Wounds That Won’t Heal

by Calle J. Brookes

  If Brynna had been a regular patient she’d be in the third floor maternity ward, but because of her connection to Houghton, she was in the most private, most easily secured wing of the fourth floor. Houghton came with perks and draw-backs, after all.

  Rafe stepped away for a moment. Jillian looked at Wanda. “He makes sense. I told you that room was not cursed. The women put in there were already involved when it happened. Even Lacy.”

  “No? Just remember, sweetie. You’ve been in that room recently, too. And there’s a beautifully handsome man right there. Why don’t the two of you take the rest of the night off and go see if that room cursed you? Might improve his disposition if he was getting some regular nurse’s care.”

  “Shut up, Wanda. Just shut up.” And that was so not going to happen.

  Rooms were not cursed.

  She looked up as a tall man stepped between her and Trauma B. As an orderly gasped and dropped a stack of files. Even Wanda cried out.

  Logan Lanning was dressed in all black clothes that were far too warm for summer months in Texas. The almost disheveled appearance was completely at odds for the normally well-groomed man.

  She and Wanda looked at one another. Izzie took a step toward Trauma C; she’d need to prep it for the next inevitable occupant. Annie was about to take off to check a patient’s IV.

  But Dr. Lanning looked strange. Almost erratic. “Dr. Lanning—”

  He ignored Jillian and yanked the curtain back to Trauma B. Where Lacy and Travis still sat holding one another while they waited for Lacy to be transferred upstairs.

  Lanning was watching Lacy and Travis. Just staring.

  Then he raised his arm and yelled. Izzie and Annie both screamed.

  Jillian fought a scream herself when she saw the gun. When Lanning fired and Travis went down.

  People scattered.

  Rafe stepped in front of his brother and Lacy, physically blocking Lanning with his own body.

  Jillian just froze.

  32

  Allen was just finishing up with an emergency removal of a foreign object from a twelve-year-old’s intestines when the security code for a total lockdown of the hospital sounded.

  He looked at Jamie, one of the top surgical residents in his department. “What’s going on?”

  She’d been watching the surgery from the window. She shook her head at him. He’d have to find out when he was finished with his patient.

  That took another four minutes, then he handed the boy off to the rest of the team to finish up. He’d have to be wheeled down the hall to Recovery. During a lockdown, no one was allowed to travel between floors and PICU was one floor up from Trauma Surgery.

  He pulled off his sterile gown and dealt with it quickly.

  Jamie was on her phone when he stepped out. “What’s going on?”

  “Active shooter in the ER.” She hesitated when she looked up at him. He saw the compassion in her big brown eyes. “Dr. Jacobson...Allen...I...”

  Before she could finish, the surgical ward’s doors were shoved open. Virat rushed in, panic in his movements. “Get scrubbed now!”

  “What’s going on?” Allen asked, but he followed the younger man’s instructions quickly. There was something about the look in Virat’s eyes.

  Pain. Pure intense pain.

  “Logan went off the deep end. He had a gun, Allen. He took Lacy out of the ER at gunpoint. After shooting that rancher of hers.” Virat straightened and then pulled his composure around himself. There was a determination in the man’s eyes. “We’re going to be ready, no matter what. Or who.”

  Allen closed his eyes for a moment and said a quick prayer. For the ones that he loved.

  Damn it, what had happened to Logan?

  33

  Allen did what had to be done, forcing thoughts of everything but the needs of his current patient aside the minute the doors were thrown open.

  Holden-Deane carried Lacy in his arms, Jillian at his side trying to keep pressure on the direct injury.

  The rancher brother was there, too, his fear devastating to see. But at least the guy wasn’t dead.

  Lacy was almost gone. And they all knew it was a Hail Mary pass they were praying for.

  Until he had her beneath his knife, Allen hadn’t realized exactly how he felt about the younger woman. He cared. More than he thought he did. It hurt him to see her like that almost as much as it would have if it had been his sister lying there.

  Virat handled the majority of the surgery. Allen wanted to. He did.

  But Virat didn’t realize that Allen knew how much Virat loved Lacy. And Virat needed to do it. Allen just watched, to make sure Virat didn’t need him to step in. To ensure the other man could remain objective while cutting into a woman they both cared about.

  It was touch and go. They came so close to losing her.

  If she had been even two minutes later making it down to them, she might not have made it.

  But chances were better that she’d survive than Allen had initially thought.

  Virat was going to take her down to Recovery himself. Get her settled. Watch over her as much as he could before he spoke to her family.

  Lacy didn’t have much family. Just Jillian and the rest of the Becks.

  Alone.

  She’d never seemed more alone than she did now, lying so still.

  Allen surprised himself—and no doubt half the staff in the room with them—when he brushed a light kiss over the unconscious woman’s forehead.

  “Take care of her, Virat.”

  34

  Allen Jacobson stopped Rafe on the second trip he’d made to the CCU. Rafe looked at the other man and knew he’d be the one to break the news. Jacobson and Lanning had been friends for decades. If Lanning had been close to anyone, it was to Allen Jacobson.

  “Allen, we need to talk.”

