by Jessica Berg
Dominick stopped in the foyer. “Phoebe, you did well tonight. Grace is lucky to have you. Now I need you to call 911 and get some hot tea or something for Grace.” He shifted Grace’s weight in his arms and studied Phoebe’s face. “You took a beating out there. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She gave Grace a swift kiss on the cheek and trotted off to follow his instructions.
Grace mumbled into his neck, “I’m so tired.”
“I know, baby, I know. Hang on for a second, and you’ll be tucked safely in bed.” He carried her into the bathroom, where he set her gently in the bathtub.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Shivering in the tub, she peered at him, confused and disoriented.
“I’m going to get some warm water running, clean you up.” With the utmost care, he gently washed the mud from her hair. She didn’t put up a fight. His fingers massaged and caressed her head. She bit back a groan. At Phoebe’s entrance, Dominick backed away. “Can you finish washing her, please? I’ve got her hair clean.”
Phoebe waited until he left to strip off Grace’s ruined clothes. Phoebe finished and drained the water from the tub. Wrapping Grace in a towel, she called for Dominick again. He lifted her out of the bathtub and carried her to her bed. Without a word, he left again, closing the door behind him. Grace shivered as thunder crashed over the house.
“It’s okay.” Phoebe grabbed Grace’s pajamas and slipped them on. She grabbed Grace’s comb and worked out the snarls. “The worst of the storm is over.”
Grace’s leg ached, her face throbbed as if she’d been in a bar fight, and she couldn’t stop shivering. Her eyes kept rolling to the back of her head, and she lost the battle for consciousness.
Chapter 19
Dominick stopped wearing out the floor when the bedroom door opened, but at the fear in Phoebe’s eyes, his gut clenched. “What’s wrong?”
“Grace fainted.”
He ran to Grace’s side and grabbed her hand, called her name.
Her eyes cracked a small slit. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” The first of the paramedics entered the room, and he rose to leave.
“No, don’t leave me.” Her eyes filled with tears.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.”
“But I do need —” The paramedics began their assessment of her.
He gave a reassuring smile and walked out of the room. The fear he had squelched and had kept firmly chained ignited and broke free. He stormed into the kitchen and poured the boiling water over the teabag. He added some other ingredients and watched as the clear water swirled to brown. Placing his hands on the kitchen counter, he pressed against it with all his might. A rap on the doorframe behind him had him unclenching his fists.
“How is she?” His voice cracked.
Phoebe entered the kitchen and put a hand on his shoulder. “The paramedics say she’s fine. Her knee is twisted, and it’ll turn a lovely color. Her face is pretty beat up, and she’ll have a massive headache but nothing life-threatening. She didn’t want to go with them. They had her sign a release and recommended she see a doctor tomorrow.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “She’s scared right now and emotional. I told her not to go after the stupid cat. She said she’d make it back before the storm got worse. When she didn’t come back, I called you. The rest you know already.”
Unable to speak, he stared out the kitchen window at the rain snaking down the glass. Clearing his throat, he handed Phoebe the cup of tea. “Here, this is ready. I .. um … I should get going. Will you tell Grace I … ah …” He shuffled his feet. “Never mind.”
“You can take her the tea. She asked for you.”
She lay under the covers, her head resting on her pillow. His heart thundered in his chest. In a few strides, he stood by her bedside.
“Hi.” He placed the cup on her nightstand.
“Hi.” Grace’s mouth quivered. “Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened …”
He maneuvered his arm around her, helping her to a sitting position. “You need to sip on this tea, at least. Warm you from the inside out.”
She took a tentative sip. “Mmm. That’s good.” She peered over the cup at him. “What else is in this?”
“My little secret. Trust me, though, you’ll sleep like a baby.”
She sipped again. Her eyes, struggling to stay open, tried to focus on him. When she finished her tea, he set it aside and laid her back gently across her pillow, tucking her in. “There. You’ll be safe and sound. I’ll tell the guys to come in the afternoon, so you can get a good night’s sleep, okay?”
