Lip Service

by Susan Mallery

  SKYE SAT in the chair by the bed and stroked her sister’s hand. Izzy lay on the hospital bed, her face nearly as white as the bandages around her eyes. There were angry red marks on her bare arms and bandages on her hands. One leg was propped up under the covers.

  “That’s starting to get on my nerves,” Izzy said, pulling her hand free of Skye’s. “You’re patting me like a cat.”

  “And yet you don’t purr,” Skye told her. “Were you sleeping? It’s hard to tell with the bandages.”

  “My personal fashion statement. No, I’m not sleeping.” She grabbed Skye’s hand. “Just don’t do the petting thing, okay?”

  “You’re so fussy. I’ll have you know I’m wildly busy. You should be grateful I’m taking time out of my schedule to be here at all.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You were worried about me.”

  “Only a little.” Skye did her best to keep her voice light. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I got blown up and tossed in the Gulf. How do I look?”

  “Battered and waifish. Do you need me to call a nurse?”

  “Only if he’s male and cute.” She shifted and winced. “Otherwise, I’ll pass.” She gestured to the IV running into her other arm. “I have my own supply of drugs to dull everything. Life doesn’t get much better than that.”

  Izzy had been sleeping steadily since her surgery two nights ago. When she woke up, she was coherent and as normal as could be expected under the circumstances. Every time she spoke and made a joke, Skye wanted to run into the hallway, telling the world her sister was going to be okay.

  She managed to hold back, but just barely.

  “You want to talk about what the doctor said?” Skye asked tentatively.

  “No.”

  “We have to at some point.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Izzy, you’re going to need the surgery.”

  “Skye, I swear I can still kick you, so leave me alone.”

  “For now.”

  Izzy groaned. “I’m gritting my teeth. Do you see me gritting my teeth?” She drew back her lips. “Are you looking?”

  “Very clenched.”

  “Good. Talk about something else.”

  They would have to talk about the surgery eventually, but the doctor had said there was time. Skye would listen to him, although what she really wanted was for Izzy to schedule it right away. To get it done with so she could be herself again.

  “You were right about T.J.,” she said instead.

  Izzy sighed. “Being right is one of my favorite things.”

  “I know.”

  Izzy turned toward her. “Right in what way? Did he hurt you? I swear if he hurt you…”

  Skye squeezed her hand and fought tears. “Nothing that dramatic. Oh, Izzy, I’m sorry we’ve been fighting. I’ve felt awful about that.”

  “I staged the explosion for just this reaction. I love it when a plan goes well.”

  “It worked perfectly. I was so angry at you and I can’t even say why.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you or say you couldn’t get the guy. There was just something about him.”

  “He was working for Garth.”

  “What?” Izzy nearly rose into a sitting position before falling back onto the bed. “No way.”

  “Oh, yeah. He was being paid and everything. I don’t know if it was to actually try to get me engaged or to play us against each other.”

  “I’ll bet he was just supposed to make trouble.”

  “And we played right into his hands,” Skye said with a sigh.

  “You more so than me,” Izzy told her.

  “As always, your support brings me such joy.”

  Izzy smiled, then the smile faded. “Working for Garth. That asshole.”

  “Tell me about it. Are you okay? Did you care about T.J.?”

  “No. He was mildly interesting.” She squeezed Skye’s fingers. “I’m sorry I slept with him. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  “You were a little.”

  Izzy hesitated. “Maybe. You’re very sanctimonious sometimes with your perfect life.”

  “My life isn’t perfect.”

  “Of course it is. You’re a great mother raising a great kid. You started a foundation to feed hungry children. How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?”

  Skye didn’t know what to say. “It’s not a competition.”

  “Sometimes it feels like it. Lexi is all smart and business-y. You’re like Mother Teresa with breasts and red hair and I’m the idiot who gets blown up.”

  “Don’t say that,” Skye told her, fighting tears. “You’re my sister and I love you. I don’t know what happened with T.J. I really don’t. He pushed our buttons, that’s for sure. You’re all sexy and adventurous. Guys are into that.”

  “Maybe.” She touched the bandages on her eyes with her free hand. “How did you find out about T.J.?”

  “Mitch heard him talking to Garth. But I should probably tell you that after you told me you’d slept with T.J. and he was still planning to go out to dinner with me, I decided to teach him a lesson.”

  Izzy grinned. “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh.” Skye told her about the dinner and the not-so-subtle invitation to bed. “He jumped at it, which is disgusting. He’d just been with you. So I told him off.”

  Izzy laughed. “On the sidewalk?”

  “Right outside the restaurant. After I had his car towed.”

  “Go, Skye.”

  “Thank you. It felt good. Then I called Lexi and we’ve been spreading some very nasty rumors about him. Everything from him being bad in bed to embezzlement to having a dick the size of a peanut.”

  “So I was seriously flirting with danger by pissing you off,” Izzy said.

  “You were, but you’ve always been brave. Which is why I know you’ll want to schedule the surgery right away.”

  Izzy pulled her hand free. “That wasn’t a very smooth transition.”

  “Come on. You know you’re going to do this.”

