Surrender: A Bitter Creek Novel

by Joan Johnston

  Taylor watched a rosy flush rise on Leah’s face. Guilt? Embarrassment? Taylor knew far more than Leah realized about her relationship with Aiden. She hadn’t used her knowledge against Leah in their argument, because it felt wrong, hurtful somehow, to expose Leah’s secret.

  She hadn’t shared Leah’s secret with Vick, either, which was surprising, because she and Vick used to share everything, no matter how unimportant. And Leah’s relationship with Aiden was far from unimportant. Something had been different between her and her twin over the past few years, pushing them apart, making it more difficult to share.

  Taylor felt sure Vick was keeping a secret from her, something to do with that home she owned in Montana. She could have just shown up at what Vick had described as her “remote cabin in the woods,” but she’d wanted Vick to invite her.

  The invitation had never come.

  Vick hadn’t been as outgoing or seemed as happy as she once had. Taylor was afraid her twin was in some kind of trouble, but whenever she asked about anything to do with Montana, Vick shut her down. Taylor wanted to help, but Vick wasn’t giving her the chance.

  Taylor felt more worried and disappointed than resentful at being shut out. More than anything, she missed having her sister living in the next room, where they could share everything all the time.

  Skyping wasn’t always possible, and too many nuances were lost texting and talking on the phone. Maybe that wretched feeling of disconnectedness was why Taylor hadn’t told Vick the story of Brian’s bet with Aiden. Or maybe it was more in the nature of payback: Let’s see how she likes it when I start keeping secrets from her.

  Taylor was curious to hear Leah’s answer to the question Vick had raised about their elder sister’s relationship with Aiden. Had Leah forgiven him for the trick he’d played on her? Was something more than information passing between the two of them? “What is going on between you and Aiden?” she asked.

  “We spent a lot of time together worrying about you and Brian,” Leah explained. “So Aiden’s been keeping me in the loop about his brother’s situation.”

  “Why is it okay for you to talk to Aiden but not okay for me to spend time with Brian?” Taylor asked.

  Vick threw up her hands. “I give up. Why would either one of you want to spend time with either one of them? You’re both crazy as loons.” She grabbed some Cheerios from the cupboard, and set a bowl and spoon on the breakfast bar, before striding to the refrigerator for milk. She wet down the cereal, then stopped before taking a bite to shoot her twin a perturbed look. “I still don’t get it. What’s the point of spending time with an unconscious man?”

  “You’ve got plenty of sympathy for wolves and grizzlies. How about a little compassion for someone I care about?”

  Vick stopped with a spoonful of Cheerios halfway to her mouth. She dropped it back in the bowl with a clatter and a splash of milk. “That’s a low blow! You can’t expect me to care about Flynns.”

  “What happened to caring about me?” That was as close as Taylor could come to saying that she missed the tight bond between them that appeared to have frayed over the past few years.

  Vick shoved her bowl aside and hurried across the room to fold Taylor in her arms. “I do care. I do! I just don’t understand this sudden need to forgive the Flynns all transgressions. You might as well be standing defenseless with a thousand-pound grizzly in your path. I’m frightened for you. I don’t want your belly ripped out. All I see ahead is suffering, if you continue in the direction you’re going.”

  Taylor stuck her nose against Vick’s throat and blinked at the tears that threatened. How long had it been since they’d hugged like this? They said the words “I love you” all the time. But somewhere along the way, they’d stopped embracing when they met or when one of them went away.

  Both sisters had held her close at the hospital. She’d cut their embraces short, because her feelings had been so near the surface, and she’d been afraid she would fall apart if she let down her guard. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to be held, to be demonstrably loved. In Brian’s absence, the constant fear she lived with, the knowledge of how unworthy, how undeserving of love she was, had crept back.

