“Where is your coat? I’m taking you next door before you freeze to death. Didn’t you hear the blizzard warnings?”
“No.” Her hand pushed weakly against his chest. “I can take care of myself. Leave me alone.”
Her slurred speech pissed him off. “Did you get any kerosene for the heater?” The chill of her skin convinced him he couldn’t leave her to her own devices.
He was surprised at the lack of bottles laying around. From the look of her eyes and her slurred speech, he was convinced she was drunk. He set her on her feet. “Pack a bag, you’re coming with me. I have a fire going, and it’s much warmer next door.”
She stumbled to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. Swaying, she turned and leaned against the piece of furniture with her hand up at her forehead, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
Grumbling about worthless drunks, he grabbed a few sweaters and jeans from the dresser along with socks and underwear and threw them on the bed. He pulled a duffel bag out of the closet and stuffed the clothes from the bed into it. “Can you make it to the living room on your own?” At her nod, he picked up the duffle and strode away.
By the time she stumbled down the hall, he had her coat and boots ready for her. The walk back to his place took twice as long as she stumbled and fell face-first into the snow.
Picking her up out of the snowdrift, he brushed the flakes off of her face, the pallor of her skin making his stomach drop. If she had alcohol poisoning, he had no way to get her to medical help. Tripping over the threshold, he closed the door with his foot and hurried into the living room, wanting to get Faith warm as quickly as possible.
After making up the couch in front of the fireplace, he tucked her in, wondering what her trigger was. He couldn’t see himself with her as she was still an active drinker. He had worked so hard to get himself clean and sober and overcome his own addiction.
After stoking the fire, he made up a pallet of blankets on the floor and tried to get a couple hours of sleep.
Her scream pulled him from his dreams. Faith thrashed and mumbled, “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
She jerked awake when Robbie put his hand on her shoulder, a scream tearing from her throat. He winced when her fist connected with his nose. “Shit, that hurt.”
Grabbing her shoulder, he shook it, careful to stay out of the way of her flailing arms. “Faith, it’s okay. Wake up.”
Her eyes opened, and she looked at him. “Robbie? Where am I?” Tears ran down her face, and she sobbed. “Why can’t I remember?”
“A lot of people can’t remember their dreams.” He pulled her into his arms, stroking her back as the sobs tapered off.
“I know,” she said as she averted her eyes.
“Hey, look at me, Faith. There’s something else, isn’t there?” he asked, hoping she would finally acknowledge she had a drinking problem. “A lot of people have a problem with alcohol; you need to admit you have…”
“What? Why do you keep talking about my problem with alcohol? I don’t have a drinking problem.”
“No need to get defensive. Forget I mentioned it.”
“You seriously think I’m an alcoholic?”
“Well, yeah.” He leaned back to get a better look at her face. “All the signs are there: the sunglasses, the hangovers, and the time I had to drive you home.”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself driving intoxicated.”
Faith stood and glared at him. “I don’t have a drinking problem! You might want to ask next time before you assume you know everything.” She stomped over to the window and stared out at the snow swirling on the other side of the glass.
Robbie ran his fingers through his hair, knowing she was right. He realized he had convinced himself she was an alcoholic so he could deny how she made him feel. “Shit,” he mumbled, “she’s right.”
A log shifted in the fireplace sending sparks up the chimney, breaking the silence with hisses and pops.
“Faith, I’m sorry.” When she didn’t move, he stood and walked to stand behind her and look out the window. He frowned when she reached up and wiped away a tear. “If it’s not alcohol, what is it?”
She continued to stare out the window as if it was easier to tell her story to the unrelenting snow instead of to him. She closed her eyes and ran her hands up and down her arms. “I have debilitating headaches. The pain makes me nauseous, and the meds make me loopy and knock me out for hours. Bright lights can bring on the headaches, so I usually wear sunglasses all the time.”
“That’s why you were so out of it earlier. You had taken your pain meds. I’m sorry, Faith.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “What’s the diagnosis?”
