by BETH KERY
“That’s good. Both that she was receptive and that you were comfortable enough to tell her.”
“Yeah. And I was thinking . . .”
“What?”
He grimaced. “Up there on the bluff, that was the first time I really ever fought for something,” he said starkly. “Everything’s always just been given to me.”
“Including Brooke, right?” Alice asked wryly.
“Yeah, to be honest.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not worth trying for . . . fighting for. Brooke’s all right,” Alice conceded. “It’s not every day a guy meets someone as pretty and smart as her, that’s for sure. And she’s crazy about you.”
Thad nodded. “You’re right. Actually, she’s incredible. Maybe it’s time I saw her as more than a convenience.”
“If you’re really trying to be a bigger person, that’s exactly what you should do.”
He nodded and met her stare uneasily. “There’s something else I need to apologize for,” he said. “I’ve watched Fall quite a bit, here at the hospital. He’s crazy about you. I . . . uh . . . I might have been unwilling to see much good in him before because he had what I wanted. But from what I’ve seen, the first thing he thinks of in every situation is your safety and comfort. Your happiness.”
Alice’s smile trembled. “Addie Durand’s happiness, or mine?”
Thad blinked. “They’re one and the same, aren’t they?”
Alice didn’t reply. Her throat had gone tight, because she didn’t know how to answer that question.
“Is there going to be some kind of press conference or something?” Thad asked.
“About Kehoe’s arrest?”
“No . . . his name broke on the news just this evening. I heard about it on the radio on the way over here. I meant is there going to be a big announcement about Addie Durand’s return . . . what it means to Durand Enterprises?”
“Oh. I don’t know,” Alice replied blankly, disconcerted by the question. Was that what she really wanted? To stand in front of the world and flashing cameras, and be introduced as the lost heiress Adelaide Durand?
She couldn’t imagine having the strength to do it. Not until she at least had the genetic test results in hand . . .
And possibly, not even then.
TWENTY-TWO
She awoke to the sensation of someone nuzzling her ear.
“Wake up, beautiful.”
Recognizing Dylan’s muffled, gruff voice, she opened her eyes, smiling tiredly. She was never more confused about their relationship and what it meant than she was at that moment. But that fact didn’t stop her heart from jumping at the sound of his voice, or dampen her craving to see his bold, handsome face in the slightest. He remained leaning over her when she opened her eyes, his face just inches from hers. Her gaze ran over him warmly. He’d showered and changed, and he looked amazing to her tired eyes. He wore a blue button-down and a gray sport coat. She inhaled his familiar, spicy scent and made a satisfied purr in her throat.
“I tried to stay up for you,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. I got caught up with something at the castle. Now the nurse is threatening me to keep this short. I wouldn’t have wakened you, but I thought you’d think this was worth it.”
“What?”
He straightened. She realized his hand had been behind his back. He moved it to the front, showing her what he’d been hiding. She stared at the Team Championship trophy.
The Red Team flag had been tied beneath the clasping hands.
“The team that wins usually can’t keep their hands off the trophy on the last night of camp; it’s a major coup, you know. They only get the one night to crow over it,” Dylan said, smiling. “Your team immediately asked Guy Morales if the trophy could be sent over to the hospital. Over to you.”
Emotion hit her like a tidal wave. She choked. Tears shot from her eyes. Dylan looked alarmed, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. The storm of emotion had slammed into her unexpectedly.
“Shhh,” Dylan soothed a moment later. She realized he’d set aside the trophy and lowered her bed railing. He sat on the bed and his arms came around her. She pressed her right temple against his chest. She shuddered with feeling. Happiness. Anxiety. Hope. Anguish. Bewilderment. Desire. Loss. Grief. Triumph. Fear. All of it mixed together, everything she’d been experiencing since she’d first set foot on the Durand Estate weeks ago.
“They shouldn’t have done that. It was theirs. They won it.”
“They wanted you to have it. It was their way of saying they were thinking about you. And to thank you,” Dylan said, stroking her back.
