She’d drifted in and out of consciousness several times. Each time, she was acutely aware that there was someone sitting by her bed. But she’d fade away again before she could focus or discover who it was.
Finally, struggling to hold on to consciousness, Jaren forced her eyes open and looked, half expecting that her imagination had conjured up the figure in the chair and there was no one there. After all, who did she know here who felt close enough to her to put in that kind of time, waiting for her to come around?
But when she focused her eyes, the figure didn’t fade away. Instead, he took on features.
Kyle.
Looking at her and frowning.
Nothing unusual there.
She wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. Her throat felt like rawhide. Had they shoved a tube down it at some point to help her breathe? No, wait, that maniac, Finley, had tried to choke her.
Massey.
Her head began to throb as her memory of the last events returned. But at least she was alive, she thought. And that was something.
A big something.
Kyle was still frowning. And not saying anything. She took in a deep breath, then another, trying to get to the point where she could talk.
It wasn’t as easy as she would have liked. But she stubbornly persisted until she heard her voice weakly emerge.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she finally managed to ask, breaking the silence. Her voice sounded as if it belonged to a ninety-three-year-old chronic smoker, she thought disparagingly. But at least she could talk.
“Yeah.”
The single word hung in the air. Kyle didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He’d been here all night, after assuring everyone else that they should go home and that he’d call if there was any change.
Andrew had been the last to go after making him promise that if he needed anything, anything at all, he wouldn’t hesitate to call. It was the only way the patriarch could be persuaded to leave the hospital.
Jaren sucked in another long breath. Her lungs ached and it felt as if there was a lead weight on her rib cage. She looked down, knowing that she wouldn’t see anything. But it was going to take a while before the image of Massey, straddling her, would leave her in peace.
“But everything turned out all right,” she finally said.
“Yeah, but it damn well might not have,” Kyle retorted, his hold on stoicism abruptly shattering. His anger almost exploded and only the most extreme control on his part kept it under wraps. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “You were supposed to wait for me—or at the very least, not go running off like that on your own!”
In hindsight, she knew Kyle was right. But that didn’t give him the right to talk down to her. She couldn’t stand being treated like anything but the independent, capable woman she felt she was. “I’m not a child, Kyle.”
“Then why the hell did you act like one?” he shot back.
Anger gave her strength.
“I was afraid Massey would take off and there wasn’t anyone around in the conference room,” she answered defensively.
“Did you even try to get in contact with anyone?” he demanded heatedly.
Her eyes narrowed and flashed. “I called you,” she reminded him.
And thank God for that, he thought. “Besides me,” he growled.
“No.” She breathed out. Even worked up, she could feel her strength ebbing again. “What are you so angry about? We got him.”
Was she serious? Didn’t she realize what had almost happened? “I’m angry because if I hadn’t gotten there in time, he could have killed you.”
Kyle would have probably been happier that way, she thought angrily. “Then we wouldn’t be having this argument.”
“We wouldn’t be having anything,” Kyle shot back. He struggled to lower his voice, but wasn’t too successful at it. “Damn it, Rosetti, do I have to spell it out for you?”
O’Brien had completely lost her. “Spell what out for me?”
As he spoke, he could feel his heart all but twisting in his chest. “That I couldn’t have stood it if something had happened to you.”
She shrugged, or tried to. “Don’t worry. The Chief of Ds wouldn’t have blamed you for losing two people in your group.”
He stared at her as if she’d started babbling nonsense. “The hell with blame. The hell with all of it. Can’t you understand what I’m saying?”
Her head aching—not to mention that the painkiller was wearing off—Jaren was more lost than ever. “Obviously not.”
“I’m in love with you, Rosetti,” Kyle all but spat out. It was hard to say which of them was more surprised to hear him utter the words. “I don’t know why, but I am. And if anything happened to you—if you let your bullheadedness get you killed—I—”
Words failed him. Kyle threw up his hands in order to keep from sweeping Jaren into his arms and just holding her to him. He knew she was in far too much pain for him to do that.
“I don’t know what I would have done,” he admitted in a lower voice.
She stared at him, numb. Numb and dumbstruck. Of all the things she’d expected Kyle to say, to vent, that didn’t even come close to being one of them.
He loved her?
Since when?
How the hell had that come out? Kyle silently upbraided himself, horrified by what he’d just blurted out without preamble. Since when couldn’t he keep his own counsel?
Damn it, he shouldn’t have said anything. His feelings were his own business, not anyone else’s. Not even hers.
He had absolutely no idea what she felt for him—if anything—and he refused to look or sound like some kind of lovesick fool.
Kyle abruptly rose to his feet. His chair began to fall backward, but he grabbed it in time to keep it from toppling to the floor.
