Cherish Hard (Hard Play #1)

by Nalini Singh

  When she went to speak again, he just shook his head. “I’ll never forgive myself if you have an accident, Ísa. You’re too anxious to drive.”

  Since her hands were trembling, Ísa couldn’t do anything but nod. “Thank you.”

  “No need. I’m just adding it to your time-in-fur-lined-handcuffs tab.”

  Grabbing his wallet and keys on that wicked statement, Sailor shoved his feet into an old pair of sneakers. They were on their way to Hamilton five minutes later.

  * * *

  “SO,” SAILOR SAID ONCE THEY were away, “what kind of an accident was it?” He didn’t immediately assume vehicular. With three brothers, he’d seen all kinds of accidents from falling off ladders, to falling off skateboards, to being smashed in a rugby tackle. “I once lost a tooth after Gabriel threw a small pumpkin at my face.”

  A startled movement from Ísa, his words apparently slicing through her tense concern. “Were you two fighting?” It was a highly disapproving question.

  “Nah, we were playing ‘dodge the pumpkin.’ All fun and games until Sailor loses a tooth and we both end up grounded.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Old enough to know better.” The two of them had laughed so hard while playing that most of their throws had gone wild. “Gabe caught the pumpkin in his gut at one point. We didn’t realize he had a cracked rib until after the tooth.”

  “Good grief. And your poor parents had to deal with four of you?”

  “Two at a time, really,” Sailor said in defense of his brothers. “Gabe and I had grown out of the idiocy by the time Danny and Jake grew into it. Mostly.”

  He caught the twitch of Ísa’s lips in his quick glance. But it wasn’t until ten minutes later as they were streaming along the motorway, rock playing softly on the radio, that she spoke.

  “Catie fell,” she said at last. “And yes, I know I’m overreacting. I can see myself doing it, but I can’t stop it.” A shuddering exhale. “When Catie was born,” she continued, “I was so happy. I thought she was the most wonderful little being ever created. I loved her at once, wanted to protect her from any pain—but I couldn’t. Catie was born with a heart problem. Not a big thing. Fixable.”

  “But?”

  Ísa pressed a hand over her chest, Sailor seeing the movement with his peripheral vision. “She got an infection after the surgery, has this scar on her chest from where her suture site threatened to go septic. But she pulled through, came out healthy on the other side.”

  “Tough kid,” Sailor said.

  “Yes, she is.” Fierce pride. “Despite all the pain, all the needles, she was such a happy baby. She used to smile and giggle every time she saw me.”

  Ísa was smiling herself, Sailor could hear it.

  “We’d cuddle for hours,” she added, “and when she had too many wires coming out of her to be moved, I’d sit there and play with her little fingers and toes, and she’d giggle at me in this contagious way that would set me off.”

  As Sailor heard the ease with which Ísa spoke about Catie’s hospital stay during infancy, he realized that period in their lives wasn’t the cause of her panic. “What aren’t you telling me, spitfire?”

  He heard Ísa swallow. “You’d think after all her problems as an infant, she’d have had more than her quota of bad luck. But two years ago, just after she turned eleven, Catie got bacterial meningitis.”

  “Hell.” Sailor had seen television reports on the infection, was aware of the catastrophic damage it could cause. “How bad?”

  “Bad, but not the worst,” Ísa said. “My baby sister fought through with no brain damage, and the doctors managed to save most of her limbs.”

  Most.

  Sailor clenched his jaw, furious at fate on behalf of a thirteen-year-old girl he’d never met. “Which couldn’t they save?”

  “Both her lower legs. She was a runner before, had dreams of going to the Olympics. Fastest girl in her school, already being considered for training squads. You’d never in a million years guess she’d had a heart issue as a baby.”

  For an athletic child to become a double amputee… Fuck, for any child to wake up without limbs. “How did she handle it?”

  “Better than I did.” Ísa’s laugh was shaky. “After the first shock wore off, she said, ‘Can you do my homework while I grow some new legs, Issie? I don’t want to be that kid who says she didn’t hand in her homework because her legs got chopped off.’” A shake of Ísa’s head. “That’s her father’s sense of humor.”

