here,” he said, “we talk. About what’s going on in your head, between us, everything.”
“Oh.” She tried to pull back. “Well, I don’t—”
“It’s time,” he said. “Past time.”
They went inside the clinic. In the waiting room, Lyndie paced while Griffin held the unhappy Lucifer.
“I should have come alone,” she muttered. “You probably had something much more important to do—”
“Nope.” He smiled without much mirth. “I’d already blown the interview with the SDFD today, and was pretty much just feeling stupid when you came knocking.”
“SDFD? You mean the San Diego Fire Department?” She looked so thrilled for him it hurt to look at her. “You’re ready?”
He lifted a shoulder.
“Oh, Griffin. I’m so glad. I didn’t think—I mean, you still haven’t really opened up about Idaho—”
“And I’m still not.”
She was still for a long moment. “I hope it works out for you.”
“Yeah.” He sighed at both the memory of the interview and at the surprising compassion and deeply ingrained memories Jake had burning in his eyes as well.
Respecting his silence, which he appreciated more than she could know, Lyndie resumed pacing.
“I don’t know how I came to this,” she grumbled a few minutes later. “So many strings: San Robledo, Nina, this damn cat.” She stopped and looked at him. “You.”
“Is this a list of things you’re attached to,” he said, “or pissed at?”
She rolled her eyes and started pacing again.
“Maybe you’re just a big softie.”
She stopped short. “That’s the biggest insult anyone’s ever given me.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “I meant that as a compliment. Stop wearing out your shoes and come over here.”
“Fine.” She plopped down into the seat next to him.
He reached out for her hand, lifting a brow when she smacked his away. “You know, I just realized something about you. Something quite fascinating, really.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You really do think you’re all alone, that all these so-called strings on your heart are only one way.”
“Oh, no, Ace,” she said on a laugh. “Don’t turn this around. This was about you.” She tapped him lightly on the nose with her finger.
“It always is when you don’t want it to be about you.” He tapped her back. “This is going to terrify you, I’m sure, but we’re all just as attached to you as you are to us.”
Her gaze flew to his, and he could see the uncertainly, the heartbreaking need to believe in what he’d just said. Cupping her face again, he leaned in and put his forehead to hers. “What do you think about that?”
“That it’s nothing a good pair of scissors wouldn’t take care of. Just one snip—” She made the motion of cutting with her hand. “And presto, we’re all set free.”
“And what would the fun be in that?”
“Fun? Fun?” She got to her feet again and tossed her hands in the air. “You think all this yo-yoing on the heartstrings is fun? You’ve been through hell and back, and you can still say that?”
Hell, yes, he opened his mouth to say, but the vet poked her head out and smiled. “Lucifer?”