“She had to be examined and prepped. The bullet entered her right side and made a clean exit. It didn’t hit any vital organs, which makes her a very lucky woman.”
Lucky. Yes, she was, but Grayson didn’t feel so lucky. Eve had come damn close to dying. “You said physically Eve will be all right?” Nate questioned.
Dr. Masters glanced at Grayson. A funny kind of glance. Had Eve told him about the possible pregnancy?
No doubt.
She might not have actually mentioned that Grayson could be her baby’s father, but the doctor wasn’t an idiot. He had almost certainly put one and one together when he’s seen Grayson’s reaction to her being shot.
“Eve wants to see you,” the doctor said to Grayson. “But don’t stay long. I want her to get plenty of rest.” Then, he turned that authoritative gaze on the rest of the Rylands. “You can all come back in the morning.”
The trio looked as if they might argue, but Nate finally caught on to his brothers’ arms. “Grayson will see to Eve,” he reminded them.
Yeah. He’d done a stellar job of that in the past forty-eight hours, hadn’t he? He’d had sex with her, twice, and had nearly gotten her killed.
Grayson took a deep breath and followed the doctor to the post-op room at the end of the hall. Everything in the room was watery white, including Eve. There wasn’t a drop of color in her cheeks. Still, she managed a smile of sorts when she saw him.
“You’ve got five minutes,” the doctor instructed, “and then I don’t want her to have any more visitors until tomorrow. Don’t worry. After what Eve’s been through, she’ll sleep during that time anyway.”
Grayson prayed that was true, that she would sleep with no nightmares. He stood zero chance of that happening for him. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see the attack. It would torment him, and he would try to figure out what he could have done to prevent it. In his nightmares, he would stop Cicely’s bullet from hitting Eve.
But saving her from that bullet was a day late and a dollar short.
“You look worried,” she mumbled. Her words were slurred, and her eyes bleary.
“I am worried.” Grayson walked closer. She looked too fragile to touch, but he skimmed his fingers down her arm, barely making contact with her skin. “The doctor said you were going to be okay.”
“Yes.” The half smile faded. “It’s too early to know if that’s true.”
“The baby,” he whispered.
She gave a shaky nod. “The trauma probably put an end to any pregnancy.”
Of course. Her body had been through a lot. Too much. He didn’t know much about the biology of conception, but the blood loss and the shock from the attack could have caused her body to shut down.
Being shot was hardly conducive to making a baby.
“Dr. Masters said I should brace myself for the worst,” she added. “So, that’s what I’ve done.”
It made him ache to hear her say that, to see the resignation in her exhausted eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Grayson said, because he didn’t know what else to say.
She lifted her chin, though it was shaky, too. “I just wanted to thank you, for everything. That’s why I asked to see you.”
That hurt, as well. And it also riled him to the core. Grayson didn’t want to be thanked for doing a half-assed job at protecting her. “Don’t—”
“I know. You don’t want to talk about it.” She pulled in a slow breath and fought to keep her eyes open. “That’s okay.”
No. It wasn’t okay. Far from it. He should tell her…
But tell her what, exactly?
Tell her that he wasn’t sorry about sleeping with her? That was a moot point now that the gunshot wound had compromised her already slim chances of getting pregnant.
Maybe he should explain to her that he was sorry he hadn’t stopped Cicely from shooting her? Or that the only thing he wanted was for her to be happy? She deserved happiness. She deserved a lot more than he could have ever given her.
But Grayson didn’t say any of those things. He just stood there, looking at Eve, and knowing he couldn’t do or say anything to make it better.
“Go home to your family.” Her voice had no sound now. Even though her eyes drifted down, she smiled that sad half smile again. “Have a good life, Grayson.”
The words went through him like ice. Like the dark cold he felt deep within his soul when he thought he’d lost Eve in that parking garage.
Because the words sounded like a goodbye.
And Grayson knew that’s exactly what it was.
Well, he had his answer. Eve might have been groggy from the surgical drugs, but he hadn’t seen any doubt in her eyes, and she damn sure hadn’t asked him to stay.
Have a good life, Grayson.
With those words slamming through his head, Grayson did as Eve wanted. He walked away.
Chapter Nineteen
The pain seared through her when she eased off the hospital bed and into the wheelchair, but Eve tried not to react visibly. She didn’t want Dr. Masters to see the pain on her face because he would only give her more hassle about leaving. And there was no way she wanted to spend the rest of Christmas day in a hospital.
Besides, if she stayed, she would go stark-raving mad. Every moment she was in that bed, she thought of Grayson and of the life that she’d nearly gotten to have as a mother.
“You know how I feel about this,” the doctor grumbled. It was a paraphrase of the grumble he’d been doling out since she’d insisted on going home.
So yes, she did know how the doctor felt. He wanted her to stay put one more day, even at the risk of her sanity. However, the moment he signed the release papers, Eve snatched them from his hand.
Dr. Masters gave her a flat look. “At least tell me you’ll be with family or friends, that you aren’t going home alone.”
“I won’t be alone,” she lied.