Emotionless, he stared passed her head. “I told the chief I’d call him when you regained consciousness. I’ll see you around.”
And with that, he left. Before she could say anything.
Kyle heard the doorbell ring just as he was about to sit down to eat the dinner he’d thrown together. The last couple of weeks, he’d been living off the so-called leftovers that Andrew had pressed on him after the former chief of police had swung by “just to talk.”
For a second, Kyle thought of ignoring the doorbell, then decided that it would just be simpler to answer it. In the last two weeks, various members of the Cavanaugh family—his family, he silently corrected—had stopped by after hours, seemingly to shoot the breeze.
It was, he knew, their way of showing concern, and even though he acted like he was perfectly happy by himself, he was growing more and more open to their company.
It helped him cope with the emptiness that kept widening within him.
Getting up from the table, he went to the door. He opened it, but the token greeting on his lips faded to silence. It wasn’t one of the Cavanaughs on his doorstep. Or either one of his siblings. It was Jaren, looking a great deal better than she had the last time he’d seen her.
Still somewhat pale, the bruises that had disfigured her delicate face were a thing of the past now. She was as beautiful as ever.
More.
“You never came back to see me.” Softly voiced, it was still an accusation.
Caught off guard, Kyle belatedly stepped back to let her enter. “I thought you’d be better off if I—”
How did he end this sentence? he silently wondered. His feelings were something he was going to have to come to terms with. He should have never burdened her with the revelation.
“If you took the coward’s way out?” she supplied when his voice trailed off.
Kyle bristled at the portrayal. “I didn’t want to make you feel that you were on the spot—that I expected you to answer. Or to return the feeling,” he added firmly.
“You never gave me a chance to answer,” she retorted heatedly. “It was hard for me to breathe, much less form a complete sentence
quickly.” Her eyes held his. “I can answer you now.”
He remembered her little speech about their lovemaking not meaning anything. He didn’t have to hear her formally tell him that she was flattered, but that she just didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about her.
“Look, Rosetti—Jaren,” he corrected himself, making it more personal. “You don’t have to—”
“Shut up, O’Brien,” she ordered. And then her expression softened just a little. “Let someone else talk for a second.”
“Obviously, I don’t have a choice in the matter,” he commented, bracing himself. “Go ahead.”
Doubling her fist, Jaren caught him by surprise for a second time in as many minutes when she punched him in the arm. He was even more surprised to discover that the blow stung. She was stronger than she looked.
“You big, dumb jerk.”
“Nice start.”
She gave no indication that she heard him. “You can’t tell a woman you’re in love with her and then just walk away.”
He thought that telling her he hadn’t intended on telling her that he loved her, that it had just come out, would only earn him another punch, so he refrained. “I didn’t know there were rules.”
“Of course there’re rules,” she cried. “And the rules say that you have to let the woman get a chance to answer you.”
It was his own fault. He’d started this. “All right.”
“I love you,” she told him. “I don’t want to, but there you have it. I do.”
It took him a moment to recover. Something stirred inside of him. Something he didn’t quite recognize at first. Happiness? Was that what this warm feeling in the pit of his stomach was? “Why don’t you want to?”
She never thought that she would have to explain herself to a man. Didn’t men have a natural phobia when it came to commitment?
“Because love makes you vulnerable. Love leaves you wide open to being abandoned. To being hurt, and I’ve had enough of that. I don’t want to be hurt. Ever again,” she said with feeling. And then she took a deep breath, her eyes hopeful. “Can you love me without hurting me, Kyle?” she asked in a softer voice.
He smiled at her. Maybe blurting out that he loved her hadn’t been the stupidest thing he’d ever done. “That would be the plan.”
“Then don’t walk out on me again.”
He took her into his arms. “I think I can manage that.”
She could feel adrenaline beginning to rush through her veins, as if she’d just taken a dive off the high board and had scored a perfect ten.
“The doctor cleared me,” she told him. “You can kiss me. For as long as you want to.”
He smiled down at her as he framed her face with his hands. “Nice to know,” he murmured as he began to bring his mouth down to hers.
For the third time, Jaren surprised him by placing her fingertips over his lips, stopping him. When he looked at her she said, “But first, tell me again.”
He pretended not to understand. “Tell you what?”
“You know.”
His mouth curved. Yeah, he knew. “I love you.”
She raised herself up on her toes, bringing her mouth closer to his. Her eyes were shining as she told him, “Me, too,” just before she kissed him.
And went on to completely lose herself in the safety of his arms. Where she knew she belonged from this day forward.
ISBN: 9781-4268-3939-9
BECOMING A CAVANAUGH
Copyright © 2009 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Becoming a Cavanaugh Page 16
