It was a mass of deep, throbbing pain. The cut along my palm had been deep enough to need stitches. My index finger had been broken and my thumb had indeed been dislocated as well as broken. Both were splinted and my entire hand was wrapped up. Any typing I'd be doing would be one-handed for a while.
“Miss Lang, I'm Detective McPhee.” The woman standing next to the hospital bed was tall and slender, with dark hair pulled back from her face. “Can you answer some questions for me?”
I looked up at her. “I can, but I think the FBI might try to take jurisdiction on this one.”
She didn't look to happy with that, but she kept it professional. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I took her through everything, starting with feeling like someone was watching me in the park. When I got to the part where I killed Christophe, my voice faltered, but I kept going. I didn't care if they arrested me for murder. Aside from the fact that I was pretty sure no jury would convict me, I'd done the right thing. I finished by telling her about escaping with the girl and calling the police. Then I waited for the multitude of questions I knew would follow.
Before Detective McPhee could say anything, however, I heard a familiar voice.
“Thank you for getting the preliminaries, Detective. I'll take it from here.”
“Agent Matthews.” I blinked. “I was wondering if you'd show up.”
“I've got this, Agent,” Detective McPhee said tightly. “The FBI doesn't have any reason to take this case.”
“Actually,” he said. “We do. Christophe Constantine was one of ours and, until recently, Miss Lang was employed by the FBI.” He walked around to the other side of my bed. “I've already spoken with FCPD. If I need your help, I'll ask.”
As the detective stalked out, I looked up at Agent Matthews. “Do I have to say that all over again?”
“No. I caught most of it,” he said. “I'll get a copy of her notes after she types them up.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “It's going to be a hell of a lot of paperwork, but I don't think the DA's going to press charges against you for Christophe's death.”
“My mom.” My good hand clenched and my injured one twitched as if it wanted to move too. “Did I...is she...?”
“She's alive,” Agent Matthews said. “She'll need surgery on her ankle and she has a nasty concussion, but she'll survive.”
“Good,” I said. When I saw the look of surprise on the agent's face, I explained. “Death would be too easy.” I gave Agent Matthews a hard look. “No deals this time. If she's not put away for good, I'll go to the press with everything.”
He opened his mouth and I thought, for a moment, he was going to say something about me releasing that information online, but he didn't.
“I'm following this through,” he said. “Don't worry. She's never getting out.”
“Thank you.” I shifted, grimacing as the hospital gown stuck to me. The nurses had wiped me off a bit, but there was still plenty of Christophe's blood on me. I wanted a shower.
Agent Matthews started towards the door but then stopped. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No.” A man's voice answered before I could. “She doesn't.”
I was pretty sure my heart had stopped and I knew I wasn't breathing. It had to be the drugs, right? The painkillers that were making my head a little fuzzy. And then he was there, at my side, and Agent Matthews was gone.
“Rylan.” His name came out in a breath of air.
“Jenna.”
A thrill went through me at the sound of my name. I'd never thought I'd hear him say it again. I forced it down. He was here because someone had told him what had happened. He was just looking out for me.
And then I let my eyes meet his and everything I'd tried to get rid of and suppress came bubbling back up, leaving me momentarily speechless. Rylan reached down and took my good hand, holding it tightly between both of his. After what felt like forever, I managed to look down.
“You don't have to be here.” I tried pulling my hand away, but he didn't let me go.
“Yes, I do.” His voice was firm. “Look at me, Jenna.”
Shit. He was using that tone. I swallowed hard and looked up.
“Zeke told me that the two of you slept together.”
Oh, fuck. I'd completely forgotten about that in light of everything else that had happened.
“And I know you told him to tell me about your tattoo to make it sound real.”
I kept my face carefully blank. “And how do you know we didn't?” There was no way he could know that. Unless, of course, he knew Zeke was gay, but I didn't think that was the case.
“Two reasons,” he said and held up a finger. “One, I know you, and there was no way you'd have sex with my best friend.” A twisted sort of smile crossed his face. “You would never hurt me like that.”
“And two?” The words were rough, strangled.
The twisted smile became a wry one. “And the idiot decided to elaborate about the various positions you'd used.” His fingers squeezed mine. “I know you, and it was obvious he didn't.” His voice softened. “Why did you have him lie?”
I decided it wasn't the best time to talk about the complicated mess that was Zeke's issues with me. I kept it simple. “Because I wanted you to think I'd moved on so you wouldn't feel guilty for doing the same thing.”
I had a moment to see something burn in his eyes and then his hands were cupping my face. His lips brushed across mine, gentle.
“I could never move on from you.”
Chapter 26
I didn't think I had the strength in me, but I somehow managed to find it. I pushed him away. Not that he went far. He merely dropped his hands from my face.
No, there was no merely about it.
His face was blank, guarded.
I had to tell him the truth. “You have to move on.”
“Why?”
The word was clipped, full of something that had never been aimed at me before. Anger.
