Never Let Me Fall

by Abbie Roads

  His appearance intimidated her. His attitude frightened her. He couldn’t blame her.

  He gestured toward the empty bed. “Where. Is. She?” He made a half-assed attempt at keeping his volume under control, barely succeeding.

  “I can’t discuss a patient’s care with you.” She spouted something about HIPAA and hospital policy, but Thomas wasn’t listening.

  “Tell me what happened to her. She’s my…” He trailed off, uncertain what to call Helen. Girlfriend seemed too juvenile. But they weren’t engaged or married.

  “Oh, she’s your wife.” A strange sense of relief rinsed the nurse’s features of anxiety. Thomas nodded, not bothering to correct the woman. “She left against medical advice.” Her words came out in a rush of placating noise. “We tried to get her to wait until morning, but she refused.”

  Of course Helen refused. She hated hospitals. He just hadn’t counted on her hating them badly enough to leave before he got back. “What did she wear? She had no clothes here. No shoes. No coat.”

  The woman shrugged an I-don’t-know gesture.

  “You let her walk out of here in the middle of winter, wearing nothing but a hospital smock?” He was shouting again. Fuck his volume.

  “I wasn’t here. I just came on shift. I’m sure they gave her something to wear.” She took another step back.

  He stalked toward her, knowing he was frightening her—and not caring. Nothing mattered except finding Helen. “When did she leave?”

  “I came on forty-five minutes ago. She was gone before I got here.”

  He jabbed a finger at her. “You better hope I find her unharmed. Or else…” He couldn’t find words to express his wrath. He wasn’t being fair to this woman. None of this was her fault; she just happened to be the person in front of him.

  He brushed by her, jogging toward the stairs. Didn’t have it in him to wait for the elevator. He banged through the doorway, the sound echoing through the stairwell as he took the steps at a full-on run.

  Where would she go? Did she have friends or family? There was so much about her that he knew simply because she was Helena Grayse, but there were also a hell of a lot of gaps. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Kent.

  “Yeah,” Kent answered, sounding distracted.

  Thomas burst through the doorway at the bottom of the stairwell. “Helen is gone.” He ran across the empty waiting room to the exit doors.

  “What do you mean gone?” The sound of Kent’s full attention hit him.

  “I mean she’s not at the hospital. Her bed’s made, room cleaned as if she’d never been there. No goodbye. Nothing.” Outside the hospital, Thomas scanned the parking lot and searched the road in front of the facility, looking for her. The interstate was less than a mile away. What if she’d hitched a ride on one of those long-haul semis? She could be anywhere by now. He couldn’t allow himself to think about that.

  A heaviness settled across his shoulders.

  He realized Kent had been talking and he’d zoned out. Whatever the guy had been saying didn’t matter. “Elaine Ellis is still in custody, right? What about Holbrook? You know his location?” The idea of that woman or her husband hurting Helen again…

  “Give me a moment. Hold the line and I’ll check.” Kent’s connection clicked.

  Thomas climbed into his truck, started it, and pulled up to the road. Should he drive around looking for her? Check out the rest stop near the interstate to make sure she wasn’t trying to hitch a ride? Or should he drive through town?

  “Goddamn it!” He slapped the steering wheel.

  The line clicked again. “Elaine Ellis is still in the county jail. Holbrook answered their house phone when I called there just now.” Kent’s voice sounded impossibly calm. “I think you should just go home.”

  “Go home!” The words roared out of Thomas. “You can’t expect me to do nothing. She’s out here. She doesn’t have any winter clothes with her. She doesn’t have any money on her. She could freeze to death, and you want me to just go home?”

  “Shut your shit and listen to me.” Kent’s voice sounded every bit the authoritarian FBI agent. “You obviously didn’t hear what I said a minute ago.”

  Thomas clamped his lips closed. There was nothing Kent could say that—

  “She grew up in your house. Lived there with her grandparents her whole life. So maybe she’d go home. Makes sense… That’s where you found her last night.”

