39. Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Jonathan
J onathan ignored the sinking sensation in his gut as he washed the dirt and grime from his ravaged body. Since watching the ambulance drive off, he’d been replaying the incident over and over in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of Lucy falling into that river, nor could he refute the fact that it was his fault that she did.
Instead of protecting her, remaining attentive to her safety, he’d allowed the terror to wash over him. If he hadn’t frozen on that bridge, she wouldn’t have turned around and slipped.
He didn’t protect her. She deserved better than someone who puts his own well-being ahead of hers. Someone who can swallow their own fear and do what needs to be done.
I’m a coward, and it nearly killed her.
Jonathan was the wrong person for Lucy and he had to end things. Immediately. And while he was dreading the look on her face when he said goodbye, he knew ripping off the bandage and cutting ties as soon as possible was the best thing for her. She’d go home, get some distance from him, and it wouldn’t take long before their encounter reduced to an interesting story she shared at barbecues or dinner parties. He, on the other hand, would dream about her nightly, summoning the cocktail of longing and regret that he’d no doubt punish himself for until the day he died.
But she would be safe.
Safer than if she stuck around .
The detour home seemed to take hours, and Jonathan was anxious to get to the hospital. So much so, that when Frankie finally drove him there and turned into the parking garage, he’d all but leaped from the slow-moving car.
“Pull over. I’ll meet you in there,” he ordered, wrenching on the door handle before they stopped. Ignoring his sister’s complaints, he crossed in front of her car, nearly getting clipped by an SUV exiting the pay station.
Jonathan entered through the front doors and marched up to the reception desk.
“Tell me where to find Lucy O’Malley. She was brought into the ER today.”
A young man in his twenties with shaggy blond hair and glasses, unfazed by the bristly demand, typed rapidly on his keyboard. “O’Malley you said?” Jonathan nodded, rubbing his week-old stubble and winching when he caught the stitches on his jaw. Two days past the sweet spot, the beard was itchy, but he hadn’t been willing to waste precious time shaving when they stopped at home. “It looks like she’s no longer in the ER. The general medicine ward is on the fourth floor. You’ll find her there. But it’s outside of visiting hours, so they may turn you away.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Jonathan said then muttered his thanks and hurried toward the bay of elevators, pausing briefly to buy a bouquet of flowers from the gift shop. A few minutes later, he stood at the check-in station, asking for Lucy’s room.
“Visiting hours are over, young man,” a nurse with a pinched expression and wiry gray hair reprimanded as she shuffled around behind the desk.
“I’m here to see—”
She held up her hand. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.” She turned to face a petite, rosy-cheeked woman sitting at one of the computers. “I’m off, Marla.” Eyeing Jonathan one last time, she flung her purse over her shoulder and lumbered to the elevators, shoes squeaking as she went.
“She’s right,” Nurse Marla spoke loudly, making a show of turning him away. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back during visiting hours.” She watched the elevators until the older nurse was out of sight then turned back to Jonathan. “She’s a little bristly, but Ruth’s a good nurse. Who are you here to see, hon?”
“Lucy O’Malley.” He gripped the bouquet so tightly that a few stems snapped. The crinkling cellophane assaulted his ears as he waited. If he couldn’t talk with her tonight and had to wait until tomorrow, he’d lose the nerve. The weak, selfish man inside him would take over, drop to his knees and beg Lucy to stay. He had to handle this now.
“She’s right down that way, room six. Her parents left a little while ago, so she should still be awake. You can have fifteen minutes before I shoo you out.”
“Thank you,” he said, releasing a steadying breath. The hallway wasn’t brightly lit, probably to facilitate a more restful nighttime atmosphere, but the resulting dim felt ominous.
The curtain outside of her room was closed. Before he could back away, Jonathan reached up and knocked on the entryway, dipping in after Lucy called out an invitation.
“Jonathan.” She sucked in a sob. “You came.”
Life and warmth swept over him as he strode to Lucy’s side, lured like a proverbial moth to a flame. Relief flooded her face, a smile pulling wide as she struggled to sit straighter in the inclined hospital bed. She winced under the strain and pressed a stabilizing hand above her left breast.
I broke her rib.
Flashes of water and sand and blue lips flooded Jonathan’s mind. Images of Lucy—vibrant and sunny Lucy—lying there still. Cold beneath his hands as he furiously mashed down on her sternum. The whole time, wild heartbeats pounded in his ears, mocking him and his efforts. He hadn’t even heard the crack.