“They’re the result of a brain injury, so they don’t really know. There’s no rhyme or reason to why I get them.”
“Come over and sit down. Tell me, what happened.”
She sat next to him on the couch. “I only know what I’ve been told. I don’t actually remember what happened. They found me beaten and barely alive under an overpass. I was in a coma for six weeks.” She pulled his hand into her lap and interlaced their fingers. “The worst part is, I don’t know who I am.” Her voice wavered, barely loud enough for him to hear her. “Do you know what it’s like to feel that lost?”
His heart twisted at the pain in her voice. Pulling her into his lap, he wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed. “Yeah, I think I do,” he muttered. “We’ve all felt lost at one time or another. I was lost for three years.”
“What is your story? I can see the sadness you try to hide.”
“We’ll talk about that later. We’re talking about you right now.”
“Fine, if you insist. I’m not letting you off the hook, though, you will tell me your story.”
“Scouts honor,” he said as he held up his hand with the middle three fingers up. “Now, back to you. So, you have amnesia? Do the doctors think you’ll eventually remember?”
“At first they did, but as more time passes, the likelihood of that decreases. It’s been over three years, and chances are that I will never remember more than bits and pieces of my past. The worst part is knowing that no one came forward with any information about me. My story was on all the major network news, but nothing ever came of it. It was as if I didn’t exist before they found me.”
“That must have been hard, building a new life. How did you end up being an author?”
“I was stuck in the hospital for months with all the surgeries to repair my face. Nikki brought me a Kindle, and I read all day. A story came to me, so Nikki let me borrow her laptop, and a couple of months later, I had a rough manuscript. She fronted me the money for editing, and I started sending out query letters. It was picked up by an independent publisher and released six months later.”
“Wow, that’s cool. Anything I might have read?”
She laughed at the thought of Robbie reading a romance. “No, I don’t think so. I write historical romance, nothing you would want to read.”
“Probably not,” he said with a grin. “It must have done well if you can afford to spend the winter in nowhere Indiana writing.”
“It was on the New York Times bestseller list for six weeks and makes me enough royalties each month to buy groceries and make a payment to the hospital while I write another book. It helps that Nikki is letting me stay in her family’s cottage rent-free. If I had to pay rent, I would need to get a job.”
“You’re a strong person, Faith. I’m impressed.” His stomach growled. “You hungry? I have stuff for sandwiches in the cooler.”
“That sounds good.”
Twenty minutes later, Faith brushed the crumbs off the table into her hand. “Now that you’ve heard what little there is about me, I think it’s time for you to start talking, Robbie.”
“Let me get some wood from the deck, and then we can settle in for a while.”
Faith wondered how she was go
ing to survive being cooped up in this house with him—sometimes he was such a self-righteous ass. She couldn’t believe he had seriously thought she was an alcoholic, judging her without even asking her about it.
She watched as he moved wood from outside on the deck into the wood box next to the fireplace. After shedding his coat and boots, he knelt in front of the fire and piled a couple of pieces of kindling on the top, using the poker to get them into position. She was mesmerized by the play of his muscles under his t-shirt, her mouth going dry at the thought of what he must look like shirtless. She forced her thoughts back to him being a self-righteous ass. Hopefully, he wouldn’t go blabbing her secret to the whole town.
Robbie stood and kneaded the muscles in his thigh, the cold and hours of inactivity making them ache.
“You okay, Robbie? I’ve noticed you rubbing your leg off and on all morning.”
“Yeah, all this sitting around is causing my muscles to cramp. I’ll wrap it in a warm towel, and that will help. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” He hung a couple of bath towels over the fireplace screen before limping to the bedroom.
Faith reached up to grab her necklace and remembered that she had put it away the day before. She brought her hand up and ran her fingers through her hair instead, needing something to get rid of her nervous energy. She squinted at the brightness of the lantern on the end table. Grabbing her sunglasses, she put them on and sighed in relief.
