Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
He stiffened, and Holly braced herself. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t his quick about-face, crossing the room, and peering out between beige curtains glowing with morning sunlight. The drapes were open just a little, and she realized it was so he could look out without moving them.
“Get dressed,” he said, quietly. “Now.”
She sat there and gawped, the latte hot against her fingers.
“Did you hear me?” At least he didn’t sound irritated, just thoughtful. “Get up and get dressed, Holly.”
“What is it?” I sound like I’ve been punched. Breathless, and her hand began to tremble.
“Get moving.” His face changed, just a little.
If she asked any more stupid questions he might decide to leave her behind. Holly scrambled off the bed, almost dropping the latte.
He was still there when she tore the bathroom door open, buttoning up her jeans. Sunlight striped half his face; he glanced at her and she couldn’t decipher his expression. Was he angry? Was this a game? A teaching exercise?
“Brush your teeth and use the restroom if you want.” His left hand had knotted into a fist. He shook his fingers out, relaxing slightly. “We have a few minutes. I just don’t like the way it looks out there.”
You don’t like... Holly shook her head. He was probably crazy; hell, she was probably crazy, too. But there was that terrible little word, hanging in her head.
Collateral. As in damage.
Seven minutes later he pressed the latte back into her hands. “You need the caffeine. Let’s go.”
“Will you even tell me what’s going on?” Not that she held out any particular hope in that area, really.
“We might be blown, I don’t know.”
“Blown? What is blown?” Holly realized what a dumb-ass question it was about two seconds too late.
Reese paused for just a second, opened the door. “The only thing you need to worry about is doing what I tell you.”
“Great.” Given the alternative, though...
That was just it. She didn’t have any other option. At least, not one she could arrive at without a whole lot of heavy-duty thinking she hadn’t had time for, what with getting drugged and passing out.
Reese didn’t bother getting offended. “I’m going to take care of you.”
There’s a lot of things that could mean. She dropped her gaze, stared at the carpet—cheap nylon, again, but a slightly higher grade. Blue, with little flecks of gold and brown. “Okay.”
“You have no idea what that means, I guess.” Reese wasn’t looking at her; he was giving the hall a good once-over.
I guess not. She set the coffee down on the rickety, completely useless table by the door. Hitched her backpack, with its small assortment of hurriedly packed stuff, higher on her shoulder. Followed him out and tried not to let the logical extension of that line of thought loose inside her head.
Do what I tell you, it’ll all be fine. She’d heard that before. From Dad, sometimes, when he didn’t want her to worry, even when he started losing weight and the sickness crept over him in inches, his body consuming itself, the stack of medical bills growing higher and higher.
At least Holly was avoiding that. She wouldn’t leave a single debt behind.
No, what bothered her was that she’d heard it most recently from Phillip. After we get me through med school, it’ll all come together. I’ll take care of you.
And look at how well that had turned out.
* * *
They took the stairs, and it wasn’t until they were in the car driving away that Reese seemed to relax a little, checking the rearview and side mirrors every few seconds. Holly’s hands clenched together in her lap, tighter and tighter.
Especially when the cop cars, their lights on but sirens silent, zoomed past them going the opposite direction.
“Sloppy,” Reese muttered. “No grid, I’ll bet.”
She could barely get the air in to talk. “Is that good?”
“Could mean they’re grasping at straws. Could be a convenience store robbery in the area, they go silent for those. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but better safe than sorry, right?”
“Right.” How would anyone know where we are? She tried to make her fingers unclench.
They wouldn’t, unless they have ways of finding out, and that...
“Calm down, Holly. We’ll stop in a couple towns to get you more coffee. Caffeine withdrawal headaches aren’t fun.” He checked the rearview again, following signs for the freeway. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“That’s awfully nice.” What was she supposed to say, to that? “But, you know, it already has. Happened, I mean.” More than you know.
“True.” He sighed. The sound seemed to catch him by surprise, too. His right hand reached over, and he threaded his warm fingers into the knot her hands had become. “I’m... sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry you’re with me. I would have kept working, and coming to see you, long as I could.”
The silence between them was a balloon again, this time full of crowding, jostling, whirling questions. Her stomach flipped, repeated the trick.
Was she going to start another round of dry heaving?
“Holly.” Now he sounded very far away. “Breathe.”
I’m trying to. Was this it? All the stress finally swooping down to finish her off?
Ironic. Really ironic.
Reese hit the turn signal, the car plunging off the main road. A residential section full of autumn-painted trees swallowed them. The houses were small, though with plenty of breathing room; this wasn’t quite a city, and the hotel was only there because the interstate ran right nearby.
Her brain refused to work. There wasn’t enough air, she kept making a funny little whistling sound when she tried to inhale.
“Crap.” The car swerved to the curb; he hit the parking brake and his seat belt’s catch. “Holly. Breathe.”
His hand slid free of hers. Holly shut her eyes, trying to figure out where all the air had gone. A burst of cold from her left side—he’d opened the driver’s door.
When he opened hers, she almost, almost had her lungs back under control. His hot, callused fingers pressed against her forehead, and the smell of damp rainy autumn swirled around her.
“Shh, sweetheart.” He had her seat belt off too, and Holly was glad, because it meant she could lean over and retch.
There was nothing in her stomach but a swallow of coffee. Bile scorched the back of her throat. She gasped, tears welling between her eyelids, and Reese was talking to her again, low and urgent.
“It’s all right, baby. I’m right here, nothing’s going to hurt you. Try to breathe. I’m right here, Holly. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
No, it’s not. She hadn’t had one of these since the divorce papers arrived, the blank-faced process server mumbling as he shoved them into her numb arms—
She grabbed onto the thought. Panic attack. You know what to do. She brought her hand up to her mouth, got a good grip on the skin on the back of her wrist, and bit down, hard.
