Chapter 5
INDY
Shit.
Shit.
I knew she’d be upset. But shit.
Seeing her like that…
Panicked. Scared. Crying.
No surprise, there, given the terrible news she’d just been given.
Well. She remembered part of it on her own—the part where Bea discovered her friend dead in the hospital locker room and was attacked shortly after.
But the whole she’s the primary suspect in a murder investigation?
And as a bonus: we snuck you out of the hospital and brought you across the country to keep you from going to jail?
Those are on me. And I feel pretty fucking terrible about it.
Not for bringing her here. No. I don’t regret that. Not considering the alternative, which would end up with Bea in jail.
Whenever I start to doubt my decision, I let my thoughts wander down that path again.
The one that starts with Bea arrested. Fingerprinted.
Strip searched. Dumped in a cold and dirty cell with a criminal as her only companion.
And later, forced to stand trial for a crime I know she didn’t commit, all the evidence stacked against her and the Congressman pushing for her conviction.
Maybe I should have stayed out of it. Maybe I should have let the past stay where it was.
If it were someone else, I might have.
But not Bea. Not her. Not after—
Shit.
I keep seeing her crying.
I keep seeing the pain in her eyes. The shock. The confusion. The horror.
On my tenth, fifteenth, twentieth? lap around the living room, I stop in front of the bedroom door again and lean my head against it, listening.
Is she still crying in there?
But even holding my breath, I can’t hear anything. Which makes me worry even more.
Worst-case scenarios avalanche one after another. Bea in the midst of a panic attack. Passed out after hyperventilating. Or what if she tried to get up but fell, and now she’s lying on the floor, unconscious?
Shit.
Maybe I shouldn’t have left her alone.
I didn’t want to. But she told me to leave. Begged me, even. How could I ignore her?
Yes, I unilaterally decided to take her from the hospital and bring her here. But I’d like to think if I could have talked to her about it in advance, she would have understood. Would have agreed with my plan.
Keeping her out of jail was one thing. But when she flat-out told me to leave? When my very presence only made her more upset?
Still.
I’m torn.
I rest my hand on the bedroom doorknob, hesitating.
What if I make things even worse by going back in?
What if she’s hurt, though? What if the doctors at the hospital were wrong, and there’s a complication they missed? A blood clot. Brain damage. A skull fracture.
Shit. What was I thinking, leaving her alone in there?
I’m just about to open the door when I hear a soft sniffle on the other side of it. Then another.
A giant fist slams into my chest. Reaches inside it. Grabs hold of my heart and twists.
I may not be the most sensitive guy, but I have a sister. A mom. I’ve seen both of them in pain, and at the time, I would have done anything to fix it.
I knew Bea would be in pain.
I just didn’t realize how much it would hurt me, too.
“How’s she doing?” The door I should have heard open closes with a soft click. I turn to face Rafe and Eden, who came inside without me noticing.
Great. And I’m supposed to be a security specialist?
Rafe stares at me for a second before adding, “Eden wanted to come check on you guys. See if you needed anything.”
Eden glances at my hand, still resting on the doorknob. Her brow furrows. “Why aren’t you in there with her?”
My hand drops as I step away from the door. I cross the room to meet them, keeping my voice pitched low as I reply, “She told me to leave. Said she wanted to be alone. So I came out here.”
Rafe frowns. “Is it a good idea? For her to be alone right now?”
Hearing Rafe put voice to my own concerns makes me feel even guiltier for leaving her. But rather than admitting it, I retort gruffly, “She told me to leave, Rafe. Insisted on it. And she was upset. Crying. Was I supposed to stay and make things worse?”
Eden’s gaze flickers to the bedroom door again. “Does she know? About—”
“Yes.” My teeth grind together. “I didn’t tell her about her friend. She remembered on her own. But the rest of it… I had to tell her. I couldn’t very well not when she wanted to know where she was, why she was here…”
“Of course.” Eden touches my arm. “I would have insisted on knowing, too.”
I glance over my shoulder at the door separating me from Bea. “I didn’t want to leave her alone. It wasn’t like that.”
Rafe exchanges a quick look with Eden.
“I could try talking to her,” Eden offers. “If you want.”
“Maybe having a woman to talk to would help,” Rafe adds. He stops. “Although.”
Pain shoots through my jaw. “Although what?”
Eden and Rafe exchange another meaningful look. And shit, I love both of them, but those silent looks are driving me crazy.
“What?” I ask. “Just say it.”