Robbie walked out of the bedroom wearing a pair of gym shorts. “Is the lantern too bright? Let me lower that a bit.” He fiddled with the flame adjustment, and the light dimmed. “How’s that?”
She took off her sunglasses. “Much better, thanks. If you need to turn it back up, just let me know, and I’ll put my glasses back on, I’m used to it.” She lowered her eyes, still not comfortable being the center of attention.
Robbie turned, and her gaze landed on his muscular thighs, making her aware of him as a man. The sight of the angry red scar on his leg made Faith draw in a breath. “That looks like it was bad. What happened?”
“That’s part of my story. I need to start at the beginning, so we’ll get to my leg in a bit.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the cooler. “Want one?” At her nod, he grabbed another and settled onto the couch.
She traced the scar with her eyes, her hand wanting to sooth away his pain.
Pulling one of the towels off of the fireplace screen, he wrapped it around his thigh and visibly relaxed. “That feels better.”
“Tell me what happened.” The look of sadness that came over his face made Faith wish she hadn’t pressed him about his leg.
“It was just over three years ago that my life fell apart. Before that day, everything was great. I had a wife, a baby on the way, a great job, and a condo two blocks from the ocean. We planned to fly here to have Madison meet the family, but things didn’t quite work out that way.” He took a long drink from his bottle of water. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I received a call from my boss about a deal I was working on that was supposed to be closed that day. Something went wrong, and I had to take a conference call to sort things out, so I sent my wife to the airport without me. I was going to catch the next flight out and meet her in Indianapolis.”
Faith squeezed his hand. “We don’t have to do this now.”
“I need to do it now. According to my therapist, talking about it will help me move past it.” Brushing the hair off of her forehead, he carried on. “I had just hung up from my conference call when the doorbell rang. Two LAPD officers were standing on the stoop, and I knew it wasn’t a good thing.” Robbie looked into the fire. “They tore my life to shreds with just a few words: ‘We regret to inform you that Madison Newlin was killed in a motor vehicle accident.’ With that one statement, I lost my wife, my child, and my whole life.”
“Oh, Robbie. I’m so sorry.” She rubbed her hand up and down his back, knowing it was a small gesture, but it was all she had.
As if he couldn’t sit still, he jumped up and paced the length of the room, finishing his story as he limped along. “I couldn’t face it. Whiskey was the only thing that dulled the pain, so every weekend, I drank until I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Eventually, I began drinking after work, which turned into drinking at lunch. After two years had passed, my boss grew tired of trying to get me to help myself, so he did the only thing he could do—fire me. Almost six months later, my savings ran out. I sold what was left and came home. The self-indulgence continued, and I was drunk all the time. No one knew what had happened because I couldn’t claw myself out of agony long enough to share. Not wanting to live without her anymore, I even thought about taking all of my sleeping pills at once to put an end to it all.”
Faith cried silently, not wanting to interrupt him.
Robbie stopped pacing and moved to sit down, noticing Faith’s tears. Pulling her into his lap, he finished his story. “One day, I fell into some glass doors and cut myself up pretty badly. I thought it was fate’s way of giving me an out. I was prepared to die. Even wanting it, but Logan found me before that could happen. Ragan made me tell her the whole story, and she convinced me to get into rehab. That was almost seven months ago.”
Knowing the pain of losing a child before they even had a chance to live, Faith hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry you went through that, Robbie.” Yawning, she tried to keep her eyes open, but the pain meds were still making her sleepy. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment.
Robbie looked down and grinned at her. He ran his thumb lightly along her cheekbone as he whispered, “How could someone walk away from you? Knowing you’re not an alcoholic makes it even harder to resist you.”
Standing carefully to avoid waking her, he took her over to the couch and laid her down, covering her with the blanket. She looked so beautiful sleeping in the firelight. He sat on the floor in front of her and let his thoughts run free. What happened before she was found? Why would someone do that to her? Clearly, it was someone who didn’t know her. Even with everything she had been through, she still had such compassion for others.