“I can’t do this,” she muttered miserably against his chest. Why had the demonstration of caring and support from her kids sent her over the edge, and not Kehoe’s homicidal actions? Dylan would think she was crazy. Maybe she was. “I’m not who you think I am, Dylan. I’m not who anybody thinks I am.”
She felt him gently press his lips to the top of her head. His hand ran up and down her spine, as if he ironed out her emotional upheaval. “Who I think you are is Alice. And Alice has been through more than most people could imagine in the last few weeks, let alone bear.”
“I’m not bearing,” she gasped between shudders. “I feel like everything is crashing down on my life. It’s such a fucking mess.”
“All the crashing is done, baby. All the catastrophe is over. Now comes the hard part.”
“What?” she muttered, her attention caught.
“Now you have to clear aside the rubble and decide what you want your life to look like.”
Minutes passed. Slowly, the onslaught of emotion subsided. She was left exhausted in its wake, her body aching with a dull throb. Dylan continued to hold her. She clung to him. They didn’t talk. Nevertheless, it was his voice she kept hearing in her head.
What did she want her life to look like?
THE next morning, the agents returned with some follow-up questions, most of them in regard to the Reeds. Alice became highly uncomfortable when they asked her for details on the physical layout of the trailer where she’d grown up and whether or not she knew of any weapons on the property. They were asking her for specifics because they were planning on sending agents there to arrest the Reeds. Dylan was in her room when the agents arrived, and they didn’t ask him to leave. When he saw Alice’s hesitation over answering the questions, he stepped in.
“I know it’s hard, Alice. But the details you give them will help insure that no one gets hurt.”
Alice nodded. He was right. She answered all the agents’ questions to the best of her ability.
LATER that morning, she went for more tests. Just as she was finishing her lunch, Dylan popped his head in the room.
“Hi,” he said.
She laughed. She recognized his look. He had some kind of surprise in store for her. “Hi. What are you so smug about?”
“You have a visitor,” he said. He moved aside to make room for someone to enter the room. Alice thought maybe it was Kuvi or Dave, even though she knew the kids’ buses didn’t leave until after lunch today. But instead of Kuvi or Dave, Maggie Lopez entered the room.
“Maggie,” Alice cried, overwhelmed at seeing the familiar face of her mentor and friend. Maggie had been her graduate school advisor. She’d been so proud of Alice for getting hired as a Camp Durand counselor. Alice rented the apartment above Maggie’s garage, and they’d become close.
“Dylan called me last night,” Maggie said, coming over to the bed. She reached to hug her, but paused, looking worried about Alice’s injuries.
“It’s okay,” Alice assured, extending her arms. Thankfully, they’d removed her IV that morning. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Maggie hugged her delicately, laughing. She planted a warm kiss on her right temple to make up for her weak embrace. Her heart went out to Maggie when she straightened and studied Alice’s face. She wasn’t able to entirely disguise her concern and anxiety.
“I look a l
ot worse off than I actually am,” Alice assured. “Right, Dylan?”
Dylan still stood in the doorway, watching them. “The doctor says all indications are good. She’s not going to have any lasting damage. She’ll heal, in time.” Alice held his stare for a moment, gratitude in her eyes that he’d called Maggie. How had he known that she was precisely the person Alice needed at that moment.
Why do you have to be so perfect? Not perfect in some objective way. Perfect for me.
Dylan nodded once, as though he’d understood her thanks, even if he probably hadn’t decoded her longing for him. Her confusion. He pointed down the hallway. “I’m going to make a few calls, give you two some time to catch up.”
Maggie turned and gave Alice her familiar game face. Her gaze flickered to the trophy on the bedside table. She grinned.
“Dylan told me all about your big win,” she said, picking up the trophy and looking at it proudly.
“Since when are you two on a first-name basis?” Alice asked, amused.
“Since he called me last night and told me everything,” Maggie said, giving her a sharp glance. She set down the trophy. “Or almost everything. Surely a story of this magnitude can’t be told in a forty-five-minute conversation. I kept thinking I’d heard it all, and then Dylan would spring some new shocker on me.”
