by Marci Bolden
He shrugged and let his hand fall. “What else am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t either, so he focused on his dinner. After wrapping up her trash, Mallory went to her room, and Marcus went to Annie’s.
Walking into the bedroom hit him like a punch to the gut that he hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t the first time that he’d crashed at her house since she’d slipped into a coma. The first time had nearly killed him. Her scent was still on the sheets. A blouse she’d tried on the morning of the shooting had still been lying across the foot of the bed. Her robe, the one she’d been wearing when they’d made love in the bathroom, was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Everywhere he’d turned had been a reminder that her life was hanging on by a thread.
But those things had slowly disappeared. He’d hung her blouse and robe in the closet. He’d put away a size-seven pair of heels. He’d used what was left of her toothpaste, shampoo, and body wash. They’d been replaced with his own. Her perfume still sat on the dresser, though. Her makeup drawer still held varying shades of lipsticks and eye shadows.
But the sheets no longer smelled like her. Her side of the couch was now Mallory’s. Her favorite coffee mug was rarely taken out of the cabinet. It was like she’d slowly disappeared from the house.
So standing there now, in her room, in the room they’d shared for such a brief time, hit Marcus hard. She’d be coming home soon. She’d be in this bed again. She’d want her shampoo and wash and toothpaste. She’d use her mug. She’d spritz her perfume.
But it wouldn’t be the same.
Nothing would ever be the same. And that terrified him as much as it seemed to have Mallory. He hadn’t admitted it, not even to himself, but he was scared to death of what was to come. Would Annie still want him? Would she still believe in him? It’d taken him so long to break through to her. Would she shut him out again? What if she wanted to focus on her family and her recovery and decided she didn’t have time for him?
What if she didn’t love him anymore?
He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed himself for being so selfish.
So what if she kicked him out of her life? At least she had a life. At least she was still alive. At least she was awake. Even if she wasn’t exactly the same. Even if she did decide she couldn’t give part of herself to him any longer. She was alive, and he had to embrace that.
Moving to the dresser, he lifted her perfume and sniffed the top. It wasn’t as he remembered without it being on the warmth of her neck, but the scent brought back a flood of memories. Holding her. Loving her. Sitting in her bed eating Chinese food and promising that nothing would change if they got married.
He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. Kicking his shoes off, he stretched out on her side of the bed and thought of all the ways he was going to make sure that even though everything was different, nothing that mattered would change. He’d make sure she still loved him, still wanted him. He’d serve her Chinese in bed and argue just to get a rise out of her. He’d still make her smile, make her feel safe, and goddamn it, he’d never let anything ever hurt her again.
Marcus let his mind wander and apparently dozed off, because he woke with a start, sweat soaking his forehead as he gasped for breath. Staring into the darkness, he listened to the pounding of his heart in his ears. Boom-boom-boom. Finally it started to slow and he could breathe easier. He’d slowly started getting a handle on his nightmares, but ever since Annie had woken up they’d started taunting him again.
“One final sale,” Annie had whispered with a smile and a wink. He’d smiled and winked in return and then disappeared into the kitchen.
That was the last time he’d seen her. The last time she’d looked at him like that. The last moment when his life had felt complete.
Then the sound hit him, and he woke terrified.
Sitting up, Marcus choked on the cry that erupted from his throat as he wiped a hand over his face. Looking at the clock, he frowned when he realized it wasn’t even midnight. He knew from experience he’d never get back to sleep. He’d simply lie there and relive every moment of that day again and again. Rather than torture himself, he stumbled into the bathroom to take a shower and rinse the sweat from his body.
That was a mistake. Memories of being with Annie in that room flooded him. Dropping his head against the doorjamb, he stared at the bathroom vanity. He could still hear her teasing about his breath and him teasing about how they were going to live together.
Damn it, he missed that. He hadn’t had enough of that. He needed more, and he was terrified that she wasn’t going to be able to give him that. He’d take what he could, of course he would. He’d love her no matter what. But he wished to hell it could be what it was.
Shaking his head, he turned from the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. Thankfully, Mallory had beer in the fridge. He cracked one open and leaned against the counter as more recollections pecked away at his sanity.
Mallory walked in, yawning as she headed for the fridge. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Me either.” She grabbed a beer and sat at the small table in the corner. “What’s keeping you awake?”
He eased into a chair, debating what to say. “She would hate that you quit your job before you even started to stay here with her.”
“Hey, so did you.”
“That’s completely different, Mallory.”
