Cross-Checked Page 14

  “I don’t think now is the time to worry about that,” Mom interrupted in a tone that Dad and I knew should be obeyed.

  A nurse holding a small white container appeared through the doorway. “Good to see you properly awake,” she said, placing it in my hand. “Here, take these, they’ll help the discomfort, then maybe you’ll eat something.”

  “When can I go home?” I asked, examining the two tiny blue tablets.

  “Well, it’s not really for me to say, but now you’re awake I’m sure the doctors will discharge you tomorrow, providing of course you’re up and about, eating and drinking okay.”

  Dad passed me water and I took the tablets as the nurse scribbled on a chart. “I just want to get back to my condo,” I said to Mom. “I’ll feel better there. I know I will.”

  “Do you live alone?” the nurse asked, studying me with narrowed eyes.

  “Yes, she does,” Mom answered for me.

  “I’m afraid we won’t let you go if you have no one to keep an eye on you for at least forty-eight hours. Preferably longer.” The nurse walked to the door. “It’s the rules,” she said over her shoulder as she slipped out.

  I saw Mom and Dad look at one another. Mom nodded and Dad raised his brows. It was an annoying habit they had, this telepathic form of communication.

  “What?” I asked irritably.

  “We’ll cancel our cruise,” Dad said. “And you can come home with us.”

  “No!” I was horrified. “You’ve been waiting all year for this cruise. It’s your thirtieth anniversary. I won’t let you do that.”

  “Carly, you are our only child and we love you more than anything else in the world. You need us right now and we can re-book a cruise. What we can’t do is replace you,” Mom said, squeezing my hand.

  “No, please don’t.” I looked at Dad. “Tell her, I’ll be fine. I’ll get Sheila to pop in and check on me each day or something.”

  “No, you need someone with you all the time, you heard the nurse,” Dad said firmly.

  “And how could we go and enjoy ourselves knowing you were alone and in pain. We couldn’t, could we?” Mom added.

  “Perhaps I can offer a solution,” Brick said, folding his arms across his thick chest, his biceps bulging over his knuckles. “I have a cabin in South Carolina.” He looked at Mom and Dad with his hypnotizing green eyes. “If it’s okay with you, Mr. and Mrs. Flannigan, I’d be happy to take Carly there for a week or so while she recovers. Keep an eye on her and make sure she rests up properly and follows doctor’s orders. Plenty of fresh air, peace and home-cooked food is just what she needs.”

  Everyone was silent for a long, drawn-out moment.

  “And there’s a physiotherapist in the nearby town if she needs one,” Brick added.

  I stared at Brick. Did he know what he was saying? Did he really want to spend a week nursing me? “Don’t you have games?” I asked.

  “Only one this week and Fergal wants to play Raven so it should be easy for me to wriggle out of it.”

  “But how will we get there? I won’t be able to hold on.” I lifted my arm a fraction off my chest. Once again I regretted it as pain shot up to my shoulder.

  “I’ve got a car as well as a motorcycle,” Brick said with a devilish grin. “Several in fact, pick a color.”

  “What?” Dad said in a dangerously low voice as he turned slowly to face me. “You’ve been on the back of his motorcycle?”

  I swallowed. I knew this was one of Dad’s things. Had known it the first time I’d climbed on the Ninja behind Brick and wrapped my arms around his body. Pressed up against his back and breathed in his delicious scent. “Only a couple of times,” I muttered.

  “Only a couple of times could have killed you.” Dad’s forehead crinkled into several deep lines. “I’ve always told you to steer clear of motorcycles, Carly Louise. The bicycle on the road is bad enough—look at the state you’re in now, for heaven’s sake.” His voice began to rise. “And I always said you should be training indoors, but you’re so stubborn and I let you do it your way because I trusted you to be careful with your routes. Just like I trusted you never to get on the back of a damn motorcycle. You know what happened to my cousin Louis.” He spun to face Brick. “Did my daughter even wear a helmet?”

  Brick nodded vigorously. “Yes sir, absolutely.

