CHAPTER 8
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“Y ou’re doing great , Mrs. Henderson,” Mallory said, carefully swapping out vials while she drew the older woman’s blood. It was Saturday afternoon, and the ER was a madhouse. Screaming children and the wails of those in pain echoed around her, but she was focused on the patient in front of her. When she first became a nurse, she thought she’d hear the noise. Now it merely provided a soundtrack to her career, the din blending into the beige wallpaper.
“You’re so sweet, dear,” the older woman said, voice shaky with fatigue. “When Gerald told me I wasn’t looking right, I hoped you’d be the nurse today.”
Mallory carefully removed the needle and folded Mrs. Henderson’s arm up. “Keep this elevated for just a minute while I grab a bandage. How are you feeling?” She wasn’t happy with the pallor of her skin, and Mallory snagged a small bottle of orange juice. “Why don’t you sip on this for a moment?”
Mallory peeled a bandage off and placed it over the puncture mark. Mrs. Henderson gleefully sipped her drink and mused to her husband, “Free juice, Gerald. Isn’t this just so nice?”
The older man huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “That juice is hardly free.”
Mallory stifled a grin and handed the man his own juice. “Don’t tell anyone,” she teased with a wink. Turning back to her patient, she directed her on next steps before ducking back into the chaos of the ER.
Janis, one of the receptionists, met her with a stack of bedding. “We need new sheets in room seven, and the gentleman in room twelve has been asking for you since he arrived. We stopped the bleeding, but he’s insisting on seeing you.”
Mallory swapped her armful for Janis’s and thanked her. “Is this a new patient, or the same gentleman with the head injury?”
Janis took the case of blood vials and shook her head. “No, this is a new guy. Martha tried to help him, but when he heard you were working, he asked for you.”
Mallory had no idea what was going on, but she wouldn’t waste her time arguing with poor Janis. The woman was the messenger, and it wasn’t her fault that patients got attached. Even sweet Mrs. Henderson was a prime example. The woman had type 2 Diabetes and heart disease, coming into the hospital nearly monthly when she lost track of her medications. They’d built a rapport over the years, and Mallory enjoyed their interactions—although she wished the older woman took better care of herself.
As Mallory approached room twelve, a second thought hit her. There were patients who took their interactions as more than a nurse helping a patient. They read too much into a caring glance or a smile. She really hoped it wasn’t one of those instances, because the thought of a handsy patient made her blood boil. She was too busy for nonsense today.
Pushing the door open, Mallory glanced to the white board on the wall for the patient’s name before she addressed him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fox,” she said, feet faltering as she walked straight into the dresser. Spinning on her heels, she came face to face with Beckett. The man had clearly seen better days. “Beckett? Oh, my God.”
Years of training suddenly forgotten, Mallory rushed to his bedside and inventoried his injuries. There were a few scrapes on his cheeks, his red hair was mussed and disheveled, and he looked exhausted. White bandages covered his left arm while his right ankle was elevated and iced.
“Hey, Mal,” he said, smile crooked and eyes tired. He lifted his right hand in a wave but grimaced as soon as he moved.
“What happened? Are you in pain?” She swept her gaze up and down his frame until his cheeks turned crimson.
“It really is better than it looks. I had a bit of an accident on the farm.”
Mallory eased onto the edge of the bed, taking his uninjured hand in hers and squeezing it harder than she should. “Why were you back at the farm? What happened?”
Beckett lifted a shoulder and sighed. “There’s a lot I need to get ready before I put it on the market, and I didn’t have plans today, so I thought I’d get cracking. Turns out that using a nail gun on a loose shutter while standing on an old rusty ladder is a recipe for disaster.” He chuckled, but it was humorless.
Mallory’s heart clenched. “You’re not doing that alone,” she ordered, shaking her head. “Evan or I will help. It’s too dangerous.”
Beckett groaned. “I can handle it. The realtor said there’s some cosmetic fixes I should do before I sell, and I thought I’d save a few bucks.”
Mallory lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles, the movement second nature. “I’m glad you’re all right.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. The beeping of machines kept time with her racing heart.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Beckett said, his voice hoarse. “But when I got in the car and headed toward the hospital, I wanted to see you.”