Nausea crept up. He struggled to swallow the prickly lump in his throat. “Of course I came.”
She rested her head back against the pillow and let out a sigh. Her eyes dipped to the flowers he held. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re for you.” He reached out and placed them gently in her lap.
“Thank you.” She lifted the blooms up and sniffed, filling her lungs with the fragrance, then winced against the forgotten fracture. Jonathan winced too.
“I hurt you.”
“You saved me.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “What’s a little cracked rib from time to time?”
He flinched.
“Sorry, bad joke.” Lucy laughed then groaned. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’m just a big baby.”
Jonathan’s eyes raked over Lucy’s prone body. An oxygen tube affixed to her nose looped up and over each ear, and colorful wires strung from her chest to a beeping monitor. White tape, peeling along one corner, held an IV in place on the back of her hand. Scrapes speckled her cheeks, her lips. And bruises peeked out above the neck of her oversized hospital gown. She’d been through hell.
And his carelessness was to blame.
“Are you ok?” She stared intently, a hint of a smile still playing on her lips, trying to puzzle out what was wrong. He pinched his lips together and took a slow, deep breath through his nose. Her grin slipped away. “Jonathan. Talk to me.”
“Lucy . . . I . . .” He paused, choking on the words, trying to force them out. It’s best this way. Best for her. “I can’t do this. It’s a bad idea.” He raised a hand, rubbed his forehead, and then raked both through his damp, rumpled hair.
Lucy struggled upright again but did a poor job of masking her discomfort. “What’s a bad idea?” she demanded.
“Us. This.” He gestured between them like a panicked game of charades.
“Are you saying you don’t want to be with me?” The words crawled over Jonathan like a thousand tiny spiders—prickly, unsettling.
No, of course I want to be with you. My heart, my body needs you more than it needs my next breath.
“Yes,” he muttered instead.
“I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms and shook her head like she was trying to fling his words from her ears.
He couldn’t hold still. He had to walk off the nervous energy accumulating in his gut. He turned and paced the width of the tiny room, managing to span the distance in three long strides. Turn. Three more. Turn. He did this a few more times then stopped at the end of her bed. “Lucy. You were relying on me, and look what happened.” His arms waved to her, the room, the equipment. “You nearly died.” His pacing resumed. “Twice!”
“First of all, you had no control over the landslide. Second, my foot slipped on the log. Neither situation was your fault.”
“You were my responsibility, and I choked.” He jammed his hands into his front pockets. “I failed to keep you safe. And you were lucky. This time you were lucky to come out of it alive, but who knows if that would be the case next time.”
“Next time? Are you planning on getting us stranded in the woods again sometime soon?” A pained laugh erupted from her lips and Jonathan tensed at the lack of humor in the sound.
“Lucy,” he implored, willing her to understand, “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to be the reason anything happens to you. But if you stick around, there’s a pretty fucking good chance that you’ll end up hurt again. Or worse.”
“There is exactly one person responsible for me and my actions. And of the two people in this room, who do you suppose that is?” Lucy’s breath came in ragged spurts as she flipped the covers off her lap. The forgotten bundle of flowers fell off the edge of the bed, landing with a crinkly thunk. “There are risks in every relationship. We both happen to be outdoorsy people. We’d hike and camp, and maybe one day I could get you back out on that river. But I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” She shrugged. “Plus, there’s a much higher risk of one of us getting in a car wreck than reliving what we just experienced out there.”
“Stop!” He clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. His stomach flipped then bottomed out. He felt physically ill. “I can’t think about something happening to you.”
“Jonathan.” Her frustration was evident but laced with melancholy. She turned so her legs dangled over the edge of the bed, shifting her weight to stand. He dashed in front of her and gripped her elbows to keep her from tumbling over. Electricity zapped from his fingertips up his arms. The closeness drew awareness to the heat flooding his chest. He peered down at her. She looked so small and fragile in the massive gown, exposed skin covered with cuts and bruises. But Jonathan knew she was tougher than she appeared. She had survived a lot in the last few days.
And she would survive this too.
Tears brimmed but held fast in her swirling emerald eyes. “I trust you,” she whispered as she leaned into his chest, nuzzling against the open collar of the flannel he wore. She felt so right pressed to him, the soft curves of her body conforming to the hard planes of his. Jonathan slid a hand up her back and over her shoulder. But when he moved to cup her cheek, his fingers snagged on the oxygen tube fastened there .