  “And if it’s any conciliation, I took an advance riding course a few years ago and I’m always very careful, plus we didn’t hit the freeway.”

  Dad’s cheeks were flushing, his fists balled at his sides and his eyes narrowed on Brick.

  Mom placed her hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Ted, Carly is going to be fine.”

  “And now I know how you feel, sir,” Brick said quickly. “I can assure you Carly won’t be going on the motorcycle again.”

  I watched the frown lines on Dad’s forehead relax slightly and he stretched out his fingers. Oh god, this was so embarrassing. Dad having a go at the Orlando Viper’s top right-winger for taking me on the back of his motorcycle. What could possibly be more toe-curlingly embarrassing? Nothing I could think of, that was for sure.

  “Good,” Dad said sharply. “And I’ll hold you to that, young man.”

  Brick nodded. “You have my word.”

  The room fell quiet except for the heart rate monitor to my right—Beep, beep. Beep, beep—rhythmically charting the steady pounds of my heart. I felt tired, tired and a little woozy all of a sudden. My joints felt mushy and weak even though I was lying down. It was as though I was melting into the bed.

  “But we won’t drive, that will take hours, we’ll fly,” Brick said. “I’ll use the team plane if it’s free. I’m sure Fergal won’t mind, given the circumstances.”

  My mouth dried. My stomach clenched. The beeping at my side escalated, higher and higher. Beep, beep. Beep, beep. Faster and faster. “Fly.” Just the word made me break out in a cold sweat. I looked at Mom.

  “It’s okay,” she said with a smile, rubbing my forearm. “You don’t have to.”

  I glanced at the monitor. One hundred and twenty flashed on the screen where seconds before it had read eighty. A wave of nausea washed over me.

  “Carly, Carly,” Dad said, glancing at the monitor. “For goodness sake, no one is going to make you.”

  “I can’t,” I said, tugging at my bottom lip with my teeth. “You know I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?” Brick asked, glancing nervously at the monitor then at my parents’ worried faces.

  I mashed my lips together. I couldn’t bear telling him. Letting him know there was something I couldn’t do that everyone else could. I was strong, tough and independent. But now I was helpless and pathetic. It was an alien, paralyzing feeling.

  “What did I say wrong?” Brick asked, his expression one of extreme confusion as he looked between the three of us.

  “Carly hates to fly,” Mom said quietly.

  I groaned, turning away and shutting my eyes.

  “Well, if he’s your boyfriend, he’s going to find out sooner or later,” Mom said sternly. “She hates to fly, Brick, always has.”

  “I didn’t realize,” Brick said.

  My heart rate didn’t slow, not one tiny bit.

  “You won’t get her on a plane unless she’s drugged,” Dad chipped in, much to my further mortification. “Drugged and floppy so she can’t think about how high up she is.”

  I willed the blackness of the last few days to whisk me away again. Take me out of the situation. Not only was I physically wrecked with my pounding head and throbbing arm, now I was also having my psychological weakness exposed and dissected.

  “Then we’ll drive after all,” Brick said in a light voice. “That’s not a problem. Is it?”

  “I think that would be the best plan, dear,” Mom said. “She’s been through enough this week without coping with a flight.”

  I opened my eyes. Drive, yes, I could do that. That was a much better suggestion. The beeping at my side began to slow as m
y heart stopped fluttering. “But you said it’s hours in the car,” I said to Brick.

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind driving, besides it will be fun taking you on a road trip. You can entertain me with your witty conversation.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Are you sure?” Dad asked Brick. “It really would be extremely good of you.”

  “Positive.” Brick grinned. “It seems like the best solution for everyone, doesn’t it?”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. They’d all made the decision for me. If I hadn’t felt so weak and exhausted, I would have stomped out in a huff. Who were they to say I was going with Brick for an entire week to his cabin to be looked after?

  But I couldn’t stomp out. I knew full well if I tried to stand I’d crumble into a boneless heap on the floor. There was nothing I could do but sleep and let them sort out the details.

