He shot her a glance as she gazed out the window. She was sitting next to him, but may as well have been a thousand miles away.
“You’re wound up so tight I’m afraid to touch you,” he blurted out.
That made her head turn toward him.
“You’re obviously hurt or mad,” he said. “I offended you. I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry. You have to know that.”
“I do know that,” she said. “I’m fine, Nick. I’m just tired.”
“No, that’s bullshit,” he spat. “You think I don’t know you well enough by now to know when you’re pissed off? Or I can’t feel the difference between when you want to be next to me and when you don’t? It’s one of the things I like the most about you: you have no filter. You don’t hide what you think or how you feel. So when you do, that’s . . . it’s bad.” He took the turn around the corner a little too fast, making them both shift in their seats.
Unable to hold back, he pulled over to the curb and threw the gearshift into park. He saw her eyes widen as he did, as he turned to her and said fiercely, “This was the most incredible day I’ve had in years, and I don’t want it to end on a low note. I don’t want you to get out of this car and be upset with me. I . . .” He gripped her hand.
She just blinked at him, those beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with emotions he couldn’t figure out.
He leaned in, gripping the back of her head with a sweep of his free hand, and sealed his mouth to hers. He kissed her hot and hard, a little urgent, trying to get back the woman who’d been with him all day long. She kissed him back, her lips parting with a whimper from deep in her throat. Fueled by the sound, his tongue swept inside her mouth, possessive, a claim. He affected her, and he wouldn’t let her forget it.
His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her head as he kissed her, pulling her in. When he released her, he looked deep into her eyes and whispered, “I’m crazy about you, Amanda. Whatever happens on Wednesday, you need to know that.”
“What? Nick, you’re going to be fine,” she said.
“Are you hearing me?” he demanded. He wanted something in return that she wasn’t giving him. It made him want to grab her shoulders and shake her. Tell me I mean something to you too. Tell me what I felt today is real, that it’s not just me.
“I hear you,” she whispered. Her eyes dropped from his. “But you . . . we’re just caught up right now. With the surgery coming, worrying about Myles . . . people get caught up in high emotions, swept away. We had a wonderful day, Nick, a fantasy day. But . . . maybe we just need to step back and breathe. We got swept away. It happens—you hear about it all the time. When people are in an intense situation, they kind of throw themselves into it, at each other, and . . .”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. Was she for real with this crap?
She fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt. “Maybe the surgery’s actually good timing, you know? Enforced space between us. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
He froze and released her, staring. Now who was the one being brushed off? Only her brush-off, unlike his, was intentional. “So I don’t know how I feel, is that it?”
“I don’t either,” she whispered. “This is all . . . I think we’re just getting carried away. Everything feels extreme because so much is at stake. But it’s not . . .” Her voice trailed off and she looked away.
He stared at her for a few seconds; the sound of his blood rushing through his ears rose to a roar. With a disgusted grunt, he let her go, threw the car into drive, and pulled away from the curb with a screech of the tires.
She curled her arms around her middle and turned away as much as she could, staring out the window.
His heart hammered in his chest, anger searing through him as he focused on the road. What the fuck? He knew how he felt, dammit. Yes, things were crazy right now, but he knew how he felt. He sure as hell didn’t like having his feelings brushed aside, being told what he was feeling. For fuck’s sake . . .
When he pulled up to her building a few minutes later, he tried to draw a deep breath. “Amanda.”
She looked at him. He stared back. The conflicted look on her face made the fiery words he’d planned to spew die on his tongue. He sighed and admitted, “I don’t even know what to say right now.”
“Me neither.” She leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on his lips, held his face. “You’re going to be fine. Pre-op and all that tomorrow and Tuesday, right?”
He nodded. Tell me I mean something to you.
“And I’ll be with Myles. So . . . text me to check in when you can, I guess.”
He stared at her gorgeous face. Give me something to go on here, dammit.
“When you feel up to visitors, let me know.”
Don’t throw my words back in my face. The force of his ire surprised him. You’re running away from me. I want you . . . need you . . . and you’re running.
“I’ll be thinking of you,” she whispered. “I’ll be around.... Call if you need me.”
Something flashed in those sky-blue eyes. She too was feeling more than she was letting on; he just knew it. Goddamn it. But she said nothing and kissed him again, long and lingering. He couldn’t resist her, even when he wanted to shake her. His hands flew up of their own volition to cradle her head and hold her to him. They kissed for a few minutes, their urgent, needy mouths and caresses expressing what neither of them seemed to be able to say out loud.
“See you soon,” she whispered. “You got this.”
“Yup,” he whispered back, the longing and pent-up frustration in his chest threatening to blow him apart.
She untangled herself from him, opened the door, and got out of the car. He watched as she pulled her suitcase from the trunk, as she turned to look at him one last time, then walked away.
He sat there quietly for a few minutes, unsure of what had happened. Everything had been so right, then gone sideways so fast . . . then that kiss at the end . . .
He scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbed his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him? Falling in love with her on top of everything else—he didn’t have enough going on? And how dumb could he get? She clearly didn’t feel the same things that he did. The closeness, the connection, that click . . . all one-sided. She didn’t feel the same if she could separate herself from that after a few harsh words, even after he’d apologized.