  “I just finished with her, Rafe. It looks good. Better than I expected. Virat’s getting her set up in Recovery personally.”

  Rafe closed his eyes for a moment as relief hit him. Thank God.

  Lanning hadn’t killed her.

  Lanning.

  Rafe would never forget being on that parking garage and watching the man decide to kill himself in an instant.

  Allen had been listed as his only next-of-kin. “Allen...”

  “What happened to Logan up there? Straight answer. And where is he?”

  “He jumped, Allen. Off the edge of the parking garage; we managed to yank Lacy out of his arms just in time, but it was too late. The gun had already gone off. He suffered an aortic transection. I’m sorry. We were on Doctor’s Row, by the memorial bench. He didn’t make it.”

  Rafe had told countless men and women and children that their loved ones had died; each and every one would stay with him in some way.

  This was going to be no different.

  Logan Lanning had almost killed his brother. And the woman his brother loved. He would never forget that. Nor did he ever think he’d be able to forgive.

  And he would never forget the pain in a man he respected’s eyes. Allen Jacobson had cared about Logan Lanning. Deeply.

  He hadn’t realized their friendship had been that close. “I’m sorry, Allen. He didn’t seem to be in his right mind. So angry.”

  “Why Lacy? Why did he do any of this? I knew he was struggling, Rafe. Since he’d been shot. But...I thought he was healing.”

  “I’m not sure we’ll get the answers we need anytime soon.” Rafe needed to get back to his family. His brothers needed him tonight; more than they had in a long while.

  At least four years.

  But he didn’t want to leave Jacobson to grieve alone.

  35

  Allen stared down at the body of his closest friend. Logan was covered with a sheet out of respect.

  Why?

  Why would a man like Logan lose himself like he had? None of it made sense to him. Dr. Netore patted him on the shoulder. Allen didn’t know her well; she’d only been at the hospital
a few months. Logan had hired her the week before Holden-Deane had taken over. “I’m sorry, Allen. I know you were close.”

  “He was my closest friend. We went through med school together, and a few other things.” Allen looked at the woman across from him. “What in the hell happened out there tonight?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Dr. Holden-Deane is in with Jillian’s family. He’ll be better able to tell you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Allen.”

  36

  That first week after Lanning nearly killed Lacy was harder on anyone than Jillian had thought it was going to be. Virat and Allen had made the decision to keep Lacy sedated for almost four days, in order to keep her from moving and disturbing the healing stitches. It had been such a complex operation, they didn’t want to risk setbacks.

  Jillian had been cleared to work in that department before. Just as she had with Brynna all those months ago, she was assigned to Lacy’s care exclusively. One perk of her brother-in-law being the biggest donor to the hospital. All it had taken was one word from Houghton—who still swore he’d adopted Lacy as his little sister—for her schedule to be cleared immediately, and she be assigned to Lacy. Right where she wanted to be. She sat by Lacy’s side and waited.

  Watched.

  Holden-Deane was in and out, as well. He’d arranged things so that Travis was allowed back with Lacy on a regular basis, and Jillian spent some of her time talking with the younger Deane brother.

  He adored Lacy. And Jillian started to see why her friend had fallen for him, as well.

  Marcus Deane took a stint or two sitting with Lacy when Travis would take a break, even though the ICU unit they were in had restricted visitation. No one was going to counter the COM’s edicts, not easily. Nor stop the governor from doing exactly what he wanted.

  The Deane brothers were right there for each other every moment they had to be. They were so damned close; just like the Becks.

  Her family and Ari were rotating having someone in the waiting room at all times. Just in case Jillian or the Deanes needed something.

  Even Brynna and the baby had been in there with Chance that morning. Jillian had spent fifteen minutes cuddling the baby and crying.

  They were Becks, and Becks pulled together when one of them was in trouble.

  And Lacy was one of them.

  Holden-Deane came in early on the fourth morning. Jillian had been there for the twelve hour night shift. Travis had been there for the day, and had slept on the couch in his brother’s office for the night.

  Now it was Jillian’s turn to rest. The two of them had made a vow—Lacy was never going to be alone again. She had been alone for far too many years as it was.

  Ari and Marcus were haunting the waiting room together, there if Jillian or Travis—or Rafe—needed them for anything.

  “We’re bringing her out of sedation soon,” Rafe said. “You have time to take a break and a shower.”

  “I’ll do that.” The locker room had a nice quiet little corner with a cot in it. Jillian was headed there now—after grabbing a change of clothes and a long shower.

  “Jillian, eat something, too. You’re no good to anyone if you wear yourself down.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll do that.” Jillian looked over at the bed. She’d washed and braided Lacy’s hair a few hours earlier. Her friend wouldn’t want to lie there looking like a grubbling—not in front of Travis, either.

  That thought had tears threatening. “I...I’ll be back in a bit. Take care of her for me.”

  A big warm hand landed on her shoulder. “Go. She’ll be ok. I’ll let Ariella know she can come back and sit with her.”

  Jillian went before she broke down into tears right in front of him.