  “And her sister’s grit.” Catie must have learned not to give up from someone, and from what Sailor had seen so far, he didn’t think it had been Jacqueline who’d taught her that resilience. Because to teach a child something, you had to be present and part of her life.

  “She’s still set on heading to the Olympics,” Ísa said with a smile.

  “No growth issues?” Sailor asked. “Meningitis can effect bones in children, right?”

  Ísa nodded. “I was terrified about it, but Catie dodged that bullet.” She blew out a breath. “My sister was determined to get out of bed and learn to use prosthetics as fast as possible. And I’ll say one thing for Clive—he’s an unreliable flake most of the time, but he didn’t budge from her side at the hospital.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Jacqueline doesn’t deal well with sickness,” Ísa said softly. “But by the time Catie left the hospital, Jacqueline had renovated Clive’s house so that it had everything Catie needed, including a gym where she could work on her rehabilitation—with the aid of a private physiotherapist. My mother can be a complicated woman.”

  One who clearly relied on Ísa to pick up her emotional slack, Sailor thought with a frown. And if Ísa was the one who took care of giving Catie and Harlow the affection and love they needed to thrive, who the fuck had taken care of Ísa when she’d been their age?

  22

  Oh Dear. Only One Spare Bedroom

  ÍSA, UNAWARE OF HIS SILENT fury on behalf of the girl she’d once been, was still speaking. “Catie had everything down pat—you should’ve seen her go on those prosthetics.”

  “Let me guess,” Sailor said, thinking about why an athletic girl comfortable with prosthetics would suddenly fall hard enough to end up in the hospital, “growth spurt?”

  “Yep. I swear, she’s taller every time I turn around!” Ísa threw up her hands. “But the constant changes are messing with her head. Each time Catie gets used to a prosthetic, it has to be adapted or changed out.”

  “It’s tough for an athlete when their body doesn’t cooperate.” Sailor had grown up in a family of athletes, seen that frustration firsthand.

  * * *

  “EXACTLY.” ÍSA FELT A TENSION she hadn’t realized she was feeling, just fall away. Often, well-meaning people downplayed Catie’s dreams of being a champion runner, telling her it’d be better if she focused on creating an independent life for herself by studying for a position “she could handle.”

  Quite aside from the fact that Catie was talented enough to create an independent life for herself with her running, the idea of anyone trying to limit her sister infuriated Ísa. As if, unlike the rest of the world, Catie didn’t get to have big dreams to strive toward.

  “It’s like containing the wind. You should see her in motion, Sailor.”

  “Did she fall today because of an unfamiliar set of prosthetics, or did she just fall?”

  Ísa was startled by his perception until she realized this was a man whose brother was one of the top sportsmen in the country—he understood that, sometimes, performance didn’t have anything to do with the body. “I think she probably wasn’t paying attention because she was worrying about her father.”

  She took a moment to think about it. “I’m going to have to strangle Clive. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Is that why she’s not living with you? Because she worries about her father?”

  “That, and she loves the moron.” Ísa shoved a hand thr
ough her hair. “When I made noises about moving down to Hamilton, maybe getting a job in one of the local schools, Catie said a flat-out no. She thinks if I’m there, she’ll rely on me too much—and that I’d be too overprotective.”

  An amused glance from Sailor. “You think?”

  “Oh, shut up.” She pushed lightly at his arm, oddly comfortable with this man she’d only known for a short time—and far calmer than she’d been at the start of this drive. “She’s only thirteen, but she’s got this fierce need for independence.”

  “Your sister sounds like a tough little cookie.” Sailor’s deep voice wrapping around her. “A chip off the old block.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t talking about Jacqueline.

  The words felt like a hug.

  * * *

  SAILOR HAD PLANNED TO STAY outside the hospital room while Ísa went in to see her sister, but the auburn-haired teenager in the bed within was having none of it.

  “Ísa,” she said, arching her neck to see more of Sailor, “who is that? Hey, mister!”