“You’re telling me,” Alice said, rolling her eyes.
“So . . . Adelaide Durand?”
Alice shrugged and nodded in agreement at Maggie’s incredulity.
Maggie cast a glance over her shoulder toward the doorway. “And Dylan Fall?” she added, eyes wide.
“I know. That’s the part no one else can believe either, including me.”
Maggie gave a bark of laughter and squeezed her forearm. “That part is actually starting to make more and more sense. I saw the way you two were looking at each other just now.” She pulled the chair behind her closer. “Now, I can only stay a few nights because of Doby.”
Alice smiled, all too familiar with Maggie’s rambunctious Irish setter.
“How is Doby?”
“Healthy. Which means he’s bound to eat my Aunt Janine into poverty if I don’t get back to Chicago by Monday. So . . . talk to me, Alice.”
AN hour and a half later, Dylan looked up from making a call and saw Maggie enter the waiting room. He hit the disconnect button, halting his call in progress, when he noticed the dazed expression on Maggie’s face.
“Is everything okay?” Dylan asked her when she plopped down in a seat a few feet away from him.
“Yeah. It’s just a lot to take in. I’m glad you told me about how beat up she was before I saw her.” She met Dylan’s gaze squarely. “This son of a bitch who did that to her, are they going to nail him good?”
“I just got off the phone with one of the agents a few minutes ago. The FBI is building evidence against Kehoe even as we speak. The U.S. Attorney’s office is confident they’re going to have a solid case against him if Kehoe dares to plead not guilty.”
“Good,” Maggie snarled.
He sagged down in the chair next to her. He’d already decided he approved of Maggie Lopez, but seeing the evidence of her tightlipped, steaming fury, he liked her all the better. But Maggie’s hurt and anger also lit a match to his guilt and helplessness. He kept reliving the seconds when he’d rushed through the house that night in order to meet up with Alice at the usual designated spot. She and Kehoe had probably just been feet away from him: Alice unconscious, Kehoe silent and watching. If only he’d known and intervened then, he might have saved her that horror down by the bluff . . .
. . . and in the pantry.
He winced.
“No offense, but you look like crap. When was the last time you slept?” Maggie asked him.
He opened his eyelids. “Lots of fronts to fight on, lots of fires to put out,” he muttered. Maggie’s gaze on him was kind, but shrewd.
“That’s odd, because Alice said you’ve hardly left her side.”
Dylan grunted noncommittally.
“You know . . . I have a cousin who lives in the Logan Square neighborhood in Chicago. He’s a cop—a big strong guy like you,” Maggie began in a conversational tone. “Four years ago, he was put on the night shift, and so he and his wife had to do some major resetting of their lives. They’d only been married two months at the time. One night while he was working, two assholes broke into their townhouse with the intent of burglary. Tony—that’s my cousin—had taught his wife, Sheila, how to use a gun. So Sheila confronts one of the men with the weapon, but she doesn’t realize the other jerk is behind her. He disables her. Long story short, these two end up pistol-whipping her within an inch of her life. It was brutal what they did, and what’s worse, they seemed to enjoy it.”
“Did they catch them?” Dylan asked.
“It took two and half years, but yeah . . . they did. My point is, Tony was in a living hell. He was the strong, powerful guy—a cop, no less—but he couldn’t predict that situation, he couldn’t protect his wife. Why? Because a sane, normal person can’t predict what a criminal or crazy person is going to do. Tony had to go to work, just like most people. He couldn’t sit around, staring at his wife every second of their life. Shit happens, Dylan, crap that’s not in your control. You just have to deal with the consequences the best you can.”
Dylan sagged another inch in the chair. “I knew there was a moral to this story.”
Maggie gave a bark of dry laughter. “You’re not all powerful. No one likes facing that fact.” Dylan peered at her sideways without moving his head. She arched her brows. “Besides, you were lucky compared to Tony. You saved Alice from the bad guys. Both on Thursday night . . . and eventually, from what they’d done to her twenty years ago.”
