by Gun Brooke
“Get into bed. You’re shivering.” Giselle’s voice behind her made her jump.
Giselle placed a hand at the small of Tierney’s back and guided her to the right side of the bed. “I favor the left side, so I hope this is all right?”
“Sh-sure.” Damn, her teeth were still clattering. After letting go of the bed throw, Tierney climbed into bed, sighing in bliss as Giselle covered her with the soft duvet. “Ahh. What a wonderful bed.”
“I like it too.” Giselle sat down on the side of the bed and placed a pitcher with a lid on it on the nightstand. A glass already sat there, upside down. Giselle turned it over and poured some water into it. After handing it to Tierney, she also produced two Tylenol Extra Strength caplets.
Sitting up so she wouldn’t choke, Tierney washed down the pills with the water. “Thanks.”
“Can I come in and say good night in case you turn in before I get back with Charley?” Stephanie asked from the doorway.
“Sure.” Tierney held out her arms, and Stephanie crawled over to Giselle’s side of the bed for a hug. “Sleep tight. You’ll be sore tomorrow, but you know that, right?” She smiled sorrowfully.
“Yup. But I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“I take that as a promise. ’Night.”
“Good night.”
Stephanie bounded out and called for Charley. Rapid claws on the tile floor proved that the retriever was excited about going for an evening walk with her.
“Wait a minute.” Giselle rose and hurried out into the foyer. Tierney heard her call out. “Stephanie? Don’t go so far you can’t see the house, okay?”
“I won’t, Giselle!” The door closed, and Giselle returned.
“Just had to make sure.” Giselle shrugged. She sat down on the side of the bed again, taking Tierney’s hand. “Are you truly all right? No nausea?”
“Not anymore. I was nauseous at first, but I feel better. I just need to shake the headache, and I think the Tylenol will do the trick. I’m not used to painkillers, so…” She managed to form another smile.
“All right.” Giselle looked down at their joined hands. Her expression was pensive, and Tierney wasn’t sure Giselle realized she was caressing the back of Tierney’s hand with her thumb. “I was really afraid.”
Blinking, Tierney mouth fell open. “I’m sorry?”
“No. Don’t say you’re sorry. What I mean is, I was more afraid than I would be if you were anyone else. I feared you were seriously injured or, worse, that you were in critical condition. All I could think of was how the hell I was going to find my way to you. Only when Stephanie questioned why I couldn’t just drive did I figure that I might manage it. And when I started driving, I felt the panic come, but it had more to do with you than the fucking phobias.”
Tierney couldn’t remember Giselle ever swearing before. “I’m so impressed with how you handled that. I know some of what you deal with, as I’ve witnessed a fraction of it. For you to put me first and get there so fast—it means so much.”
“That’s why I’m begging you to forget about the damn bicycle. It doesn’t mean a thing, all right? All I care about is that you’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters. For Stephanie as well.” Giselle’s head fell forward, and she was quiet for a long time. When she slowly raised her head again, her eyes had darkened. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Never. You could never do that.” Tierney curled up on her side, facing Giselle. “All I could think of when I sat on the curb surrounded by nice, helpful people was you. And Stephanie too, of course, but mainly you. I wanted to hear your voice and let you know I wasn’t in any real danger.”
“So, not just me, then.” Giselle drew a tremulous breath.
“And not just me.” Tierney was sinking farther into the pillows and the soft mattress. She pulled Giselle’s hand in under the pillow. Closing her eyes, she murmured good night and allowed sleep to claim her, determined to not have any bad dreams.
Chapter Twenty-two
Giselle crawled into bed after taking a long bath, something she confessed was in part to soothe her nerves, but it was also a way to procrastinate. She had sat on the side of the bed, her hand in Tierney’s as the pale young woman had fallen asleep. The way Tierney had pushed both their hands in under her pillow and cradled them against her had stolen Giselle’s breath. Only when her lower back began to ache from the uncomfortable position had she gently freed herself. After going out into the kitchen, she had spoken briefly to Stephanie, who was having some fruit and milk. She’d guessed right. Stephanie needed some reassurance.