  In truth, Taylor hadn’t shared everything with her twin in the past. She’d never told Vick how empty she felt inside. Or just how unlovable she’d felt, until Brian Flynn had admitted to loving her. Vick had no way of knowing how Brian’s love had filled that hole inside her, satisfying her need to feel valued in a way nothing and no one else ever had.

  If she had known, Vick would’ve understood why Taylor sat by Brian’s bedside praying that he would not only recover, but still feel the same way about her. Because Vick was ignorant of all the facts, Taylor had no one with whom to share the constant fear she felt that, when Brian was well, he would simply walk away.

  Was it any wonder she didn’t want to give up on that promise of love? She had a vested interest in seeing that Brian Flynn recovered. Until he was back on his feet, they couldn’t move forward with their lives together.

  It looked like Brian was going to keep his right leg, but a lot of the muscle had been cut away and wasn’t coming back. Smoke jumping was out of the question, but depending on how well he rehabbed his right leg, he might be able to requalify as a firefighter with the Jackson Hole fire department.

  Taylor didn’t intend to let Brian fail, because her future happiness depended on his being a whole, healthy, happy person, ready to pursue a romantic relationship…with her.

  “I’m leaving now,” she said, pushing past Leah.

  When Leah took a step forward to stand in her way, Vick said, “Let her go. If she’s determined to jump into deep water without checking for unseen hazards, there’s nothing either of us can do about it, except be there to fish her out.”

  Taylor saw that Leah’s inclination was to physically restrain her from taking that dangerous—perhaps fatal—leap, but at last, she stepped aside and gestured toward the door.

  “Go. Just be careful, Taylor. Be very careful.”

  Taylor didn’t acknowledge Leah’s warning. She couldn’t afford to be careful. If she wanted to be safe, she’d keep her distance from Brian. She’d guard her heart and not take the chance of having it broken.

  Being safe wasn’t going to get her where she wanted to go. She had to be fearless. She had to take chances. She had to do whatever was necessary to get Brian Flynn back on his feet. Because she wasn’t going to settle for less than happily ever after.

  BRIAN STRUGGLED TO open his eyes. It felt like he was swimming through Jell-O. He tried to swallow but something was in the way. He groped at his mouth and realized he had a tube down his throat.

  “Easy. Breathe out.”

  He gagged, and then the tube was gone. He gasped a breath of air, then gasped again, as his eyes opened fully. He stared up at a doctor who didn’t look much older than his youngest brother, and a nurse who looked like she might have been his grandmother. The doctor nodded to the nurse, who left the room.

  “Don’t try to talk,” he said. “You’re in the hospital in Jackson. You’ve been here for twelve days.”

  He’d been unconscious for twelve days? How close had he come to dying? Brian wondered.

  “My leg,” he rasped. Brian tried to sit up, but the doctor put a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. “Let go of me!” He got a look at the tent over his leg and panicked. “What did you do?”

  “Your leg’s still there, but I cut a pretty big chunk out of your calf. It was touch and go for a while whether I’d have to take off the whole leg, but the infection is under control, and you’re out of the woods, literally and figuratively.” The doctor’s eyes crinkled with humor.

  Brian was in no mood for jokes. He met the young man’s gaze, a question in his eyes that he couldn’t voice aloud.

  The doctor picked up his cue. “You�
�ll likely walk again, but I can’t say how well. It’s going to take a lot of therapy, and a lot of hard work on your part.”

  “But I will walk, right?”

  The doctor’s eyes shifted away, and Brian felt his heart sink. “Will I walk again?” he demanded. “Or not?”

  The doctor met his gaze and said, “You will.”

  Before Brian could interrupt again, he hurried to add, “There’s very little muscle left on your right leg below the knee. Probably enough to keep you upright and allow you to walk. But in cases I’ve seen like this, you’re going to need a cane to help support your weight.”

  Brian closed his eyes, shutting out the doctor’s sympathetic face and the awful message he’d just been given. A man with a cane couldn’t carry forty-five pounds of fire hose into a burning building. A man with a cane was never jumping out of a plane to fight a forest fire.

