Linger

by Maya Banks

  When the driver pulled around to the hospital, both men jumped out and ran inside to the information desk. The receptionist eyed them warily but looked up the information they asked for without comment.

  “Hmm, yes, we have a Mrs. Cullen-Wellesley. Room 811.”

  Logan and Rhys both turned to go but she stopped them.

  “I’m sorry, but she isn’t allowed visitors.”

  Logan rounded furiously. “What?”

  She visibly blanched. “I’m sorry, sir. It says right on her file. No visitors. Doctor’s orders.”

  “The doctor can go to hell,” Logan said icily. “I will see my wife.”

  Even as he turned back to Rhys, the receptionist was hurriedly picking up the phone. Logan ran for the elevator then cursed when it took too damn long. Giving up, he bolted for the stairs, Rhys on his heels.

  They took the stairs two at a time, bursting out of the stairwell on the eighth floor. A quick check of the signs above the hallway told him that room 811 was in the corridor to the right.

  They took off, and as they counted down the numbers to the rooms, Logan glanced ahead and saw two security officers standing outside a room.

  Ignoring them, Logan and Rhys both reached for the door only for the two men to step in front of them.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there.”

  “That is my wife in there,” Logan seethed. “I just got back into town. I have no idea what’s wrong with her or if she’s okay. I only just found out where she was, and you’re telling me I can’t go in there?”

  The security officer’s expression eased into one of sympathy. “Sir, if you’ll wait at the nurse’s station, the doctor is on his way up to see you now. He’ll give you a full report on her condition.”

  “I don’t need a goddamn report,” Rhys interjected. “I want to see how she is doing with my own eyes.”

  The guard eyed him curiously but didn’t question why if she was Logan’s wife, Rhys was breathing fire as well.

  “I understand your frustration,” the other guard said calmly. “I would appreciate it if you waited at the nurse’s station. You’re causing a disruption, and we don’t want any of the patients, including your...wife,” he said, looking at Logan, “to be disturbed.”

  Logan sucked in a deep breath. He wanted to hit something. Catherine was lying in a bed just on the other side of that door, and he couldn’t go in. Couldn’t see her. Couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t touch her and couldn’t tell her he loved her. Couldn’t find out what the hell was wrong with her.

  “Let’s go, Logan,” Rhys said in a low voice. “The sooner we talk to the doctor, the sooner we can see Cat.”

  Reluctantly, Logan backed off and followed Rhys down the hall toward the nurse’s station. When they arrived, Rhys barked out a question to the nearest nurse and was directed into a small lounge adjoining the station.

  They paced the interior until Logan thought he’d go mad. When an elderly man in a lab coat walked in, Logan all but pounced on him.

  “Are you Catherine’s doctor?” he demanded.

  “You must be Mr. Wellesley,” the doctor said, extending his hand. “I’m Doctor Morgan.”

  Logan bit his lip in frustration and returned the man’s gesture. Rhys stepped forward. “How is Catherine? What happened to her?”

  “Acute appendicitis,” the doctor returned. “Unfortunately, it ruptured as she arrived in the emergency room. I performed immediate surgery to remove the appendix but it was complicated by her pregnancy and the high risk of infection.”

  Logan felt all the blood drain from his face. Rhys went chalk white and swayed. “Did you say pregnancy?” Rhys choked out.

  The doctor blinked in surprise. “You didn’t know?” He cleared his throat. “I assumed given the nature of your relationship to the patient that you would be aware of her pregnancy.” He directed his statement to Logan. “She was quite clear that she was married to Logan Wellesley. That is you, correct?”

  Logan nodded, still numb to his toes. “Catherine. Is she okay? The baby?”

  The doctor blew out his breath. “Why don’t you both sit down, and I’ll bring you up to speed on her condition.”

  He and Rhys both sank into nearby chairs. Rhys looked as shocked as he felt. Pregnant. How pregnant? She couldn’t be very far along.