  Chapter Nine

  “Here we are,” Brick’s voice invaded my stupor.

  I opened my eyes. I’d been vaguely aware of the engine shutting off, it had entered my head like part of a dream the same way the crunch of tires on gravel had filtered into my slumbered brain.

  “Is this it?” I asked in a hoarse voice, yawning.

  “Yep, my little pad for escaping the craziness of life.” He looked out the window, letting out a yawn of his own.

  I followed his gaze. Long shadows stretched across the fir-lined driveway to a timber house silhouetted by the setting sun. Several steps led to a wide wooden door with a huge arched window above. Rows of dark windows stretched to the right and between each were lavish hanging baskets filled with red and white flowers.

  “We got here quicker than I thought we would,” I said.

  “For you, maybe.” He grinned at me.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t much company, was I?”

  He shrugged. “I knew you’d sleep the whole way and it will have done you good.”

  I rubbed my hand over my bandaged wrist. It was out of the sling now and I’d been told using it a little would be good for healing. But it still hurt like crazy when the painkillers began to wear off, which was now. “I should have stayed awake and ‘entertained you with my wit’.”

  “I’m a big boy, I can cope with a little driving.” He opened his door and an evening breeze coated in the scent of pine needles trickled in. “Besides, it’s not often I get to take this beast for a good long run.”

  He jumped out and strode around the front of the car. He opened my door and gingerly I stepped out onto the bed of small stones. My feet sank and I held on to the car door for support. I felt as if I were standing on water.

  Brick, in one swift movement, swung me up into his arms and pressed me against his chest.

  “Hey,” I said, holding my wrist safely against my body. “Put me down.”

  “Why? You look kind of wobbly, like you might topple over.”

  “Put me the hell down, Brick.” Who did he think he was, scooping me up as if I were a doll he could carry about? I hadn’t asked him to, I didn’t want him to.

  He started walking toward the house, his big strides making short work of the distance.

  “If you don’t put me down I’ll”

  “What, scream?” He huffed with amusement. “Who’s gonna hear you? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “No, but I won’t speak to you for the whole week.” I kicked my legs like a petulant child but he just held me tighter in his thick arms. “Put me down, for god’s sake.”

  “Okay,” he said, depositing me on the top step, right in front of the door. “There, you’re down.”

  “That doesn’t count.” I frowned, reaching for the doorframe to stop my body swaying. “I’m here now.”

  “Oh stop being so independent,” he said, shoving a key in the lock. “It makes your face wrinkle.” He chuckled and pushed open the door.

  I didn’t even bother looking inside. “Wrinkle—it does not.”

  “Oh I’ve noticed it does when you need to have someone help you.”

  “I don’t need help and just because you’re a damn caveman and think you can throw me over your shoulder and carry me about doesn’t mean you should. I’m surprised they don’t call you Ug instead of Brick.”

  He gave a deep rumble of laughter. “But I want to lift you about, so why not?”

  “Because…” I pushed past him into the lodge on my pathetically wobbly legs. “It’s an abuse of muscle, that’s what it is.”

  He grunted something I didn’t catch and I heard his feet on the gravel, heading back to the car.

  My head throbbed as I looked around. The vast vaulted ceiling was spanned with thick crossbeams. There were enormous glass windows at the far end and a double central door looking out over an endless lake that shimmered in the evening light. Low L-shaped sofas were positioned to make the most of the view and an enormous stone fireplace stacked with logs sat waiting to be brought to life.

  The throbbing in my head picked up to a keener tempo to match the thumping pain in my wrist. I sighed and rubbed at my temples. I needed to sit down. I’d been sitting for hours, but I needed to sit down again. I needed painkillers.

  “You okay?” Brick was behind me again.

  “Yes, I’m fine, quit fussing.”

  The door slammed shut and as the sound pierced my skull I turned to him with a scowl.

  “What?” He balanced our bags as he toed off his sneakers and kicked them toward a half-full shoe rack.