“You owe me that, Jenna.” He raked his hands through his hair. “You just left. Without a word. Nothing. You didn't talk to me. You just fucked me and then snuck out. Left some vague note. Quit your job. Then you have my friend lie to me and say you two slept together. What the hell is going on?”
He was right. I did owe him.
“You lied to me.” I didn't mean for it to come out as harshly has it had.
His head jerked up, his eyes wide. “What?”
“You told me that it was okay I couldn't have kids,” I whispered. “That it didn't matter. But it does.”
“Jenna–”
“I know, Rylan!” I snapped. I had a choice between anger and anguish. I chose the former. It was easier. “I know that you bought that house for the family you thought you'd have with Lara. You might've changed who you thought you'd marry, but the fact that you've kept that house all these years says that you haven't given up on having a family.” I forced myself to look at him. “You deserve to be with someone who can give you what you want.”
He came back over to the bed, his expression incredulous. “How can you not know?” He reached out and brushed hair away from my face. “You're what I want.”
“A family.” My eyes were burning. “You want a family.”
“Yes, Jenna, I want a family, but family isn't defined by DNA.”
My heart leaped and I tried to quash the hope that flared inside me. I couldn't hope or believe, because when I lost it again...I didn't think I could survive it.
“I don't care about the biology of it. We have options.” He took a slow breath. “And if you don't want children, that's okay too. Because as long as I have you, I have family. You're my family.”
I started to shake my head, then stopped. The medicine had done its job taking away most of the pain, but I was still a bit light-headed. “There are plenty of beautiful women out there who'd love to be your family.” I hadn't thought it was possible to hurt any more than I had before. “Women like Emmaline.”
r /> “Emmaline?”
He sounded so surprised that I risked a glance. “She said you'd been seeing each other. And Suzette told me you'd been out with other women.”
“Friends of Suzette's,” he interrupted. “Women I took out on dates to keep my sister from bugging the hell out of me.”
My fingers twitched.
“And I took Emmaline out on Valentine's Day because I felt bad that she was alone.” He tried to make his tone light. “It wasn't like I had any other plans.”
“It doesn't matter,” I said. “You need to...mmmf.”
Whatever I was going to say was lost as Rylan covered my mouth with his. This was nothing like his previous kiss. This was passion and heat, a desire so fierce that if I'd had any breath left, it would've taken it away. Everything I'd been dealing with, everything I'd been feeling; it was all coming from him. His arms wrapped around me, crushing me to his chest. The scent of him made my chest tighten and I reached up to pull him closer.
I'd forgotten about my hand.
I groaned in pain and he immediately pulled back.
“I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean...”
“It's okay.” I gave him a soft smile despite the sudden flash of heartache. “I'm not holding you to anything.”
“You think I'm apologizing for kissing you?” He stared at me. “Dammit, Jenna, I thought you were smart.”
I blinked in surprise.
“The only time I was ever sorry for kissing you was that first time,” he said firmly. “And only because of how much it scared you.” He gripped my chin between his thumb and fingers. His voice was harsh. “I have never regretted one kiss, one touch, one moment with you. I've been through hell since you left me, but I would go through it all again for one more second.”
“Rylan.” My voice cracked. I tried to look away, but he kept his grip firm.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me you haven't missed me, that you haven't been miserable virtually every single minute we've been apart. Tell me that your body isn't burning right now, aching for me. Tell me that and I'll walk away. You'll never have to see me again.”
I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie. Not with him staring at me like that, not when I heard the sincerity in his voice.
“I can't.” I took a shuddering breath. “I can't say it because it isn't true.”
His body sagged in relief and he rested his forehead against mine. “Oh, love. You don't know how scared I was.”
“Scared?” I rested my injured hand on his shoulder and clutched the back of his neck with the other. I didn't understand. Rylan was the strongest man I knew. “What could you possibly be scared of?”
He laughed and there were tears in the sound. “Losing you. You're everything to me, Jenna. I love my family and my friends. I can exist for them, but I can only live for you. I don't want anyone else.”
“I don't either.” As I said the words, it was like I could breathe again. My heart beat in my chest, whole once again.
When the doctor came back in, Rylan and I were sitting next to each other on the bed, his arms around me, my head on his shoulder. I'd finished telling him everything that had happened and I was ready to go, but I didn't know my destination. Rylan's arms were strong and solid around me, his words fresh in my ears, but I still doubted. I'd hurt him. Badly. I didn't know where things stood with him, and I didn't want to risk this, not yet.
“Miss Lang.” Dr. Howard sounded amused.
Rylan sat up, his face flushing. He stood and held out his hand. “Rylan Archer.”
“Mr. Archer.” The doctor shook Rylan's hand, the expression on his face saying he'd recognized Rylan's name. “I'm assuming you're this young lady's ride home?”
I swallowed hard and looked down at my hand. Home. My apartment was safe again now that Christophe was dead.
“I am.” He reached down and took my hand. “Is she okay to leave?”