  “Why can’t we see her?” Rhys demanded. “We were told no visitors on your orders.”

  “Not my orders,” the doctor said with a shake of his head. “Those were Mrs. Wellesley’s wishes.”

  Logan looked at the doctor in shock. “What?”

  “After she came out of surgery, she was quite distraught. She asked for you and Rhys Cullen.” He looked up at Rhys. “I assume that’s you?”

  Rhys nodded.

  “She was convinced she’d miscarried the baby, and it took us quite a while to make her understand what had happened to her, and that at least for now, she was still pregnant.”

  “What do you mean for now?” Logan asked as cold fear snaked up his spine.

  “Just that she underwent surgery for a ruptured appendix, which is a risky enough endeavor and when you factor in that the patient is pregnant, it gets trickier. Plus, she runs a high risk of infection which could cause problems with the pregnancy. So far she’s responded well to antibiotics, but she’s not beyond the risk of losing the child. It’s very much a wait-and-see situation.

  That first day, she asked continually for you. The nurses tried to phone the number she provided but were unable to reach you. The second day, however, she went silent, and well, she retreated. She directed me not to allow any visitors, and she stopped trying to phone you. She hasn’t asked for anything. Not even when she can return home.”

  Logan cursed, and Rhys’ eyes glittered with unshed tears.

  “I cautioned her about the need to remain calm, and apparently she feels that seeing you would upset her and potentially cause risk to the baby.”

  Logan dropped his face into his hands. He wanted to goddamn cry like a baby.

  “When can she go home?” Rhys asked, his voice thick with emotion.

  “If all goes well? In a couple of days. I’m watching her closely to make sure she doesn’t spike a temp and that she’s recovering as she should. I want her to have a full round of antibiotics to kill off all the infection in her system.”

  “And we’re supposed to just sit around and not see her for several days?” Logan ground out.

  Compassion softened the doctor’s gaze. “What I’m saying is that Mrs. Wellesley has been through an ordeal both physically and emotionally. She’s terrified of losing her child, and she’s been in considerable pain. As difficult as it may be for you not to see her, consider how difficult the situation is for her.”

  Rhys dropped his hands helplessly at his sides.

  “Leave your contact numbers with the nurses. If anything at all changes with her condition or if she relents and agrees to visitors, they’ll call you immediately. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and get some rest. I’ll let you know when she’ll be discharged.”

  Just like that. As though she were having some routine checkup that they should worry nothing about.

  Logan watched the doctor go, shock still trickling through his system. Trickling. Hell. More like a dam bursting.

  Rhys stalked out of the small room and over to the nurses’ desk. Logan rose to follow him, surprised his feet were obeying his brain’s commands. Or maybe they weren’t, since his mind was screaming at him to go see Catherine.

  Rhys snatched up a pad and a pen and scribbled for several long moments. Then he tore the top piece off, folded it and thrust it at the nurse.

  “Give this to Catherine Cullen. Make sure she gets it.”

  The nurse took the paper and nodded. “Go home now,” she said gently. “I’ll make sure she gets it. I promise.”

  They walked back out of the hospital in silence. Logan was convinced that it was all one really bad dream. That he’d wake up in Jam
aica with Catherine in his arms.

  Neither of them spoke until they stepped into the apartment. It seemed empty without Catherine. Ominous.

  Rhys dropped onto the couch, tilted his head up and closed his eyes. “She’s pregnant,” he said, and he sounded awed.

  Logan was trying to do the math. It was too soon for them to have gotten her pregnant in Jamaica. And to his enduring shame, it had been at least three months before the trip since they’d made love to her. Unless...

  He frowned and looked over at Rhys. It was odd, really. In a relationship such as theirs, they’d certainly considered the eventuality of Catherine having their child and that it might be his or Rhys’.

  But if Rhys had made love to her in the past couple of months, when Logan wasn’t there, the child was most certainly his. It shouldn’t bother him, but he preferred a scenario where the child could be either of theirs. He preferred not knowing. At least then he could imagine it was his.

