by Amelia Wilde
“Nobody’s going to know if you just lock the door.”
“Are you joking?” she says, hardly stopping her assault on my lips. “They’ll know exactly what’s going on. I could be fired.”
That seems to sober her up a bit, and for the second time she sits up. This time, she moves a few inches away, so she’s perched on the edge of the bed. Perfectly respectable.
“They’re not going to fire you for kissing your boyfriend after he heroically sacrificed his truck for you.”
Lacey’s face turns serious. “You really…you really could have died, Crosby.” She looks away, and one tear falls from the corner of her eye. I can’t stop looking at her. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, even when she’s trying not to cry. “I would never have forgiven myself.”
“Well, good.” She laughs, and it’s fucking music to my ears. “But you know what? Even if I had died, it would have been worth it.”
She shakes her head. “After what I did to you?”
I take her hand in mine and thread my fingers through hers. “Lacey, look at me.”
She drags her dark eyes back to mine, and there are so many emotions hurtling through them that it’s hard to choose just one. Her lip quivers, and I want to reach up and put my thumb right on her chin, right where it gives her away, but there’s the damn cast.
“Are you—are you going to say anything? Or do I have to keep looking at you like this?” The little smile she gets when she thinks she’s being funny plays across her lips.
“You could never do anything to make me love you any less. Nothing you could have said to me the other day would have made me want to come after you less.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice drops to a whisper. It’s like her throat is as tight as mine is.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
She drops her head to my shoulder again, planting one more kiss on the side of my neck. “I love you.”
“There’s something I want to tell you about.”
Lacey perks up. I wasn’t planning to tell her this now. I’ve never spoken about it to anyone, aside from my mom and dad, and nobody in town has ever spoken about it to me. We hadn’t moved to Lockton yet when Marci died—the moving trucks were scheduled to come pack up the boxes in our house two weeks after the vacation—and so the other kids I went to school with had no idea. Most people in Lockton don’t even know that I ever had a sister.
Lacey’s hand tightens on mine. “What is it?”
I can tell her mind is racing through all the possibilities, and today of all days, I don’t want to keep her in suspense.
I clear my throat because there’s a sudden lump there that I hadn’t anticipated. Marci died a fucking long time ago, but it still hits me like this. I guess it always will.
“I had a sister named Marci who drowned.”
This is the simplest version of the story, and it instantly transforms Lacey’s face into breathtaking empathy. She’s an only child, but I can see right here and now that my heartbreaks are always going to be hers, as well. They always have been hers, even if I was too fucking stupid to know it.
“Oh, Crosby.”
I could leave it at that, but I don’t. “There’s more.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion, and then her face gets wary. “You don’t have to tell me anything more if you don’t want to, Cros.”
“I do want to.” I take in a deep breath, and Lacey settles in, shifting her weight slightly on the bed. “We were on vacation with my parents, staying by a lake. One day, we were all going down to the shore, and Marci wanted to race me.”
I try not to think of this day, but ever since the crash, ever since the ambulance ride, the memory has been as vivid as the day it happened.
“I loved her. I mean, I really loved her.” My voice is thick, heavy with having this story to tell in the first place, but I have to do this, and I have to get it off my chest now. Lacey raises a hand to her lips and kisses it. “I wanted to let her win, so I took my time chasing her down this trail.”
“Oh, no.”
“By the time I got there, she was already falling. She’d leaned against this old piling holding the dock in place, and it snapped. She fell into the water.”
A tear streaks down Lacey’s cheek.
“I couldn’t—I tried to go in after her, but by the time I got there, it was too late. All I could do was carry her out. By then, my parents were there—the whole thing can’t have taken more than five minutes, and they—they couldn’t save her either.”
It’s a searing ache in my throat now, but at least she knows. She knows all there is to know about me.
Lacey holds my hand tight, so tight I think she’ll never let go. But she never takes her eyes away from mine. She doesn’t flinch when I tell her this. She can handle it.
She can handle anything.
“That’s awful, Crosby. I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.”
“For a long time, I thought—I was pretty fucking sure it was my fault.”
Lacey is shaking her head even before I can get all the words out. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I know that now.”
We sit in silence for a moment. I’m thinking about Marci’s blonde hair. I don’t know what she’s thinking about.
“You know that wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t your fault that I drove away from you today.”
“I—”
She holds up a hand to stop me. “No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t have to come after me. You didn’t have to do that, and you did, and you saved my life.”
“I did.”
Lacey leans in, her eyes locked on mine. “You’re a damn good man, Crosby. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
For the first time since Marci died, I know it’s true.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Yay they made up
Lacey
Something changes in Crosby’s face when I say this to him, and it’s like the sun breaking over the horizon at dawn. I don’t know how long he’s been waiting for me to tell him this—that he’s not a failure, that in fact he’s a hero—but it’s like they’re the magic words. His whole body relaxes. All except for his right hand. He squeezes mine.