  His life, as he’d known it, was over.

  “Go away.” His throat was swollen so tight he was afraid he was going to choke, and his heartbeat felt erratic enough to make breathing a struggle.

  “I’ll let your brothers know you’re awake.”

  When the man didn’t move, he croaked, “Get out!” Tears sprang to his eyes as he squeezed them shut, and he raised a hand—to which an IV was attached—in a futile attempt to soothe his sore throat. When he looked up, the doctor was gone.

  Someone else had taken his place.

  “Brian?”

  Of course Tag was here. Any other time he might have been glad to see her. Not now. Not when he was most vulnerable. Not when he’d only had moments to absorb the disaster that had befallen him and crushed his world. “Go away, Tag,” he rasped. “Get the hell out!” He turned his head to avoid looking at her. The pain in his heart was every bit as raw as the pain in his throat. He didn’t want her here, couldn’t have her here, pitying him.

  “No.”

  Just the one word, denying him the peace he sought. He was fighting unmanly tears, fighting sobs that would completely undo him, and the damned woman wouldn’t leave.

  Suddenly, he felt her hand on his face, turning it back toward her, and then her lips were on his, offering comfort and seeking solace.

  The kiss made his chest ache, because it spoke of what might have been. He couldn’t make a commitment to her now. Not when he had no idea whether he would ever stand on his own two feet again. He put his hand on Tag’s shoulder to push her away, but he was as weak as a kitten.

  She held his face between her hands and said, “Look at me, Brian.”

  “Tag, don’t do this,” he said, fighting for control of his voice.

  “You’re awake. You’re alive. We made it,” she said in the softest voice he’d ever heard her use. “All we need to do now is get you well and back on your feet and back to work.”

  “We don’t need to do anything,” he said, forgetting about his throat and talking too loudly and paying the price with a pain like razors cutting into his flesh. “You need to haul your ass out of here.”

  “You mean my beautiful ass? The one you love to hold in your hands when we’re making love,” she teased, her eyes smiling down at him filled with…Oh, God…was that love?

  “Not now, Tag,” he said, closing his eyes, since she wouldn’t allow him to look away. “It hurts my throat to argue.”

  “Good. Because there’s nothing to fight about. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to help.”

  He realized if he didn’t nip this in the bud, she’d be here every day driving him crazy, making him feel worse than he already did. He opened his eyes and looked her right in the eye. “Listen to me, Tag, because I’m only going to say this once. Since it’s painful to talk, I’m going to make this short and sweet. I don’t want your help. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

  He kept his face as impassive as stone, while his stomach wrenched at the distraught look in her eyes. He gritted his teeth to keep from taking back what he’d said, but he didn’t think he could bear to have her watching him struggle to walk again. He didn’t want her hanging around while he stumbled and fell and sweated and swore. He’d rather do it by himself.

  “What about us?” she said.

  “Us?” He made the word an epithet. “Don’t kid yourself. Nothing that happened out there was real.” He put a hand to his ragged throat, then looked at her and realized the pain he’d caused—to her and himself—by speaking. He should just shut the hell up.

  “Why are you pushing me away?”

  “Do I need a reason?”

  “You said—”

  “Anything I said before I became a cripple should be taken with a grain of salt.”

  “Get over yourself, Brian! You’ve still got your leg. Lots of veterans—like the ones who come to Connor’s ranch—have lost a lot more than a chunk of flesh and gone on to lead fulfilling lives doing some job that wasn’t what they’d planned for themselves. Who do you think you are? What makes you so special?”

  She was yelling at him, but he noticed she wasn’t tearful. She was seriously pissed off.

  He held up a hand to stop her tirade, but it wasn’t necessary. The door to his room flew open and two of his brothers towered in the doorway. Aiden crossed the room in three strides and demanded of Taylor, “What’s all this shouting about?”

  Connor gripped the rail at the foot of Brian’s bed and said, “Brian?”