Tears misted in her eyes. Choked by his own emotions, he started for the door.
“Stay,” she whispered.
“If you want me to. I’ll camp out in the parlor.”
“With me.”
He stopped, hand on the doorknob, his eyes closed. Swallowing hard, he gazed at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Her face crumpled in a frown. “What about Lilly?”
“I dropped her off with Annie before I came out here. She’ll be okay. I’ll send Annie a quick text.” He texted off a quick note and laid his phone on the writing desk. “There. My baby’s taken care of.” Without another word, he walked over to the window seat, lifted it, and took out a comforter. After laying it on the floor next to her side of the bed, he stripped off his damp shirt and jeans.
Before lying down, he claimed her hand, played his thumb over the blue lines. “Oh, Grace, I drove like a maniac, thinking the worst.” His voice cracked. She squeezed his hand. “You were lying on the ground motionless —”
Her hand slackened.
He darted up, putting his fingers to her wrist. Steady pulse. She was asleep. He enfolded her hand in his, traced her veins, kissed every scratch. He lay on the floor and watched the lightning brighten up the sky. His mind reeled with the flashes of the gun muzzles, the smell of gunpowder, the screams tearing his throat as his world ended, his wife and baby falling to the ground. He closed his eyes to shut out the heavenly pyrotechnic display. His body shivered.
Seeing Grace lie lifeless on the ground—like his wife. His soul and body cried out for Grace. Needing to touch her, to have her warmth seep into him, feel her chest rise and fall, he crawled into bed next to her. Not wanting to wake her, he gently situated himself, his arm lying over her stomach. He rested his head on her chest and listened to her strong heartbeat until he fell into a dreamless sleep.
***
A brightening light pulled Grace from her dream. Stupid sun, go away. She wanted to stay in her dream. To stay in the arms of … her eyes snapped open. She maneuvered herself to the edge of the bed and peeked over the edge. No Dominick.
Disappointment nipped at her. See, he doesn’t want you either. Just. Like. Kevin. Had she asked him to stay? It hadn’t been a dream. He had lain on the floor, his thumb caressing the back of her hand until she knew no more. She’d wanted him to curl next to her, folding her body into his. Heat swirled in her belly. Rolling over on her side, she clutched her other pillow. And breathed deeply. Inhaled again. Dominick’s scent. Her heart fluttered against her ribcage.
Her bedroom door opened. “Good morning, sunshine. How are you feeling this morning?” Phoebe swiped an errant lock of hair from Grace’s face.
“Like I’ve been hit a truck. This time it was a garbage truck.” She relinquished her hold on the Dominick-scented pillow and rolled over and gasped. “Phoebe, your face, your hands.” Scratches, cuts, and bruises littered Phoebe’s red and splotchy face. Grace ignored her pain and scooted up in bed. “Oh, my gosh. I’m sorry. I should never have gone after that stupid cat. Can you ever forgive me?”
Phoebe clucked her tongue at Grace. “I should beat you for that stunt you pulled last night.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Pheebs.” She gently touched a scratch on Phoebe’s hand. “Thank you for saving me last night.”
She waved away the thanks. “Domini
ck’s the one you saved you.”
“You were the one who lay on top of me to protect me from the hail and rain. You were the one who called for help. You were the one who pulled me out. Don’t insult your bravery, my dear little sister.”
“I’m thankful you are okay.” She sat beside her and brushed back Grace’s hair. “You’re going to have awesome coloring in a couple of days.”
“Thanks. So are you.” Grace stroked a finger over her puffy and sore face. She dreaded looking in the mirror.
“Can you get yourself ready, or should I dress you?” Phoebe asked with a playful grin spreading across her face.
“I don’t trust your fashion sense.” She repositioned herself on the bed. “I can manage it. Just don’t expect anything pretty.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital in one hour. No arguments.” Phoebe held up a warning finger. Satisfied she had made her point, she left the room, closing the door behind her.
