No Broken Bond Page 15

  “I understand that.” Yep. Every time. “So let’s compromise.”

  “I already suggested one of those.”

  “Yours wasn’t acceptable.” I kissed her again, simply because I couldn’t resist. That fucking pout. “We will wait until they bring him up to the neuro ICU—and if we can visit with him quickly, we will. After that, we’re going home for some rest. Deal?”

  Her irresistible pout turned into her irresistible smile. “Deal.”

  She wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my chest. I exhaled into her hair, wishing we were at home.

  At home—with Fletch.

  Damn. I wished it more than anything in the world.

  Finally, I broke our embrace. Gently, I tilted her chin up. “I’m going to go tell Dick and Frannie we’d like to see him ASAP, then we’re heading out. If they know our plan, they’ll likely be more amenable to us seeing him.”

  “Good thinking,” she murmured.

  “Do you want to go find the girls?”

  “Yeah.” She reached for the ceiling, stretching the muscles in her lower back. “I’d better see what’s going on with Taylor. I’ve never seen her act like that. Okay, maybe I have, but that was some crazy sass, even for her.”

  I twisted a sardonic smirk. “I’m weirdly gratified to hear that.”

  “Well, I’m just confused. Did those two have serious sparks, or was that just my imagination?”

  “Wasn’t your imagination,” I affirmed. “But knowing Killian, he’s already torn after Mac and threatened him within an inch of his life if he jumps on any part of that.”

  She nodded. “The only thing weirder than the energy with Mac and Taylor is the energy with Mac and Killian.”

  “Go find her.” I bussed the tip of her nose in encouragement. “She probably could use her friends. And you could, too.”

  “I love you.” She wrapped one more hug around my waist, ensuring my liver and kidneys were mashed into a casserole from the pressure, before she walked out of the door. I kept meaning to ask her if she’d gotten the Spidey connection back with Fletch, but I didn’t want to bring it up if the answer was no.

  Fate had given me all the challenges I could handle at the moment. I couldn’t bear her heartbreak, too.

  Chapter Seven

  Fletcher

  “Baby…don’t cry.”

  Why won’t she look at me?

  “Tolly, don’t cry. Please, you’re breaking my heart. Baby?”

  I don’t understand why she won’t look at me. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her sniffles are interjected by occasional hiccups. I need to comfort her. Christ, I need to hold her. It feels like forever since she was in my arms…when I’d wrapped myself around her in the shadows of the night, and had fallen asleep breathing against her skin…

  What happened after that?

  Why can’t I remember?

  But more importantly…why won’t she look when I call her name?

  “Natalia.”

  It works for Drake, but not for me. Why? Why?

  “Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave us. You have to fight, Fletcher.”

  Her voice…it breaks me. This grief…I’ve never heard it from her before.

  “I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you—ever. Why are you saying this? What’s wrong, love? Please tell me so I can fix it. Just let me hold you.”

  But when I try to lift my arms, something holds me down. What the hell? What’s wrong?

  My arms aren’t working the way they should. I try again…

  Nothing.

  She doesn’t look at my face. She’s fascinated with my hand, clutching it like a lifeline. But I can’t feel her tentative, almost cautious, fingers.

  “I was so scared. I was so scared this morning when you left for work without saying goodbye to me and Drake. You never do that. Damn it, why did you do that, Fletcher?”

  Something is so off with this whole scene. I can hear her voice, anguish and sorrow gutting me as I process each word, but I have no idea what she’s talking about. She’s not making sense.

  “Talia, please. Oh, baby, please stop. I’m so confused. You need to tell me what has you this upset.”

  She grips my hand harder. I can see the strain in her forearm. But I still don’t feel her warm skin on mine. Is this a dream? But it feels so real. Her agony is so damn real. She eviscerates me where I stand.

  But I’m not standing.

  I don’t feel the floor beneath my feet.

  I’m…prone. Lying next to her, but not next to her. She’s hunched in on herself, over my hand, clutching as if I’ll float away if she lets go.

