by Reina Torres
Stan nodded, knowing he’d have to tell her sooner or later. “Come, walk with me to the room.” He already had Stella’s hand in his, so he gave it a gentle tug as he started to walk. “After Teodoro came to pick you up for the game, I started to pack up the tools.”
“Just like he said you were going to do,” Stella remembered.
“Yes, but Nico looked at the sky and back at his watch and said we could get in another hour or so before it was too dark.”
Stella huffed. “That sounds just like him.”
Stan looked down at her as they walked and noticed that Kyle was only a step or two behind them. “And an hour became another half hour.”
“And then another half.” Stella tsked with a gentle affection in her tone. “He should have stopped.”
“You mean; I should have stopped him.” Stan’s voice was thick with emotion.
As Kyle watched, he saw Stella take his grandfather in hand, as Stan had done for her, each taking the role of comforting the other. Stella stopped short in the hallway, keeping hold of his hand so he’d have to stop and turn to look at her. “Uncle Stan, stop.” She shook her head. “We both know that he wouldn’t have listened to you. He’s stubborn as the day is long. He would have continued on after you left, so it was better that you stayed.” She stepped closer, folding her free hand on top of their joined hands. “If you hadn’t been there,” Kyle heard the strangled sound that came from her throat as if it was twisted up inside her, “I don’t even want to think what could have happened.”
And then he saw the crash, as if the reality of the situation had just fallen down on her from the atmosphere. A single indrawn breath pulled her away, her hands lifting to press against her chest, her knees buckling from the pain. “Oh my God! He would have been there all alone and hurting and-”
He didn’t wait for Stan to step in. This time the O’Malley man taking her into his gentle embrace was a little taller, and a little less practiced at comforting her, or anyone for that matter. Stella didn’t seem to notice, turning easily enough into his arms. She didn’t have any words and he was okay with that. He didn’t know what to say.
When she started to cry, the shuddering silent sobs only made him hold tighter to her smaller form. She clung to him and he smoothed his hands over her back, struggling to find a way to soothe her worries, his fingers sweeping through the soft curls over and over again. Movement in a doorway caught his attention. “Stella?”
She sucked in a breath that turned into a hiccup. “Yeah?”
Kyle turned to look down the hallway. “The doctor wants to see you.”
Chapter 7
Dr. Sattler introduced himself, explaining that he’d been the doctor on call when her father was brought in. “He sent me back here to look for you to explain. He saw Stan and nodded. “I’m glad you stayed around.”
Stan shrugged. “Sometimes I can keep him from being a complete pain in the ass.”
“Much appreciated.” Dr. Sattler turned back to Stella. “Your father was very adamant. He wanted to be ready to go before you arrived, he is quite convinced you’re going to plop him in a wheelchair and take him right out to your car.”
“Well,” Stella grinned, “he’s out of luck. Kyle brought me.”
The doctor nodded, his expression one of satisfied curiosity. “I thought I recognized you.” He reached out and shook hands with Kyle. “Here to offer a second opinion, Dr. O’Malley?”
Kyle shrugged. “If you need me, I’d be happy to help out.”
Stella turned and looked up at Kyle’s face. His expression was different than what she was used to, smiling instead of an intense stare. It was a look she found she liked so much better.
He looked down, catching her looking at him. “Your dad was lucky that Dr. Sattler is on call tonight. He’s got a sharp mind and he’s easily one of the best here at St. Helena Memorial.”
Dr. Sattler looked pleased at the compliment. “I need to get back and check on your father before he talks one of the volunteers into calling him a cab.” He started down the hall. “If you’d like to leave, just let one of the nurses know how we can reach you.”
While Stella held up a hand in a half-wave, she made no move to leave. She turned to look at Stan. “Thank you so much for everything, Uncle.”
He shook off the compliment, but it seemed like there was a question in his eyes. “Why don’t you let me stay. Go home and get some rest.”
“Me?” Stella shook her head. “You were the one who took time off from your shop, both of them, and still stayed with my father-” She covered her mouth with her hands, but they could still hear her voice. “Thank you so much.”
She knew she was dangerously close to hysterics and she hated that Kyle was there to see it.
“Why don’t we find you a chair.”
She felt hands on her shoulders and shuddered.
“Hey,” the voice in her ear was quiet, gentle, and when she turned her head to look over her shoulder, she met Kyle’s grey-green eyes filled with concern, “it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”
Stella had been robbed of her voice, barely able to make her mind work with the way that Kyle’s hands were smoothing the tension out of her shoulders. All she could do was nod.
Kyle looked up at his grandfather. “There’s a staff lounge here, a few doors down. You want to come with us?”
Stan took a moment to reply. “I’ll stay here and come get you when they bring him back.”
Somehow, Kyle managed to move her down the hall and into a room which was half-lit. “Some of the staff use this room to catch a little sleep when they work double shifts or just need a few minutes to relax.
Stella nodded and sat down on the couch, or rather she sank down onto the couch when her legs finally seemed to give out. Leaning forward she put her face into her hands and drew in a long shuddering breath. The door closed with a soft click and she let out a soft sigh of relief, alone… finally.
