Breaking the Rules (40 page)

Eden shook her head.

“Obviously, the procedure didn’t work.” He smiled. “My brothers were all much older than me, and my parents were pretty much done with raising kids when I came along. I’m not complaining—it was an interesting way to grow up. Always sitting with the adults, never really treated like a child. At least not by my parents. My brothers could be pretty brutal, because I was always tagging along. School was optional—depending on whether or not my brother Martin was home. He was my Obi-Wan Kenobi, if you know what I mean.”

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi,”
she said.
“You’re my only hope.”

“Exactly,” Izzy said.

“How many brothers did you have?”

“Four,” he told her. “Martin was the oldest—he was fifteen when I was born; then there’s Nick, who’s a year younger than M., then the twins, the Double D—Dougie and Don. They were two years younger than Nick, twelve years older than me. I was like the weirdest only-child ever, because they all left home and went to college or whatever, and then came back and lived with us at one point or another, sometimes with their wives or girlfriends and/or children in tow. But by then I was, I don’t know, nine? Ten? And suddenly I was kicked out of my room again, and there were infants in the house. Which got old really
fast for my parents, but not for me. It was a good excuse to not go to school.
I’m babysitting.
”

“So you … just didn’t go?” Eden asked.

“Pretty much,” Izzy said. “But it was okay, because I was reading and doing math on a college level when I was seven, so school was really just a place to handle the boredom by getting into massive amounts of trouble. It was probably better for everyone when I didn’t show up. Although I prolly could’ve used the socialization skills—assuming I was capable of learning them. Which I’m not sure I was. Anyway, my point, when I started telling you all this, is because we moved so often—I’m talking at least once if not twice every year. My parents’ passion was to buy old houses—really old antiques—and fix them up and sell them, so it was chaos on all levels, living in a construction zone, always going—or not going—to a new school … So, it’s hard for me to think of any one place as home. I mean, right now I’m still living in that same apartment, but when I’m there? It doesn’t feel like anything special. It’s like it’s just a giant box that holds my shit. It’s where I sleep when I’m in San Diego.”

“I liked your apartment,” she said.

“But it’s not home,” Izzy told her. “I know all these people who are so wrapped up in having things, you know? And they buy a house and they get what they think is perfect furniture and … Jenk—you know Mark Jenkins? He and his wife, Lindsey, are having a baby, and he’s all about moving out of their condo into a house with a yard. The kid’s not going to be hitting a swing set for another few years—she’s only a few months pregnant …” He shook his head. “But the truth is, home’s an illusion. We try to create this place that’s supposed to make us feel happy or safe, when in truth it’s the people who are around us that matter. Where we are has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m safe right now,” Eden said. “When I’m with you, I feel very safe. Can I say that? Am I allowed?”

Izzy smiled at her then as he took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll accept that as a fact. As a Navy SEAL, I tend to make people feel either very secure or extremely insecure.”

“I’m in the first subset,” she told him.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “For the record? I’m personally feeling pretty happy right at this moment, so … Home, sweet home on a bus-stop bench, you know?”

And sitting there with Izzy, in the heat of the Las Vegas night, Eden
did
know. But she didn’t dare tell him so.

Jenn still had a reddish mark on her face where Dan had hit her, and the sight of it made him sick.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this was going to be hard for you,” she said, after Eden and Izzy went out to look for Neesha.

“I won’t blame you,” he said, “if you decide that you … should go.”

She was standing there, with her hair still rumpled from bed, wearing her pajamas, looking at him as if she were truly considering catching the next flight back to New York.

But then she asked, “Which would be harder? Doing what you’re doing here, with Eden and Ben, or learning how to walk and live your life with only one leg?”

Her question caught him completely by surprise, but the answer was obvious. “It definitely would’ve been harder to lose my leg,” he admitted. “Because this would’ve still been happening, only without me here to help. Yeah, right, I’m really helping. But still, I’d’ve been going crazy, plus dealing with losing … Jesus,
everything.
”

“Not everything,” Jenn said quietly. “You know, I came to Germany partly because everyone was saying the doctors were going to have to amputate, and I didn’t want you to have to go through that alone. I wanted to be there. For you. To help you, if I could. And I know I probably wouldn’t have—”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “It would’ve helped. It
did
help. Having you there.” To his complete horror, he started to cry again. “Jenni, Christ, I’m so sorry. I’m—”

“Shhh,” she said, moving into his arms and just holding him. She was so soft and warm and she smelled so good—like everything he’d
ever wanted. Like happiness and laughter and the incredible peacefulness he felt, just lying with her in his arms. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. What if Eden’s right?”

“She’s not.” Jenn was absolute. “She doesn’t know you. Not the way I do.”

“I’m going to go in.” Dan told her what Zanella had suggested. “For counseling. Because, Jesus, that scared me …”

He felt her laugh. “Well, hey, you know me. I’m never going to try to talk anyone out of a little counseling—touchy-feely liberal that I am. But … Don’t go for me, Danny, go for
you
. Go, because what you’re doing here, with your family, is hard. And because everyone needs a little help when things are hard.”

Danny nodded and wiped his eyes as he made himself let her go. “God, you haven’t even met my mother and … Jenn, I really think you should go back to New York.”

“Back to that again, huh?” she said. “I guess I didn’t make my point. Danny, listen to what I’m saying: I was ready to hold your hand as you talked to your doctors about being fitted for a prosthetic leg. I was ready to help learn to care for your stump until it healed. I was
ready
for all of it, as hard as it was going to be. And I was ready for you to try to chase me away.”

And great, now she was crying, and it was getting him going again.

“And I wasn’t going to let you do it. I wasn’t going to be chased,” she said. “And this? Yeah, it’s hard. But it’s not
half
as hard as that. So why would I leave, when I know that you need me?”