  “I need you. I love you more than anything, Fletcher. I need you to come back, wake up and tell me you will never do something like this again.”

  A liquid laugh breaks through.

  “Drake says he’s going to kill you. I’d like to see him try. You’re a force of nature, Fletcher Ford. You’re our force of nature. And Mac says you’ll be okay, but you have to fight. Do it, Fletcher…please. Fight your way back to us. Fight for us.”

  I will. I will. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  Who’s Mac?

  She doesn’t answer. She fades away.

  Come back. Come back!

  The scream blasts through my head, but nowhere else.

  Tired. I’m so tired all the time. I hear people near me again, in and out, but none of the voices draw me out from the fog like Talia’s and Drake’s. I need them. I need them…

  This time it’s him. My best friend. My brother. The only other man on Earth I’d willingly give my life for. I remember the day we met. He’d walked into the aquatic center at the club like he owned the place. Dark hair. So thick. I’d wondered aloud if it would shed water like the feathers on a duck’s ass. Gained him a similar nickname for years.

  “Dude, this shit has to end. You need to stop being a lazy slob and wake the fuck up.”

  Thanks, Mr. Eloquent. I love you, too. But what the hell was with everyone telling me to wake up? Can you tell me something better, like where Tolly went?

  For the most part, I don’t feel like I’m sleeping. It’s more like…quicksand. And it’s kind of nice. It’s easier to drift off, slowly settling into the muck, than focus on his voice. No. His nagging. But the asshole has other plans, apparently.

  “Talia needs you, damn it. She needs us, together, like we promised. You do remember that, don’t you? How we swore to take care of her?”

  What do you think? Stop looking at me like I’m in a coma. Of course, I remember. I’ll never forget.

  “Now you’re falling down on the job, dude. Come back to us, God damn you. Wake up, Fletcher. Look at me!”

  And your duck butt hair? Bring Tolly in and I may think about it.

  “I know you can hear me, you big fuck. And you need a haircut. Honestly, I had to stop the nurses from braiding it for you the other day.”

  Nurses? I don’t know any nurses. I don’t think I do. Are those the voices I block out, when I’m sinking deeper? They’re annoying. They say a lot of stuff I don’t understand, so I drift off to sleep when I hear them. Easier that way.

  Talia.

  Yesssss.

  She’s back. I smell her jasmine shampoo, her lavender soap, her incredible skin. God, I want to touch her. I miss that skin so much. Smooth as peaches, entrancing as apricots. So sweet.

  With a huge effort, I focus on her voice. This is worth the effort.

  “Remember when the three of us spent the day in Old Town? You loved that Wyatt Earp used to hang there. Drake bought that stupid parrot hat. We ordered that gallon-sized margarita and drank it from three straws. You remember? Look at the pictures I saved from that day, baby. Open your eyes and look at them, Fletcher. Open your eyes and look at my phone. Remember with me, laugh with me. Please, baby…oh, please let me see your beautiful blue eyes again. I miss you so much. And Drake, too…we don’t know how to live without you. The condo is a mausoleum right now. We miss yo
ur smart-mouth comments and I miss being in your arms. Wake up for me…please. Try. Try.”

  Tolly. Damn it. Stop crying. I’ll try. I’m trying…

  What the hell am I trying?

  I’m still so confused.

  “Baby, come back to me!”

  But I’m right here. Damn it, Talia.

  “I miss you. I miss feeling you in my head. If you just wake up, I know you’ll be there again. Please come back…”

  I haven’t gone anywhere. Baby, I’m right here.

  I’m…

  Right…

  Here…

  But I’m not. I sink again. It’s too much…all her tears. Her sadness, somehow because of me…

  Why?

  The next time I come to the surface, she’s gone. Mom sits here instead. She’s quiet. An occasional sigh, a dab to the corner of her eye with a starched white handkerchief. She holds my hand. Strokes the skin on the back of my knuckles. But still, not a word. I’m fascinated. The woman never shows emotion, but here she sits.

  Crying.

  For me.

  “I know you’re cross with me, with us, right now.”