  37

  There were six people at Logan’s funeral—five if you discounted the minister that said the words over the casket a week after Logan had died. The autopsy had been completed. Allen had had a copy of Logan’s will in his own safe, kept there since Logan’s parents had died six years ago, leaving Logan everything they’d had.

  Allen pulled his coat around him as the summer rain sank into his trousers from the knees down. He was partially under the canopy. Near the head of the coffin. His closest friend was in that box. Gone. In a way that Allen just didn't understand. Logan had had a good life.

  Successful, intelligent, gifted—his life had been all anyone could hope for, mostly.

  Rafe Holden-Deane had pulled Allen aside two days ago to tell him privately that Logan had been regularly abusing Solpalmitraln. Both tablet form and liquid.

  He shouldn’t have had access to the liquid form of that drug. It was heavily regulated at all times.

  Allen had been the one to prescribe the tablets after Logan had been shot in that damned parking garage.

  Literally half of his life he had been friends with Logan Lanning. The crazy stunts they pulled in college, the way they worked their asses off to get their positions at Finley Creek General Hospital, all of it—they'd been together for all of it. And now Logan was dead and no one could fully tell him why.

  Except for that damned drug.

  And why Lacy? When he had seen the damage Logan had done to the woman Logan had wanted for his own Logan had stepped off the ledge and died. Ending his torment. The only sign of why any of this had happened had been the drug running through Logan’s system. The drug Allen had given him.

  Allen was responsible for the death of his closest friend.

  That guilt would stay with him always. He’d done this to his friend. Logan and Lacy had paid the price.

  A small female hand wrapped around his. Allen looked up into eyes as gray as his own. His sister’s tears echoed those on his own face.

  Seven.

  There were seven people there for Logan.

  38

  Rafe watched his cousin Chance as he spoke with Jillian early on the seventh day after Lacy had been shot. Her family had finally been able to persuade Jillian to go home for the night. Only by Ari staying in her place had it been accomplished.

  It didn’t surprise him that she was back as early as she was. Hell, it was the same reason he was there. That, and he’d brought Travis some real breakfast, other than the hospital cafeteria fare his brother had been living on over the last week.

  Chance looked up and caught Rafe looking at him. He jerked his head in that direction.

  Rafe chafed at his cousin’s attitude—Chance always had been an ass—but the guy probably wanted something important.

  Like him making certain Jillian took care of herself or something. Chance took his wife’s sisters’ care seriously. Almost obsessively so.

  No surprise, considering how they’d lost Sara when she’d been so young. Rafe would never forget how wonderful his young female cousin had been, forget how much they had all loved her.

  Jillian nodded at him, then darted around him. She disappeared into Lacy’s room, leaving Rafe with Chance.

  “Good morning,” Chance said. “You been in to see Lacy yet? Brynna’s asking.”

  Brynna and her daughter had been released from the hospital five days ago. “Not yet. She’s making good strides, though.”

  “Brynna wanted to come visit, but hospitals and Brynna don’t mix well. She did send a laptop and her new video game for Lacy to play when she’s able. Mel wrote the script and she and Gabby and Brynna are creating it. It features three heroines—a blonde, brunette, and redhead. I’m not sure where they got their inspiration—except the redhead fighter is named Lillian.”

  Rafe snorted. “And the blonde and brunette?”

  “Macy the healer and Bari the fairy. Yeah. Clever, aren’t they? But it does seem to be a fun game. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  “And?”

  “You’re still at the hotel. Barratt has a proposition for you.”

  “And what is that?” Rafe stepped aside as Annie Gaines and her friend Izzie something-or-rather approached Lacy’s ro
om, carrying a large stuffed teddy bear wearing western wear and a big balloon on it. All of Lacy’s friends had been making certain she knew how much she was missed.

  “A house. Fifteen minutes away from FCGH. Almost four thousand square feet. It’s for rent,” Chance named a more than fair price that had Rafe’s attention sharpening. “After six months, if you want to buy, it’s an option.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “It’s right next door to the Becks. Houghton’s father purchased it right after Brynna was born. He would stay there occasionally. It’s in too good of shape to tear it down, yet because of its location it poses a security risk to the Becks. And my family. Barratt’s willing to sell it twenty-five percent under market—if it goes to someone we can trust. Marcus and Travis both suggested it would suit you. Marcus stayed there a few months ago when he had his place repainted, said it’s just your style.”

  Rafe took a look through the window to Lacy’s room. He saw that redhead and hesitated.

  If it wasn’t for her, he would have seriously considered it. But for her...

  “Unless you don’t want to live that close to Jillian. Of course, she’ll probably find a guy sometime reasonably soon and get married eventually. Elliot’s friend Erickson is always sniffing at her heels. And that record producer cousin of Houghton’s. And Tobias, that idiot cousin of ours is head-over-heels for her, too. Not like she’ll be living there forever. I know the two of you don’t exactly get along, but...”

  Rafe snorted. Chance was probably right—men were always sniffing around Jillian’s heels. He’d seen that for himself at that damned banquet. She’d fall for one eventually. “Let’s go take a look. I’ll give Travis his food and be right with you.”

  “Figured you might.”

  Rafe took his brother his food, knowing he’d just damned well been manipulated.