She looked at her beer and frowned. “Growing up, she was always so busy with work. We’d go on vacation, and she’d always have a stack of paperwork with her. I remember when I was about ten, we were at the lake. I was building a sandcastle while she was reading contracts. I kept trying to get her to help me, but she said I could play while she worked. I got so mad, I threw sand all over her papers. She sat me down and told me the only reason we had a nice house, and I was in gymnastics, and we could go on vacation was because she worked so hard. I didn’t get it then. But I do now. Helping you guys out made me realize what she gave up to provide for me. Helping her now is right. It’s the right thing. I know she’d rather I just went on living life like nothing had changed, but everything changed. In that moment, the moment she was shot, everything changed.”
Once again thinking of the dinner he’d shared with Annie, he nodded. “Yes, it did.”
She took a long drink from the beer in her hand. “One thing is still the same, though.”
“What’s that?”
“We still make a great family.”
Marcus smiled as he put his hand on hers. “Yes, we do.”
“We’ll be okay,” she said quietly. “We’ll find a way to be okay.”
Marcus nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, we will,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he believed it at the moment.
Chapter Ten
Marcus walked into Annie’s hospital room and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you tell the nurse?”
She frowned at him. Her disapproving looks weren’t as scary as they used to be. He was quite certain that was because he was so happy she was awake that it didn’t matter that she was frustrated with him. It was a million times better than her just lying there unmoving.
“No visitors. Not until I’m better.”
“Until you’re better?”
“Yes.”
“You realize that could be months and months and maybe never, right?”
She looked away.
“You sent Mallory away.”
“She hovers.”
“She’s worried.”
“She hovers because I’m not normal.”
He shrugged. “You’ve never been normal.”
She looked at him, a flicker of hurt in her eyes instead of the amusement he was hoping to get. He softened his approach as he sat in the chair next to her bed. “Her mother almost died, Annie. She’s a little bit traumatized.”
“She should stay away. Until I’m better.”
“No, she shouldn’t.”
“She should go back. To work. In California.”
“Honey, she never went to California.”
Annie creased her brow as that now-familiar confusion filled her eyes.
“You were shot before she left. She quit her job so she could stay here with you.”
“To watch me…hibernate?”
“It’s what she needed to do. For herself. She can always go to California or somewhere else when she’s ready, but right now, she wants to be with you. So don’t send her away anymore. She may not know what to say or do, but she needs to be here with you. Okay?”
She nodded slowly.
“As for your sisters-in-law, they’ve spent months taking care of you and your family. Show a little gratitude.”
She frowned. “They cry. Always.”
“Listen”—he took her hand—“we’re all emotional right now, and sometimes it’s difficult for us to keep it together. We have all had our moments, our breakdowns. The guys are just better at holding it in so you don’t see.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Hate this.”
“I know this is difficult for you,” he whispered. “I wish I could make it easier. As frustrating as it is for you that we’re all hanging out staring at you with amazement and tripping over ourselves to make sure you’re okay, you know damn well that we aren’t doing anything for you that you wouldn’t do for us. For three months, someone was here with you. Talking to you, reading to you, holding your hand.”
“No wonder I woke up exhausted. You never let me rest.”
He smirked. “Because we love you, and you are everything to us. So I don’t care if you have a hard time talking, or if you’ve lost some use of your hand, or anything else. You are here. You are awake. You are alive. And we’re not leaving, so just suck it up and for once in your life, be nice.”
She frowned. “I hate how they look at me. So sad.”
“I’ll talk to them.”
She shook her head. “I’ll work on my tolerance.”
“No, you have enough things to work on.” He swiped a tear from her cheek. He’d never seen the woman cry as much in five years as she had in the last week. “They don’t mean it, Annie. You know they love you.”
“Makes me feel…weak.”
He nodded. “I get that. They need to stop. I’ll tell them to stop.”
She said something, and frustration lit in her eyes when she realized he didn’t understand her. Taking a breath, she let it out slowly. “I want to go home.”
“I know. You’ve got some work to do first. Doctor Oritz says you’re set to start physical therapy tomorrow.”
She moaned and dropped her head back. “I don’t…”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Not…not be me.”
“Aw, baby,” he breathed as he put his hand to her cheek. “We’re all a little lost right now, but we’re in this together. We’re going to figure this out together. Would it help you to know that I am scared to the bone right now?”
She creased her brow.
“I stayed at your place last night. Slept in your bed. And I just kept remembering us there together, and there was this fear in the back of my mind that maybe…”
“What?”
“Maybe you won’t want me now,” he whispered. “I’m scared you’re going to decide to leave me.”
Annie frowned. “I’m scared. That you’ll leave me. Because…” She sighed and gestured limply. “I’m not me anymore.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that today,” he whispered. “And you know, I said it to Mallory last night. You’re not going to be the Annie that we remember. But you know what? I’m not the Marcus you remember. And she’s not the Mallory that you remember. These last few months have changed us all. But one thing hasn’t changed, will never change.”
“What?”
“We’re family, Annie, and I love you so much.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Me either,” she said quietly. “I can’t.”