“You drove here?” she asked, aghast. It was bad enough the man was reckless, but to drive himself was a step too far. “Let me see that,” she said, pulling back far enough to see his chart. After flipping the pages back and forth, she gasped and flicked his elbow on instinct.
Beckett yelped and cradled his arm to his chest, a surge of guilt washing over her. “Oh hell, I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, Beckett coughed. “Next time, I’ll drive to Buckeye Falls General.”
Mallory flinched as if she’d been slapped. While a perfectly fine hospital, it was hardly the state-of-the-art establishment they currently sat in. Columbus had the funds that Buckeye Falls did not, and it showed here in the healthcare industry.
“Next time, you’re bringing me to help.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she caught a smile at her inviting herself along.
“Yes, Nurse Lawson.” He raised his free hand to salute, but Mallory snatched it before he could put it down.
With a steady hand, she peeled the corner of the bandage free and frowned. Glancing back at the chart, she saw one of her coworkers had done the work. While a nice person, Nurse Martha was hardly known for her tight wrapping skills. “I’m going to get this cleaned again and rewrap it. Looks like Dr. Shuptar wants to discharge you before the shift change.”
“And when’s that?” Beckett asked, his eyes pinched shut.
“How bad is it?” Mallory washed her hands, pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, and returned with supplies. When the old bandage was removed, she saw a quarter inch wound right through the center of his hand, black stitching holding the skin together. “Oh, my God,” she wailed. “You literally shot yourself with the nail gun?”
Beckett winced. “Yes? When the ladder fell out from under me, I was in the middle of nailing the shutter into place. I guess I shot myself on the way back to Earth.” He said it like it was common, to shoot a nail through your hand while hanging from a second-story window.
“You’re lucky you won’t have permanent damage.”
“That’s what I said,” Dr. Shuptar said as he entered the room. He pulled out a pair of glasses from his coat pocket and perched them on the edge of his nose. “Mr. Fox, it looks like the scans were clear, so you’re good to go. No permanent ligament damage, and you missed all the bones. I guess if you had to shoot yourself in the hand, you did it the right way.” He paused long enough to chuckle at his own joke. “Do you have anyone who can pick you up? I’d like you to rest that hand and ankle for a few days before you drive.”
Mallory didn’t hesitate. “I’m taking him home.”
Dr. Shuptar raised a dark eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. “My word, Nurse Lawson. I know you are praised for your bedside manner, but this goes above and beyond.”
“We’re friends,” Beckett said, jumping to her defense. “Mallory wouldn’t just take random guys home.” He paused a moment before adding, “I think.” That earned him a covert elbow pinch, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“My shift is done in thirty minutes. I’m happy to drive Mr. Fox home.”
After scrawling a couple of notes on the chart, Dr. Shuptar took off his glasses and rested his hands on his hips. “Then you’re good to go. Make sure you have someone monitor you tonight, in case you did hit your head on the way down. The scans looked clear, but with potential concussions, we like to follow a strict protocol.”
“I’ll spend the night,” Mallory said, unable to stop the words from pouring out. Lord, she’d thought about that invitation a lot over the years, but obviously under different circumstances. Concussion watch was far less stimulating than she’d like it to be, but a girl can’t have everything. Making sure Beckett lived was her top priority, her own feelings be damned.
The doctor seemed satisfied, nodding and backing out of the room. “You’re in good hands, Mr. Fox.”
As soon as they were alone, Mallory met Beckett’s gaze. “I can call Evan, Mal. You really don’t need to trouble yourself. And what about Fernando?”
Mention of her cat warmed her for a moment before she flinched at his unwillingness to spend time with her. “First of all, he’s a cat and he’ll survive a day on his own. And second, you obviously haven’t checked your phone.” She busied herself with tidying up the room, throwing out the old bandages and jotting her own notes on the chart. Her hand trembled as she documented the wound.
Beckett scoffed and wiggled his limbs. “I’ve been a little busy today.”
Mallory straightened and sighed. “Then I guess I’ll be the one to share the good news. Evan couldn’t wait and popped the question this morning at the diner. I imagine he’ll be a little busy celebrating with CeCe tonight.”