  “I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

  “What’s to think about?”

  “Total blindness.”

  “If you don’t have the surgery, you’ll be stuck where you are.”

  “Until the bandages come off, I don’t know what that means. It’s my decision, Skye. Back off.”

  “But you have to—”

  Izzy pointed in the general direction of the door. “Aren’t visiting hours over? Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

  “Izzy, don’t. I’ll stop talking about it.”

  “Just go. I’m tired. I don’t want to talk anymore. Go on. You can come back later.”

  Skye wasn’t sure what to do. After a few seconds, she rose and kissed her sister’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”

  “Like I believe that.”

  “I’ll be by later.”

  “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  Skye left. Everything had gone great with the visit, right up until the end. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? Why did she have to push?

  She paused in the hallway, not sure what to do. Should she wait and see her sister in a couple of hours or come back later? Before she could decide, she saw a man walking toward her.

  Every part of her went still, as if knowing he was here made her world right again. She didn’t have to decide on her own. She could ask his opinion because he would tell her what he thought and he thought things through. He was tough and difficult and smart and sexy and he made her laugh. He protected her and Erin. He was someone she could depend on. Just as important, she burned for him.

  She walked toward him. When they were next to each other, he pulled her close.

  “You okay?” Mitch asked.

  “No. Izzy and I had a fight. I was pushing. Why do I do that? She’s still in the hospital. I shouldn’t be pushing.”

  He led her over to a couple of plastic chairs in an alcove. They sat down. He lac
ed their fingers together.

  “Why were you fighting?”

  “She needs surgery. The doctors can’t know for sure, but they expect her eyesight to be at about thirty percent when the bandages come off. It should stabilize there, but there’s also a chance it could get worse.”

  “That has to scare the hell out of her,” he said.

  “It does. But it can all be fixed with surgery. They can repair the damage and restore her to full sight. She’ll be better than new.”

  Mitch’s dark eyes stared into her. “What’s the downside?”

  “If the surgery goes wrong, she’ll be totally blind. The odds are tiny. The surgeon has never had it happen. But Izzy hasn’t scheduled the operation. I was pushing her to get it done, to get everything fixed, then move on. She won’t.”

  “It’s only been a couple of days. Give her time. She’s adjusting to a lot.”

  She wanted to snatch back her hand but was determined not to act like a five-year-old. “Are you taking her side?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s no reason to rush the surgery. She has time. Let her come to terms with what’s happened to her. It’s a big shock.”

  Her gaze dropped to his leg. In his jeans and boots, she couldn’t see the proof that he knew what he was talking about but it was there.

  “Have I mentioned I hate it when you’re reasonable?” she asked.

  “No, but I’m not surprised.”

  That made her smile. She drew in a breath. “Fine. I’ll let it go for now. You’re right. There’s no huge rush. It’s just this isn’t like her. She doesn’t usually react so passively.”

  “She just got blown up, Skye. Give her a break.”

  “There’s that logic thing again. She’s my sister. I want her to be okay.”

  “She will be.” He glanced at his watch. “Are you going to stay here? Do you want me to meet Erin’s bus?”

  Because her daughter would be home in a couple of hours after her last day of school. Because someone had to be there for her. But Erin wasn’t his responsibility. Not that the information would stop Mitch. He would do the right thing because that’s the kind of guy he was.

  She thought about what had happened nine years ago, when her father had scared her into leaving Mitch. How she’d reacted without thinking and by the time she could finally think it all through, it was too late. She was pregnant with Erin.

  She grabbed Mitch’s other hand and held on tight. “I loved Ray,” she said, staring into his eyes.

  He tried to pull back, but she didn’t let go.

  “I loved Ray,” she repeated. “Not at first. But over time. Sure he had issues—what on earth was he doing wanting to marry someone so young? But he was a good man and I appreciated that. I won’t take anything away from him by claiming not to have loved him.”

  Mitch narrowed his gaze. “Is there a point to this?”

  “Yes. I loved him, but I was never in love with him. I never felt the fire, the passion. When he died, I cried more out of guilt for not being able to give him my heart than because he was gone. He wanted all of me and I couldn’t give him that.”

  She swallowed. “He’s Erin’s father, but I’m not sure how long she’ll remember him. His kids don’t want anything to do with her, which is their loss, but a position they’re unlikely to change.”

  He’d tensed. “Again, your point would be?”

  “I never stopped loving you. Not for a minute. I pretended I did—I lived my life—but you were everything to me and you still are.”

  He jerked free and pushed to his feet. “Why are you saying this?”

  She rose and faced him. “Because it’s true. I want you to know that you have always been the one. I doubt I’m capable of loving anyone else. I don’t expect anything, Mitch. I just needed you to know that I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to fight for you nine years ago. I’m sorry for what we both went through, and yet I wouldn’t change it—learning to be a wife to Ray and having Erin have made me a better person. We’re both so different now, but nothing in my heart has changed. I love you.”

  He’d come to terms with the past, and he was ready to be a good guy in her life—but love? Didn’t she know those kind of words could kill? He didn’t want to hear them. Not now. Not this way. Not yet.