Marcus lifted his gaze to her, shocked at her joke, but then laughed when she chuckled. Standing, he moved to the bed and sat on the edge. “Can you scoot?”
She wriggled, doing her best to make room for him. He stretched out beside her and helped her turn onto her side, careful of the few IVs and wires that had yet to be removed. Propping his head up, he smiled as he brushed his hand over her hair.
She sighed. “Oh, yeah. What happened to my hair?”
“They shaved it before surgery. It’s growing out.”
“Can’t talk. Can’t move. Can’t think. And I’m bald?”
“Stop looking at the downside.”
“What’s the upside?”
“Less arguing. No more running away. Less sarcasm. No bad hair days.”
Her frown deepened. “How did I get stuck with an optimist?”
“Someone has to counter your dark side.”
She chuckled. “I needed this.”
Sighing, he lowered his head onto her pillow. “Me too.”
Chapter Eleven
“You will not believe how hard it is to smuggle carry-out into this joint,” Marcus said, closing the door to Annie’s room.
She wiped her face with her stupid hand that didn’t work right. She couldn’t open her fingers all the way, nor could she make a fist. They were just stuck in limbo, barely moving no matter how hard she tried.
She’d had a bad day—a worse than bad day.
Physical therapy was not for the faint of heart. She had managed to delude herself about the extent of her injuries and how she could recover. How she could overcome. Today, however, had been a great big wake-up call. Her hands were weak and unresponsive. Her speech patterns were not so easily fixed; her mind and her mouth were not getting along. She could think the words, but they just didn’t form properly. And walking? When had that become so damn complicated? Her feet flopped, her knees buckled, and if she hadn’t been leaning on her therapist, she would have fallen flat on her face.
“Not hungry,” she said as Marcus deposited the sneaked-in bag onto the table.
“Well. I guess you get to watch me eat, then, because I’m starving.”
She shook her head at his inability to take a hint. “Marcus, I’d like to be alone.”
“Sulking isn’t going to help.”
“Sulking?”
He set a white Chinese food carton on the stand next to her bed. “This isn’t going to be easy, Annie. Nobody said it would be easy.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I know, but Paul and I did talk to your therapist. We know you had a rough go of things today.”
A rough go of things? Understatement of the year. “I can’t walk.”
“You were in a coma—”
“For three fucking months. I know.”
He stared at her for a moment before smirking. “Well, you still know how to cuss like a sailor, so there’s that.”
“Not funny,” she snapped.
“Today was disappointing. I get that. I really do. I wish I could take this burden from you. All I can do, all any of us can do, is try to help you get through it.”
“With Chinese food?”
He lifted one shoulder and let if fall casually. “Why not? You like Chinese food, don’t you?”
She lifted her head off the pillow then dropped it back. It was the closest she could get to banging her head against a wall. “I just need to be alone.”
“To feel sorry for yourself?”
She gestured aimlessly. “You go. You leave this place, and I’m here. All day. All night. Broken.”
“You want me to move in with you?”
The sting of tears bit her eyes. “I want to go home. I want to leave.”
“You think going home is going to make this go away?” Sitting on her bed, he frowned at her. “You are an incredibly stubborn
woman, Annie O’Connell.”
She opened her mouth, but he pressed his finger to her lips.
“That is one of your endearing qualities, believe it or not. You are strong. You are independent. I have no doubt that the level of frustration you are feeling right now is about as high as it has ever been. I know you are used to busting through and coming out on the other side, but this isn’t something that you are going to tackle and conquer. This is something that is going to get better little by little, day by day. There will be no miracle turnaround here. You will only go as far down this road as you take yourself. I’ll help you, with Chinese food or whatever else I can, but this is on you. And sulking is not going to help.”
“I hate you sometimes.”
“I know. But I did bring eggrolls.”
She didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help herself. “Chinese food in bed.”
“Yes. Chinese food in bed. That’s our thing now. Whenever life gets to be too much, we’re taking a break from reality with rangoons and mattresses.”
She chuckled. “Sounds like a terrible novel. Rangoons and Mattresses.”
“Maybe you can write it with all this downtime you’re taking.”
He held out a container with two perfectly fried eggrolls inside. She started to reach with her right hand but then dropped it.
“I keep forgetting,” she said and used her left hand instead. “This one works better. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to retrain myself to use my left hand for everything?”
“Not as hard as it’s going to be to regain the muscle tone in your legs so you can walk again.”
She sighed as she stared at the food in her hand. “The last time we did this, everything seemed so complicated. Nothing compared to today.”
“In a few weeks, you’re going to be walking. You’re going to have better use of your hands and your speech. And a few months after that, you’ll be even better.”
“I’m so tired of your pep talks already. Are you ever going to let me just pout?”
“No, because you don’t pout. You never have. I’m not going to let you start now.”
He stared at her for a moment before she grinned.