When she’d gotten Evan’s text, she truly was happy. It was a selfie of him and CeCe in the diner’s kitchen, matching smiles on their faces. Held in the foreground of the picture was CeCe’s hand, Nana’s ring shining for all the world to see. Mallory was happy for her brother, and for CeCe. The woman had become family the minute they met, and she looked forward to having her in her life permanently. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still bitter about the ring, and her own cowardice at not sharing her feelings with her brother.
“Oh, wow. Go Lawless,” was all Beckett said before nudging her with his toe. “How are you handling this?”
Mallory blinked a few times, willing the tears not to fall. “I’m thrilled for them. Evan’s been in love with CeCe since they met, and I cannot think of a better partner for him.”
Beckett sighed. “I’m happy for them too, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.”
What Beckett could not possibly understand was that she was disappointed, but not only because of the ring. This engagement marked the beginning of Mallory’s spinster stage. When Evan was single, it was the two of them against the world—or at least their family’s meddling. Last year, her best friend Alice had faked a relationship with her current boyfriend for the same reasons, to get people off her back. Funny enough, it turned out she and James really liked each other and the rest was history.
But Mallory wasn’t Alice, and she needed to figure out a way to move beyond her girlhood crush on Beckett. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until she took him back to his place and made sure he didn’t die in the middle of the night from an undiagnosed head injury. Ah, the life of a nurse...
Mallory checked the time on the wall clock and said, “Give me twenty minutes to check in with my last patient. I’ll come by to get you.”
Beckett shook his head. “I can call an Uber and—”
She silenced him with a firm shake of the head. “You’re not calling anything. I’m taking you home, and that’s final.” She turned and headed for the door before adding, “And you’ll have to leave in a wheelchair. Hospital policy.”
“Oh boy, a free ride.” Beckett chuckled.
Mallory left, letting the door close behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, willing herself to calm down and focus on the patients who needed her. She could handle a car ride and a night with Beckett. It was purely for medical purposes, and she was a professional, dammit.
Nothing would happen, just like nothing ever seemed to happen between them. This wasn’t a movie where the heroine nursed the hero back to health. This was reality with a stupid man who took a careless risk. Mallory would keep him safe, and while she was at it, she’d protect herself. There were not enough stitches in all of Ohio to close the gaping wound on her heart, and she couldn’t afford to open it again. Even for Beckett Fox.
*
“A re you sure this is necessary?” Beckett asked, wiggling in the wheelchair as Mallory pushed him into the fading twilight. The hush that surrounded them was in stark contrast to the chaotic melody of the ER. He couldn’t believe he’d spent the whole day in the hospital.
The accident had been a careless moment, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy with the result. Well, he wasn’t happy about having a hole in his hand and a sprained ankle, but he was thrilled to have some quality time with Mallory. Frankly, this seemed a small price to pay.
“Quit your whining,” she ordered as she parked him at the edge of the sidewalk. She pushed her foot down on the brake and held her hand out. “Keys, please.”
“What about your car?” he asked, not wanting to put her out more than she already was. Just like any other time he needed her, Mallory didn’t hesitate. She offered her time, herself, freely. It was one of many qualities he loved about her.
Mallory shrugged. “I’m in staff parking, so it’s free. You’re probably getting charged a million dollars an hour while we argue.” She wagged her hand in front of him again and added, “Keys, please.”
Beckett reached into his pocket and handed her the keys. “It’s the—”
“Gray Honda with the World of Warcraft bumper sticker?” She finished his thought, making him both smile and grimace.
“I swear, as soon as I upgrade, the sticker is gone.”
Mallory seemed undeterred. “You’re not the only gamer in Ohio, Beckett.”
“Yeah, but I’m pushing thirty and don’t want to look like a nerd.”
Mallory blinked, her expression shifting to serious. “But you are a nerd, and I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed about.”
A surge of warmth coursed through him at her words, but that fire was quickly doused when she added, “And isn’t Henry Cavill like a huge gamer?”
“I’ll be here,” he muttered, leaning back in the wheelchair and throwing his head back in the most dramatic fashion he could muster. If he looked like Superman, he probably wouldn’t be driving an old beater car and be single.
A few minutes later, they were in his car and merging onto the highway. “You want to go back to your apartment or the farm house?” She gestured toward the fork in the freeway ahead of them.