It stung like hell, but luckily, he didn’t have much time to dwell on it beyond tonight. A little more than forty-eight hours from now, he’d be in an operating room, on a table. That’s what he had to focus on now. Not Amanda. Not on this want and raw emotion that were rising in him so fast and hard he was almost choking on them.
He’d have plenty of time to dissect his feelings for her later, if he wanted to. And the truth was, he didn’t really want to.
He put the car in drive and eased away from the curb.
Chapter Twenty
Nick slowly opened his eyes. His mouth was dry and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, making him grunt.
“You’re awake,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “How do you feel, Mr. Martell?”
He looked to his side. A nurse stood over him . . . the one who’d helped prep him for the surgery. The one who’d been there yesterday. He couldn’t remember her name now. . . . He thought hard through the throbbing in his skull. Sadie? Sophie, that was it. A quick glance around showed him he was still in the hospital, in a room, in a bed. His head was pounding harder than it ever had in his life. “Head hurts,” he managed. “And I’m thirsty.” He barely recognized his own voice.
“Here, let me help you.” Sophie grabbed a cord and raised the head of his bed just a little, enough to get him upright. Then she brought a plastic cup to him, even put the straw between his dry lips. “Here you go.”
He drank down the water like a man who’d been in the desert for days. Jesus Christ, he’d never had a headache like this. Like his brain was an alien life form trying to shove out of his skull. He tried
to sit up more, and a wave of sensation radiated from his lower left side and up his back, quick as lightning and equally powerful, stealing his breath. Nausea gripped him. The straw fell from his mouth as he hissed.
“Still sore,” she noted. “That’s to be expected.”
“It’s not . . .” He moved more carefully. “It’s actually not as bad as it was yesterday. It is a new day, right?”
“Yup. Well, that’s good.” She looked into his eyes, felt around. “You look better than you did yesterday, I’ll tell you that. Glad you got some sleep at last.”
He took a quick account of his body and decided for the most part, he did feel better than he had yesterday. The surgery itself, he didn’t remember at all. Who knew waking up from the anesthesia would be harder than that? It was a cruel twist.
His lower back, by his hip, was still sore as hell, like someone had kicked him hard. But it wasn’t brutal. The pounding headache and nausea from the anesthesia had been far worse. He’d spent the night in the hospital. Even shot off a text to his mom at some point to let her know that he was all right. Then he’d floated in and out of it all evening . . . vomited two or three times.... He remembered Pierce, Dane, Tess, and Charles all coming by to check on him, but Nick had been kind of out of it.... He’d tried to be still and slept a lot.
Now, a glance toward the window showed sunshine, and though his headache remained, it wasn’t as bad as it’d been the day before. “I’m better,” he said, his voice rough. Then his head throbbed again, making his eyes close. They’d warned he might have a headache, but this was brutal. He wouldn’t let on, though. If he did, they wouldn’t spring him, and all he wanted was to hole up in his hotel room and be miserable in peace, without being poked and prodded.
“I’m glad to hear it. But if you want to be released today,” Sophie warned, “you need to be honest about how you feel. None of the macho stuff you tried to pull yesterday. Okay?”
He sighed. “Okay.”
“I’m just going to check you over now,” she said. “Now that you’re up, I’ll let the doctor know so he can check on you too. When he gives the all-clear, you can be released, but that won’t be for a few hours.”
“Got it.” He opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You did great, Mr. Martell. All you have to do right now is rest.”
“Okay,” he whispered. He was worse off than he’d thought it would be. Damn everyone who’d been right about that. It pissed him off. “Myles . . . is he okay?”
“He’s in recovery,” she said.
“I need more than that. I need to know how he is. . . .” Nick struggled to sit up but he moved too fast, making both his head and the back of his left hip throb at the same time. He groaned low and hard, holding still.
Six hours later, Nick was released from the hospital. Charles had planned everything ahead with the tactical efficiency of a wartime general. Pierce was the one to help Nick from the hospital room to the wheelchair—damn hospital policy—to the car. Pierce drove him to the hotel while Nick closed his eyes and tried to keep his throbbing brain inside his skull. He asked Pierce a few questions. So far, Myles was holding his own, and that was about all there was to say. The family was holding vigil at the hospital; Charles and Lisette had barely left Myles’s side, while the others had all taken turns checking in.
Nick felt heavy-limbed, sluggish, and woozy. He was more grateful than he wanted to admit when Pierce practically lifted him out of the car and slung an arm around him to keep him upright.
“I’m the strongest of the family,” he said to Nick as they slowly walked to the elevator. “Or, I was before Logan came in, but that walking mountain is out of town on business. So I was picked for this. Someone had to help drag you along.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Nick growled good-naturedly.
“Shut up,” Pierce said. “You do too.” They crossed the lobby at a slow, careful pace. “Besides, I’m only babysitting you for the first shift. Julia’s coming tomorrow.”
Nick lifted a brow at that. He hadn’t spent any time with Dane’s supposedly fiery wife; he didn’t know her at all. “Why her?”
