Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

  “Brooks?”

  He knocked the thought away and turned his attention back to Nate’s sister. “Been a long time.”

  She stood and faced him. There was a hint of the girl he remembered. Electric-blue eyes. Long, dark hair that fell in waves just past her shoulders and a sour expression that was possibly the only thing keeping her from being the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  But then, Lane had always been beautiful. She just didn’t know it.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Just a few minutes. Didn’t want to intrude.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she sized him up.

  “Your mom brought me back here.” What does that have to do with anything?

  Her phone buzzed, and like a cat watching a bird outside the window, she gave it her full attention. She took a step away from the bed, leaving an empty spot for him to fill. And yet, as he moved closer to Nate, everything within him wanted to run the other way. Nate was always the life of the party—the guy everyone wanted to be around. Seeing him lying lifelessly in this bed only stirred up the raw guilt he’d foolishly convinced himself wasn’t there.

  A nurse walked in, and Ryan stepped aside to make sure he was out of her way. He watched as she checked the machines hooked up to Nate. He understood nothing she did, and her face gave nothing away. Lane stood on the other side of the room, her back to him, tapping away on that stupid phone.

  “How is he?” Ryan asked the nurse.

  “Stable, but not out of the woods yet,” the nurse said. “Weren’t you the one who was with him when he crashed?”

  Ryan stilled.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lane turn. Despite her cold exterior, she seemed mildly interested in her brother’s condition, or at least in Ryan’s involvement in the accident.

  “Uh, yes. I was.” Ryan’s voice was quiet.

  “Must’ve been awful.” The nurse adjusted one of the machines. “They said he’s lucky to be alive. Maybe you are too?”

  Yep. Lucky.

  “I’ll say a prayer for Nate. He was a couple of years ahead of me in school, but everyone always loved him.”

  “Sounds about right,” Ryan said.

  The nurse clicked a button on one of the other devices beside the bed, then glanced at Lane, standing in the corner like she felt suddenly out of place.

  “Are you a relative?” she asked Lane.

  Lane shifted. “He’s my brother.”

  “Oh.” The nurse’s eyes widened as she stared at Nate’s sister. “Wait a minute . . . Lane?”

  Lane’s eyes darted to Ryan, then hit the floor.

  “It’s me, Daisy. Daisy Marcus. Well, it’s Daisy Teeter now. I married Pauly Teeter. You probably remember Pauly.”

  He didn’t think Lane’s body could get any tenser, but somehow it had. She shifted again, then wrapped her arms around herself. He watched her take a deep breath before meeting the nurse’s eyes.

  “I remember.”

  Ryan remembered too. Pauly Teeter was a first-class jerk. Ryan hadn’t gone to school in Harbor Pointe, but he had a feeling, knowing how Lane had been teased, that Pauly Teeter might have been one of her worst bullies.

  “Of course you do. You were in the same grade. Where have you been? You’re never around anymore. If I looked as good as you do now, I’d come home to flaunt it all the time. You’re like the caterpillar who went away and turned into a gorgeous butterfly. How’d you lose all that weight?”

  Lane’s eyes met the floor again.

  “Heard you’re a big shot something-or-other these days.” Daisy had completely lost interest in Ryan and was now focused on Lane, who looked like she was barely enduring the attention.

  He used the distraction as a chance to assess the grown-up version of the girl he used to know. Nobody had told him how striking she’d become, but maybe they didn’t know. She was perfectly put together, as if someone was using her to demonstrate what a professional woman should look like. Dottie talked about Lane and her fancy job in the city, but it was a different thing to see her in person. He could tell just by looking at her—she’d made something of herself.

  If he’d been intimidated by her before, he was downright terrified of her now. And yet, something about her standoffishness fascinated him.

  “I work a lot.” Lane looked like she’d rather be gnawing on wood chips than talking to this nurse.

  “I heard something about your work.” Daisy tried to fill in the blanks with whatever town gossip she’d heard but apparently came up empty. “What do you do again?”

  Lane looked at Ryan helplessly. He could see her resolve faltering—how did Daisy not notice?

  “Daisy, I was wondering if you could grab another blanket for Nate?” Ryan interrupted. “It’s kind of cold in here.”

  Daisy pulled her attention from Lane with surprised eyes, but maybe it was enough to get the hint.

  “Of course.” She glanced back at Lane. “We should catch up sometime. It’s been forever.”

  Lane’s nod was less than enthusiastic. When Daisy finally left the room, a little bit of tension seemed to go with her. But only a little.

  Lane stared at him for a few long seconds, and while anyone else might’ve thanked him for intervening, he had a feeling she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Any connection they’d had once upon a time was long gone.

  “You were with Nate when he crashed?” she asked, breaking the much-preferred silence.

  “We go out riding sometimes.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, aware that she had him in her sights. “First time out this season. It was the first nice day.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  He shot her a look. Hadn’t he just saved her from the nosy nurse? Shouldn’t she be nicer to him? “Yes, I was with him.”

  “Was it his fault?”

  “It was an accident.” Ryan felt like it would be better for them to stop talking. Her eyes threw him off. He was going to say something stupid.