  Unable to stop his smile, Sailor walked in. “Hey, yourself.”

  “This is Sailor.” The tips of Ísa’s ears turned pink. “My… friend.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Catie.” Sailor positioned himself beside Ísa’s curvy form. “I didn’t think your sister should be driving down here alone—she was pretty worried about you.”

  Catie rolled her eyes. “Martha told you that you didn’t have to come.” Even as she spoke, her hand remained tightly curled around Ísa’s. “It was just a stupid fall. I was walking up and down the drive to stretch my muscles and looking at my phone instead of my feet, and well… splat.” She made a face, her poor nose all scratched up and her upper lip busted. “Docs don’t think I did any real damage. Just some bruising that means I’ll have to go easy during my next training session.”

  “You make sure you do that.” Ísa pressed a kiss to Catie’s forehead on those firm words. “As for me coming down here—that was nonnegotiable. I’m always going to worry about you, Catiebug.”

  Catie leaned so quickly into her sister’s body, into her touch, that Sailor realized just how desperately the teenager had needed Ísa to be here tonight, holding her. Jacqueline might’ve birthed Catie, and Clive might call himself her father, but Ísa was her rock. Sailor’s redhead knew how to love her people.

  Sailor’s heart clenched, a raw craving in his gut.

  Turning her dark brown eyes toward Sailor without pulling away from Ísa, Catie said, “So, you two are friends?” A waggle of her eyebrows, dimples peeking out in both cheeks. “What kind of friends?”

  “Catie.”

  Sailor grinned and folded his arms. “The kind of friends who can road-trip together without fighting over the music, Brown Eyes,” he said to a delighted smile from Catie. “So, any idea when we can we spring you from this joint?”

  A plump older woman bustled in from the corridor right then. Her hair was dark and her features a mix of what Sailor would bet was Chinese and Samoan. She reminded him of one of his younger cousins on his dad’s side, his middle aunt having married an engineer from Shanghai after meeting him during a language-exchange program.

  “Oh, Ísa, you’re here,” she said, her face breaking out into a smile. “I just went to grab a muffin for our girl. The café was closed, so I drove over to the nearest convenience store.”

  “Thanks so much for looking after her, Martha,” Ísa said, enfolding the older woman in a tight hug. “And for calling me. Do you know if the doctors are ready for her to go home?”

  “Oh yes.” Martha handed Catie a brown paper bag. “Another half hour’s observation and they’ll sign off on her release.”

  “That’s fantastic.” Ísa stroked back her sister’s unbound hair.

  Catie tucked herself up against Ísa again while stuffing her face with what appeared to be an enormous orange chocolate chip muffin. Seeing Sailor’s interested glance, she held out the bag. “Want some?”

  Sailor shrugged and tore off a piece. “Thanks.” No sane member of the Bishop-Esera clan ever brought only one muffin—the ensuing riot would end in bloodshed.

  When Catie smiled at him this time, it was a little devious. “Are you going to stay the night?” she asked with utmost innocence. “It’s just that we only have one spare bedroom.”

  “I expect you have a sofa,” Sailor responded with deadpan solemnity.

  Catie pulled away her muffin with a scowl so reminiscent of Ísa that Sailor knew he’d have to be very careful not to be charmed. “This is not like how it goes in the romance movies.”

  “Eat your muffin, Catiebug.” Ísa tapped her sister on the nose in what seemed to be an affectionate holdover from Catie’s childhood. “We’ll go get your discharge papers sorted.”

  Sailor stayed with Catie while Ísa and Martha stepped out. The kid decided to share more of her cake-sized muffin with him while bombarding him with questions. During the interrogation, she managed to figure out that he was working for Fast Organic and that Ísa was technically his boss.

  “No way.” A long whistle. “How does that work? I mean, having your girlfriend be your boss?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.” Sailor found he didn’t enjoy speaking that sentence. “Though if she was, I’m man enough to handle it. Only wimps fear strong women.”