  Brian waved a hand and turned his face away without speaking.

  “Your brother’s being a horse’s ass,” Tag said.

  “Brian?” Aiden said in the sort of gentle voice you might use with a kid who’d just fallen off the horse he was learning to ride. “What’s going on?”

  Brian avoided looking at Tag as he said, “I want her gone.”

  “And I told him I’m staying,” Tag shot back.

  Connor focused his gaze on Tag and said pointedly, “We need to talk to Brian. Alone.”

  For a moment, he thought Tag would refuse to go. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she shot him a look fiery enough to burn down half of Yellowstone, then marched out of the room. She stopped at the door and said, “Don’t think you can get rid of me this easily, Brian. I’ll be back.”

  With all the destructive force of the Terminator, Brian thought with chagrin.

  After the door slid closed, Connor said to Aiden, “I told you to keep her out of here. You should have listened to me.”

  “Are you okay?” Aiden asked.

  Brian tried to shrug. It hurt. Everything hurt. His head was pounding. His leg ached. His face felt hot. Did he still have a fever? Was it something that might return? Could the infection come back and claim the rest of his leg? He shuddered at the thought of being out of his head again. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone. “Why are you here?” he whispered, saving his poor throat.

  “We heard you were awake,” Connor said. “We wanted to see for ourselves how you were doing. Devon would have been here, too, but he’s got some horses that need—”

  Brian cut him off. “I’m fine. Tell Devon I’m okay, and there’s no need to come.”

  “Brian…About your leg…” Aiden said.

  “The doctor told me what he did. And his prognosis. Is there something else you want?” He heard the annoyance in his voice but was helpless to control it. What did they want from him? An acknowledgment that he didn’t mind what the doctor had done to him? That he was fine with being crippled because at least he was still alive?

  Brian realized he’d probably needed the gut check Tag had given him. Every thought he’d had since he’d woken up had been filled with self-pity. He was lucky to have survived the infection. He could have lost his entire leg. Most of it was still attached. Why was he being such a crybaby?

  What did his moaning and groaning say about his character? What did his despair say about
him as a man? Was that why he’d wanted Tag gone? Because he didn’t want her to see what a weak reed he was? Because he didn’t want her to see that he wasn’t man enough to meet the challenge life had dealt him without sobbing into his pillow?

  Aiden touched him on the shoulder. “Brian? Are you all right?”

  He realized his eyes had filled with tears and that one had run down his cheek. He swiped it away. “For Christ’s sake, get out! Leave me alone!” He tried to turn on his side away from them and cried out when his cut-up leg brushed against the sheets.

  He felt Aiden’s hand on his shoulder, an offer of comfort that he desperately wanted but was afraid of accepting, for fear he’d break apart. He squeezed his eyes closed and bunched his hands into fists under the covers to keep his brothers from seeing how hard he was trembling. He would get through this misfortune on his own. He would do it to prove to himself that he could. He had as much courage as the next man. He’d demonstrated that every time he’d jumped a fire. He would do whatever it took, endure whatever pain there was, to walk again. And he would walk without a cane, or his name wasn’t Brian Flynn.

  WHEN TAYLOR ARRIVED back at Kingdom Come from the hospital, she retreated to her room, closed the door, got into bed, and pulled the covers up over her head, making a dark, warm cocoon. Two hours later she emerged, like a bold and beautiful butterfly, with a plan.

  It turned out that Brian needed to remain in the hospital for up to six weeks while his wound healed. After that, his doctor would schedule as much outpatient rehab as it took, measured in months, to get him back on his feet.

  She planned to be there every step of the way.

  Brian wasn’t a quitter. He possessed loads of courage and perseverance. She felt sure those qualities would get him through this crisis. She just had to convince him to include her in the process.

  All those hours of rehab would give them time to talk, time to catch up on everything they didn’t know about each other, time to see whether the partnership they’d formed in the wilderness in order to survive could thrive in the real world.