“No, that happened,” I reply. “I was trying to find the wire you were wearing.”
“Damn. I knew I wasn’t that lucky.”
I get up and sit next to him on his bed. I don’t know what compels me to admit this, but I do anyway. “Um…I wouldn’t count yourself out just yet.”
Smiling, he cocks his head to the side. “Oh, yeah?” He reaches out his hand and takes my fingertips, careful to avoid the bandaged area.
“Yeah.”
“What about the cop?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. I’ve had a rough day, and my head hurts like a bitch. I’m not in any shape to do a lot of soul searching about anything right now.”
He caresses my face where I got pistol-whipped. I’d glanced at it in a mirror on the way to Blake’s room and noticed it’s starting to bruise. “Who did this?”
“Lydia. Do you remember what happened at my house?”
“Barely. I recall Lydia shooting Callahan and Callahan shooting Lydia, and you…” he hesitates, frowning.
“What? Sucker punching Douchebag Todd in the nuts? Because that was totally ‘awesomer’.” I think that will be one of my proudest moments for years to come.
Blake smiles. “Remind me never to make you angry…well, at least not again.” His face grows serious. “I was talking about when you told Lydia to shoot you because you refused to kill me. That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
I gape at him. “That’s a terrible thing to say to someone who was willing to take a bullet for you.”
Looking down, he says quietly, “But I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”
He’s so sweet sometimes. I smile and smooth his rumpled hair. He would have a fit if he could see how messy it is. “I figured out early on that they weren’t going to kill me, at least not for a while. They needed to pin the murders on me, so they weren’t going to touch me until they got me to kill you, which was never going to happen. Besides, you’ve saved my life at least twice. I thought I owed you one.”
“As long as I’m still ahead in the standings,” he jokes.
“Well, it’s good to know your ego hasn’t been injured.”
Grinning at me, he says, “You know, if you’d quit snooping around and getting yourself into trouble, I wouldn’t have to swoop in and save you all the time.”
He’s obviously trying to get under my skin, but I can’t hide my smile. “Oh, whatever. You love being the hero.”
His eyes pierce mine. “I love being your hero.”
Silence falls between us as we stare at each other.
After a moment, my phone beeps, interrupting our moment. It’s a text from Becca saying that Brody is out of surgery and is asking for me. Becca came to the hospital to keep her boyfriend, Jack, company while he waits to see Brody. I didn’t realize they were such good pals.
Standing up, I say uncomfortably, “Um, I need to go. Brody’s all stitched up, and he wants to talk to me.”
A flicker of something passes through Blake’s eyes, and he asks, “So are you two going to kiss and make up?”
“I…don’t know. I don’t think I feel the same about…things as I did before. But regardless of what happens, you’re going to have to be nicer-er to him. He took a bullet for both of us,” I remind him.
“I know. And I’m grateful…I just…” He trails off, seeming uncertain and shy, which is not like him at all. Maybe it’s the drugs.
I say gently, “You seem pretty out of it. Maybe you should get some rest.”
“Rest…right.” As I make a move to leave, he catches my arm. “Promise me you won’t make any decisions tonight. About…him.”
I wonder what he’s getting at. “Okay, I won’t.”
He smiles. I love that smile. “And will you come by tomorrow morning to bust me out of here?”
“Absolutely.”
***
When I step into Brody’s room, I ask quietly, “How are you feeling?”
He looks like he’s been run over by a truck, but he’s smiling. “Better now.” He looks at my bandaged hands. “What happened to you?”
I wave my hands. “Oh, this? No big. Douchebag Todd tackled me in the street when I tried to run away. I got scraped up. I got pistol-whipped, too. Wanna see?” I push my hair back from my face, showing off the nasty bruise on my temple.
Brody frowns. “Did he do that, too?”
“Nope. Lydia.”
He very gently takes my hand. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. When you went to the restroom, Lydia did too, at least she said she was, so there was silence on Blake’s end. I figured he was at his table alone, so I didn’t think anything of it. I guess that was when they were kidnapping him. And you. After several minutes, I realized something was wrong. I nearly lost it when you disappeared, and I drove all over town like a madman looking for you. I’ve never been so scared as when I saw Lydia holding a gun to your head.”
“I could tell. And thank you for saving us. I’m sorry you got shot because of our stupid plan.”
He sighs. “I got to avenge my brother’s murder. It doesn’t make the pain any less, but the closure is good.”
“Right.”
An awkward silence passes between us, and he lets go of my hand. Not knowing what else to talk about, I say, “By the way, Jason Harris, Mark Heston, Brad Wilson, and Jed Stewart were all patients of Lydia’s. That’s how she targeted men. She found out which ones were cheaters or womanizers and went after them.”
“Good to know.” He looks away. “Um, Lizzie…when I came into your house tonight, I heard what you said to Lydia…about Blake.”
“Oh,” I reply, not realizing he had heard my little speech.
Brody continues quietly, “I think I knew all along that you loved him, but I just didn’t want to believe it.”
I feel like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. His words hit me like a ton of bricks. He saw something I either couldn’t or wouldn’t see for myself.