“You sure she’s okay?” Steph shoved her hands into her pockets after placing her empty glass into the dishwasher. “I mean, she looks awfully pale.”
“She’s been through quite the ordeal. So have we, you and I. For a moment I feared…” Angry at herself for not being able to stay calm, Giselle pressed her thumbnail against the nail bed of its counterpart. The sharp pain sometimes made her able to focus. “It’s always worse when you don’t know what’s happened or the exact outcome. Now we’ve learned she’s perhaps mildly concussed and has a few bumps and bruises. That’s pretty lucky after the way she hit that car.”
“Yeah.” Stephanie lowered her eyes. “And then there was that bi—I mean woman, who treated her like shit.” Stephanie raised her gaze, and her eyes blazed.
“That’s a whole other matter. I know Leanne Walters is rude on any given day of the week, but this behavior is way over the top. Makes me wonder. Either way, Tierney shouldn’t have to be the target of such vitriol. I plan to call Manon tomorrow and ask what she knows.”
“Good that you have more connections around here than God.” Stephanie smiled faintly. “I’m going to bed. For some reason, coming in from the cool air made me hungry and sleepy at the same time.” She blushed. “Eh, you did say I could take anything I wanted from the kitchen, didn’t you, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“It’s fine.” Giselle briefly squeezed Stephanie’s shoulder. “I’m not hungry, despite the hour. I’ll go to bed too.”
“Take care of her. She’s one of a kind, our Tierney.” Stephanie gave a little wave. “Night.”
“Good night. Sleep well.”
One of a kind? That was an understatement.
Now she sat up in bed and set the alarm on her phone to one a.m. and five a.m. She would make sure Tierney wasn’t disoriented or seemed worse off in any way. After lying down, she switched off the bedside lamp, leaving only the nightlight from near the door to the bathroom emanating a muted glow.
Rolling over onto her right side, she faced Tierney, who lay on her back now. The nightlight lit her profile, emphasizing her high forehead, slightly upturned nose, full lips, and softly rounded chin—all so familiar now. Tierney seemed mysterious and as if a painter had drawn her bathed in moonlight.
Giselle’s breath hitched. She’d come so close to losing Tierney today. She’d been so worried. No. That didn’t come close to describing it. She’d been so anguished and frightened that she’d pushed through the fear of a panic attack and driven into East Quay. To say it was a wake-up moment was an understatement. It was more like being part of the ice-bucket challenge. She’d pushed away the thought of Tierney moving on, told herself that would happen sooner or later, but probably far in the future, that she had time to perhaps convince Tierney to stay on. The phone call with the dire news had ripped at her heart so badly, she’d thought it might stop beating.
Shifting restlessly, Giselle inched closer to Tierney, who seemed to be deeply asleep. She placed a tentative hand on Tierney’s upper arm, careful not to wake her. No doubt Tierney would be sore as hell tomorrow, but she was alive to be sore, so in that respect, it was a good thing.
Closing her eyes, Giselle thought back to the latter part of the day—how she’d come so close to a panic attack that she’d practically tasted the adrenaline that coursed through her system. By focusing on Tierney and letting Stephanie help her, she’d
managed to keep it at bay, but she had been far too close to an attack to be a safe driver. Still, she couldn’t very well let Tierney take the wheel in her condition, and of course, Stephanie was too young to have a license.
Giselle’s mind stopped at the thought of the brave girl. Despite her rough life, she had something noble about her. Yes, she moved and spoke like a typical teenager for the most part, but her warm heart, dedication, and the way she’d comforted her foster siblings in the car—oh, my, was it only last night? It was as if they were stuck somewhere they could slow down time. Every hour meant something new, even revolutionary, for Giselle. Did the other two feel the same? Was their stay as life-altering as it was for her? Either way, Stephanie was a truly remarkable girl, and Giselle would love to follow her journey through life. She paused her train of thought. Of course, something of that nature would be impossible, other than from a distance.
With Manon’s influence to help her, Stephanie would go to a good foster home. Giselle could only hope that Stephanie would like to keep in touch, perhaps by email, or, God forbid, Facebook. Why did this thought make yet another knot form in her stomach? Did she really think she could be enough for a teenage girl? She, who could barely walk all the way to the field with the dog or drive without hyperventilating? Weren’t you supposed to drive kids all kinds of places? Sports activities, music lessons, and other extracurricular activities, those sorts of things?