  Thomas sat back in his seat. “Whoa…” His mind flashed back to the Realtor telling him an elderly couple had lived there, and their only surviving heir couldn’t afford the upkeep on the place. He’d never bothered to pay attention to whose name was on the paperwork.

  Well, that explained why she was camping in the woods behind his house. Maybe she wanted to be close to home. He couldn’t blame her. She’d been so young—only eighteen—when she’d been arrested and convicted.

  “Thanks, man.” He disconnected the call before Kent had a chance to reply. Wings of hope fluttered in Thomas’s chest. He slammed his foot on the gas, the truck whipping into the road. Please let her be there. Please let her be there. Please let her be there. If he lost her…he wouldn’t be able to survive. She’d given him a taste of something he couldn’t live without. Her.

  * * *

  Helena stood in the clearing staring at the destruction. Her little camp had been destroyed. Obliterated was more accurate. As if a bomb had gone off and all that was left were pieces of her life. All her worldly possessions had been contained in the pack she’d carried here. She didn’t have anything of importance beyond a ziplock bag that contained a few pictures of Grandma and Grandpa, her ID, her debit card, and some cash.

  Mrs. Ellis had done this. That feeling of baby spiders hatching in Helena’s gut when she’d been walking to the Bear yesterday… The woman had probably been following her the entire time.

  Helena rubbed the spot over her heart where Mrs. Ellis had shot her. Or tried to shoot her. Obviously, something had gone wrong, because she was still alive and only had a bandage and some bruises to show for being shot at point-blank range.

  Her teeth chattered, the sound loud and obnoxious in her head. Her face had moved beyond the sensation of cold to numbness. Her muscles tensed and strained to retain their warmth, making her feel in the throes of a full-body charley horse.

  In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest idea—okay, it was downright dumb—to leave the hospital wearing a pilfered pair of scrubs, the blanket from her room, and a mismatched pair of tennis shoes and some clothes she’d found in the lost-and-found bin.

  But she couldn’t stay there. Freezing to death had been preferable to seeing Thomas again. He had to know her true identity. No more being just Helen to him. Now he’d look at her with the same fear and contempt people reserved for Helena Grayse.

  The frigid temperatures nipped at her skin, making an already miserable situation downright unbearable. It would’ve been nice to have her coat and gloves from inside Thomas’s house, but she wasn’t about to knock on the door and ask for them. Hypothermia sounded better than humiliation. Pride goeth before a fall.

  She picked through the wreckage around her, searching for the ziplock bag. It had to be here. Had to be. It was her only salvation in this horrible situation. She sorted through the remains, stacking the trashed items in one pile and the only slightly damaged items in another, all the while looking for her most prized possession. Underneath a shredded pair of underwear, she found the ziplock bag and let out a tiny squeak of triumph.

  Her pictures of Grandma and Grandpa had survived, along with the rest of the contents. A major miracle. She hugged the bag to her chest. Now that she had her debit card and money, she would walk back to town and get a room for the night. Tomorrow was a new day.

  She turned to head out of the camp. The shadowed form of a man stood among the trees watching her. Even
though she couldn’t see his face or his eyes, she knew it was Thomas. Her body felt his presence.

  Her heart warmed pleasantly, heating her from the inside out. The cold didn’t seem so cold, and the mess around her didn’t seem so messy. Simply being near him made her world a better place. She took a step toward him, but then her brain sounded the self-preservation alarm. He knew who she was. He had to know. Mrs. Ellis would’ve told him and everyone else with ears.

  Something inside Helena broke. She felt the snap of it inside her chest and realized it might’ve been her heart. Without meaning to, she’d fallen for the fantasy of what-might-have-been.

  Seeing condemnation in his gaze was something her soul couldn’t tolerate. It made her a coward, it made her weak, but she ran, sprinting through the maze of barren trees—arms pumping, legs churning while she fisted the bag tightly in her hand. The contents were the only thing she could rely on. Nothing else.