I love Blake. I really do.
But how can I possibly tell him I love him again, not knowing how he feels about me? I mean, yeah, he was willing to take Lydia’s drugs and die so she wouldn’t shoot me—but was he only trying to save me and be the hero, or was there more to it? I have no clue, so I have a lot of thinking to do about it.
“I, uh…I don’t know what to say at this point, Brody. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us.”
“Me, too.”
As another awkward silence descends, I feel the urgent need to get the hell out of here. But how do you end a conversation like this? I’m basically dumping him after he got shot saving me. Dick move, right? “Um, feel better, okay?” Brilliant.
Brody nods, his eyes not meeting mine.
All I can do at this point is leave.
***
No surprise, I didn’t sleep at all last night. I’ve spent hours stressing over whether or not I should let Blake know how I feel. I experience the weirdest sense of déjà vu as I choose what to wear and head over to the hospital. That awful feeling intensifies as I approach his room, so much so that I nearly lose my nerve. I take a deep breath and knock on his door.
I hear him call, “Come in.”
It’s now or never. I push through the door, and there he is, buttoning up his shirt, exactly like the last time I walked into his hospital room to lay my heart at his feet.
This time, though, he’s smiling. A definite improvement.
“Blake,” I breathe, trying to get hold of my emotions.
He comes over to me and stands close. “How are you this morning? Feeling better?”
With all of the emotional pain I’ve been going through, I honestly haven’t given my hands and head a second thought. I smile. “I’m fine. You?”
“Good as new.” His smile falters, and he asks, “How’s Callahan?”
“His surgery went well, and he’s going to be okay. The bullet hit him high on the shoulder, so there wasn’t a l
ot of internal damage.”
Blake nods. “And did you two…resolve things?”
“Yes…well, I guess…sort of.”
He grasps my shoulders, regarding me earnestly. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll go along with it. But I have something to say, and I can’t hold it in any longer.” His face breaks into the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen, making a lovely warm feeling bubble up inside me. “Lizzie, I fell for you the very first time I kissed you. Not having you in my life the last six months has absolutely ripped me apart. I’ve been lonely and angry, and I ended up taking it out on you. I’m sorry for that. And even if you’ve decided that Callahan is who you want to be with, I need you to know that…I love you.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m speechless. “You…but I was…uh…this isn’t…”
“I just screwed things up more, didn’t I?” he asks, hanging his head and releasing me.
My heart screams at me, Lizzie, say something, you idiot! Sucking in a breath of air, I grab his hands. “No. You didn’t. You definitely didn’t.”
“I didn’t? So what are you saying?” he asks, looking down at me with a hopeful smile.
I wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m saying that I came down here this morning to tell you I love you, and I was really hoping it would go better than last time.”
He grins at me. “Well, what are you waiting for? Say it.”
I smile. “Blake Morgan, I love you. I never stopped.”
Blake leans down and kisses me, a kiss so deep I can feel it down in my soul. That original spark we had is back in full force, and I’ve never felt so loved in all my life.
EPILOGUE
Douchebag Todd (or Douchebag Dale, which rolls off the tongue equally well) had a total breakdown his first night in jail and decided to sing like a bird about all of the murders he and Lydia had committed. Their body count ended up at twelve. Yikes. He confessed to stealing prescription medications from work, pilfering the samples his drug reps were supposed to distribute to doctors. His background in the drug industry came in handy for devising the drug combinations to use that would have the most devastating interaction.
During Lydia’s “dates”, it was Todd’s job to be near so if Lydia needed some muscle to, say, help move a drugged man from Point A to Point B, he would be readily available. To fabricate an alibi, Todd would bring his own date to the same restaurant where Lydia would be. If he needed to help her, he would excuse himself (like he did with Bethany, who is probably going to go back to hating me for having set her up with a murderer) but make sure to return before his date became suspicious. I guess I was his decoy date the night Mark Heston was killed. My fleeing the table to go sit alone at the bar for fifteen minutes must have given Todd the perfect opportunity to help Lydia get her drugged-out date behind the wheel of his car.
Todd’s story was solidified by Lydia’s little fetish of keeping a photo of her murder victims as a trophy. When the cops searched her house, they found thirteen framed photos in a little shrine—one for each of her kills, plus the picture of Brody and his nephew she had stolen from Brody’s house. Thanks to me (I guess), they also confiscated the files I found in her desk and matched them to the photos in her home. From there, they were able to connect the dots to her Hawthorne Grove murder victims, finally giving them the justice they deserved.
After being released from the hospital, Blake was still in no condition to work, and neither was I—there was no way I’d be able to use a computer with my hands all bandaged up. So, Sloane was nice enough to give Blake and me the day off, which gave us a three-day weekend. I packed a bag (and Bob, which strangely enough made Blake very happy) and shacked up at Blake’s house. We spent the entire weekend reacquainting ourselves with each other. And having sex. Lots of sex.
Sunday afternoon, as we’re lounging in bed, cuddled in each other’s arms, Blake says, “Why don’t you run over to your house and get enough clothes to spend the week here?”