Feeling utterly ridiculous for even allowing her fantasies to travel in this direction, Giselle closed her eyes and began her relaxation exercise. It normally put her to sleep, but she feared tonight it would take a while.
* * *
Something nudged Giselle, waking her up in a way she wasn’t used to. As she sat up, she tried to fathom where she was and what, or who, was tugging at her. A husky voice murmured next to her, and a strong hand was tangled in the shoulder strap of her nightgown.
“Tierney, you’re dreaming,” Giselle said, keeping her voice low. “Wake up.” She stroked the wild hair from Tierney’s forehead. She could just make her out in the light of the nightlight, and she could feel a fine sheen of perspiration on Tierney’s forehead.
“Have to find them,” Tierney muttered. “Lost. All of them. Lost.”
“You’re okay. You’re safe now. Wake up, Tierney.”
Tierney stopped moving and seemed to hold her breath. “What?”
“You’re here. With me. Look at me,” Giselle said when Tierney’s eyes darted from corner to corner in the dark bedroom. “Just look at me. See? It’s me. Giselle.”
“Giselle.” Slow and slurred consonants proved Tierney wasn’t entirely awake. That or she had taken a turn for the worse.
“That’s right. You’re in my bed, in my house, in East Quay. Stephanie is doing well and is sleeping in the guest room down the hall. Remember?”
“Yes. We have to get her away from Dylan. The Brodys. They’re dangerous…” Tierney’s head fell forward and landed on Giselle’s shoulder.
Unable to resist, Giselle wrapped her arms around Tierney and held her close. The scent of shampoo and toothpaste mingled with Tierney’s own scent, causing shivers along the inside of Giselle’s legs. “Please, wake up. You must’ve had a nightmare.” She pressed her lips to Tierney’s temple, mindful of the bandage at her hairline. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Tierney.
“Uh-huh. Mm. Nightmare. I had to find the children. All gone. And it was dark.” Tierney felt hot to the touch, yet her hands were so cold where they tugged at Giselle as if she couldn’t get close enough.
“You did get all the kids away from the Brodys. They’ll get new and better foster-care placements. You saw to that.”
Tierney turned her head and pressed her face against Giselle’s neck. “And you. You were amazing.” She sounded awake now, but clearly not lucid enough to question why she was so close to Giselle—in bed.
“I just followed your lead.”
“Nuh-uh. You brought up your connection with Manon Belmont. The cops were totally impressed. Especially that Connor woman. She gave you long, gooey looks.” Tierney sounded slightly peeved.
“Long, gooey looks?” Giselle blinked. “You really must be concussed, Tierney. Nobody gave me any looks whatsoever.”
“Blind. I mean, you. You’re blind…and deaf.” Tierney flung the hand not tangled in her spaghetti strap in the air.
“What makes you say that?” Giselle tried to follow Tierney’s erratic thoughts.
“You can’t even see how much I want you. I’ve been pouring my heart out in my lyrics, and you’ve got to be blind since I’ve been so damn obvious. About liking you.”
Giselle could hardly breathe. “I see?” She really didn’t.
“Case closed. Blind.” Tierney sighed against Giselle’s neck.
Small ripples of goose bumps traveled along Giselle’s entire back and down the back of her legs. “You’re saying you’re attracted to me?” It was far too incredible to even attempt to imagine. Still, those long looks between them, which Giselle could perhaps count as “gooey” when she thought about it, had become more and more frequent.
“I am. And I don’t even know if you’re a lesbian, like me. I mean, you could of course be bi, or bi-curious. Or totally straight. Or—”
“Shh. I’m a very inexperienced lesbian. That ought to deter you.” Giselle lowered her voice further.
“Really?” Tierney sounded more awake now. “You—really?”