  “Nate has a reckless side.” Lane turned toward her brother. “Maybe it was just a matter of time before it caught up with him.”

  Before he could correct her, the door swung open and Nate’s parents walked in.

  Dottie breezed over and stood next to Ryan, placing a hand on his arm, thoughtlessly, the way moms do with their sons whether they’re grown or not. A gesture that came so naturally to her but meant so much to him. “Did you talk to him at all? They say that’s good for patients in a coma.”

  Ryan glanced at Nate. “I didn’t. The nurse was in here.”

  “Well, you’ll talk to him later, then. I imagine you’ve gotten reacquainted with Lane.” Ryan noticed Dottie didn’t look at Nate, and he feared she might be in deep denial about her son’s condition. He’d never known Dottie to be negative, but she was taking the optimism to a new level.

  “Not exactly,” Ryan said.

  Frank Kelley let out a disapproving scoff. “Lane, where are your manners? You remember Ryan.”

  Lane’s face went pale and she looked at the floor. Apparently she found the floor very interesting.

  “There really wasn’t time for small talk,” Ryan said. “The nurse came in right after me.”

  Lane met Ryan’s eyes for the briefest moment, then looked away. Why was he being so nice to her? She was not reciprocating.

  “Well, Lane always had a soft spot for you, Ryan. You were so sweet to her.” Dottie linked her arm through his and squeezed, focusing her attention on her daughter. “You remember how kind he was to you, Lane.”

  Again Lane’s eyes found his, but she quickly averted them. Had she blocked it all out?

  “You’d be proud of what he’s become.” Dottie was still talking. “Ryan is a wonderful addition to our little community. You should see how he’s transformed—”

  “She doesn’t need to hear about me right now, Mrs. K.,” Ryan cut in.

  Dottie’s face warmed into a soft smile. “We’re just so proud
of you, hon.”

  Moments like this, Ryan almost felt like he belonged to her, like it didn’t matter how he’d grown up or whose son he was. It didn’t matter that he belonged nowhere else.

  The Kelleys were enamored with his war stories, supportive of the years he worked in construction, and now excited for his business venture. They seemed to respect the parts of his past he didn’t want to discuss.

  “I’m sure Lane would love to hear all about your projects,” Dottie said.

  He glanced at Lane, who was obviously unimpressed.

  “Maybe later.” He knew it wasn’t the time or the place to discuss his dreams for Cedar Grove.

  “This weekend, maybe,” Dottie said. “We could even bring Lane over to your place for a little tour.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be here this weekend, Mom.” Lane didn’t meet her mother’s eyes.

  “What?” At his side, he could feel Dottie’s shoulders fall.

  “I can only take a few days off,” Lane said.

  “You don’t have sick days built up in that big company of yours?” Dottie asked. “Or vacation days? We even give our employees vacation days, and if there was a family emergency, we wouldn’t give it a second thought if they had to take some time off.”

  Lane’s eyes were back on the floor. For someone who was clearly confident in many ways, there was still something about her that radiated insecurity.

  “My company is different than your business, Mom,” Lane said. “And I’m right in the middle of a big pitch, trying to land a huge client. My team is counting on me.”

  Dottie bristled at Lane’s remark. “Well, Lane, your family is counting on you too.”

  “Mom.”

  “Forgive me if I think family is more important than work.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Lane said.

  “I think it is. I think if your brother is in a coma, you should be able to spend more than a couple days with your family until you know everything is all right.”

  “It’s so tense in here.” Frank’s trademark hand waving had begun. “We have to keep our spirits up—Nate wouldn’t want you two fighting in his hospital room, and he wouldn’t want everyone moping around here waiting for him to wake up. He’s going to be fine.”

  Ryan’s eyes happened to find Lane’s as Frank said the words. He wasn’t a mind reader, but judging by the look on her face, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was.

  What if Nate doesn’t wake up at all?

  What if these people, this adoptive family of his, had to make a terrible decision about life support or organ donation? What if what he feared about the accident was true and when they discovered that truth, they’d make it clear Ryan had absolutely no business being there in that room like he was one of them?

  Sometimes the truth of who he was smacked him in the face just when he was about to forget it.

  The image of the blue truck raced through his mind.

  This time, forgetting who he was wasn’t going to be an option. And no amount of doing good would change that.

  CHAPTER

  7

  AFTER HER ALLOTTED TIME WITH NATE, Lane slipped outside, not anxious to go back to the waiting room with the rest of Nate’s visitors. Spring had descended on Harbor Pointe, and if Lane wasn’t so anxious, she might’ve actually enjoyed the way the slightly cool breeze brushed through her hair.

  She gathered Otis from the front seat of the car, attached him to his leash, and led him to the same grassy spot where she’d stopped before. She took out her phone and texted Chloe.

  Any word on Solar?

  Nothing more, but Marshall is in your cubicle looking over your designs for the atrium of their space.

  Why?

  He’s trying to figure out how to tell you to give them an overhaul.

  Lane wanted to throw her phone into the lake. What was Marshall thinking? The second she went out of town, he changed everything on her—what happened to this being her chance of a lifetime?

  Marshall had her second-guessing work she’d been so proud of, and she hated that feeling.