“Seriously? Aren’t you tired of me yet? Bob and I have invaded your space all weekend. I figured you’d be happy to get rid of us tomorrow,” I laugh, only half-joking. Blake is not exactly well-known for his commitment to one single woman.
“No, quite the opposite.” He regards me for a moment. “Wait. Are you trying to say you’re tired of me?”
“No, and don’t try to put words in my mouth, Mr. Investigative Reporter.”
He smiles and pulls me closer so he can nuzzle my neck. “Good. Hey, if you go get your stuff now, you could bring us home some dinner.”
Leaning back from him, I gripe, “Is this how it’s going to be if I live here? ‘Woman, go get me my dinner’ and shit like that?”
Blake gives me a withering look. “Really? You should know me better than that. Besides, I have a little bit of work to do, so I thought I’d get it out of the way while you’re gone. Then when you’re back, I can give you my full attention.” He gently kisses my lips, trailing a line of kisses down my jaw.
“You make a good case,” I breathe, thinking about the mind-blowing attention he gave me a few minutes ago.
I hurry over to my house and pick out a week’s worth of clothes, at the same time giddy and wary about my new domestic situation. I wonder if Blake means to make this a permanent thing or if this is some kind of trial run. I don’t exactly want to give up the freedom that comes with having my own place, but Blake’s place is a total freaking mansion, and I’d be crazy to not want to live there, especially with him.
On the way back I pick up some carryout from one of our favorite places, Sam’s Tavern. When I get back to Blake’s, I can’t find him anywhere. The house is so massive, I don’t feel like running around to every room, so I take the lazy way out and call him on his phone.
“Are you back?” he asks.
“Yeah, where are you?”
“By the pool. Come on out.”
“Are you going to try to talk me into swimming? It’s way too cold. Besides, our food is here.”
“It’ll just take a minute.”
He sounds like he’s up to something. I ask, “You’re not luring me out there so you can throw me in the pool fully clothed, are you?”
“Will you just come out here, please?” he replies impatiently.
I set our food down in the kitchen and dutifully head to the sliding doors that lead to the pool area. It’s dark outside, but I notice the glow of lights on the patio. When I step out the door, I find a candlelit path leading to the far end of the patio with Blake standing at the end. It suddenly feels like I’m in a fairy tale as I walk slowly toward him. When I get closer, I see his entire face light up with a smile.
Tentatively, I say, “Hey.” I don’t know what he has planned, but you’ve gotta love Blake’s grand sweeping romantic gestures.
“Hey, yourself,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
I take his hand, and he pulls me close, wrapping his other arm tightly around my waist. My heart is in my throat at this point, so I don’t reply.
“Lizzie, I love you. And I love spending every minute of every day with you. You’re my best friend…and you make me a better man, too. I don’t want us ever to be apart.”
A tear rolls down my cheek as he releases me. Before I realize what’s happening, he reaches in his pocket and gets down on one knee. My tears start rolling faster, even though I’m the happiest I’ve been in my entire life.
Blake opens the small box in his hand, revealing the biggest, most stunning diamond ring I’ve ever seen. Looking up at me with a sincere smile, he says, “Lizzie Hart, you are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”
In that instant, all of my fears are erased, and my commitment issues vanish without a trace. Nothing has ever felt more right. “Yes!”
He places the ring on my finger, sweeping me into a crushing hug and the most passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced.
When we finally break apart, breathless, he puts his forehead against mine. “I didn’t come on too strong there, did I? Yo
u’re sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure.”
“Do you promise not to leave me at the altar?” he asks, chuckling. That’s happened to Blake before, but luckily now he can joke about it.
“I promise. Any girl who would turn down becoming Mrs. Blake Morgan is crazy.”
“You know, me getting married is going to upset a lot of young ladies in this town.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, you’re such a heartbreaker. But I do feel bad for those poor girls and their unrequited crushes.”
“It wasn’t so long ago that you had a crush on me, too,” Blake points out.
I smile and give him a sweet kiss. “Yeah, but it was just a little one.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Lizzie’s next adventure!
My Funny Valentine
A Lizzie Hart Novella
“My hair will not cooperate!” I wail, slamming my brush down on the dresser.
My fiancé, Blake Morgan, stops straightening his tie to look at me in the mirror. Smiling, he says, “You look beautiful, Lizzie. Stop stressing over your hair.”
Easy for him to say. His hair is perfect, as usual. Every bit of him is perfect, and I always seem to find a way to be a hot mess.
Fluffing my blond hair with my fingers, I grumble, “I don’t get why we’re even having this engagement party anyway. We’ve been engaged for nearly a year.”
He takes my hands. “Come on, you know my mother will use any excuse to throw a party. If it helps, think of it more as a…couples bridal shower. After all, everyone’s bringing gifts.”
“Yeah, but no amount of gifts in the world is going to make up for when our families meet for the first time. They’re complete opposites, my mother always finds a way to embarrass me, and…and my brother will either eat all the food or tell some horribly gory med school story and make everyone want to puke! And—”
Bad Medicine Page 25