Staring into the fire, he wondered if she had been put into his life for a reason. Possibly to remind him not to take himself so seriously. His life was getting back on track; maybe he was to help her on her journey. He laughed at the thought. It sounded like the AA stuff was sinking in.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he turned it on and took a picture of her angelic face to remind him to keep his ego in check. He quickly made the photo his wallpaper and turned the phone off to conserve the battery.
Faith awoke to the smell of beef stew and the swish of sandpaper being rubbed across a piece of wood. She blinked against the brightness of the lantern and fumbled for her sunglasses.
“Here, let me move that over here, so it’s not quite so bright for you. I had planned on turning that down before you woke up, but I was so intent on the box that I didn’t notice you were coming around.”
“No problem. I’m used to wearing my sunglasses most of the time.” She yawned and looked over toward the windows. “Has the snow let up any?”
“No, not yet. We’ll probably be snowed in for a couple of days if not longer since we are the only two out on this road this time of year. We’re not a high priority for the snowplows.”
“Really?” She looked around worriedly. “Do we have enough wood to last that long? What about food?”
Robbie sat next to her on the couch. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of everything. The pantry is full of canned goods, and there is more firewood under the deck. We’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“We’re used to snow here in the Midwest. There’s a snowmobile out in the garage if we have to get out before the snowplows make it through. Be calm, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You must think I’m being silly. Evidently, I have too much time on my hands, and I’m starting to look for things to go wrong.” She smoothed her h
air and wiped the drowsiness out of her eyes. “Too bad I don’t have any way to keep my laptop charged. All this free time would be ideal for writing.”
Robbie stood and stretched. “You ready for some lunch? Smells like the beef stew is ready. All I have to do is get the biscuits in the oven.”
“That sounds wonderful. Is there any way I can help?”
“Everything is done. You can take care of dinner.
“Oh, okay. I hope you like grilled cheese sandwiches. I don’t know how to cook anything else.” She looked down at her hands, somehow ashamed that she didn’t know her way around a kitchen. “I bought a cookbook but haven’t gotten up the courage to try any of the recipes.”
Pulling her up off the couch, Robbie smiled. “We’ll just have to do something about that then.” He walked her out to the kitchen. “Lesson number one will be cutting out biscuits.”
“Holy cow, you made homemade biscuits? Even with no power?”
“I sure did. Now, you’re going to help me finish them. Luckily, we have a gas stove, so cooking is still fairly easy.”
“Let’s get you started rolling out the biscuit dough.” He dumped the sticky mixture out of the bowl onto the counter after spreading around some flour. Placing her in front of him, he picked up the rolling pin and showed her how to roll it out while keeping it a consistent thickness.
Faith struggled to keep her focus on the dough in front of her. Robbie’s breath in her ear was stirring up new feelings in her body. She had to concentrate to keep her breathing even. His hands overlaying hers on the rolling pin were sure and steady, guiding her movements.
Handing her a glass, he showed her how to cut out the biscuits and set them on the baking sheet. Before she knew it, the biscuits were in the oven, the smell of them baking filling the air.
Robbie put the dishes in the sink and turned to look at Faith.
“What?”
Reaching over, he brushed at some flour on her cheek with his thumb. “Just wondering how some guy hasn’t snapped you up yet.”
The touch of his thumb on her skin was like fire across her cheekbone, “You make it sound like I’m a commodity or something.” Her cheeks burned as her temper flared. “Maybe I don’t want to be snapped up.” Sheesh, how could she keep forgetting he could be such an asshat? She turned and stomped across the room to stare out the window. The wind whipped the snow around, and she couldn’t tell where the shore ended and the lake began. Her mind whirled like the snowflakes on the wind outside—one moment he was sweet and the next he was insulting her. How was she supposed to survive in such close quarters with him?
Where There's Faith Page 5
