Breaking the Rules (30 page)

“Dan picked it up,” Eden said as she unfastened it and handed it back to him. “He, um, gave it to me with a disapproving glare before he and Jenn left.”

Izzy met her eyes. “Awkward,” he said in a singsongy voice, which made her laugh, despite her embarrassment. “Although, to be fair, sweetheart, we
are
married. He’s the one who’s carrying on outside the bonds of holy matrimony. A million-to-one odds says that fireworks
and
rainbows are exploding over your apartment complex right about …” He glanced at his watch. “Now. That Jennilyn LeMay is no idiot. She negotiated their alone time like a pro—and not because she and Dan wanted the privacy to sing Michael Jackson’s greatest hits.”

Eden laughed and let the struggles and problems of the day fall away from her. And yet, at the same time, she suddenly, desperately wanted to cry. Izzy was being Izzy, but he still wasn’t quite the same Izzy that he’d been last summer, when he’d married her. Now there was an edge to him, as if he didn’t give a crap about anything but getting with her again. And again. And
again
.

Although, really, what did she expect?

“Plus, think about it,” Izzy continued. “Do you really think Danny-Danny-bo-banny could snag a woman as classy as Jenn, based purely on his witty charm and sunny personality?” He answered his own question. “Not a chance. Girlfriend’s hooked up with him to get some of that first-class Gillman boo-tay.”

Jenn wasn’t the only one.

And he echoed Eden’s very thought by leaning close and lowering his voice. “I, too, am fond of fireworks and rainbows. I’m thinking we can have that dinner, bring Ben home, get him set up with some popcorn in front of the TV, and then? After it’s nice and dark? Find a reason to run that errand, maybe go in search of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. Fill a fictional prescription or pick up some of that shampoo that you just ran out of that you absolutely must have …?”

“Not fictional,” Eden said, loving the feel of his body next to hers. He was so solid, she just wanted to lean against him and lose herself in his arms. “The prescription. Ben needs to get more glucagon. He used some recently and … Kids with diabetes use it when they have a sudden severe low—low blood sugar. It’s kind of like the opposite of insulin. He’s supposed to have two doses on hand at all times, and we
should
get that refilled, so …”

“Two is one and one is none,” Izzy murmured. “It’s a Navy SEAL philosophy.”

“A Navy SEAL and a gay, diabetic kid,” she said. “Who knew you’d have so much in common.”

“You know, one of the guys in our team is,” Izzy said. “Gay. Not diabetic. You can’t be a SEAL if you’re diabetic. But you can if you’re gay.”

“Seriously?” Eden asked.

He nodded. “Don’t ask, don’t tell—so I’m not going to tell you his name, but … Yeah.”

“And … Danny knows?”

Izzy nodded again, his eyes on her mouth, like he was thinking about kissing her.

Eden moistened her lips—she couldn’t help herself. But she
wasn’t ready for this conversation to be over, so she leaned back a little. Just a little. “Do you think that’s why he’s so okay about Ben? Because he knows this other guy who’s …?”

“I do,” Izzy said.

“I was a little worried,” she confessed, “that Danny was going to side with Greg, and then I’d have to fight them both. If I could’ve, I would’ve just taken Ben and disappeared. But you can’t go off the grid with a kid who needs insulin shots.”

“I’m really glad you didn’t,” Izzy said, using one finger to push her hair behind her ear. It was the slightest of touches and yet it sent a clear message that was echoed in the heat in his eyes.

Ben’s glucagon prescription wasn’t the only thing that was going to be filled tonight. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

“Fireworks and rainbows,” Eden said, wanting him to laugh, “and marching bands. Personally, I like it when there’s a marching band.”

And he did laugh at that, his smile softening his face, but in no way eliminating the heat in his eyes. If anything, his eyes grew hotter.

He shifted even closer so that their thighs touched, so that her breasts brushed his chest, and God, she wanted to run out to the drugstore right then and there. “I can deliver a marching band,” he promised her. “
And … 
? A tiny car filled with clowns.”

Now she was the one who was laughing. “I think that’s probably more scary than romantic. I mean, in the cosmic scheme of things.”

“Hmm,” he said. “So you think marching bands are romantic. Interesting.”