  If there was any mercy in the world, he’d let her go. Grant her the dignity of avoidance.

  “Stop,” he shouted, his footsteps falling into rhythm behind her. He was chasing her. Holy hell, he was chasing her. Maybe he wanted to catch her and have her arrested for trespassing. She was playing into everyone’s bias against felons. Out of prison less than forty-eight hours, and she’d already broken the law.

  The only solution was to keep running. She wasn’t going to stop. She was going to escape everything. Him. This town. This state. She was going to keep running until she found a place where no one had ever heard of Helena Grayse. And even then, she might still keep running.

  She tripped over a branch hidden beneath the snow. Her arms windmilled to keep her upright, but balance lost the battle with momentum, and she fell facedown into the snow. Before she could move, he was on top of her, flipping her over.

  For some reason, her mind flashed back to Hatchet Guy. She raised her hands to defend herself against his blows, while at the same time, her brain tried to convince her that the man looming over her was Thomas, not Hatchet Guy. A small part of her preferred Hatchet Guy. He’d only harmed her body in a dream, but Thomas had the capacity to decimate her heart in real life.

  “Helen.” Her name came out sounding like an anguished plea. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Oh God. He’d called her Helen. Not Helena. By some miracle, he didn’t know she was Helena Grayse.

  She dropped her arms from their defensive position. Even though it was dark, starlight reflected off the snow, providing enough illumination for her to see him. His face was ravaged with some emotion she couldn’t name. The scar on his cheek blazed bright, somehow looking painful. There were no words to utter, so she cupped his damaged cheek.

  He sucked in a breath as if her touch pained him, but when she tried to withdraw, he grabbed her wrist and held it in place. He wanted her skin on his.

  Their eyes met. The impact devastating and healing at the same time. She tumbled into his gaze like a free fall. Enjoying the freedom, fearing the fall. And then he broke the connection and let go of her wrist and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Why did you run from me? I would never hurt you.” Truth twined through each of his words. “I was worried out of my head when you weren’t at the hospital.” He shook her, emphasizing his words. “You know how stupid it was for you leave there without a coat, or gloves, or boots?”

  She nodded, couldn’t help it. Her body had been screaming that same message thirty seconds after she’d walked out the hospital doors.

  “Why would you do that? You could’ve frozen to death out here.”

  Not thinking, she shrugged.

  He grabbed her face in his hands. His fingers warm and rough and perfect against her skin.

  The world fell away, leaving only him and her. He stared into her. Warming her from the inside out. She no longer felt the coldness of the snow against her backside. All she could feel was him. Inside her. Around her. Over her. He was the air she breathed. The heartbeat in her chest. He was her whole world. And she never wanted this impossible moment to end. She wanted to stay right here. Right now. Forever.

  “Don’t you do that.” His tone was deep. His volume soft. “Don’t you ever act as if your life doesn’t matter. It matters.” His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, sending pleasurable tingling along her nerve endings. “It matters to me.”

  Her ears heard his words, but her brain had a hard time translating them.

  “Yes, you.” Again, he seemed to be answering the question she didn’t ask. “You matter to me.” He spoke with heartbreaking sincerity. “How could you think otherwise?”

  Because I’m Helena Grayse. She slammed her eyes closed.

  “Stop that.” The irritation in his tone startled her eyes open. “Stop hiding from me.” His expression was tense, but one thing didn’t change—his kind eyes. “Good God. You’ve got to be freezing to death.” He moved away from her and stood, then grabbed her hands and pulled her to standing. He took off his coat and placed it over her shoulders. The inside warmth soothed her cold skin, and his scent rose up, surrounding her like a hug. He helped her thread her arms through the sleeves and then zipped the coat up under her chin.