His flat look intensified. “You told the nurse to tell the Rylands that you couldn’t have any visitors, that you were in too much pain.”
“I lied about that.” And that was the truth.
She had told that lie not because of the pain. Well, not the physical pain anyway, but she couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye to Grayson again. Once she was home and had recovered, she would email his brothers and thank them for, well, for being there when it counted most.
Dr. Masters scribbled something on another piece of paper and handed it to her. “A script for pain meds and antibiotics,” he explained.
The antibiotics were a necessity but not the drug for pain. The pain was right there, stabbing through her, but she didn’t want to put any more drugs in her body in case there was the minuscule chance that she might be pregnant.
Yes, it was a pipe dream, but Eve was going to hold on to it until a pregnancy test proved otherwise.
“I can’t talk you out of this?” the doctor asked. He grabbed the back of her wheelchair when Eve tried to wheel herself toward the door.
“No. I’ve made up my mind.”
He gave a heavy sigh, followed by a nod, and he stepped behind her so he could wheel her toward the door. With any luck, the taxi she’d called would be waiting and could take her to her condo. She’d also phoned the super because she didn’t have her keys. He had promised to meet her there and let her in. Then she could get some cash to pay the taxi driver.
“What should I tell the Rylands when they show up?” Dr. Masters asked.
And they would show up. “Tell them I made a miraculous recovery and that I’m spending the holiday with friends.”
The doctor made a sound of disapproval but wheeled her out anyway.
“The taxi is meeting me at the back of the building,” she let him know.
Another sound of disapproval, but he went in that direction anyway. Eve looked over her shoulder. No sign of Grayson. And she tried to convince herself that was a good thing.
The tears came anyway.
She blinked them back and
realized that the pain in her side was nothing compared to the piercing ache in her heart. Damn her. She had known not to get too close to Grayson, and she’d done it anyway.
Again.
The doors slid open as they approached, and the cold wind nearly robbed her of her breath. So did the man who stepped out onto the walkway. Not Grayson.
Dade.
He was there, right next to the taxi that was waiting for her. Dade smiled, flashing those killer dimples that had probably coaxed many women into his bed. The dimples had never worked on Eve because to her Dade would always be the brother she’d never had.
“I asked at the front desk,” Dade explained, “and the nurse said you were checking out early. Since I didn’t see you out front, I figured I’d check back here.” He tipped his head to the taxi. “Going somewhere?” It was a friendly enough question, but there was concern in his voice.
“I need to get home.” Eve kept it at that. She gave the doctor a nod of reassurance that all was well, and he went back inside.
“Right. You need to get home,” Dade repeated. He blew out his breath as if resigned to the fact that they weren’t going to have a real discussion here. “Want me to drive you?”
She shook her head. “It’s Christmas and you should be with your family. The taxi will get me home just fine.”
Another nod. He reached in his jeans’ pocket, pulled out something and walked closer. “Your Christmas present,” he announced. “Sorry, but I didn’t have time to wrap it.” Dade caught on to her hand and dropped something into her palm.
A silver concho.
Eve knew exactly what this was. One of the silver conchos that Boone Ryland had given to all six of his sons before he’d walked out on them and their mother.
She looked at Dade and shook her head. “I thought you threw yours in the creek.”
Dade shrugged. “I had this one made for you a while back but never got around to giving it to you. I figured this was a good time.”
Her mind slipped back to all those years ago, and she could see the hurt teenager whose father had run out on him. The concho was a reminder of both the pain from that loss and the family that Boone Ryland had made.
“Thank you,” she managed to say despite the massive lump in her throat.
“I always thought you should have one,” Dade added. “And if you decide to throw it in the creek, put a bullet in it or drape it around a picture frame, it’s your right.” He stooped down so he was eye level with her, and he caught on to her shoulders. “Eve, you’re a Ryland, and you belong with Grayson.”
The tears threatened again, and she hoped that Dade thought the cold wind was responsible. “I can’t have Grayson,” she said. She put the concho on her lap so her hands would be free to wheel the chair to the taxi door.
But Dade took over. “Because Grayson’s too stubborn and proud.”
“No. Because he’s Grayson.” She managed a smile when Dade helped her into the back of the taxi. She made sure she had hold of the concho, and then closed her hand around it.
Dade brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I can’t do anything to change your mind?”
She didn’t even have to think about this. “No.”
Eve had seen Grayson’s reaction the night before. He felt guilty for her injury and guilty that the bullet had almost certainly cost her a baby. That guilt would eat away at him, and he would come to her and try to make things right.
Eventually, they’d land in bed again.
And eventually the old feelings and wounds would resurface, and Grayson would resent her for forcing a relationship on him that he didn’t want.
“I can tolerate a lot of things in life,” she whispered to Dade. “But I refuse to be the person who brings Grayson Ryland to his knees. I love him too much for that.”
Thankfully, Dade didn’t argue. He didn’t question her or her logic. He simply smiled, shut the taxi door and waved goodbye.
Eve pressed her hand and the concho to her heart, hoping it would ease the pain. But that was asking a lot from a little piece of silver, even if this piece of silver was one of the most precious gifts she’d ever received. She definitely wouldn’t throw it in the creek or put a bullet in it. She would keep it close to her heart.