“She’s serious.” Grace chuckled. “Oh, even laughing hurts. Well, here goes nothing.” Her muscles rebelled. Inch by inch, she scooted until she sat, legs dangling off the edge. She wrinkled her nose at her knee now to the size and color of a psychedelic grapefruit.
“Lovely, just lovely,” she muttered and limped to the window. Blades of grass and tree leaves glistened like diamonds as the sunlight danced off the leftover raindrops. Opening the window, she soaked in the fresh morning air. Revived, she limped back over to the bed and, out of habit, made it.
All was going well until she got around to the opposite side when she tripped. Pain shot into her knee, and catching the edge of the bed in time, sat, her hand resting on the Dominick-imprinted pillow. His familiar scent soothed her, and she stuffed her face in the fluffy surface and inhaled him. She jumped at the soft knock on her door and stashed his pillow behind her back.
Dominick walked in, his smile melting into a frown. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet.”
“I’m not an invalid.” She shimmied front and, to prove her point, stood, fighting back a cry of pain. She held her arms out in triumph.
“I never said you were an invalid. I just pointed out that maybe you shouldn’t be out of bed. You did have a tree fall on you last night.”
Grace fell back on the bed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get snippy. I … I don’t know …” She grabbed for a pillow. His pillow.
He kneeled before her, caressed her knee. “Pretty colors.” His gaze locked with hers.
Her gutted clenched, and her fingers curled into the palm of her hand. Tiny scratches etched across his face. Her idiotic stunt had brought everybody she knew and lov … She ripped away from his intense gaze.
He angled her face back to his with his index finger. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No. Yes.”
His thumb traced her cheekbone. “Which one is it?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze flitted around, trying to find something to land on, and finally perched on his lips.
“Grace, there’s something between us. Every time we’re near each other, I can’t even think properly. You are on my mind day and night.” His eyes crinkled. “Problem is, I have no idea what you want from me, but I’d like to find out.”
She flicked her gaze from his lips to his eyes. “I don’t know you.”
He sat beside her on the bed, offered his hand for a handshake, held on to hers. “Name’s Dominick Stephen Carson. I’m thirty years old and was born and raised right here in Beacon. I excelled at wrestling and football, dated the prom queen for a while, and daydreamed in class. I wanted out of small-town life and attended the University of Kansas. I hated every moment. I joined the Marines.” He ran a finger over his scar. “I met a girl … and well, you know the rest of that story. I left the Marines after my wife’s death and came back to live in the very town I escaped from. The end.” He gently captured her chin in his hands. “I don’t know why you don’t trust me. But I promise you one thing, I’ll never hurt you, ever.” He lowered his head to hers and gently kissed her forehead. “Think about it. You know where to find me.”
Dominick walked out of her room, leaving her heart trembling and her forehead tingling where he had gently kissed her. She waited for the doubt. She waited for the fear. She waited for the memories of Kevin. They never came.
What did come was a knock on the door followed by a bustling Phoebe. “Oh my gosh, you are not even dressed.” Ripping open the closet door, she grabbed the first thing she saw.
“Oh, Phoebe, not the pink sweatpants.”
“Well, you’re not gonna get into a pair of your tight jeans, not with that basketball of a knee. Besides, you had plenty of time to get yourself ready. You are in my hands now, and you know how I hate being late.”
Wardrobe picked out and lying on the bed, Phoebe unceremoniously “helped” Grace with her pajamas.
“Pheebs, you’d make a lousy nurse.” She flinched as Phoebe bumped into her bad knee while trying to pull a T-shirt over Grace’s head. “Ouch, that hurts.”
“Sorry.” Phoebe’s face lit up.
“What is wrong with you? You don’t look too sorry.”
“Well, I don’t feel too sorry for you beings you got to have some snuggle time with Carpenter Hottie last night.” She ignored Grace’s gaping mouth and placed her hand on her chest. “He looked so cute, too, curled next to you in bed.”
She snatched Phoebe’s arm. “What do you mean, ‘curled next to me in bed?’”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Remember what exactly?”