  The backs of her eyes burned, and she felt the beginning of tears forming. Damn it. She wasn’t going to cry every time he was nice to her. That was just stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house and get you warmed up.” He held out his hand in invitation, giving her the opportunity to decide her fate.

  Her feet shackled her in place. She shouldn’t go with him. She should follow her plan and go find a room for the night. She squeezed her hand holding the ziplock bag, just to make sure she hadn’t dropped it. The more time she spent with him, the harder it was gonna be when he found out her identify. All he had to do was peek at her ID card.

  Logic dictated she walk away. Her soul told her to stay.

  She reached out to him. He turned her hand over and examined the gash that had been there just yesterday but had since healed. She’d always been a fast healer, but even for her, that was record time.

  His gaze flicked up to her eyes, and he smiled, an upturning of the lips that contained satisfaction and truth and happiness. The scar on his cheek completed him, making him more breathtaking, in the same way that a flower’s delicate imperfections only made it lovelier.

  Together, they trudged through the snow toward the house. Winter didn’t seem quite so cold with him holding her hand. His skin against hers infused her with a heat that traveled up her arm, across her shoulders, and down into her belly, causing warm tingles of arousal to stir.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to see if she affected him the same way he affected her. He didn’t seem fazed by the chill temperatures. Not at all. In fact, he acted as if they were out for a stroll on a pleasant spring evening.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the hospital when you woke.” He glanced at her, then back through the woods in the direction they were traveling. “Tonight was my sister’s wedding, and I couldn’t miss it. Evanee’s been through some bad times, and this meant a lot to her.”

  They broke through the forest and started across the lawn, following a line of tracks that led to his back door.

  “I told her—my sister and her husband—about you. They were excited.” The corner of his mouth tilted upward.

  Her mouth went dry, and a stone lodged itself in her throat. Denial looked exactly like this. It looked like a woman and man holding hands while they walked in the snow. It looked like everything was all right on the surface. But underneath…it was all a lie. A lie that had started with him accidentally calling her Helen. A lie she’d perpetuated because she’d never corrected him.

  She thought about yanking her hand from his and running, but he would catch her and demand to know the reason. Ugh… How did she go from her plan of getting a hotel room for the night to deciding
to go back home with him? She was powerless to resist temptation.

  At the house, once again, the smell of home enveloped her, folding around her and flashing her lovely memories of Grandma and Grandpa. She trailed behind him as he led her through the dark familiar rooms, then up the stairs and into his bedroom.

  Oh… Maybe he was just horny. Maybe he wanted sex. Maybe she’d been reading his actions as caring when they’d really been self-serving. Her heart went heavy, but her girlie parts went rah-rah-sis-boom-bah. But then he kept walking, guiding her into the master bathroom.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the closed toilet lid. As if her body couldn’t disobey him, she sat.

  He bent over the claw-foot tub and turned the water on. The familiar bump of old pipes sounded, and she couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. Other people loved a familiar song. She loved the music of old plumbing.

  When he was satisfied with the temperature, he stepped back and looked at her. “Come on, let’s get this off you.” He unzipped the coat and helped her take it off, then unlaced the mismatched pair of tennis shoes, removing them from her feet. “You’re shaking so bad, you look like you’re having a seizure.”

  Her entire body trembled. She hadn’t realized she was cold until he’d let go of her.

  He leaned over her, and before she knew what he was doing, he picked her up. “I know you’re self-conscious about your scars.”

  Tension rammed through every muscle, and she almost leaped out of his arms, but he tightened his grip, pinning her to him.

  “But I’m not going to argue with you about it.” He bent and settled her in the tub—clothing and all.

  The water scalded her. She hissed and clung to his neck, trying to crawl up him and out of the fire.

  “Easy. The water is barely lukewarm. Just give it a second. You’ll see.”

  His words were magic, because her skin adjusted, and the blaze faded to a burn, then a warmth. Slowly, she released her grip on his neck, and he let go of her.