I put her here.
Jonathan shifted Lucy back onto the bed and let his hands fall to his sides. He stepped back. “You shouldn’t.”
“Bullshit. After what we went through, there’s no one I’d trust more with my life. Even knowing the chaos we went through, I’d make the decision to go with you to Mount Stuart over and over again. But now . . . now you’re making the worst decision and not even allowing me to have a say.” She returned to her feet; scorn filled her voice as she flung the words at him.
Good. She’ll be more willing to accept this if she’s mad.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s it?” Her lower lip trembled as she took a step forward. “Jonathan. I want you. I care about you. And I know you feel the same. You can’t fake what we had out there.”
His weak will splintered. The resolve he’d walked in there with was steadily crumbling before her courageous vulnerability.
Yes! He wanted to shout. I care about you too. Maybe even more than just that. Let’s be together. I can make you happy. Protect you.
But instead, he stepped forward, scooped Lucy into his arms, and gently laid her in the hospital bed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, pulling the blankets up around her, careful not to disturb the wires and tubes. He knelt to pick up the fallen bouquet.
“I’m aware of the risk. Jonathan, you are worth the risk,” she beseeched.
A weary sigh escaped him as he set the flowers on her lap again. The gift was meant to be thoughtful when he impulsively bought them downstairs. A kind gesture to soften the blow. But now they seemed like salt in the wound.
A kick to a broken rib.
The words tasted foul before they even reached his lips.
“It’s not worth it to me.” He turned away, unable to witness the pain scrawled across her battered face, and returned to the doorway. He paused for the final blow that would guarantee his intended outcome. “I’m glad you’re all right, Lucy. And I hope you live a long and happy life, but it won’t be with me.”
You made the right call.
It’s for her own good.
He continued to assure himself as he approached the elevator doors and jammed the down button repeatedly. He ached from the inside out. Heart shredded to ribbons by his own careless hands. But after some distance, he’d feel better. If not for his sake, then at least in the knowledge that Lucy would be better off in the long run.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he groaned at the slow rise of numbers above the sliding metal doors. Shuffling from one foot to another, he cracked his knuckles, half expecting Lucy to come marching around the corner in her hospital gown. Detached wires trailing behind her, fists clenched with fury in her eyes. She’d shake her finger in his face, he’d raise his hands in surrender, then finally give in. They’d kiss. Once she healed, he’d take her home. Maybe he could be happy. Maybe she would be safe and—
The cheery ding pulled him from his fantasy.
A tall, lean man holding a couple of takeout bags looked up, flashing a blinding grin. “Hey, man.”
Jonathan nodded and stepped into the elevator as the newcomer stepped out. After pressing the lobby button, he turned to face the front. The doors whisked close, but at the last moment, a hand reached through the opening, triggering the sensor to open them wide again .
He was surprised to see the man standing there again.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you Jonathan Miller?”
The question jolted Jonathan, and in his bristly state, he wanted nothing more than to grumble who wants to know? Instead, he said, “I am.”
The man dropped the plastic bags and grabbed Jonathan’s hand tightly in both of his. He shook it furiously, eyes glistening. “Thank you. Thank you for keeping my Lucy safe.”
Clad in well-fitted, dark blue jeans and a brown leather jacket, he stood just taller than Jonathan but with a leaner build. His dark hair was expertly styled in that intentional bedhead fashion, and there wasn’t a callus anywhere on his hands. Meticulously groomed brows furrowed together over blue eyes brimming with emotion.
Brodan.
“Let me guess, you’re—”
“The one and only.” He let go and slapped the back of Jonathan’s shoulder once before stepping back into the hall. Picking up the bags, he continued, “Her folks and I were beside ourselves with worry. But we’re all back together, and we have you to thank for that.”
Guilt, frustration, sadness—all of it—had to be pushed down so Jonathan could half-ass a brief smile. “You’re welcome. Take good care of her.”
Brodan tilted his head and squinted. A flash of knowing scrolled across his face then vanished, leaving behind the smug, megawatt smile. “Without question.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta get back to my girl. Her burger’s getting cold.”
Jonathan nodded, and the elevator doors closed.
Good. She won’t be alone.
He did his best to hunt for comfort in that thought as he headed to the parking garage where Frankie waited.