Phoebe went into action. With more animation than finesse, she wove the story from Dominick’s truck racing into the yard, tires screeching and gravel flying, to him running through the pelting rain and hail with Grace hugged against his chest, to him gently washing her hair and tucking her into bed. “And then you asked him to stay, and he did. The end.” Phoebe, breathless, flung herself on the bed.
“What do you mean, ‘the end?’ I remember everything that happened except the part you didn’t divulge. Where does the part about Dominick in my bed come in?”
“Well, before I went to bed, I peeked in to check on you, and he was snuggled right against you, sleeping like a baby.” She imitated a baby sleeping on its hands and rested her head on Grace’s shoulder.
Grace played Dominick’s pillowcase between her fingers. No wonder his pillow hadn’t been on the floor. Well, she knew one thing. She would never wash the pillowcase.
Chapter 20
Dominick had always assumed he’d never find happiness again after Carmen’s death. He was wrong. Grace made him laugh, made him want to be a better man. The only thing left was to make her want him too.
It hit him like a fist. And how long will that happiness last when she finds out the truth about Carmen’s death. You sure avoided that part of the story. The end, indeed. The inaudible voice was as familiar to him as his own. It hissed at him whenever happiness or joy or hope threatened to collapse the fortress of secrets he had spent so much time and energy building. His old friend, Fear, tapped his shoulder and whispered damning words in his ear.
Needing a moment alone, Dominick found an old woodpile his men had yet to move. Driving his truck into position, he picked up the heavy logs and threw them into the truck bed. Sweat soon poured down his back. He welcomed the tightening of his muscles, the bite of the bark against his hands. Anything to drown out the voice he hated most.
Log after log, he stripped the voice of its power. Blister after blister, he damned each piece of the voice into the deepest parts of hell where they belonged. After an hour, the logs were jumbled in the truck bed, and his chaotic thoughts fell silent. He fell to his knees in exhaustion and relief.
Fear had lost, the truth had won. The lie that he had come to believe, that he held responsibility for Carmen’s death, lay in the bloody blisters of his hands, the sweat streaming down his face. He now knew in his heart an evil man had killed his wife, not him. He needed to tell Grace the whole story. What h
er reaction would be, he didn’t know, but he had the strength to tell her.
Dominick parked his truck in front of the house. He’d get one of his men to stack the logs near the future location of a fire pit he wanted to build for Grace. The old Victorian house, given a new lease on life, rose proudly into the prairie sky. It never ceased to amaze him how old things could be remade, resurrected. After the equipment cleared out, he knew Grace would be on her hands and knees, creating a landscape worthy of the old place. He and his men would soon be done with the house. Uncertainty overcame him. What excuse will I have see her?
“Earth to Dominick.”
“Hey, Noah, what’s up?” He studied his friend. “I didn’t think you needed to inspect anything today. What gives?”
Noah grinned. “Good to see you, too, my friend.” He jerked his head toward the house. “You’ve done a mighty fine job. It’s a good thing my dad gave Grace and Phoebe your number, huh?”
Dominick chuckled. Without Dickie Weasel, he might have never met Grace. Now, he couldn’t imagine his life without his auburn-haired spitfire. “Those two women he sent my way are quite the pair, aren’t they?”
Noah stared at one window in particular. “Yup. Colorado breeds weird but intriguing women.”
“You ain’t kiddin’.” Dominick slapped his buddy on the back. “What brings you out here, Mr. Fire Inspector, who has nothing to inspect?”
“It’s not any of your business, but I’m here to inspect a fine specimen, rare and difficult to handle —priceless.”
“Dude,” Dominick grinned devilishly, “you’ve got it bad.”
“Ever since she got revenge for a cigarette butt soda, I was in—”
“That’s it.” Phoebe’s shrill voice erupted from the house. “I’ve had it with this old piece of crap. Carpenter Hottie has many talents, I’m sure, but I swear he left open nooks and crannies for every possible creepy-crawly to get in.”