“Yes. Really.” Squirming, Giselle wanted to put some distance between them. She hoped Tierney wouldn’t laugh at her. If she did, Giselle didn’t think she would survive it. It was one thing to struggle with everything else in her life, but being mocked by the woman she’d come to…like…would be excruciating. Flashbacks to that horrible scene at the restaurant when she met Mary years ago flickered like a movie rolling on the inside of her eyelids.
“I’m so glad you told me. I’ve spent tons of time trying to figure out how to ask you, or if I should kiss you and try to draw conclusions from that. Then I thought, if you kissed me back, it could be for reasons that have nothing to do with your sexual orientation. And if you didn’t want to kiss me, or didn’t like it, it could have everything to do with me, and not with your preference.” Drawing a deep breath after those declarations, Tierney carefully moved closer. “I’m fully awake now. Damn, it was hard to wake up from that nightmare.”
“And what about your headache?” Giselle tried to focus on Tierney’s condition instead of her own rampaging desires. “Anything new?”
“Better and no. Hardly any headache left. And nothing new as far as I can tell.” Tierney tried to move closer but seemed to realize her left hand was caught in Giselle’s shoulder strap. “What the…oh my God.” Wiggling her fingers, Tierney freed herself. “Seems you caught me in your yarn, Giselle.”
Gasping, Giselle held Tierney tight and kissed her temple again. “Seems like it.” Warm waves rocked her, and all Giselle could think of was how Tierney felt against her. She tried to reel herself in since, though Tierney might feel better, she was still suffering the aftermath of the accident. “Just let me hold you, okay?”
The soft melody on the cellphone interrupted them. It was the time Giselle had set to check on Tierney. She muted the alarm and made sure the second one was still set.
“Okay,” Tierney said and yawned. “I’ll be good. For now. Now that I know you’re a lesbian, I may just ask for a kiss sometime.”
Whimpering, Giselle pulled the now-drowsy Tierney onto her shoulder. “Sure. I doubt I could resist you.” Nor did she want to. That truth created a warmth in the center of her abdomen that fluttered in all directions, making her stomach clench and her legs feel restless. The heat grew inside her, and she began to tremble.
“Y’okay?” Tierney whispered.
“Yes. Go back to sleep.” Giselle realized she sounded short, but the storm of emotions tearing through her wasn’t what she’d expected. For years she’d surmised she wasn’t very pa
ssionate, or even romantically inclined, unless it had to do with composing music. For her to lie here with Tierney and have images of ravaging her, despite the fact the poor woman was recuperating after an accident, blew her mind.
Tierney’s right hand shifted, and her arm ended up around Giselle’s waist. Giselle now knew Tierney would be the death of her. If she responded like this to a mere touch, what would happen if they kissed? What if that triggered a panic attack because of sensory overload? Giselle fought her abrupt desire to leave the bed. Part of her wanted to retreat to the music room and rid herself of these emotions by playing the piano until she was exhausted.
Huffing under her breath, she leveled with herself. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t leave Tierney alone in here. Nothing could have persuaded her to move an inch away from the amazing creature that had tucked herself up along Giselle’s body so sweetly. Giselle would just have to suffer through feeling the soft curves that caressed her when Tierney breathed and sometimes shifted a bit next to her.
“Sleep well, angel,” Giselle mouthed inaudibly into the room. Closing her eyes, she hoped she’d be able to go back to sleep as well. She had a feeling she would need every bit of her strength tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-three
Tierney turned in bed, knowing even before she woke up that she was alone in the bedroom. She vaguely remembered Giselle waking her up in the early hours of the morning, asking her a few questions, and then letting her go back to sleep. Stretching, she felt sore, but her headache from yesterday and last night had almost disappeared. She carefully sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
A blue silk robe lay at the foot of her side of the bed. She guessed Giselle had put it there for her. Standing up, she put on the knee-length robe and tied the belt around her waist. After she padded over to the bathroom, she used the toilet and then turned to the sink to wash her hands. Glancing in the mirror, she stared at her bruised forehead. A small bandage covered the stitches at her hairline, but around it, her mottled skin was an ugly blue-green tint. Her left eye was swollen, and she’d scraped her cheekbone. After pulling up the sleeves of the robe, she saw more scrapes and a few bandages she couldn’t remember anyone putting on her.