“
Romantic
’s the wrong word,” she said. “Maybe … 
passionate
. Marching bands are like fireworks—passionate and … Well, not at all subtle.”

“Passionate and not at all subtle can be delivered at a moment’s notice,” he murmured, pulling her face up to finally give her that kiss.

And oh, Lord, he was, absolutely, delivering passionate and not at all subtle, and it was impossible not to melt against him, to all but beg him to devour her, her hands in his hair, her body tight against him.

“And why am I not surprised, missy,” a reedy and all too familiar
voice interrupted, “to find you behaving wantonly in a public corridor.”

Eden pulled away even as Izzy let her go and there he was.

Greg.

Her mother’s latest husband—Eden was loath to call him her stepfather—was coming down the hall with the nurse who’d gone to get Ben’s discharge papers.

His face was pinched from the effort of walking farther than from the couch to the kitchen, and his limp was pronounced. Which could well have been an act, because in the years that Eden had lived with him, he’d frequently played the pity card while out in public.

But there was a big difference between making people feel sorry and making them feel repulsed—and he was definitely in danger of the second. And not just to Eden.

He’d combed his greasy hair for the occasion, but he’d missed a spot that was still tangled. His fly was thankfully zipped, but his pants were less than clean, with a big stain on his left thigh and a slight tear in the knee. He was wearing a navy-blue windbreaker that seemed oddly out of place in the evening heat. Eden knew it was to cover his shirt—he’d probably spilled something on it, on the drive over. He kept the jacket in his car for that very purpose.

“It’s Mrs. Zanella now, not
missy.
” Izzy didn’t hesitate. He stepped protectively in front of Eden. “And you’re not welcome here.”

“I’m the boy’s father,” Greg said.

“No, you’re not.” Eden said it in near-perfect unison with Izzy.

“Yes, actually,” Greg said. “I am. I adopted him after your mother and I were married. When we found out she was no longer able to have another child, which was disappointing, but … It was clearly God’s will.”

Dear Lord, wouldn’t
that
have been awful? A toddler living in
that
house. Eden didn’t want even to think about it.

“God moves in mysterious ways,” Greg continued sanctimoniously. “He made Benjamin my son for a reason. He wants me in his life.”

“Your wife—Ben’s mother,” Izzy said far more quietly and evenly than Eden would have managed, “gave him permission to live with his brother, Dan, in San Diego.”

“But not with her,” Greg said with a dismissive glance at Eden.

“Eden is Ben’s sister,” Izzy said, and there was hard steel hiding beneath his still fairly easygoing tone as he put his arm around her, his hand warm at her waist. “She’s also my wife. You should keep that in mind, in case you’re thinking about insulting her.”

Izzy smiled at Greg, and even though it touched his eyes, it was different from his usual grin. And Eden remembered him smiling like that last July, while they were in serious danger, under siege from an army of men who’d kidnapped her and wanted to kill them both. She didn’t remember much about that night because she’d gone into premature labor and had lost a lot of blood. Most of it was a blur of pain and fear.

But she did remember Izzy and his promises.
Everything’s going to be all right …

And she remembered his smile.

The nurse who was with Greg shifted—obviously uncertain and wondering if she should hand the discharge papers to Greg or to Eden.

Eden took the decision—and the papers—out of the woman’s hands. “Ben’s coming with us. We’re going to take him to Danny, who isn’t here right now only because he was recently injured in Afghanistan—surviving a near-death incident, much to your disappointment, I’m sure.” She felt Izzy caution her, his hand tightening on her arm.

“I don’t care if you’re going to take him to live in the White House, or with the man in the moon,” Greg shot back, letting his voice get louder. “He’s
my
son, and I will not just give him away! Not until he’s cured of his illness.”

“Cured …?” Eden started.

“Okay,” Izzy said, stepping between them again. “Hold on …”

But her argument with Greg had woken Ben, who called for her
from his hospital room. “Eden …?” His voice broke with his anxiety and he sounded like the frightened child he’d once been.

“I’m right here, Boo-Boo,” Eden reassured him, rushing toward his room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But Greg spoke over her. “Get dressed and gather up your things, boy,” he ordered as he followed her into Ben’s room. “I’m taking you home.”

Ben was horrified when he realized that he was right—he
had
heard his stepfather’s voice. He was sitting up in bed, his blanket clutched to his skinny chest as he looked from Eden to Greg to Izzy and the nurse, who had followed them in.