  ‘Cross’. Oh, Mom. I think you’re the only person alive still using that word. Just saying.

  “But you need to set all that aside and come back to us, Fletcher Frances. Darling, come home. We’ve set up the best care possible for you to recover at home with us. But you need to wake up first. We can’t take you home if you don’t wake up. Once you do, everything will be better, I promise.”

  I almost laugh out loud. I want to. Fuck, how I want to.

  I have a home, Francine—and it’s not with you.

  Vehemently, I pull my hand away from hers. Her startled face tells me I may have actually done what I wanted this time.

  “Oh, my God. Fletcher? Fletcher! Can you hear me? Open your eyes now. Look at me!”

  “Nurse? Nurse? Get in here. Hurry. He moved. He moved. Get Dr. Stone at once.”

  Well, shit.

  Killian has these fools convinced he’s a doctor? Now I’ve heard it all. A new laugh bubbles up my throat and turns into fire instead. Scratchy dry fire.

  “Oh, my God. You’re awake. Finally!”

  She beams at me with—what? What’s she feeling? Pride? Now I know where I’m at. The fucking Twilight Zone.

  “Well, look at you, son. My son. I knew you’d hear me. You want to leave here as much as we want you home. Thank you, Jesus.”

  She looks to the heavens, hands clasped in front of her chin. So fucking ridiculous. She used to say she was agnostic.

  “Our prayers have been answered!”

  She leans in and mauls me in a hug. Her perfume smells like cinnamon that’s steeped for too long. I can’t move. I just watch with cloudy eyes. Despite the clouds, the light in the room is blinding. It hurts. Bad.

  Mom straightens again, thank fuck, beaming like she just singlehandedly cured cancer.

  “I knew you’d come back to me!”

  The quicksand rises over my consciousness once more. Pulling so hard, not to be denied. I fight it with everything I have, because Francine needs—needs—to be told who I really climbed this high for.

  “Tal-talia. Draa-aake.”

  Her jaw hits the floor—nearly literally. It’s priceless.

  And worth it.

  I let the quicksand take me again. Now, that I know I can beat it, I’ll save my energy for the only two people I want to talk to.

  Chapter Eight

  Talia

  The condo wasn’t the same without Fletcher. He breathed a certain life into every crevice of the place, proved with crystal clarity over the week since the accident. Right now, it was a house, not a home. Without him, it was just living space.

  Taylor and Claire stopped by every morning to bring me a breakfast sandwich and a huge cup of coffee, though I repeatedly told them we had food and I was capable of taking care of myself and Drake.

  In one ear and out the other.

  The doorman called up right at eight-thirty, announcing their daily arrival. When I opened the door, they were mid-stream in an intense debate.

  “They did what?” Taylor accused over her shoulder before kissing my cheek, then cutting right off the foyer, toward the kitchen.

  “I’m serious!” Claire exclaimed while waddling past me, as well. “That’s what Kil said.”

  “But that’s ridiculous.”

  “Didn’t say it made sense.”

  “What adults behave that way?” Taylor hiked her eyebrows toward her hairline as she slid into a seat at the counter, on the dining room side.

  Before Claire claimed a chair as well, she patted Taylor’s hand, maternal vibe in full swing. “Ohhhh, you really have been living under a rock, sweetie, haven’t you?”

  “What on Earth has you two hens ruffled so early in the morning?” I asked incredulously—though tacked on a smile. To be honest, it was nice to have a distraction from my own worries, if only for a few minutes.

  Claire laughed while pulling the drinks and sandwiches out of the cardboard carrier. “Well, I’m trying to explain to our sweet southern belle how the Stone family dynamic works, dysfunctional parts included.” She finished with a mock-pitiful glance in Taylor’s direction.

  “Ohhhh, boy.” I seconded her chuckle. “Good luck with that. I’m not sure I still understand it all.” I popped the lid off my coffee and took a big whiff of the steam. Heaven.

  “It’s definitely a tangled web.” Claire grimaced, the high chair obviously disagreeing with her and the baby, prompting her to plop down onto the sofa instead.