“Can I tell you something else?”
“Anything.” I brace myself, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he wants to admit something criminal, something that happened while I was in med school. Maybe he wants to admit that he has a baby with another woman and he’s been hiding it from me until this moment. No. That’s ridiculous.
He watches my face, then laughs, the sound coming from deep within his gut. “What are you imagining, Lacey O’Collins?”
I wave a hand in the air. “Nothing. What did you want to tell me?”
“That—” He darts his eyes back and forth, as if checking to make sure nobody else is in the room with us. “I’m really, really fucking exhausted.”
“Oh!” I can’t help but smile. So what if I’m a little relieved? I lean forward and kiss his cheek, then I straighten up, smoothing my shirt over the waistband of my pants. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“But you’ll come back in the morning?”
“I’ll stay all night if you want me to.”
I can see in his eyes that he’s considering it, but just then, my phone buzzes.
“Shit.”
I bend down and pull it out of my coat pocket.
It’s my mom, wondering where I’ve gone.
Did you let them convince you to go on shift?
I give Crosby a sheepish grin. “My parents are waiting to take me home.”
“Sounds familiar.”
I bend down and give him one more kiss. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“I know.”
Three days later, Crosby gets out of the hospital. The day is bright, and the weather is actually warm enough for some of the snow to melt.
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He’s sitting at the edge of his bed when I get there, hair damp from a shower.
“Well, don’t you look fancy?” He’s wearing the new set of clothes I brought in for him a couple of days ago.
“All dressed up for my big day.” He gives me a grin that makes me want to take him straight home and straight to bed, but I can’t do that.
I kiss him instead. “Merry Christmas, love of mine.”
He pulls back, eyebrows coming together in faux concern. “Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast?”
“No.”
Another kiss, this one hotter than the last.
I break it off abruptly, just when it’s getting too hot for the hospital. I have to wipe my mouth on my sleeve. “Okay,” I say with a grin. Let’s get out of here.”
We walk down the hallway together, and with every step, my chest is flooded with a warmth that’s so strong it’s almost painful. I’m so glad that Crosby is okay. I’m so glad that I’m here with him. I’m so glad that we get to spend Christmas together.
In the parking lot, we thread our way—carefully, because I really don’t want Crosby to overdo it and mess with his stitches—through the cars until we end up at a little blue Honda.
I click the button, and the doors unlock.
“Another rental?” Crosby eyes the car. The fact that the Jeep was a rental had nothing to do with me getting stuck on that bridge, but what’s the point in arguing that now?
“No.” My heart speeds up a little bit. I love this new car, but not nearly as much as I’m going to love riding in it with him. “It’s mine, all mine.” My parents drove me to the dealership. One look, and I was sold.
“Wow,” Crosby says, and then he kicks at one of the tires with his boot. “Solid.”
“Definitely solid. I got snow tires.”
He nods approvingly, and something around the corners of his mouth relaxes.
“Hop in, cowboy.”
He lets out a scoff at the sound of that, but it turns into real laughter. “You’re something else.”
“Yes, I am.”
He goes around to the passenger side and climbs in while I slide in behind the wheel. Then he takes a deep breath.
“That’s one hell of a new car smell.”
“Isn’t it awesome?”
“Yes.”
The whole world feels like a new car today. For once, the roads in Lockton are clear—at least here by the hospital—and I don’t feel the usual nervousness about having to drive in the snow. It’s a Christmas miracle.
Crosby reaches for my hand, but he’s hampered by the cast, which makes him scowl. “Damn thing.”
“Don’t be a baby. It won’t be on that long. I’ll hold your other hand later.”
“You’ll hold more than my hand later.”
It’s a ridiculous thing to say, but even as I laugh, the heat rushes to my cheeks. I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of having an insane crush on Crosby King. Not ever.
He looks out the window, watching Lockton go by, and then he lets out a contented sigh.
“So, where to? Your house? Your bed?” Crosby gives me a wicked grin, which makes me think of all the things I could gently do to him if we went to my house right now.
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Where are we going, then?”
“My parents’ house.”
He throws a stern look at me. “Your parents have rules about the bedroom doors.”
“It’s Christmas. There won’t be time for bedrooms. Not until much later, at which time we will definitely go back to my house. Oh—” I reach into one of the cup holders and take something out. “You forgot something at my place a little while ago.”
Crosby twists, wincing a little as he holds out his right hand. I drop the key into it.
“You think I’ll need this?”
“Don’t you want a key to your own house?”
His grin isn’t wicked now, it’s wide and pure and full of joy.
“Lacey O’Collins, are you asking me to move in with you?”