“She volunteered.” Pierce didn’t let go of Nick as he pressed the button for the elevator. “She takes no crap, so she’s a perfect pick. You’re a little grouchy.”
Nick grunted. His head hurt too much to argue, and his back was sore. They stepped into the elevator and he leaned against the wall.
“In all seriousness,” Pierce said, his voice more somber than usual, “you did a great thing. We’re all so damn grateful, Nick. You know that, right?”
“I do.” He shifted so his bad hip wasn’t against the wall. “It was my honor, and I just hope to God that it works. I care about that kid. You know that, right?”
“We all do.” Pierce looked him over. “I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable.”
“Yesterday was worse. That was a nine; this is like a six. I’m okay.”
“You’re so full of shit. You look like hell and you’re in pain, tough guy.”
Nick laughed hoarsely. “My headache’s the worst of it, to be honest. Worse than my back and hip. That just feels like I got bruised, you know? But it feels like my brain is playing conga drums and trying to escape my head at the same time, and it’s messing me up.”
“Doctor said that was normal, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, I know. Apparently, anesthesia and I don’t get along.”
The doors slid open and Pierce immediately went to Nick, helping him down the hall. He got him to his room, through the suite, and into the bedroom. As Nick collapsed gingerly onto the bed, Pierce glanced at his watch. “This is good. The nurse Charles hired for you should be here soon.”
“Wonderful,” Nick grunted.
Pierce chuckled. “I have a feeling you’re a terrible patient.”
“I don’t like being hovered over,” Nick said.
“I get that. But when you need help, you should admit it. And you do right now. So take it.”
Nick grunted again.
“I’m going to run back downstairs,” Pierce said as he watched Nick kick off his shoes, “to get your bag from the car. Then I’ll come back and hang with you ’til the nurse comes.”
Nick watched him leave, then slid out of his clothes down to his briefs. He left them in a pile on the floor and climbed into bed. Fuck, his head . . . all he wanted was to lie still.
When Pierce got back, he asked if Nick needed anything. “Bottle of water or Gatorade on the nightstand,” Nick said quietly. “And if you could pull those blackout curtains, I’ll be your best friend for life. That’s it.”
Pierce did as he’d been asked before leaving Nick to go sit in the front room of the suite. Nick was just starting to fall asleep when he heard voices from out there. Pierce was talking to a woman. Probably the nurse. Nick didn’t care; he just wanted to be left alone. He lay motionless, his eyes closed, trying not to worry about Myles or think about Amanda or his mom or anything that would make his brain do actual work.
He heard the door open, then close. A few moments later, a cool hand gently touched his forehead, then his ears. The woman’s soft hand felt like heaven.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Pierce’s voice, a little concerned, on his right.
“Of course he will,” said the voice on his left. “No temperature, so that’s good.”
What the fuck? He knew that voice. With a jolt, his eyes snapped open. Amanda was there, standing over him, a little crease between her brows as those sky-blue eyes studied him.
“Hi,” she said.
“You’re my nurse?” Nick growled.
“Charles asked me,” she said.
“She’s not working with Myles right now,” Pierce said, “so it makes sense.”
“I don’t want you to—” Nick started to say, then stopped himself. A few more words and he’d out them to Pierce. Damn it all to hell.
She pressed
a fingertip to his pulse, which he felt hammering away. “Shhhh.”
Nick’s insides bubbled with anger that didn’t make sense, and he knew it.
“Nick, look,” Pierce said, blissfully clueless, “Amanda is a great nurse. She’s been amazing with Myles. I know you’re cranky, but just let her do her job, okay?”
Nick swallowed down everything and let his eyes slide closed. “You win for now. Headache’s real bad—I don’t have it in me to fight.”
“Should we be worried about that headache?” Pierce asked Amanda.
“The headache’s a normal side effect of the anesthesia,” Amanda said, sounding cool and assured. “Also one of the drugs they used during surgery. I’m watching him—don’t worry. Charles wants me here until eleven tonight, and I will be. So you can go if you want.”
Pierce touched Nick’s arm lightly. “You’re in good hands, so I’m going to take off. You just want to sleep anyway, I’m sure.”
Nick opened his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. But do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Keep me posted on Myles?”
“You got it, no problem. I’ll text you or call you.” Pierce gave Nick’s arm a little squeeze. “Feel better, man. Julia will come by tomorrow. She’s the morning shift, Amanda’s the afternoon and evening.”
Nick just sighed.
“Don’t abuse your nurse,” Pierce mock warned. “I like this nurse a lot, so give her a break, all right?”
Nick harrumphed but said, “Thanks for getting me back here. For everything today. Appreciate it, man.”
“Glad I could help. Rest up. Talk to you soon.” Pierce said his good-bye to Amanda, then left.
As soon as Nick heard the door close, he looked at Amanda. “I thought I told you—”
“You knew Charles was hiring a nurse. Well, he asked me to do this,” she said evenly. “As a personal favor to him. I won’t be needed at the mansion for a few weeks, maybe more. I’ve been hired; he’s paying me. You don’t like it, take it up with him. I answer to him, not to you.”
Nick wanted to growl, he was so mad. “You knew I didn’t want you here.”
It Might Be You Page 26