  She grabbed her laptop case with all of her work inside, returned an unhappy Otis to his makeshift bed in the car, and turned back toward the hospital.

  She wanted to get behind the wheel and drive home, call a meeting with the Solar execs, and give the pitch she’d been planning to give that morning.

  But her brother was lying in a bed on the third floor, unable to breathe on his own.

  Heat rushed to Lane’s cheeks. Work—even when it was hard—made sense to her. Sitting in that waiting room turned her into live bait for the ghosts of the past.

  After all, it was only a matter of time before she saw him.

  She’d be twitching and nervous if she sat up there, surrounded by a family of strangers but always with one eye on the door, ticking off the seconds until he finally showed up to play the part of dutiful husband.

  It had been years since she’d seen him, years since they walked the campus of Northwestern together, years since she wished on that stupid star that somehow he would end up being the one.

  Years since she’d foolishly believed he was.

  The memories were years old and brand-new, but just like she had on that long-ago day, she shoved them out of her mind, refusing to feel any unwelcome emotion, the kind that made a girl weak. She’d never even cried. . . .

  She sat down at a table in the lobby across from the gift shop on the hospital’s main floor. Eventually she’d have to face everyone, but in that moment, she could hide. She had to hide; it was all she could muster.

  She could pretend for a little while that her heart was fully recovered and the only things she had to worry about were her brother’s condition and whether or not she’d destroyed her shot at this promotion.

  For just a few moments there was nothing else to think about.

  No Lindsay. No fear of running into him. No memories of the way that ring had looked on her finger.

  Stop. One thing at a time. And some things never.

  She pulled out her portfolio, laptop, and phone and positioned them just so on the table. She quickly checked her social media accounts—all of them. She’d set her posts for the week, but she liked to stay engaged. Her readers counted on it. Most of the interior designers at JB Sweet didn’t bother with social media, but it had always been a part of Lane’s plan to separate herself, to make a name for herself. Miles sent out the occasional tweet, but he didn’t have half Lane’s following. He didn’t connect with people like she did.

  She’d learned a lot about interior design working at that firm—and while she was no DIY goddess, she’d developed quite an online following for herself and for JB Sweet.

  That had to count for something, didn’t it?

  She was responding to a question about installing a subway tile backsplash when she spotted Ryan across the lobby. She watched as he strolled toward the gift shop, unaware she was sitting there. Not that he’d care. Of course not. He was one of Nate’s friends. Nate’s friends had never paid a bit of attention to her.

  Though that wasn’t entirely true. More than once, Ryan had stuck up for her. He’d always been kind, even when the rest of the world wasn’t. Come to think of it, they’d been friends too once.

  Another friendship that had gone by the wayside.

  She watched Ryan for a moment. She’d forgotten all about him, but looking at him now, she remembered the first time her dad had brought him home for dinner. Said he wanted the family to get to know his “newest employee,” which even at her young age seemed odd to Lane, given that Ryan was barely thirteen at the time.

  Over time and thanks to a few overheard conversations, Lane gathered that her father had brought Ryan home because somehow he believed their family could help him. She’d never asked for details, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that things weren’t great for Ryan at home, and before long, he and Hailey were a staple in the Kelley family.

  The Brook
s kids joined them for camping trips and Sunday dinners. They sat with the Kelleys at church and camped out in their living room.

  They were all friends, she supposed, the seven of them, though part of her was jealous at how easily Ryan had fit into a family that wasn’t his. She’d been born a Kelley, but she couldn’t feel more out of place.

  Her senior year, Brooks went off to the Army and Lane hadn’t seen him again until now.

  Did he resent her for not keeping in touch?

  She studied him without his knowledge from her spot across the lobby. She could tell Ryan was nothing like the guys she usually dealt with—men like Marshall and Miles. He wasn’t even clean-shaven, and she’d never say so, but he could use a haircut. Chloe would probably call him “rugged.” He wore a long-sleeved gray Henley underneath a washed-out blue T-shirt, the kind he’d probably had so long the material was now soft and worn.

  He seemed to be limping, and his cargo pants had blood on them. Maybe Nate wasn’t the only one who’d been injured.

  She hadn’t been nice to Ryan. He was probably worried and anxious about Nate, not to mention injured himself, and she’d lashed out at him like he didn’t belong there, like he’d done something wrong.

  She should apologize.

  Her phone rang. Marshall. He knew how much she hated talking on the phone. She stared at it as if that would make the ringing stop, but finally took the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” He paused. “How are things?”

  He was calling to check on her? That was sweet—she wasn’t used to sweet. It shamed her a bit, the way she’d been wishing away his phone call. “Fine. He’s stable. Still critical, though.”

  There was another pause.

  “Marshall?”

  “Oh, good,” he said absently as if he was doing something else. “Did you get a chance to look at the e-mail I sent?”

  Now the pause was on her end. Was he calling to ask about her brother or to talk about work? “No, I must’ve missed it.”

  “Okay, when you get a second, take a look. I talked to one of the guys from Solar, and he gave me some insight into what they’re looking for. Might need to tweak some of what you came up with before the next meeting. I explained it in my e-mail. You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”