Isaiah #2
Shit. Maybe I should cancel and blame it on the roads.
But Kaine had asked me to come and I wouldn’t say no to him.
Not after he’d finally let me back into his life.
He wanted to meet Genevieve and it wasn’t possible for him to come down here.
Piper was about six months pregnant, they had two-year-old twin boys, and they needed to be in their home.
Which left me with no choice. Somehow, I’d get Genevieve to Lark Cove and suffer through the many miles to do it.
“I’ll text you when I’m ready to come home.”
“’Kay.” I closed the door for her, then walked to my truck.
The drive through town was uneventful and quiet. There weren’t many cars out yet and those that were took the roads carefully. I idled outside the firm as Genevieve parked in the lot. I waved as she disappeared inside, then went to the garage and got to work.
As expected, it was a slow day. Emmett and I flipped a coin to see who’d take the one oil change we had on the schedule—I lost. Then we watched Leo do some freestyle pinstripes on the Lincoln in the paint booth. The man had a damn gift.
I barely blinked as he created orange and red flames set against gleaming black on the car’s tail fins. I was so consumed with his brushstrokes, I nearly missed my phone vibrating in my pocket.
Genevieve’s name flashed on the screen. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon.
“Hey,” I answered, stepping out of the booth.
“Will you come get me? I don’t feel good.”
“Be there in five.” I walked for the office door, not wasting even a second to punch out. With the snow and freezing temperatures, we’d cranked the heat in the shop and kept the bay doors closed, only opening them to pull a car inside or back it out.
“What’s up?” Presley asked from her desk.
“I need to go get Genevieve.”
“Everything okay?”
“She’s sick.” And I shouldn’t have let her leave this morning.
I whipped the door open and stepped into the cold, jogging for my truck. The snow had returned. The wind had picked up, turning the loose flakes into miniature ice daggers that bit into my cheeks as I climbed into the truck.
The streets were slicker than they’d been this morning. I took a corner too fast and the end of my pickup fishtailed. I eased off the gas a bit even though all I wanted was to speed to the firm. I parked on the street, leaving the engine running as I hustled inside.
Genevieve was leaning against the reception desk. Her face was pale, her eyes red. She wore her purse like it weighed fifty pounds.
“I’ll take it.” I slipped the handbag from her shoulder, slinging it over mine.
“Feel better,” the receptionist told Genevieve while giving me a once-over. I hadn’t come inside their office before.
“Thanks, Gayle,” Genevieve murmured. “See you tomorrow.”
“No, she won’t,” I corrected. She was getting a long night’s sleep and staying in bed tomorrow. She was so weak she could barely lift her feet. I pressed a hand to her forehead. “You’re hot.”
She gave me a little smile. “Is that why you were checking me out this morning?”
“Come on.” I opened the door for her, ushering her outside.
“Brr. That’s miserable.” She shivered. “Will you dig my keys from my purse?”
“I’ll drive.”
Like I should have done this morning. There was no way she was getting behind a wheel on these roads and with her being sick. I led her to the truck and opened the door to help her inside.
The moment I closed her in, my stomach dropped.
Fuck, I couldn’t do this. How was I supposed to do this?
You don’t have a choice.
Genevieve had to get home. And I sure as fuck couldn’t call someone to come and help. How many questions would that raise? Why couldn’t I drive my wife home from work when she was sick?
I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat and sucked in some oxygen, forcing the panic away. Then I walked around the truck, one step at a time, and climbed inside, focusing on each individual action.
I shut the door. I buckled my seat belt. I went to turn on the key but remembered the truck was already running. I put my foot on the brake. I shifted into drive.
Step by step.
I focused on driving. And not once did I look over at Genevieve. When she shifted, I blocked out the movement from the corner of my eye. I watched the road. I kept both hands on the steering wheel.
And at the one and only stop sign on the way home, I sat there, checking left and right, then right and left again, just to make sure no one would come sliding through the intersection.
Finally, when we pulled into the parking lot and I eased into her space by the office, I breathed. I blinked. I pried my fingers off the steering wheel and shut down the truck. Then, only then, did I look over at Genevieve as she leaned against the door, nearly asleep.
“Why was that hard for you?” she whispered.
Because you’re you.
She was important. She was special and precious.
And I had the power to destroy her.
I avoided answering by escaping into the frigid cold. I rounded the hood and opened her door, catching her as she nearly fell out. “Whoa.”
“Sorry. I’m a little dizzy.” She swayed as she found her feet. There was no way she’d make it up the stairs.
I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. “I’ve got you.”
“I can walk.”
“Liar,” I teased.
She let her forehead drop to my shoulder. “I hate it.”
“Being sick?” I asked, jerking my chin when I caught sight of Presley in the window to the office.
“No. Being a liar.”
“I was joking, doll.”
“I know. But it’s still true.”
At the top of the stairs, I had to set her down to get the keys out of my pocket and open the door, then I scooped her right up again.
I let all reservation fly out the window as I carried her to bed.
I set her down on the edge and knelt to unzip her boots.
I helped her shimmy out of her skirt and into a pair of my sweatpants.
I pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her bra on as I grabbed a T-shirt from the closet and yanked it over her hair.
“I’m going to go and get you some medicine.” I yanked the covers back and guided her underneath.
“There’s some NyQuil in the bathroom.” She cuddled into the pillow I’d slept on last night. “Under the sink. It’s probably expired but it’ll do.”
I hustled to find it. It was a month past expiration, but it had to be better than nothing. I came back, helping her sit up to take a swig.
“Blech.” She stuck out her tongue. “Water.”
“On it.” I got her a glass and helped her take a drink. “What else?”
“Will you lie with me?” Her eyes were closed. She’d be out in minutes.
“Sure.” I kicked off my boots and pulled off my sweatshirt. It smelled like metal from the garage and the wind from outside. Then I lay on top of the covers as she burrowed beneath.
“Thank you for coming to get me.”
“No problem.”
“I hope you don’t get sick too. I’m probably contagious.”
“I’ll be fine.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep.”
She nodded. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Me too. Now sleep.”
“You’re my best friend.” She spoke with her eyes closed, almost as if she were dreaming.
She was definitely delirious from the fever.
“I haven’t had a best friend since fifth grade.
Her name was Mandi. We had brass heart necklaces.
You know, where one person has half a heart and the other has the other half. ”
“Yeah. Now go to sleep.”
“Who’s your best friend?” she chattered on.
“You,” I admitted. Maybe if I answered her stream of crazy questions, she’d fall asleep.
“No, before me.”
“Kaine.”
“Your brother doesn’t count. He’s family. Otherwise I would have said my mom. Who else?”
I gulped. The truth would lead to more questions but I wouldn’t lie—not to her. “Shannon.”
Genevieve’s lashes lifted. Those dark eyes, so beautiful, sank right into my soul, stirring feelings I’d thought were buried in Bozeman. “Who’s Shannon?”
“Go to sleep, doll. Please?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. The questions stopped. Her breathing evened out. And when I knew she was out for good, I shifted on the bed to make myself more comfortable.
I took out my phone and texted Presley that I was done for the day. She texted back that she’d clock me out and let Dash know.
Genevieve would probably sleep for hours. She’d be fine if I went to the shop, but I wasn’t leaving her alone. Not today. So I closed my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.
I dreamed of a woman with dark brown hair and a gorgeous smile she didn’t use often enough. I dreamed of her whispering in the dark that she needed me.
I dreamed of my wife.
Until that dream turned into a nightmare, one where Genevieve sat limp in the passenger seat of a car as blood trickled down the side of her mouth.
And those expressive eyes I loved lost all their light.