Eve waited until the driver was out of the parking lot before she broke down and cried.
Chapter Twenty
Grayson cursed. He’d actually punched a singing Christmas tree and rammed it into the trash can.
He’d thought it was a reasonable reaction at the time. The tree was stupid, sitting on the dispatcher’s desk at the sheriff’s office and bursting into that same tinny “Jingle Bell” tune every time anyone walked past it. Well, Grayson was tired of it. Plus, it was nearly two weeks past Christmas, and if he’d had any holiday spirit, it was long gone.
Still, he’d punched a Christmas tree.
And that’s when he knew this had to end.
His mood was well past the surly stage, and even the usually even-tempered Nate had demanded that Grayson do something. Grayson hadn’t needed to figure out what his brother meant. He knew.
He had to see Eve.
So he’d forced himself into his new truck and started driving.
However, now that he was parked in front of her condo in San Antonio, Grayson was rethinking his impulsiveness. He probably should have called or emailed first. Heck, he darn sure should have sorted out his feelings and what he wanted to say to her.
What if she told him to take a hike?
That wasn’t the only worry on his mind. Still, he had to see for himself that she was okay, that she had recovered both physically and mentally from the shooting.
He was about to get out of his truck, when the front door to her condo opened, and Eve backed out. She had on jeans, a dark red sweater top, and she was dragging something.
A Christmas tree.
Not a fake singing one but a real one with dry, browning branches. No ornaments, but there were a few strands of silver tinsel that caught the cold January wind and the afternoon sun. Since she was struggling with it and since he was pretty sure she shouldn’t be twisting and turning her body like that, Grayson hurried over to help her.
She must have heard his footsteps because she let go of the tree and whirled around as if she’d expected to be attacked.
Hell.
She’d been having those nightmares about the shooting.
But her expression quickly went from alarm to a smile. Not the weak half-assed smile that she’d given him in the hospital. This was a real one. An Eve smile that lit up her whole face. That smile caused him to freeze.
Oh, man. She was beautiful. Always had been, always would be. And he would always feel as if it he’d been sucker-punched when he saw her.
“Grayson,” she said on a rise of breath.
“Eve.” His voice didn’t sound any steadier than hers.
They stood there, staring, waiting. And because Grayson had to have something to do with his hands, he grabbed the trunk of the dead tree.
“Where do you want this to go?” he asked.
She motioned toward the Dumpster at the end of the parking lot where there were several other discarded Christmas trees. “The recycling truck is supposed to pick them up today,” she let him know.
Grayson headed in that direction, and Eve followed along beside him. He looked for any signs of pain or limited movement, but there weren’t any.
“I’m okay,” she assured him as if reading his mind. “I had my post-op check up last week, and the doctor said I was healing nicely.”
“Good.” He cursed himself when he repeated it.
Grayson didn’t hurry because he didn’t want Eve to hurry to keep up with him, but he didn’t dawdle, either. It was cold and blustery, and despite her healing nicely remark, he didn’t want her outside any longer than necessary—especially since she wasn’t wearing a coat. He tossed the tree next to the others and headed back.
“Would you like to come in?”
she asked. The invitation was tentative, like her body language. She wasn’t fidgeting exactly, but it was close.
“Yeah. I’d like to talk.” And say what exactly, Grayson didn’t know.
Well, except for asking her the results of the pregnancy test she’d taken. Of course, if by some miracle that result had been positive, she would have already told him.
Maybe.
And Grayson had to accept that maybe she had already written him out of her life. It seemed that way in the hospital.
Eve walked into the condo ahead of him and shut the door once he was inside, but didn’t sit. She stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, causing her sweater to tighten across her breasts.
Something he shouldn’t have noticed.
However, he also noticed her necklace. Not an ordinary one. It was a familiar concho with the double R brand of his family’s ranch.
“Dade gave it to me for Christmas,” she said, following his gaze. “He had it made years ago.”
Funny, his brother hadn’t mentioned a thing about seeing Eve or giving her a Christmas present. After Eve had left the goodbye note at the hospital, Grayson had thought all the Rylands had respected her wishes to be left alone.
Apparently not.
And he would take that up with Dade when he got home.
“The concho doesn’t have bad memories for me like it does for you and your brothers,” Eve explained. She shifted her weight, glanced away. “When I see it, I don’t think of your father leaving. I think of all the memories of when he was there. When things were good.”
Leave it to Eve to find the silver lining.
Grayson reached out and slid his fingers beneath the concho pendant. But it wasn’t just the pendant he touched. His knuckles brushed against her breasts. She made a slight shivering sound and stepped back. Grayson let go of the concho and stepped back, too.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. But then her chin came up. “I guess it’s stupid to apologize for an involuntary response. I’m always going to feel an attraction for you, Grayson, and saying I’m sorry won’t make it go away.”
No. But admitting the attraction only reminded him that he felt the same about her. Not that he needed a reminder. Just seeing her had the heat sliding through him.
Grayson Page 15