  He shook his head and glanced away from Rhys. Stupid. The child was theirs. It would be raised by the three of them. He wouldn’t entertain any alternative. Petty jealousies, especially right now, were just boneheaded and completely selfish.

  “What’s wrong?” Rhys demanded.

  Logan looked back up at him. “When was the last time you made love to Catherine? Before Jamaica, I mean.”

  Rhys’ eyes dulled. “Probably three months ago. It was the same night...I mean we both made love to her. I hadn’t since then.”

  Relief made Logan breathe easier. So there was no way to know whose baby it was. Then he shook his head again. Did it matter? Did it really goddamn matter? He’d thought he was beyond all that.

  “That means she has to be over three months pregnant then,” Logan said grimly.

  “Which means she knew,” Rhys said.

  Logan sighed. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why she hadn’t told us yet.” He rubbed a tired hand through his hair. “Who could blame her?”

  “I don’t want to lose her,” Rhys said in a quiet voice. “Or our child.”

  “Then maybe it’s time we put as much time and effort into our relationship with Catherine as we do our business,” Logan said. “Starting now. It’s going to take all we’ve got to get her back, Rhy. I feel that. I think it’s gone beyond disappointment or even anger. But she’s going to need us when she’s discharged from the hospital. She won’t even be able to think about leaving until she’s completely healed. We can use that time to show her she comes first and that she always will.”

  Rhys looked up at him, hope flaring in his eyes. “Then let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Catherine stared down at the note now wrinkled and worn from its constant place in her hand over the last three days. She smoothed the edges and let her gaze travel over the ink.

  Cat,

  I love you. God, I want to see you so badly, but I understand why you don’t want to see me. I’ll wait. No matter how long it takes. I’ll be here when you’re ready to go home. Take care of yourself and our baby.

  Rhy

  Over and over she read those words, wrapped them around her. She’d never felt so alone in her life, and yet she knew they were just outside. The nurses had told her that they’d come every day and just sat. Waiting.

  She smoothed a hand over her belly, careful of her healing incisions. The doctor had assured her that all looked well with her pregnancy, but lingering fear gripped her. She didn’t have words for the terror of waking in a strange bed, of faint, drug-masked pain in her abdomen, and the thought that in one terrible moment, her child had been taken.

  Mindful of the doctor’s caution about getting upset, she tempered her thoughts and settled on more bland images. No, she wouldn’t allow them to risk her child by upsetting her. They’d taken far too much already. Her love. Her hopes. Her happiness.

  They wouldn’t get an outburst from her. No emotion. No pain. She was through begging for something they couldn’t give.

  She looked up when the door opened, almost fearful that Logan and Rhys would disregard her wishes and come inside. Relief came quickly when she saw the nurse enter.

  “The doctor says you can go home today. Are you ready for that?” she asked softly.

  Catherine held her breath. Was she? She knew she’d have to face them when she was discharged. She didn’t have another place to go and couldn’t do so even if she did. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to have to allow them to take her home and take care of her until she was completely well.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  The nurse squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Your obstetrician will be up to see you one more time before you go. He’ll want to see you regularly in the next few weeks to monitor the baby’s progress. You’ll have a follow-up with your surgeon in two weeks. In the meantime, you’re to get plenty of rest, drink plenty of fluids, eat and take it easy. No stress.”

  No stress. She was one big ball of stress even if she was working damn hard to radiate calm.

  “Okay then, I’ll take out your IV and help you shower if you like, or you can wait until you get home. Completely up to you. After your OB sees you, I’ll be back to give you your paperwork and prescriptions, and then you’re free to go.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine said.

  “You’re welcome,” the nurse said with a smile. “Now, let’s get you ready to go, shall we?”

  ***

  Rhys paced the hallway as he waited for Catherine to come out. The nurse had pushed a wheelchair in her room fifteen minutes ago, and still he and Logan waited.

  Logan was no better off than he was. He stood opposite Catherine’s door, his stance tense with expectation.