“Unlike your cousin, I’ve suspected this bad guy for a long time, but couldn’t prove any wrongdoing on his part. Sebastian Kehoe is considered a successful, law-abiding man.”
Maggie sighed, crossed her arms over her belly, and slouched in her chair next to him. “Yeah, well what were you going to do without any solid proof? Go vigilante? That’s not going to help Alice any, either, to have you in thrown in prison.”
Dylan thought about his brief, blinding bout of vigilante justice in that pantry. Alice had witnessed his savagery. She’d seen a part of himself he kept hidden. He’d nearly murdered Kehoe right in front of her.
For the thousandth time in the past few days, he cringed inwardly at the thought.
ALICE slept solidly and deeply that night. When she awoke the next morning, Dylan was sitting next to her bed in a chair, long legs crossed. He wore jeans, a button-down steel blue shirt, and his glasses, and was reading the Wall Street Journal. She didn’t say anything, and just submitted to the luxury of watching him for a moment.
He was in the process of refolding his paper when he noticed that her eyes were open.
“Morning,” he said, flipping his folded paper onto the bedside table.
“Hi,” she murmured. She stretched experimentally. Her body was stiff and it hurt, but there was noticeable improvement compared to yesterday.
“How’s the pain today?” Dylan asked.
“Better. Not so sore. I slept like a rock,” she said, yawning.
“Having Kuvi and Dave here yesterday afternoon wore you out,” Dylan said, standing.
“Telling Kuvi and Dave about the drama of Alice Reed’s life was what wore me out.” She vividly recalled the expression of blank incredulity on their faces when Alice finally got around to explaining that Dylan had found her because he believed she was Adelaide Durand.
“It was too much, to have to explain it all, first to Maggie, and then to Kuvi and Dave,” he said, dark brows pinched in a severe expression. “I want you to take it easy today.”
Her gaze ran over him warmly. “Stop lecturing me. It’s turning me on.”
He shook his head. But she’d made him smile, and inexplicably, the vision made her throat tighten with feeling.
She needed him so much. It embarrassed her, this rampant want he inspired, but she couldn’t stop it. She held out her arms. He gave a small smile and sat on the edge of her bed, his arms going around her gently. She couldn’t wait for the day when he didn’t have to hug her like she was made of fine china. A feeling of nostalgia—or was it loss—rose in her. Would things ever be the same, after that horrible night? She pressed her nose against his sternum and inhaled him.
“I wish I could clean up in your huge, gorgeous shower and use some of your soap. You always smell so good. And I’m so disgusting after only a bed bath and then being hosed off in that gross bathroom down the hall. I felt like a horse, except Doah probably has better facilities than that,” she muttered, frowning. Thinking about Doah had sent another spike of emotion through her.
He kissed the top of her head. “You still smell like Alice.”
“If my normal smell is sweat and antiseptic and hospital stench.” She buried her nose further into his chest. “I love you.”
His low chuckle made her want to cry. She really needed to get ahold of herself. Her emotions had been alarmingly fragile lately.
“Do you love me, or my clean shirt and steam-showered body?”
“It’s all good, trust me,” she muttered thickly.
“Excuse me,” a woman said.
Alice withdrew her nose from Dylan’s chest reluctantly. She saw a nurse’s aide standing a few feet inside her room, a wheelchair in front of her.
“I’m here to take you for your hearing test,” the aide said, smiling.
“Okay,” Alice groaned, starting to extricate herself from Dylan. She’d never wanted to leave a place as much as she did this hospital, and at the same time . . .
. . . she dreaded leaving there. She dreaded the decisions she needed to make.
“Why is she going for a hearing test?” Dylan asked the aide, standing.
“I’m not really sure,” the aide said. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Did the doctor say something to you?” Dylan asked Alice, his brow furrowed. The nurse wheeled the chair closer to her bed and helped Alice into it. It gave her a few blessed seconds of avoiding Dylan’s eyes.
