Nobody But You B&N

by Barbara Freethy

  "You took the only opportunity you had, Spencer. And Hallie sounds incredibly brave."

  "She was amazing," he said, admiration in his tone. "She's downstairs getting checked out. That guy might have broken her nose. I need to go check on her."

  "I'll go with you."

  "Really? You don't want to wait here?"

  "I could use a walk, and I want to meet her—thank her."

  "You can do that later."

  "The surgery is going to take hours, and I've never been good at waiting." She got to her feet and turned to her mother. "Spencer and I are going to check on the woman who helped saved Max. I'll just be a few minutes, but you'll come find me if there's any news?"

  "I will," Lynda promised.

  As they walked out of the waiting room, Emma said, "Did Max tell you where he was taking me on our honeymoon?"

  Spencer hesitated. "He did, but I can't tell you, Emma."

  "Why not?"

  "Because Max wants it to be a surprise."

  She met his gaze and appreciated what he wasn't saying. "You're right. I'll let him tell me himself. Or better yet—show me."

  Chapter Nine

  Hallie winced as the E.R. doctor finished his examination of her bruised nose.

  "I don't think it's broken," he said. "The swelling should go down within twenty-four hours. You're going to have some nice shiners though."

  "Great. Raccoon eyes. I can't wait."

  "As for your head, the CT scan was normal, but you should take it easy for the next day or two. I'll give you a prescription for some painkillers, and you can be on your way."

  She was relieved to hear that. Being back in a hospital felt both awkward and strangely comfortable. For the past ten years, her life had revolved around medicine. Hospitals had been her second home. All of her friends had been doctors and nurses, lab techs and orderlies. And when she'd gone into the Army, the uniforms had changed but not the medicine.

  She'd always been good at her job. It was the one place where she'd felt smart, proud and in control—until her life and her love had blown up right in front of her. She forced the image out of her mind, but she knew the memories would always be there lurking in the background, bringing stress and anxiety to every day of her life.

  "You should continue to ice. It will help the bruising," the doctor added.

  "I'm a nurse. I know what to do."

  "Sometimes nurses make the worse patients."

  "I think they say that about doctors."

  He smiled. "Probably true. Call me if you have any unexpected pain or severe bleeding."

  "I will."

  As the doctor left the room, Spencer walked in, followed by a blond woman wearing an overcoat over a wedding gown. Hallie knew immediately who she was. This was Max's bride—

  Emma.

  "Hallie, how are you?" Spencer asked, concern in his eyes. "Is your nose broken?"

  "No, just bruised. How did you know where I was?"

  "Emma got it out of the nurse. She was quite persistent." He smiled at the bride. "Emma, this is Hallie Cooper—Emma Callaway."

  Emma walked over to the examining table, her blue eyes showing strain and gratitude.

  "I want to thank you, Hallie. Spencer told me what you did for Max. I'm sorry you were caught up in such a bad situation, but I'm also really glad you were there." She frowned. "That sounds bad—"

  "I know what you mean," Hallie said, cutting her off. "And I was happy to help. Max said your name a few times and told us he loved you."

  Emma's eyes began to water. "I didn't think he was conscious."

  "He drifted in and out," Hallie said. "But it was clear he was thinking about you." She hoped her words were making Emma feel better, but as a tear slid out of the corner of her eye, she thought maybe not.

  Emma wiped the tear away. "I'm not going to cry," she said. "Max will be all right. He's tough."

  "Max is in surgery now," Spencer put in.

  "That's good." She paused. "I appreciate you coming to check on me, but you should go back to your families."

  "I think I will do that," Emma said.

  "I'll be up in a minute," Spencer said.

  "Okay." Emma smiled at Hallie. "I hope you feel better. I know Max is going to want to meet you when he wakes up."

  "I would love to see him back on his feet."

  As Emma left the room, Hallie swallowed a little nervously. She was suddenly aware of Spencer in a very different way. They'd been caught up in a life and death situation, no time to think, only to act, and they'd bonded, connected on a level that only an extremely dangerous moment could bring on. But that moment was over. Now what?

  Now—nothing, she told herself. She'd made a plan for her life, a plan to lie on a beach for a few months and regroup. She might have missed her flight, but there would be another one tomorrow. She should be on it.

  "What a day, huh?" Spencer asked, folding his arms in front of his chest. "It feels surreal. Like a dream."

  "More like a nightmare. Did you talk to the police?"

  "Yeah, that's why it took me so long to get here."

  "What happened to the gunmen?"

  "The one I shot was taken to another hospital. The other one is being booked into jail. They're going to go away for a long time."

  "I hope so."

  "Have you talked to police?" Spencer asked.

  "I spoke to someone when I first got here. He brought me my phone, my wallet, and my now worthless plane ticket. He said he'd call me tomorrow if he had any other questions, but I'm sure all of us will tell the same story." She slid off the table, feeling a little steadier now. The dizzying adrenaline had finally worn off.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asked.

  "I am sure. And I'd like to get out of here."

  "How are you getting home?"

  "Good question. My car is still at the bank. I guess I'll take a cab and get it tomorrow. Although, it will be weird to go back there."