The doctor started to hand me a small pill bottle, then smiled when he saw that my good hand was otherwise occupied. He handed it to Rylan and then a piece of paper. “Here’s a sample. Those pills should get her through today, but you'll want to get the prescription filled.” Dr. Howard looked down at me. “Keep your hand dry and at least partially elevated. You'll want to make an appointment with your usual doctor and set things up to have those stitches removed in a few weeks.”
“And my fingers?” I asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“It depends,” Dr. Howard said. “The X-rays appeared to show clean breaks, but I'm a little concerned about the way they were broken. You said they were...twisted?”
Rylan's hand tightened around mine.
I nodded.
“I'm going to refer you to a specialist,” Dr. Howard said. “I'm almost positive that they'll heal fine, but I'd rather not take any chances.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Is there anything else?”
“Not unless you have questions for me.” He held out his clipboard, then hesitated. “I didn't think to ask if you were left-handed.”
I shook my head as Rylan released my hand. A rush of heat went through me as he rested his hand on my thigh. I didn't ask him to move it though. I quickly signed the papers and handed them back.
It wasn't until the doctor walked out that something hit me. “Shit,” I said. “My clothes...”
“I was in a bit of a rush,” Rylan interrupted. He had the same sheepish look on his face that he'd had when he'd shown me how he'd decorated the house for Christmas. Like he'd done something and wasn't entirely sure how I was going to respond. “But I brought you something.” He picked up a bag that I hadn't seen him bring in.
I smiled when I saw what was inside. A pair of his shorts and a t-shirt. Both way too big for me and exactly what I wanted to wear. Even if I was just going back to my apartment, at least I'd be able to have the scent of him around me when I fell asleep.
I changed quickly and reluctantly accepted the wheelchair. I didn't ask the question until we were in the car and heading away from the hospital.
“Where are you taking me?”
He looked over at me, startled. “Home. Unless...” His expression tightened. “I can take you back to your apartment if that's what you want.”
“I didn't want to assume...” The sentence trailed off.
“Do you love me?”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. “Yes.”
“Are you going to leave me again?”
My heart twisted painfully at the thought. “Not unless you want me to go.”
“Then it's settled,” he said matter-of-factly. “I'm taking you home.”
Chapter 27
Home. I'd never had one before. Not a real one. A place where I not only felt safe, but loved. My apartment had been the closest thing I'd had, but even there I'd been alone and never felt truly safe.
Here, I did.
As we walked into the house, Rylan made a quick call to the car service he sometimes used and asked for his usual driver. For a moment, I was puzzled, wondering where he intended to go. I relaxed as he asked Denny to come by the house for the prescription Dr. Howard had given me. I wasn't surprised when Denny didn't tell Rylan that he wasn't an errand boy. Besides the fact that Denny had always seemed like a nice guy, Rylan was one of those people who generally got what he wanted, even without being an ass about it.
“I'll wait for Denny,” Rylan said. “Can you manage in the shower alone?”
I gave him the closest thing to a scathing look I could manage. I was exhausted. It was going to be a close thing for me to shower without passing out, but I wasn't about to admit it. I was partway up the stairs when something occurred to me. “I need to go back to my apartment.”
Rylan stiffened.
“For clothes,” I clarified. “I don't have anything to wear.”
He grinned and walked up the stairs to stand on the one below me. “For now, you can wear my clothes.” He leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss. “Or nothing. I'm fine with e
ither one.”
I smiled, barely feeling the twinge of pain in my bottom lip. “After the shower...?” I let the question hang, unfinished.
“My old bed is still in the guest room,” he said. “I couldn't bring myself to put it back.” A shadow passed over his face. “It would've been admitting that you weren't coming back.”
“I am back.” I reached out with my good hand and placed my palm on his cheek. Whiskers rasped against my skin. He hadn't shaved today. “And until you ask me to leave, I'm not going anywhere.”
He covered my hand with his and turned his head to press his lips against my palm. “Then I hope you're ready to stay forever because I'm not letting you go.”
A thrill went through me, but I still cautioned myself to temper my hope. Forever was a long time, and people changed. I would take it though, however long I had with him. I kissed the tip of his nose, smiling as he chuckled.
“I need to get cleaned up,” I said.
I could feel his eyes on me as I walked up the stairs. Unlike before, when I'd felt someone watching me, there was no concern, no fear, only warmth and desire.
I took my time in the shower, more out of necessity than anything else. I'd wrapped my hand in one of the bathroom trash bags to prevent it from getting wet, but I could still only use my right hand to wash, and considering how much blood I still had to get off of me, it wasn't an easy task. When I stepped out onto the bathmat over a half hour later, however, I felt clean. The cut on my hip hadn't needed stitches, but I did need to replace the bandage, which took a little more skill to do one-handed. By the time I was finished, I was glad the damage had been done to my left hand. If it had been my right, I wasn't sure I would've been able to manage much of anything on my own.
I'd used the shower in the guest room, so when I came out, I was able to just toss my towels towards the laundry basket and crawl under the covers. I'd fully intended to wait until Rylan came to bed, but my body and mind clearly had other ideas. My last conscious thought was how good it felt to be back in this bed and then I went under.