While I wait for them to respond, I steal another quick glance at the bedroom door.
Is she okay? Does she need help? Why am I standing out here, talking to Rafe and Eden, when I could be in there, checking on her?
“It’s just,” Eden starts, “she doesn’t know me. She knows you.” She stops. “She does remember you? Unless the post-traumatic amnesia—”
“She does. Remember me. But.” Exhaling, I admit something I’m not proud of. “You remember how I was back then. I wasn’t… Shit. I could be a real asshole.”
Rafe frowns. “You were dealing with a life-changing injury. No one expected you to feel great about it.”
“No, but Bea was there for some of the worst of it. Me complaining about my therapy sessions, saying they were a waste of time…”
“I’m sure she understood,” Eden says quickly. “And I’m sure she’s used to her patients having a hard time with things. I know what you had to do in your therapy sessions. It was hard. Painful. Of course you were grumpy sometimes.”
I appreciate Eden trying to put a positive spin on things. But she was there in those early days, when I complained about everything. When I was angry all the time. Depressed. Not sure if I even wanted the new life I’d been handed.
But it wasn’t just that, was it?
Every time I’d see Bea—twice a week for more than six months—I wished things could have been different.
That I wasn’t this ruined man with a stump instead of a hand.
That I was still the confident Special Forces operator who never had trouble attracting women.
That I was still the Indy I used to be—always active, always cracking jokes, never turning away from a challenge or a dare—instead of the new and very-much-not-improved Indy I’d become.
Bea would smile at me, and my heart would tug.
A piece of shiny blonde hair would fall from her ponytail, and my ghost-hand would itch to tuck it back behind her ear.
She’d laugh, and just for a moment, things would feel okay again.
Then I’d remember who I was. What I was. And I hated it. I hated that Bea had to see me that way when she was the first woman in a long time—maybe ever—that I actually wanted to date.
Not just hook up with. Date. Take her places and give her gifts. Introduce her to my friends. Find out if the magnetic pull I felt towards her might be reciprocated.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not back then. So instead, I was grouchy. Snappish. All the nice things she did when she didn’t have to, like the food she’d bring in and the cap she gave me, and I never said thanks.
Looking back, I hate myself a little for it.
I don’t say all of that, though. Instead, I reply, “Maybe so. But I wasn’t the nicest to her. So it’s not a surprise she doesn’t want me around.”
“Indy.” Eden hugs me hard. “I don’t think it’s that. I think she’s upset. Confused.” Releasing me, she takes a step back and meets my gaze. “I’ll talk to her. If you think it’s best. But she knows you. And I still think that’s better than talking to a complete stranger.”
“Plus, you weren’t that much of an asshole back then.” Rafe smirks. “I’m sure there were some times you acted halfway normal.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. Then I look back at the bedroom door again, debating.
Go in? Risk making Bea even more upset? Or send Eden in my place?
“I’ll go,” I tell them. “You’re right. She knows me. Even if she doesn’t like me much, she knows me.”
And before I can change my mind, I head towards the bedroom.
Just as I’m raising my hand to knock, Eden says, “Indy.”
I turn back to her. “What?”
My little sister gives me a kind smile. “I’m sure she likes you. It would be impossible not to.” Her lips twitch. “Even when you are acting like Windy Indy.”
I make a face at her, and she screws up her face right back at me.
Some of the tension inside me releases. “Thanks, Eeenie.”
She waves it off. “We’ll stay out here, just in case. But I think you’ll be just fine.”
Turning back to the door, I set my shoulders and take a deep breath. As I let it out, I knock three times and say, “Bea. It’s Indy. Can I come in?”
If she doesn’t answer, I’m going in, anyway.
But a few seconds later, she does. “Indy?”
“Yeah.” My heart thumps. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
The silence that follows drags.
Then, after what feels like an interminable wait, she replies, “Alright. You can come in.”
Before she can change her mind, I twist the knob and push the door open. As I walk through the doorway, my gaze jumps straight to Bea, assessing.
She looks the same as before, basically.
Except now her eyes are all pink and her cheeks are tear-streaked and flushed.
She’s sitting up, with her arms wrapped around her bent legs and her chin resting on her knees.
Her long hair falls in thick golden curtains around her face, casting shadows across her delicate features.
The red stain in her hair catches my eye and I wonder if I should offer to get a damp washcloth for it.
Or if she even knows the blood is there.
Shit. She probably doesn’t. And I really don’t want to be the one to tell her.