I cut a glance at him across the car. He’s leaning toward me, like he’s hanging on my every word.
“Well, you don’t have to. But would it be so wrong?”
Crosby shakes his head, just once. “It would be the least wrong thing in the history of the damn planet,” he says. “Aside from loving you.”
I cut a glance at him across the car. He’s leaning toward me, like he’s hanging on my every word.
“Well, you don’t have to. But would it be so wrong?”
Crosby shakes his head, just once. “It would be the least wrong thing in the history of the damn planet,” he says. “Aside from loving you.”
There’s a silence between us that’s filled with warmth, and then Crosby clears his throat.
“So, it’s Christmas.”
“Yeah?”
“And we’re going to your parents’ house.”
“Your dad is going to be there, too.”
A smile plays over his face. “That was nice of you.”
“It really was.”
“Can you stop here for a second?” We’re underneath the main stoplight in Lockton, and there are several empty spaces to the right. I pull into one without hesitation. Then Crosby is climbing out of the car, onto the sidewalk.
I follow him, bewildered.
There are cars going by, and people strolling the streets. It’s a gorgeous day to be alive.
Then Crosby goes down on one knee. It’s a process for him, and I want to tell him to stop, but I hold my breath. My heart takes off running.
“I don’t have a ring,” he says, looking up at me. “And my arm is busted. And my face looks like I broke my nose, which I did.” He smiles that half smile of his, eyes sparkling in the winter light. “But even though I look like hell, I have to ask you something.”
My throat is so tight I can hardly get the word out. “Yeah?”
“Lacey, I never want to spend another day away from you for as long as I live. Will you marry me?”
I lean down, right there in the snow on the sidewalk, and throw my arms around his neck. Gently, because he’s still recovering. I don’t think I’ll ever stop smiling.
“Yes,” I say into the side of his neck, then pull back so I can look at that face, gorgeous despite its current state. “Yes!” I shout, and people across the street turn their heads.
Somehow, Crosby gets to his feet with my help, which still isn’t easy, because my joy is pouring out of me in the form of pure laughter.
“I love you!” I cry. “Let’s go celebrate Christmas! But—” The thought crosses my mind, putting the slightest damper on my mood. “I didn’t get you a gift!”
Crosby leans down and kisses me through his smile. “You’re going to be my wife. What more could I ever want?”
I know exactly what he means.
Epilogue
Crosby
“This is it.”
Lacey hovers at the doorway to the little office, marveling at what looks to me like a regular desk with a regular chair. It’s a regular room, with a little window looking out over a small lawn backing up to the river. She turns to me, eyes shining.
“This is awesome, Lace.”
“I’ll be here, filling out patient notes, taking calls…”
“You’ll be perfect.”
We’ve been married three years, and the wedding band still feels like a surprise every morning when I put it on. But it’s the good kind of surprise, not the shitty kind that you dread. Every day with Lacey is like that. Even on the bad days.
“What do you think, Dr. O’Collins?”
The voice coming from the other end of the hall is rich and smooth, and it belongs to a woman with elegant gray hair and, when she chooses, a wise-ass attitude.
“I love it.” Lacey clasps her hands over her rounded belly. “I can’t wait to get started.”
“You’ll have
to wait a little longer.” Dr. Jeanne laughs. “Whatever you do, don’t skip out on maternity leave.”
Lacey has just finished up residency, and she’s about to pop. Any day now.
My heart speeds up just thinking about it.
We’ve been through the birthing classes at the hospital, and every time we left the class, I felt like I knew even less about the world. It’s some crazy shit, this baby process.
I couldn’t be more thrilled.
Lacey is absolutely glowing. Her dark hair shines, and her eyes sparkle even though she’s so huge she can hardly sleep through the night. When she tosses and turns, it keeps me awake. I don’t care. It’s a great chance to put my arm around her, pull her close, and whisper sweet nothings into her ear until we decide to do something decidedly less sweet.
A phone rings, and Dr. Jeanne disappears into her own office.
“What do you think? Ready for lunch?”
“Ready for first lunch.” Lacey puts her hand in mine and grins up at me. “Where to?”
“Home. You can put your feet up, and I’ll cook for you shirtless.”
“Not good enough.” Lacey shakes her head. “Cook for me naked.”
“Okay.”
“‘Okay?’” She laughs. “You’re not even going to put up a fight?”
“Is it ever worth it, fighting with you?”
We’re still laughing when we get out the front entrance of the Riverside Family Practice, which Lacey is about to join…in three months. The fact that they hired her when she’s so pregnant is just a testament to what a fucking excellent doctor she is.
We climb into the blue Honda, me behind the wheel, and Lacey sighs, leaning back against the headrest. “I can’t wait to go home with you. I love going home with you. I’ll always love going home with you.”
“You know what, Lacey King?”