Beckett quickly mulled over his options. If he went back to his apartment, there wasn’t as much room. The farm house had his grandparents’ bed, plus the couch in the living room. By contrast, his apartment had his new IKEA sofa and double bed. Neither of those seemed particularly appealing.
If he was being honest, Beckett wanted Mallory back at the farm house with him, even if just for the night. She hadn’t seen the upgrades he and Gramps did before the cancer took over, and he wanted to show off his handiwork. Although his handiwork was also the reason they were in this mess, so she might not be that impressed.
“Um, I kind of need to make a decision here,” she said, lightly tapping the brakes as their exits approached.
“Farm house,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t regret the decision.
He wasn’t certain, but he thought he caught Mallory smiling at his directions. Maybe the house held a little magic for her as well.
The Fox family farm was nestled halfway between Columbus and Buckeye Falls. Low rolling hills surrounded the property, which used to be a sheep farm with orchards. As a kid, Beckett’s father grew up sheering sheep with his father while his mother tended to groves and groves of apples and peaches. But Mike Fox wasn’t cut from the same cloth as his parents. While his parents liked the quiet lifestyle, he chafed at the responsibility and bland routine.
Mike met Beckett’s mother, Alison, on one of his many trips down to Cincinnati. They bonded over their shared desire to make it in the world, and quickly fell pregnant with Beckett. They were young and broke, so moving into the small guest house on the farm was their best option.
Beckett didn’t have a lot of memories of his parents as a kid, mostly because they pawned him off on his grandparents every chance they got. His father took odd jobs all over Ohio to keep busy, and more importantly for him out of his family’s hair. Alison was never really at home with the Foxes, but Beckett had a few memories of them together. When he was getting ready for Kindergarten, they’d played hide and seek in the orchard.
“Come on, Beckett,” she’d teased, sprinting between rows of apple trees, their limbs heavy with the upcoming harvest. “You have thirty seconds to find me...”
“Should we get something to eat on the way?” Mallory asked, shaking Beckett from his trip down Memory Lane. “Or do you have food at the farm house?”
Beckett shook his head and adjusted his placement in the passenger seat. His ankle throbbed, but he was grateful it wasn’t broken. “No, there’s only a case of bottled water and random things. You want to get some Frizz and Freeze?”
Mallory beamed. “Oh, my God, do they still have the malt shakes with the pretzel straws?”
“Pfft, if they don’t, I’m not going.” Without thinking, he reached out and rested his hand over her knee. He wanted to be closer to her, to share in a memory that wasn’t tainted with his parents’ abandonment. Mallory didn’t pull back, but her leg jerked under his touch, causing the car to briefly lurch forward. Even in the fading light, he saw a flush creep up her neck.
Parking the car right outside the entrance to the old shop, Mallory turned and pointed. “You stay put. Unless you’ve developed a food allergy, I know what you’re getting.”
Beckett smirked. “You think you remember the whole order?” He was goading her, but he didn’t care. Back when they were kids, the three of them would ride their bikes to Frizz and Freeze and load up on chili fries, malt shakes, and whatever else they could scarf down on their limited allowances.
“This ain’t my first rodeo,” she said over her shoulder as she closed the door and strode ahead.
Even in her rumpled scrubs, she was a vision. Her dark hair had been styled into a complicated braid that trailed down her spine. Beckett was sure she didn’t know she was doing it, but her hips swayed as she walked, the motion far too appealing. After a quick glance around the parking lot, Beckett was relieved not to see any other men checking her out. They’d be fools not to, but he was greedy and wanted Mallory—and her swaying hips—all to himself.
Ten minutes later, Mallory appeared with two paper bags and a drink caddy weighed down with cups. He couldn’t fight the smile on his lips as she opened his door and handed him one of the bags. “Don’t even think about sneaking a fry without me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He was a liar. As soon as her back was turned, he opened the bag and shoved three fries in his mouth.
In his haste to quickly chew and swallow before she got in the car, he started to choke. Mallory slid into place and pulled a cup from the paper tray. “I should have known,” she chastised him. “Here’s your double cherry pop with a lime twist.”