The couch sank beside her and she rolled her head to the side to look. Kyle was sitting just inches away, his arms on the back. He gave her a little smile. “Go ahead,” his voice was soft and she leaned closer to hear it, “close your eyes.”
The thought was tempting, but the height of the couch made it impossible. Stella had always had a love/hate relationship with most furniture. She was a normal size, but being short-waisted, it always meant that the back edge of couches always seemed to bend her neck at an odd angle. “I’m- I’m okay right here.”
When he laughed she couldn’t find the energy to be affronted. Instead, she just narrowed her eyes at him.
“You really are stubborn.”
Her eyes met his challenge, turning nearly into a glare.
He answered with another laugh, but before she could react she felt his hand on her far shoulder and when he tugged her closer she went.
It was almost an awkward affair, but Kyle saved the moment again. Taking hold of her closest hand, he drew her arm forward so instead of being caught between his body and the couch, she came to rest against his chest, her head tucked in under his chin.
She certainly hadn’t expected to be this close to Kyle O’Malley, ever. Even in her dreams he’d only be close enough for her to touch, okay, there was a lot of touching. But to find herself almost sprawled over his chest, was a shock to say the least, but the heat of him under her cheek made it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open.
Turning slightly on the couch, she drew her knees up and tucked her feet under her legs, allowing her to cuddle in to his side. And if that wasn’t surreal enough for her tired mind, she felt Kyle’s hand slide under hers and he smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand.
He knew when she fell asleep. Her body relaxed against him, her hand flattened against his palm. Just when he realized that he was good and caught underneath her, Kyle found that he didn’t want to move away.
At first, he’d told himself he was helping out because that’s what he was expected to do. She needed t
o get to the hospital, she needed to sit down, she needed to relax. He was used to compartmentalizing things. Putting one problem in front of the other.
But now, with her hand in his, her cheek pressed against his chest, and the soft pillow of her hair brushing against his chin, there wasn’t an emergency to deal with. And instead of focusing on just one thing at a time, he was aware of a number of things, and all of them worried him.
Since when had Stella gone from gawky little tomboy to a gorgeous woman? When had her stick straight hair become a lush fall of curls? And when had Kyle O’Malley, no nonsense military man, even cared about any of those things, including the way her hand fit in his.
People left him, people he loved, they left. They died, they walked away. Sure, he had friends, that wasn’t the problem. People that he let in, deep in his heart. Those people were gone. Leaning his head back against the wall, he almost welcomed the sharp pain but the noise bothered Stella, furrowing her brow, her hand pulling from his.
It was easier, he knew, to keep up those walls. He still did it from time to time with his grandfather, trying to keep himself separate from the one remaining person whose loss would drag him under.
He blew out a breath through his nose, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Ignoring the curves of her body as she settled even deeper against him, Kyle struggled to keep his mind on the salient points of their relationship.
Number one being that they didn’t have one. Her father was his grandfather’s best friend and that put the two of them in constant proximity. But other than that, nothing. Well, there was the daily hell of her construction project just a few feet from his door. Okay, so a ‘few feet’ was perhaps over-exaggerating things, but that’s how it felt.
Stan was always telling him to open up, let someone in. But this wasn’t what he had in mind. Kyle remembered the therapy sessions when Dax’s relationship with Emerson had him twisted up in knots that were worse than the trouble with his leg. Sure, he’d given Dax hell, pushing his buttons about the woman that had turned his recuperation into something more.
And honestly, that difference had set Kyle back from his friend. Sure, he was happy for Dax, but the idea that someone who was that much of a lone wolf would not only find himself a one-woman man, but hanging out with a bunch of little girls, building natural shelters and baking cookies, or whatever it was they did at those Ladybug meetings, wasn’t what he wanted.
Kyle wasn’t looking to complicate things. He had a business to build, putting his practice on the map.
A soft sigh pierced the silence of the room and he lifted his head from the wall to look down. Stella turned, ever so slightly toward him, rubbing her cheek against his chest. She lifted her hand from his and while he instinctively reached to take it back, he watched as she set her hand down, just inches from her nose.
And right over his heart.
And damn if his heart didn’t know it.
He ground his teeth together, knowing that he’d put himself in this position. His time in pararescue hadn’t left him much time for women, his time in Orthopedics left him even less. He was, in a word, determined.
And yet, sitting in the lounge, with Stella tucked up against his side, just a few inches from his lap, he felt all of his carefully crafted walls groaning under the weight of her touch.
“How am I going to get out of this?”
“Hmm?” Stella stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he lied through his teeth. It was much easier that way. “Go back to sleep.” He tried to make his voice stern, the same voice he gave his difficult patients, but it didn’t make it beyond a rough growl that sounded more intimate than it did irritating.
“Did the doctor come back?” She tried to rouse herself, her eyes blinked a few times before she yawned and stretched. And that simple movement had him groaning in response, because Stella didn’t just sigh, she moaned as she moved.