  “Have you heard from the hospital this morning?” Taylor gave me a hopeful glance.

  “No—which I’m taking as a good sign.” I blew on the hot liquid, cradling the cardboard cup with both hands. It was already a warm day in the Windy City, but I’d had a chill since climbing out of bed this morning. Who was I kidding? I’d had a chill since last week. Half the sunlight of my world was still trapped in a bed at Chicago Memorial. “I was just about to call but was waiting until after the shift change. The nurses are so busy right after they come on.”

  “Ah.” Taylor took a hungry bite of her sandwich. “Good thinking,” she remarked after chewing.

  As she ate a second bite, I set the cup down and eyed her with determination. “Have you heard from the hospital, or rather someone who works at the hospital, this morning?” Maybe a little sisterly teasing would get Taylor to open up about ‘the throwdown that would not be forgotten’ in the waiting room with Mac last week—and the unmistakable friction every time she’d crossed paths with Dr. Hotpants since.

  A sheepish look flashed across her face. Two seconds and it was gone, as she dove back at the sandwich with a defensive blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, nice try.” I smiled so she would know the ribbing was in good spirit.

  “Well,” she huffed, “if you mean that Neanderthal surgeon who saved your man’s life…why the hell would he call me?”

  “Oh, Taylor.” Claire tossed her head back on a playful groan. “Ohhh, Tay, Tay, honey.”

  “It’s all right, sugar.” I assumed the hand-patting duties—except this time, Taylor yanked back like I’d branded instead of consoled her.

  “Cut it out,” she snapped. “All that’s missing from you guys is a ‘bless your heart’.”

  “Easy, missie.” Claire pushed off the couch and hurried back over, engulfing Taylor from behind at a slant due to her adorable bump. “We’re teasing. Someone’s a little touchy, hmmm?”

  I winked my approval at Claire. As Killian had so astutely pointed out, she’d definitely borrowed some lady balls from Margaux lately. I couldn’t believe I actually missed that woman, but it was true. Falling in love with Michael had been the magic spell for her, revealing a woman of heart and passion beneath her bitch-on-wheels act.

  “Still teasing?” Taylor leaned out and cocked her head to the side, side-eyeing Claire as if to s
ay ‘bring it on’.

  “Okay, ladies, please.” I held up one hand, touching middle finger to thumb in the universal Zen position. “Give peace a chance. I already have enough on my plate so refereeing two of my best friends is not the greatest way to align my morning chakra.” As they gawked at each other then me, I shrugged. I had to step in before they were wrestling on the floor like Drake and Fletcher. “Don’t make me call Margaux, because I will.”

  Claire sucked in so forcibly she choked a little. “You wouldn’t.”

  She leaned an elbow on the counter. “Can we back things up to the real point?” She leveled a new scrutiny at Taylor. “You honestly can’t tell me you didn’t feel the spark between you and Killian’s cousin?”

  “Spark? Ha!” That was like calling the Grand Canyon a little hole in the ground.

  Claire quelled me with a glance. “Everyone else in the room sure recognized it.”

  “Well, then, you’re all a bunch of crazy fools.” Grimacing as if her stomach hurt, Taylor wrapped up the rest of her breakfast, dumped it into the bag, then rolled the top down to seal it shut. “That man holds no interest to me. None. Whatsoever.”

  I ducked my head. Sometimes the only way to mask a face-splitting smirk was with a chug of coffee. Didn’t stop me from muttering, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

  Claire and I giggled in unison but Taylor found no humor in my Shakespearean foray. “Taylor,” I chided. “You know I’m just joking. Fix your face, girlfriend—but do know this. The ju-ju with you and Dr. Clown was seriously palpable.”

  When Taylor flung her glower from me to Claire, our little preggo nodded sagely. “You two could’ve been the emergency power generator for the whole wing.”

  “And you can’t be angry with us for wanting something good for you.”

  Taylor whacked a hand atop her leftovers bag. “What makes you think I don’t have ‘good’ right now? Sheez, you guys. I’m happy and busy—”