  "Take someone with you."

  "I can handle it."

  "I'm sure you can," he said with a smile. "Why don't you call a family member now to take you home?"

  It was a simple question, but she didn't have a simple answer. "I don't have anyone to call."

  His gaze narrowed speculatively. "No family?"

  "I don't have anyone to call," she repeated, hoping he'd let it end there.

  Of course he didn't. "Why not? Where are they?" he asked.

  She sighed. "You don't let things go, do you?"

  "I'm curious."

  "Fine. My father lives in the East Bay, but we haven't spoken to each other in a few months."

  "Why not?"

  "He didn't like something I did," she replied.

  "What about your mother?"

  "She died when I was ten. And my only brother is overseas, if that's your next question. He's an Air Force pilot."

  "Did your father serve in the military as well?"

  "For many years," she said. "Are you done?"

  He gave her a small smile. "I'm just getting started. If you're not in a rush to get home, can I buy you a cup of coffee in the cafeteria?"

  She should say no. She should end this relationship—or whatever it was—now, before anything else happened. She was broken, and her life was a mess, and the last thing she needed to do was involve anyone else in it. But there was something about Spencer that called out to her. So instead of turning him down, she said. "All right. I don't need any caffeine though. Maybe some herbal tea." As they walked out of the exam room, she added. "Are you sure you don't want to get back to your family?"

  "My mother is being soothed by Mrs. Callaway, and I could use a moment to catch my breath. There are going to be a lot of questions, and I'm not ready to answer them all yet."

  She could understand that. "Then let's get some tea."

  * * *

  The hospital cafeteria was located in the basement and it was relatively empty, which wasn't surprising for nine o'clock on a Saturday
night. Hallie couldn't believe that so much had happened in just a few hours. While Spencer went for decaf coffee, Hallie poured a cup of hot tea, and they sat down at a table in the corner.

  As Spencer sipped his coffee, she let herself really look at him. When he'd first flirted with her in line, she'd been so focused on getting out of town and running away from her life, that she hadn't wanted to acknowledge how handsome he was, or the little flutter of attraction that had run through her when their eyes had met. In fact, she'd try to tell herself that flutter was indigestion, because there was no way she could feel anything for a man ever again. She was numb inside. Her soul had died.

  But she was wrong about not being able to feel something. In fact, the nervous flutter was back, and it had nothing to do with indigestion, and everything to do with the tall, handsome, dark-haired man in front of her.

  "You're staring," Spencer said.

  She started as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Sorry. I was looking at your bruises. Nurse's habit," she lied. She didn't want him to think she was interested in him, because nothing was going to happen. How crazy would she be to get involved with a man she barely knew? And what she did know was a little alarming. He'd killed a man. He'd gone to prison. It sounded like a raw deal, but she'd only heard one side of the story.

  On the other hand, actions spoke louder than words, and she'd seen Spencer in action. He'd been thoughtful and smart, staying calm when she'd been extremely anxious. And he'd fought for his brother and for her. He had demonstrated great courage, and she would always be grateful to him. But they were sitting here having tea and coffee because of gratitude. They both knew that.

  "You said you weren't a nurse anymore," Spencer reminded her. "So my bruises shouldn't concern you."

  "Some habits don't go away. You should put some ice on your face."

  "I could say the same to you."

  At his remark, she found herself smiling. "We must make a great looking couple."

  He smiled back at her. "It's probably good we don't have a mirror."

  "I wondered why the cashier gave us such a wary look. She probably thought we beat each other up."

  "How's your tea?"

  "Warm and soothing. I feel better."

  "Good. You've probably spent a lot of time in hospital cafeterias."

  "More time than in my own kitchen."

  He rested his forearms on the table as he leaned forward, giving her an interested look. "Tell me your story, Hallie."

  "I already told you when we were in the bank," she prevaricated.

  "You said your fiancé was killed, but not why you quit nursing."

  She shook her head. "I don't want to do this."

  "Do what?"

  "Exchange life stories. Pretend we're friends."

  "How could we not be friends after everything we went through together?"

  "But we're never going to see each other again after tonight."

  "Of course we are. I still owe you a rum drink. You promised to let me buy you one."

  "Then we won't see each other again after that."

  "Hallie. Just talk to me. That's all I'm asking."

  She slid her finger around the rim of her teacup. "That's asking a lot. A lot of bad things happened."

  "And you're keeping them all inside."

  "Why torture anyone else?" she asked.

  "When it's so much easier to just torture yourself," he finished.

  "Maybe I deserve it."

  "I won't know until you talk to me." He paused. "When I went to prison, I was filled with rage at the injustice of what had happened to me. I couldn't talk to anyone about it, because I was so angry. I blamed the people around me for not doing enough. Max was a big target. I refused to see him after the first few visits. And after that, he stopped trying to see me. Most everyone else did, too. I had no one to talk to, because that's the way I wanted it, and I was as trapped in my head as I was trapped in that cell. Everything just festered inside of me. It was so bad I gave myself an ulcer. And I finally, finally realized that I wasn't punishing anyone else with my attitude, only myself. The anger was killing me more than the prison term."