And Kyle muttered a few choice words in response. At least she wasn’t pressed against him, then she would feel just how much her innocent movements affected him. “No,” he shook his head as she struggled to sit up, managing to protect himself from an errant elbow or a hand, “you should get some rest while you can.”
“I’ve had my rest.” She got up on her knees beside him, and he moved to give her more room. “I need to find somewhere to splash some water on my face.” She pressed her hand to her cheek, her fingers playing along her cheek. “I bet I look horrible.”
She shuddered a little, her mouth turning down into a sour expression that made him smile.
“Right.”
She sat back, frowning even deeper at the sarcasm in his tone. “I’m lucky I didn’t drool over you while I slept. Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “That sounds horrible.”
Kyle looked down at his shirt and then smiled at her. “No matter how it sounds, you didn’t drool. Thanks for that.”
She dropped her hand and gave him a little smile. “It’s the least I can do after knocking you flat on your-”
“The least you can do is not remind me that you did that.” He looked toward the door and back again. “I know the guys are going to use that against me forever.”
“Well, they say the bigger they are the harder they fall. And you’re pretty big!” She giggled and when she looked back into his eyes he saw something else in her gaze, something he couldn’t put a name to. “Oh my goodness,” she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I can’t believe I just… I mean that I said… what I meant was-”
“Stella,” he reached out a hand and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. The gesture shocked them both. “Stella, it’s okay.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What else do you want me to say, Stella?” He turned his hand, smoothing his knuckle down the graceful curve of her cheek and down to her jaw. “It would be so much easier if you told me what you want.”
She looked at him, her eyes searching his expression as though she was searching for a piece of a puzzle. “Do you realize this is the most number of words you’ve said to me since you ripped me a new one for putting the caboose next to your office?”
“I didn’t rip you a new one.” He felt teeth clench together.
“You didn’t?” She pushed at his chest with her fingers. “You did too! You got right up in my face and I think if you could have gotten away with it, you’d have made it so I couldn’t sit down for a week!”
He swallowed and the sound was loud enough for her to hear it. She tilted her head to the side to study him.
“What?”
He felt each breath pull into his lungs, the image she’d put into his head was enough to make him blush and he was pretty sure he did, because something changed in the way Stella looked at him. And then she did the one thing guaranteed to push him over the edge.
She laughed, a full throated laugh that had her off balance a moment later, pitching forward until she fell against him. And he was powerless to do anything other than wrap his arms around her and hold her until she stopped laughing. But it was more than that, her warmth, her arms that wound around his neck, and the scent of her hair, some kind of mix of coconut with a hint of lime. If he was looking for an excuse to hold her closer he had it, he’d blame it on temporary insanity or getting drunk on the scent of her. That was the only reason to explain why when one of the floor nurses came to get them, he was just about to open his mouth under Stella’s insistent kiss.
Chapter 8
Doctor Sattler read over the chart, ignoring the sighs and huffs from his patient. When he was done with the report he closed the folder and gave Nico a smile. “Well, I do have to say I’m far more confident about your prognosis now than when you came in.”
“And,” Nico groused from the bed, “you can be even more confident when you let me out of here. Right now.”
“Papa, be reasonable,” Stella moved closer and looked him over from head to toe, “you could ha
ve been-” She bit into her bottom lip, trying not to cry.
“Oh no,” Nico held out his hand to her and she took it, “come on, Steller, don’t cry.”
Dr. Sattler stepped up beside the bed. “Your father was extremely lucky. He most likely managed to avoid a head injury-”
“Most likely?”
Nico groaned softly. “She would hear ‘that’ part of it.”
Dr. Sattler smiled. “We need to keep him in here to keep an eye on him overnight. Make sure his headache isn’t something more dangerous.”
“Of course I have a headache,” Nico sighed, “I hit my head, didn’t I?” He looked at his daughter. “Tell him that I’ve got a hard head.”
“Oh, I’m sure he knows that by now.” Stan’s grin was infectious, but it only widened when he pointed a finger at his friend. “He doesn’t need you proving it over and over. You should just listen to the doctor.”
“Doctor?” Stella drew the attention back to the subject. “What else are you concerned about?”
“There seems to be a bit of swelling around his spine, and we’re hoping that it will ease up on its own. But even though your father would like to go home tonight,” Dr. Sattler gave Nico an indulgent smile. “That’s not going to happen.”
“I don’t like you much,” Nico folded his arms over his chest and winced.
Stella caught the reaction and let out a sigh. “And I agree with the doctor so there’s no sense in arguing.”
“Oh, he’ll argue whether there’s sense to it or not.”
Nico narrowed his gaze at Stan. “Traitor.” And then to add insult to injury, Nico tried to stifle a yawn and couldn’t manage it.
Dr. Sattler touched Stella’s arm with a gentle pat. “We’ll keep an eye on him. We can’t offer him something to help him sleep since we’ll need to check on him periodically.”
“That only means that you’ll most likely want to strap him down to the bed sooner than later.”