  Catie held up a hand for a high five. After he’d returned it, she said, “Thanks for driving my sister. She worries a lot about me.”

  “And that’s not good?”

  A shrug that was very teenage in nature. “I mean, it’s not her job, is it? I feel like I’m always calling her when it’s my dad I should be calling.” Her lips turned down at the corners. “Martha couldn’t even get hold of him after my fall.”

  Not so much as a mention of Jacqueline.

  And while dear dad didn’t appear much better than Catie’s absentee mother, the man was Catie’s father. Some things were set in stone, and trying to change one of those immutable facts was a sure way to get a cracked skull and a bleeding soul.

  Sailor knew that all too well himself.

  “Your sister told me you’re an athlete,” he said, shifting the topic before he said something he probably shouldn’t. “I’ve got a few in my family.”

  For the first time, Catie’s response was a touch wary. “Yeah?”

  “Rugby.”

  Her eyes narrowed… then widened. “Holy freaking crapazoids! No wonder you look familiar!” A poke to his abdomen. “Your brother’s the Bishop. Admit it.”

  Sailor grinned. “Yep. Fan?”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s the best! Did you see how he took down that opposition player last week? Just mowed him down. Boom, Bishop slam!”

  Always ready to talk rugby, Sailor discussed the game with Catie before nodding at the prosthetics he could see sitting against a chair on the other side of the bed. “Those your walking legs?” The metal parts were sleekly robotic with no flesh-colored exterior.

  “Yeah. I had really awesome skins on my last ones—dragons and stuff blowing up, but then I grew again. No point making these look amazing when I’m still growing. Argh!” She fell back dramatically against her pillow. “It’s such a major pain to get new prosthetics fitted. It takes forever to get everything just right.”

  Even though she was lying down, Sailor could tell that Catie was already over Ísa’s height, would probably nudge five eight or nine on her prosthetics. He chuckled. “My youngest brother has the opposite problem. He’s fourteen and still waiting for his growth spurt.” Catie would tower over Danny.

  “Ouch.” Catie winced. “That must be sucky.”

  “Danny’s pretty chill about it.” He took another look at the prosthetics, which appeared articulated for fluid movement. “When you run, do you use blades? I’ve always wanted to see what they look like in real life.”

  Catie’s face lit up. “I have running legs, but no blades yet. My mother said she’ll pay for them as soon as I’ve stopped gro
wing. They’re insanely expensive.” Bouncing in her hospital bed, Catie added, “I’m going crazy waiting for them, but she’s right—it’d be dumb to waste the money when I’m beanpoling. And I’d be sooooo mad if I got some fitted just right, only to have to switch.”

  The two of them were talking the specifics of running blades when Ísa and Martha walked back into the room. Sailor, still sore about having been forced to deny that Ísa was his girlfriend, reached over to tweak a lock of her hair. As Catie giggled, Ísa stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth softly over his.

  His gut clenched, his heart melting right into her hands.

  * * *

  THEY REACHED HOME AFTER ONE that morning. Martha’s phone beeped with an incoming message just as they were about to walk into the house Catie shared with her father and the caregiver.

  “It’s my daughter wanting to talk,” Martha said. “I texted her to say I was up.”

  “Tina’s got a new baby who keeps her up,” Catie volunteered. “But Martha only babysits sometimes because she thinks Tina should take responsibility for her own baby—Martha’s not a nanny, and she raised her daughter on her own, didn’t she?” The last words were spoken in a near-perfect mimicry of Martha’s voice.

  Martha pressed a noisy kiss on Catie’s cheek. “Cheeky girl.”

  “Lies. Look at me—I’m shining my halo.”

  Grinning at the obvious affection between the two, Sailor left Martha to her call—the other woman decided to stay outside in the balmy summer night while the rest of them went in.

  Catie’s home had plenty of open space and lots of glass to let in light, but—as Catie had pointed out so helpfully back at the hospital—it had only a single spare bedroom. And the couch looked to be some sort of medieval torture device.

  “Oh dear,” Ísa said, looking at it, then looking at Sailor. “I’ll take the couch.”