The concoction was basically Diabetes in a cup. It was their house-made soda with enough sugar syrups to rot anyone’s teeth. Beckett slugged down the sugary drink until his coughs subsided. “Thanks,” he muttered, totally busted, lips tinged red with his crime.
“I told you,” she sing-songed while pulling back to the main road. In a matter of minutes, they were driving down the farm’s long driveway. “I can’t wait to see it in the light. It’s been ages,” she said, mostly to herself.
Beckett wanted to give her the grand tour, or as much as his foot would allow. The crutches the doctor gave him rattled in the back seat, and he was incredibly grateful to Mallory for helping him home. If he didn’t think the admission would cause him to burst into tears, he would tell Mallory how scared he was when he first fell. He had called out for Gramps, forgetting in the heat of the moment that no one was there for him. It felt comforting to have Mallory with him now, but he promised himself he wouldn’t get used to it.
“All right,” Mallory said on a sigh. “We’re here.” She put his car in park and opened the door. Sidestepping the fallen ladder, Mallory quickly retrieved the nail gun and tossed it closer to the house. Just as she reached the car, thunder barked overhead. She yelped before scurrying over to his door. “Let me get the crutches. I’ll handle the food.” Her hands shook as she handed him the poles, her face drawn tight.
“I’ll get the door. It’ll be okay,” he promised. Mallory was tough, the bravest person he knew. But she was also petrified of thunderstorms. The last thing he wanted to do was make her anxious when she was already doing so much for him. Was already doing everything for him...
“Thanks.” Her gratitude came out in a whisper, but she was fast on her feet. By the time Beckett hopped up the three porch stairs, she was on his heels with their food and her purse. A flash of lightning aided his efforts to find the keyhole, and they were inside before the first raindrop fell.
Once over the threshold, Beckett directed Mallory to the kitchen with their bounty. “I’ll lock up and join you.”
While Mallory plated their meal, Beckett kicked off his shoes and eased back onto the crutches. When he reached the kitchen, his breath caught at the tableau before him. Mallory had turned on the lights under the cabinets, bringing a soft light to the space. A lock of chocolate curls fell from her braid, tickling her cheek as she set out their food. Her pale cheeks flushed to a rosy hue from her sprint inside, and the color reminded him of peaches at harvest time.
If Beckett died right now and went to heaven, he was certain this was the sight that would greet him beyond the pearly gates. Gramps’s words rang through his head on a loop, the chant growing louder the closer he got to Mallory.
Go get your girl... Go get your girl...
“I thought we could share the—” Her words faltered at the sound of his crutches clattering to the floor.
Before he could overthink things, before he could talk himself out of this, Beckett made his move. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, cupping her cheeks and swiping the rogue lock of hair away with his thumb. “Is that okay?”
Mallory barely nodded before his lips crashed down on hers. She tasted like the mint of her chewing gum, bright and fresh. A tiny moan escaped her, but he swallowed it and angled her head so he could deepen the kiss. Her lips were soft beneath his, and he savored the warmth of her body as she pressed close. Hands roaming, she clutched his T-shirt and stayed flush against him. This was the best kiss of his life.
Every nerve ending was on fire, every cell in his body cheering that he was where he needed to be—here with Mallory.
A crack of thunder sounded above them, causing Mallory to flinch and pull back slightly. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he held her in place. “It’s okay, just a little storm.”
She nodded, bringing a hand to her mouth. Her lips were swollen from kissing, and he deflated with relief when she smiled. Just as he was about to pull her close, another sound interrupted them. His stomach growled so loudly, he was surprised it didn’t drown out the rain falling on the tin roof.
“We should eat,” Mallory said, making no move to pull free.
“We should,” Beckett agreed, but he wasn’t done kissing her yet. Starting slowly, he kissed the corner of her mouth before trailing downward toward her neck. Mallory’s head fell back, exposing the pale skin and providing access to more of her—to all of her.
This wasn’t their first kiss, and Beckett promised himself it wouldn’t be their last. He’d finally gotten a taste of Mallory again, and much like the double cherry pop, he was far from done. He craved her, needed her in his life. Perhaps this injury provided the perfect scenario for them to reconcile. No matter what happened next, Beckett was certain of one thing.
He was going to do Gramps proud. He was going to get his girl. She was here, all he had to do was keep her.