  “Why are you being so noisy?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “Well, you’re being cranky.” He gave a crooked smile.

  I tutted and threw him a frown that I knew made my face crinkle. “Where’s my bedroom?” I asked.

  He paused for a second and something flashed through his eyes, then, in a quiet voice he said, “This way.”

  I followed him through a large oak door. He dropped my bag next to an enormous white bed and walked out of the room without another word.

  He shut the door with a firm click.

  I sighed and looked around. In the corner was a huge free-standing oak wardrobe covered in wood knots, with antlers overhead. There was a cream two-seater crammed with furry cushions and angled to look out the window over the lake. On either side of the bed stood dressers with tall, elegant silver lamps. To my right was a doorway, through which I could see a neat white en suite stocked with towels and toiletries.

  I sat heavily on the bed, pulled out my painkillers and a bottle of water from my purse. Knocked them back in one quick mouthful as if I’d done it every day of my life and glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes and it would feel easier. Twenty minutes and I wouldn’t be so cranky. Twenty minutes and the pain would be bearable.

  I managed a quick wash, pulled on a baggy t-shirt and climbed under the cool sheets to wait for the tablets to do their job. I stared out the window at the rapidly fading light. A few birds darted around, or perhaps they were bats, I wasn’t sure.

  The trees became a dense blackness as the sun slipped behind them—just their tips sharp against the violet and purple sky, nature’s own skyscrapers. I felt my eyes getting heavy and my mind drifted. An owl hooted. The pain in my wrist became a dull ache and I relaxed it from my chest and let it lay on the sheet at my side.

  My eyelids closed. I pulled in a deep breath and reveled in the absence of a headache.

  Just five minutes, then I’d get up and apologize to Brick for being so bad tempered. Five minutes enjoying the bliss of not hurting and then I’d make it up to him for being such a bad patient. He’d had a long drive and I’d just been horrid to him. He deserved better than that.

  Suddenly I was there again.

  On the road.

  The truck’s wheel, huge, grimy, spinning only inches from me. My throat tightened, adrenaline spurted into my system. I was out of control, flying through the air, higher and higher. I wasn’t coming down, the truck had spun me upward. I was surrounded by nothing, even m
y bike wasn’t with me.

  I let out a scream, flailed my arms and kicked my legs. I was out of control.

  I was traveling sky-bound. Faster, higher. The ground was so far below me. The truck a tiny dot. I could see the road, straight and hard, and a winding river, swamps, houses, the roof of a warehouse.

  I screamed again. Reached out to grab something, anything. I was so high up. Terror gripped me, my stomach somersaulted. My hands found purchase—hot, hard skin.

  “Carly, Carly, shh, honey, it’s okay.”

  I was aware of tears on my cheeks, running into my ears and onto my lips. The ground was so far away. I was nauseous with fear as tears slipped around the sides of my nose.

  “Carly, wake up.”

  It was Brick’s deep voice, he was here with me. We were spiraling upward together, soon we’d be in space, orbiting the planet.

  I felt his arms around me, firm and solid. I could smell him, spiced and familiar.

  “Shh,” he soothed into my ear. His breath was warm, warm and comforting. “Shh, honey, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

  My whole body jerked as I jumped within my own skin. I gasped and became aware of the bed beneath me, of Brick holding me tight. I was down again. Back on solid ground. My heart felt as though it was going to burst from my chest.

  He stroked my hair. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, it’s just a dream.”

  The tears kept coming, harder and harder. It felt as if my ribs would crack, I sobbed so violently. But he kept on holding me and whispering into my ear. I nuzzled farther into his chest and let it keep coming out, all the fears, the flights, heights and losing. Losing him. The exhaustion of the uphill struggle to get what I wanted all the time. To be perfect, to be independent, to make myself what everyone wanted me to be. All the emotions burst their banks in one torrid flood.

  His body was stretched against mine, solid and steady. Gradually my gasping sobs turned into quiet, pathetic sniffs. I was done, beaten up by dreams and demands, frights and fears.