  "And you just let it go? Just like that?"

  "God, no! Not just like that. It's still not completely gone, but I've done some talking the past few months. I've stopped making my world all about me about that one terrible event in my life. I'm starting to look out, instead of in." He paused. "I don't want to see you waste as much time as I did."

  "Talking won't change anything."

  "Maybe it will. Maybe you need to say something out loud and really hear the words. I'm not going to judge you, Hallie. I'm the last person who could judge anyone."

  She stared back at him indecisively. She'd only told the whole story to one other person, her father, and he had judged her.

  She tapped her fingers nervously on the tabletop, torn between a sudden desire to unload and a self-protective instinct to stay quiet. How could she trust Spencer, when the man who'd raised her, the man she adored and admired, had looked at her with disgust and disappointment? She was just setting herself up for another fall.

  Spencer covered her nervous fingers with his warm hand, and his gaze met hers. "I promise, Hallie. You talk, I listen. No opinion."

  She debated another minute and then said. "I'll start. I'm not sure how far I'll get."

  "One step at a time."

  She licked her lips. "We were in the middle East. My fiancé was a soldier. We'd been going out for almost a year and we'd gotten engaged just before Christmas, last year. Another reason why I really hate this season."

  He nodded. "Go on."

  "I asked Doug to meet me one night. I wanted to talk about our wedding plans. It was late, and he was tired. He'd been out all day that day, but I pushed him to meet me." She shook her head at the memory. "It was so stupid. My friend had sent me a bridal magazine, and I wanted to show him the dress I liked. As if it mattered to him what I wore. He didn't care at all about dresses or flowers or anything. He just wanted to marry me. I was getting too worked up about silly little things."

  "What happened?"

  She opened her mouth to answer, but instead of seeing Spencer's face in front of her, she saw blinding headlights. She heard the shouts to stop, and felt the terrifying fear of death run through her.

  "Hallie."

  Spencer's voice brought her back to the present.

  "A truck came crashing through the gate," she said. "Not far from where we were standing. Doug instinctively moved towards the danger. That's the kind of man he was. A guy leaned out of the truck with an automatic weapon in his hand. He fired three times. Doug fell face down on the ground. I screamed. I started to go to him, and then the whole world exploded. I was thrown back ten feet."

  Spencer squeezed her hand, his gaze filling with compassion. "You don't have to go on, Hallie. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to relive something that horrific."

  "It's okay," she said, taking a moment to breathe. "I have to finish, because that's not where the story ends."

  He stared back at her. "Where does it end?"

  "On the operating table."

  "You couldn't save Doug," he said flatly.

  She shook her head. "I didn't have a chance to save Doug. After the explosion, he wasn't on the ground anymore. His body…Well, he never made it to the O.R." She couldn't go into any more detail than that.

  His lips tightened. "So what happened on the table?"

  "After the blast, there were a lot of injuries. I wanted to scream and cry and mourn for Doug, but there were other soldiers to save, and some of them were my friends. I went to work, and I put everything else out of my mind, the way I was trained to do." She paused, her mind going back in time again. "I was moving so fast. It was a blur of faces, bodies, blood—so much blood. And then I saw someone I recognized. It wasn't a soldier. It was the man in the truck, the one who'd shot Doug."

  Spencer blew out a breath. "What did you do?"

&nbs
p; "The doctor was giving me orders, but I couldn't hear him. I couldn't move. I looked at that man on the table, and I saw a murderer. All I could think was that this man was supposed to die. He wanted to die. He was a suicide bomber. Why should I save him?" She met Spencer's gaze head on. "You can probably guess what happened."

  "He died," Spencer said.

  She nodded. "It was my fault."

  "Was it? Or were his injuries so severe that he couldn't be saved?" Spencer challenged.

  "Some of my friends made that excuse for me," she conceded. "But it didn't change what I'd done or didn't do. Medicine isn't supposed to be about right and wrong, good people and bad people. You're supposed to try to save the patient in front of you. That's all that matters, and I didn't do that. I didn't just freeze. I deliberately chose not to act. I went against everything I believed in, everything I was about." She took a breath. "I haven't been back in the operating room since that night. They sent me to counseling, and I told the psychiatrist I couldn't go back, and he eventually recommended discharge. Since I got out, I've been trying to decide what the hell I'm going to do with my life now. All I ever wanted to be was a nurse. I don't know how to do anything else."

  "You were a nurse tonight. You saved Max's life."

  "I hope I helped, but you did the hard part, Spencer."

  "You told me what to do. And you talked to Max. You kept him quiet. You made him believe in Emma and their love."

  "Instinct took over." She sipped her tea, feeling surprisingly better and a little lighter having told the whole story. Maybe she had needed to say it out loud. And Spencer hadn't judged her. There had been no disgust in his eyes, only kindness. "Thank you, Spencer. For doing what you said, offering no opinion about what I did, or didn't do. My father had a lot to say. And it was not good."

  "Is that why you haven't spoken to him?"

  "He's extremely disappointed in me, so yes."

  "How could he not understand why you acted the way you did?"

  "Because he's a brilliant doctor, and he would never walk away from a patient, no matter what they'd done."