  He swore silently. She looked so damned sincere. As if she hadn’t burned him down to his heart…the heart that doubted it could survive a second beating from her.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said flatly. Because it was easier…safer.

  She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not surprised. Why would you? Why would you trust me? If me loving you means anything, then let me earn back that trust. I’m happy to do the work. I’ll earn your respect. I love you, Mitch. Nothing is going to change that. I’ve learned my lesson. I know what matters. I’m not going anywhere. Just think about it, please. Consider the possibility that after all this time, maybe we’ve found our way back to each other.”

  He didn’t know what to say. It was everything he wanted to hear but it was also everything he was afraid of. Could he make himself that vulnerable to Skye, again? It was too much. So he turned and left without saying anything.

  When he was back in his truck, he clutched the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. It was that or put his fist through the window.

  Why did she have to look so earnest? Why did he want to believe her?

  His cell phone rang, but he ignored it. After starting the truck he drove back to the ranch. The phone rang every couple of minutes. Skye was nothing if not persistent but he needed time.

  But when he pulled in front of the house, Fidela rush out to him.

  “I’ve been calling,” she said, sounding frantic. She twisted her hands together. “Oh, Mitch, I’m so sorry. It’s bad. It’s very bad.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “PETE’S DEAD?” MITCH repeated stupidly. No way. Pete couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t right—he’d saved Mitch, he had a baby on the way.

  “I’m sorry,” Fidela told him, tears filling her eyes. “His brother called. I have the number.”

  Mitch couldn’t feel anything—not pain or anger or regret. There was only a cold numbness that fogged his brain.

  He took the number and stared at it as he tried to figure out the next step. Then he grabbed the phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Mitch Cassidy. I’m looking for Zane.”

  “That’s me.” The other man sounded tired. “Thanks for calling. You heard?”

  “About Pete? I’m sorry. He was the best.”

  “I know.” Zane’s voice cracked. “Look, he talked about you all the time. We all know about you, how you saved his life.”

  Saved Pete? “He’s the one who dragged me to cover.”

  “Yeah, but you held off the snipers. He loved you, man. I know you were hurt so I don’t know if this would be asking too much, but we’d like you to come to the funeral. Lisa, his wife, wants to meet you.”

  Because they’d never met. Mitch felt he knew her, but that was all through Pete.

  “When and where,” Mitch said, the numbness wearing off. “Just tell me and I’ll be there.”

  He wrote down the information and promised to call with the flight information. The funeral would be in three days. Full military. They wanted him to speak. He had no idea what to say.

  “I’ll call Skye,” Fidela said when she hung up.

  “No. Don’t bother her.”

  “She should know.”

  “No.”

  He couldn’t talk to her right now, couldn’t talk to anyone. Rather than fight about it, he left and headed for the barn, where he saddled Bullet and took him out.

  He waited until they’d passed the house before giving the horse his head and hanging on for the ride. It took Bullet a few seconds to realize he wasn’t going to be held back, then he took off, his long stride covering ground. Mitch bent low ove
r his horse’s neck. Wind burned his eyes and pulled at his shirt. He wanted to go forever, but knew that no matter how fast they went, he couldn’t outrun Pete’s death.

  Skye’s car was parked behind the house when he got back. Both he and the horse were breathing heavily, although Bullet had done all the hard work. He slid out of the saddle and walked his horse in, moving past Skye without speaking. She followed him into the barn.

  “I heard,” she said, coming up behind him. “I’m sorry, Mitch. I know Pete was your friend.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Fidela called me,” she added, as if he hadn’t guessed that.

  “She should learn to mind her own business.”

  “She cares about you. I want to help.”

  He pulled off the saddle and the blanket, then began to walk the horse to cool him. His leg ached, but he didn’t care. Nothing much mattered anymore.

  “You’re going to the funeral,” she said. “Let me help with that. I’ll make the arrangements. I can go with you, if you want. Or not. Let me help. There’s not much else I can do, so let me do this.”

  He looked at her and instead saw Pete laughing. Pete had found nearly everything about life inherently funny. He enjoyed the early mornings, the nights of waiting, the rush of jumping out of a plane.

  “His wife is pregnant,” Mitch said.

  “I know. That must make her feel both better and worse. She’ll always have a part of her husband alive, but he won’t know his child.”

  “Pete was so damn proud. He kept talking about how he came from a long line of good swimmers.”

  Skye frowned. “Don’t you have to be a good swimmer to be a SEAL?”

  “Sperm,” he said. “He was talking about his sperm. Lisa got pregnant the first night they tried. We all thought the sonogram picture looked like an alien, but Pete claimed the baby was all him. Even had the family sports equipment.” He glanced at her. “That means—”

  “I know what it means.” She gave him a faint smile. “He sounds like a good guy. Fidela told me when the funeral is. You can fly out that morning. Do you want to spend the night?”

  “No. I’ll come back.”

  “Fine. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  She hesitated, as if she wanted to say more. Or maybe she just wanted him to say something. But he didn’t have any words. Not yet. He couldn’t think about what she’d told him earlier. Love? Not today. Not with Pete gone.