Eden gave him her best Izzy smile and reassured him. “I’m not letting him take you anywhere.” She spun to stop Greg, getting right in his face even though his breath was awful. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s easy enough to arrange,” Greg said.

And Izzy took him down.

One minute she and Greg were standing there, nose-to-nose, and the next, Izzy had pushed her back, out of the way. She bumped into Ben’s bed with the backs of her legs as Izzy and Greg hit the floor. And she realized that Greg had reached into the pocket of his windbreaker, where, for all they knew, he could well have been packing his handgun.

Then Greg was howling, with his face against the tile, Izzy’s big knee jammed into the middle of his back, his right arm twisted up behind him as the SEAL searched him for a weapon.

And came up empty-handed.

The nurse had already dashed away, no doubt to call for security, as Greg continued to scream, “You broke my arm! You broke my arm!”

Izzy looked up at Eden, absolutely no apology in his eyes. “I wasn’t willing to wait and see if he was carrying,” he said. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, but … The shit’s about to hit the fan.” He aimed his next words to Greg. “It’s not broken, asshole. Believe me, if it was broken, you’d know it.” He then included Ben in what he was saying, raising
his voice so they could hear him over Greg’s noise. “You both need to keep a clear head, stay cool, okay? Whoever’s coming might get rough with me, but that’s okay.”

“It is
not—
” Eden started.

Izzy cut her off. “Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m a kind of large guy and that’s going to scare the guards, so they’re going to get loud when they see me. But they’re not going to hurt me, I don’t bruise easily, and it
is
going to be okay. Nod your head—it’s okay. Ben, you too. Come on, help me out here.”

Eden nodded jerkily, and she turned to see Ben nod, too.

“Excellent. Eden, call your brother and Jenn,” Izzy continued. “We could use them down here—understatement. And Ben? Look at me, bro. This
is
going to be okay. Seriously. No one’s going to make you go home with numbnuts here.” He looked down at Greg. “Last chance, asshole. If I let you up, will you walk away? Let Ben go to San Diego with—”

Whatever Greg said as he continued to sob, it clearly wasn’t what Izzy’d hoped to hear, because he shook his head with regret. “Okay then,” Izzy said as he looked back at Ben. “You’ve got the power, kid. You listening to me?”

Ben nodded again.

“The nurse is going to come back in here,” Izzy told Ben, “and you need to pull her aside and say this:
Ask me if I feel safe with Greg
. And when she does, you answer her honestly—you got that?”

But Ben didn’t get a chance to respond, because time was up.

And sure enough, two security guards came into the room, and when they saw Izzy, with Greg still pinned beneath him, they got loud, just as he’d said they would.

Izzy was calm and he just kept talking in that even, unruffled voice, now to the guards. “My name is Irving Zanella, I’m an active-duty Navy SEAL, just back from Afghanistan, and I am on your side. This is my father-in-law, who threatened my wife and her brother with a loaded handgun just yesterday. When he reached into his pocket as he was threatening my wife here today? I wasn’t going to wait to see if
he was stupid enough to carry concealed in a hospital. Turns out he’s not. His arm is
not
broken, regardless of what he’s saying …”

Despite all the shouting and noise, in the middle of all of the chaos, Izzy looked over at Eden and smiled.

And she was pretty certain that, before the guards led both men out of Ben’s room, she heard Izzy humming a bar or two of the song that went
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue
—a tune that was most frequently performed by marching bands.

The police officer was hot. He was young, and he had dark hair that he wore longer than Ben would have expected from an officer who used that much starch in his uniform. But maybe his hair just grew really quickly and he hadn’t had time to get it cut.

He had a baby face that made him look a little bit like he’d dressed up as a cop for Halloween, and he sighed as Ben finished telling his story for a second time.

“Lemme see your arms again,” he said, and Ben obediently held out his hands, palms up.

His wrists were bruised and sore, the skin red and scraped from being cuffed to the cot by the plastic restraints all night. His shoulders were sore, too. But there wasn’t any visible proof of that.

The nurse—her name was Betsy—who hadn’t left his side since he’d asked her for protection from his stepfather, made an anguished noise low in her throat. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that when you were admitted,” she said.