  Then the door opened and the nurse backed out of the room, pulling Catherine in the wheelchair. When she turned Catherine around, Rhys’ breath left his chest.

  She looked small, huddled in the wheelchair, deep shadows under her eyes. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and she stared up at him, no emotion reflected.

  “Cat,” he whispered as he fell to one knee beside the wheelchair.

  He reached out and touched her cheek. She didn’t react, but her gaze followed him.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurting? How is the baby?”

  There. The tiniest flicker of feeling.

  “The baby is fine,” she said huskily.

  He took her hand in his, uncurled her fingers and kissed her palm. “Thank God.” He looked back up at her. “Are you ready to go home? The car is waiting downstairs.”

  She gave a small nod, and Rhys stood. She turned her head to look at Logan, who still hadn’t said anything. His eyes were haunted. There was so much regret for the world to see that it made Rhys uncomfortable.

  “I’ll take her from here,” Logan said politely to the nurse.

  As he walked behind the wheelchair to grasp the handles, his hand brushed over Catherine’s shoulder and lingered there for a moment before he started forward.

  The entire way down, the silence was heavy. Stifling. A thousand questions stampeded Rhys’ mind. But he held back. Talk was cheap. The time for talking was past. It was up to him and Logan to show her that they couldn’t—wouldn’t—live without her.

  When they arrived at the car, the driver hurried out to open the door. Rhys bent over Catherine.

  “Do you want me to help you into the car or would you prefer I carry you? I don’t want to hurt you, so you tell me what you need me to do.”

  “Don’t pull me,” she murmured. “Let me pull against you. I’ll walk.”

  As Logan held the wheelchair still, Rhys stretched his arm out and held it rigid as her small hand circled his wrist. Her face tightened, and she paled as she strained upward. Logan cursed and put one hand to her back to hold her steady.

  When she was upright, Rhys stood there for a moment to let her catch her breath.

  “Hurts,” she gritted out.

  “I know, love. I’m sorry. As soon as we get you home, we’
ll make you comfortable, I promise.”

  He smoothed her hair away from her face, a face that seemed so much thinner than it had just a few days ago. With slow, small steps, she headed for the open door.

  Logan hurried around to the other side and slid into the backseat. He leaned forward as Catherine ducked into the car and eased down with a groan.

  Logan reached over, lifted her and moved her closer to him. After making sure she was comfortable, Rhys climbed in next to her.

  “Okay?” Rhys asked as he regarded her shallow breathing.

  She nodded, and Logan curled his arm around her shoulders, tugging her gently into his chest. He was shaking from head to toe.

  “God, baby, I was so scared.”

  The words came out choked, and Rhys had to look away as he was reminded of just how afraid he’d been as well. He reached for her hand, wanting to touch her even as Logan held her.

  She was quiet. Too damn quiet, and it scared him. The light had gone out of her eyes. He’d been prepared for anger. Fear. Hurt. But what he wasn’t prepared for was her indifference.

  They drove home, Catherine limp against Logan, her eyes closed. Rhys kept his hand curled around hers. He suspected she kept her eyes closed to keep him and Logan from seeing too deeply within. Which meant that despite her façade, she wasn’t as indifferent as she appeared.

  He’d take hope where he could get it. He wouldn’t let her and their child go without a fight.

  They pulled up to the building, and she stirred, opening her eyes as the car stopped.

  “Just stay where you are,” Logan murmured. “I’ll carry you so you won’t have to move.”

  She tensed for a moment as if expecting his actions to cause her pain, but he moved slowly, inching her out of the car with extreme care.

  Stuart held the door open and was uncharacteristically silent as Rhys passed through followed by Logan carrying Catherine.

  On the way up, Rhys stared at Catherine as she leaned her head against Logan’s shoulder. It was killing him, this silence. He wanted her to yell at him, to hit him, do something other than shut him out. But she couldn’t afford that kind of emotional outburst, and he wouldn’t drive her to it.