“Christ!” Now Reese sounded worried, though there was really nothing for him to be concerned about. “Holly? Don’t, Jesus, don’t hurt yourself!”
The pain jolted her, interrupted the spiraling panic. Which broke in a gush of sweat, her heart thundering in her ears so hard she could barely hear him. At least now she could breathe, even though the world had narrowed to a single fuzzy point of light.
We’re worried about your tests, Dr. Gregory had said.
We want to run a few more. The walls were paper thin in that medical suite; she’d already heard him and the tall, queenly female doctor passing back and forth terms that weren’t cryptic at all when you’d helped your husband prep for med-school tests.
Or when you’d heard the same thing from the doctors as your father died by inches in front of you.
Things like elevated counts and swollen lymph nodes and prejaundice and insulinomas, too, look at this.
Holly listening, alternately hot and cold, knowledge a live coal inside her chest. Pancreas.
Virtually asymptomatic in the beginning.
The nausea, the back pain, the digestive problems when she could eat—she was lucky to have escaped jaundice, really, you couldn’t hide turning yellow.
She came back to herself slowly, leaning forward. Her forehead was against something warm, and someone was holding her. It felt nice.
Safe.
He smelled good. No cologne, just clean healthy male. She hadn’t been this close to anyone in a long, long time. He was still talking, low and soothing.
“—sweetheart, I promise it’ll be better. I’ll make it better. Just relax. Just breathe nice and easy, baby, and everything will get better. I’m right here.”
How does he know what to say? The truth was, she’d been waiting all her life to hear that sort of thing. It was a damn shame it had to come from him. Reese probably wasn’t a bad person, but her life was gone. Completely thrown out the window.
Again. How much bad luck could one woman have before she decided to just step away from it all? Like leaving your slippers next to the bed. Goodbye, so long, don’t write, don’t call, just forget there had ever been a Holly Rachel Candless.
“I...” She coughed; her mouth tasted awful.
He had her upright, somehow, and they were under a giant oak that had already lost its leaves.
The houses here didn’t have fenced yards, merging their greenery in companionable tangles.
Were there people inside, wondering what these strangers were doing?
“Reese.” A croak. Had she thrown up? She didn’t taste it, but her abdomen ached so badly.
“I’m right here. You’re safe.”
No, I’m not. She straightened, found her balance.
He didn’t want to let go, maybe thinking she’d fall over, but Holly pushed until he did.
“You should just leave me here.” She sounded surprisingly steady, she supposed.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sick, Reese. Really sick, and it won’t matter if they do.
.. whatever it is they’re going to do to me.
I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry. ”
“What?” He glanced up, checking the street behind her. “I’m not going to let them catch either of us.” A dark, level gaze, and of all the things he could do, he chose to brush a few fallen strands of hair from her face. “What makes you think you’re sick?”
“Look, just leave me here.” She was shaky and exhausted now, even though she’d slept so heavily. “Okay? I’m not going to—”
“No.” His eyebrows drew together. He inhaled, sniffing, and she stared. “Nothing wrong with your charts but some anemia and severe stress. Panic attacks are normal when anxiety spikes, and you’re under stress. Your blood pressure’s low, too. You shouldn’t be on your feet all day.”
How do you know? Do you have medical training, too? It was probably in that stupid file, her life pinned on the wall like a butterfly. “Reese, stop. Just leave me here.”
“Get in the car.” He pushed her shoulders, gently but irresistibly, and Holly half fell into the passenger. “You start feeling like that again, we’ll pull over. For now, drink some of the Gatorade. Your electrolytes are all out of whack.”
With that, he swing the door shut and strode around the front of the car. A high blush from the chill on his cheeks, and even though he was wearing yesterday’s clothes he looked like a young professional out for a Sunday drive with a nauseous friend.
Was it Sunday? She didn’t even know what day of the week they were at.
Reese dropped into the driver’s seat, buckled up, and the car roused softly. He stared out the windshield for a few moments, and Holly was suddenly certain he was going to say, You’re right, you’re deadweight I don’t need, get out.
It would serve her right, too. All of this had happened because she’d selfishly wanted to feel normal and go out to coffee. She should have turned him down, shut him off, found another job, pulled away, done what she knew she was going to have to eventually do.
“I want you to listen to me,” he said, finally, very quietly. “Are you?”
There’s nobody else talking. “Yes.”
“I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m selfish. I should have left you alone, but I didn’t.” He nodded slightly, as if she’d agreed. “I’m not going to. Drink some Gatorade, now. We’re going far today.”
He wasn’t going to listen. Holly slumped in the seat, her head throbbing.
We want to do some more tests, Dr. Gregory had said.
She’d agreed, nodded through scheduling future visits, and never gone back.
Paid the bill for the initial appointment when it arrived, even though it took her down to quarters and chewing gum for the rest of that month. No insurance meant couldn’t afford it.
It’s expensive to add someone else, Phillip had said, even though he was covered through his school. Why bother when I can just treat you? We can use the money elsewhere.
You didn’t need a weathervane to know about the wind, Dad always said. And when she got home there was Phillip at the table, just waiting to drop the bombshell. How he must have nerved himself up to it.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Even being selfish over a goddamn coffee date was irrelevant. It all ended up in the same place, and her condition had been steadily worsening for a while now. She didn’t have much time left; it occurred to her that Reese was bound to have a weapon handy.
If a woman got desperate enough, she could do anything. So Holly closed her eyes, and let him drive.