Dan kissed her. “I do,” he said. “God, baby, I need you.”

And she kissed him back, and for that moment, with Jenn in his arms, he could almost believe that she was right and that everything was going to be okay.

At least until the next anvil dropped on their heads.

B
en got dressed.
Quietly, even though the other bed in the hospital room wasn’t occupied—probably because, even though the people here were nice, they didn’t want him to get any of his gay on another patient.

Like it might be contagious.

The night nurse—Sherry—had just been in to check both his blood pressure and his blood sugar levels, and he was fine. She’d tiptoed away, and he’d led her to believe that he hadn’t even fully woken up when she’d pricked his finger.

Even though he’d been lying here, waiting for her to do her thing.

Now he moved toward the door, peeking through it and down the hall toward the nurses’ station. There was a woman sitting there—her blond hair was gleaming in the overhead light as she focused all of her attention on the desk in front of her.

The hallway was otherwise empty.

He’d have to crawl past her, silently on his hands and knees, because there was only one way in or out of this ward. It was good that it was set up this way—it kept him safe from any unauthorized visits from Greg or Ivette.

But right now it wasn’t the unauthorized visits he was afraid of.

No, it was the impending
authorized
visit tomorrow morning that
scared the crap out of him. Because what if he did everything he could do, and he still lost the fight? What if he and Danny and Eden called CPS and requested their help, and they turned around and decided that, no, Crossroads
was
a school, and his parents had the right to send him to whatever school they wanted.

He couldn’t go back there. He’d end up like poor Peter Sinclair.

So he crept out of his room and into the hallway while the nurse’s head was still down. And he got onto his hands and knees and crawled.

It was a piece of cake—to sneak past her like that. He’d spent years perfecting his technique, moving silently, invisibly, as he avoided Greg and his mother. He’d entered and exited his house through his bedroom window so often, it felt almost strange walking in through a door.

This wasn’t even half as hard as that, because he knew if he got caught, the nurse wouldn’t hit him.

But he couldn’t get caught, so he held his breath as he moved past the desk and headed toward the elevators—toward the freedom that was just around the corner.

Danny’s cell phone rang in the darkness, and Jenn sat up as he rolled over and grabbed it.

“It’s Zanella,” he said. He punched
TALK
and spoke into the phone. “What’s wrong now?” And apparently something
was
wrong, because he almost immediately added, “Shit!”

Jenn switched on the lamp on the bedside table as Dan swung his legs out of bed and pushed himself painfully to his feet. “Hang on, I’ll look.”

But Jenn was capable of moving much more quickly, and she beat him over to the bedroom door. “Look for what?” she asked, even as she did a quick scan of the living room. It was empty.

“Eden and Izzy went to the hospital to check on Ben, and he’s gone,” Dan said tightly as he followed her out.

“Oh, my God,” she said, turning on the kitchen light. The bathroom was empty, too. “He’s not here.”

“Eden’s ready to go to war with Greg,” Dan reported, “but the nursing staff are swearing up and down and sideways that he didn’t come back to the hospital. They’re checking security tape right now. Izzy thinks Ben might’ve self-released—snuck out.” He took the various locks off the apartment door and opened it, looking out into the courtyard. “He’s definitely not here,” he told Izzy.

“But if he did leave the hospital,” Jenn pointed out, “under his own steam, wouldn’t he come here? It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t. He’s going to need insulin, and it’s here, in the fridge. Does Eden know if he has a key? Was the one Neesha used an extra, or …?”

Danny asked, via Izzy, and came back with, “Eden says there were only two keys to the apartment. The second was hidden down in the courtyard.”

Dan had that key right now. Jenn followed him back into the bedroom, where he searched the pockets of the pants he’d been wearing yesterday as she quickly got dressed and unplugged her cell phone from its charger. When he found the key, she took it from him. “I’ll put this back downstairs,” she said. “In case Ben comes and looks for it while we’re out looking for him.”

“We should start by renting another car,” Dan was already telling Izzy as he nodded at Jenn. “But I agree completely. When we go to Greg’s, we go together. Tell Eden that’s nonnegotiable. Now that we know he’s got a weapon, we have to make sure he doesn’t have it in his possession when we—Yeah, yeah, I’m with you.” He paused. “No, she still hasn’t called me back. Trust me, I would’ve called you right away if Ivette had been in touch.”

Jenn left the door open a crack as she went outside and down the stairs to the courtyard.

The air was hot and still and the night seemed to settle around her like a too-warm blanket. Nothing blew, nothing shifted, nothing moved.

It wasn’t the first ceramic pot beneath which Eden and Ben had hidden their spare key, and it wasn’t the second one, either. It was the one all the way over in the corner, in the shadows. Jenn headed swiftly
toward it, well aware that Danny was going to be impatient. As tired as they both were, he was going to want to be ready to head out, to go looking for Ben as soon as Izzy and Eden came back from the hospital.

She had to dash back upstairs and wash her face and find a ponytail holder and maybe her baseball cap. She should go through Eden’s kitchen cabinets and refrigerator, too, looking for something for Danny to eat. To properly heal, he needed plenty of both rest and protein, and right now he was getting neither.

She also wanted to search the cabinets to see if Eden had one of those padded cooler bags, so they could bring some of Ben’s insulin in the car. From what she understood, strenuous physical activity—like hiking home from the hospital in this heat—would screw up Ben’s usual schedule when it came to his insulin levels. And as for the added stress?

Kids with diabetes did best, Jenn had read, when their lives were free from intense stress of any kind.

She lifted the pot and slipped the key beneath and turned to go back to the elevators when—dear God!—there was someone, a man, standing right there in the shadows, blocking her path.

She jumped back and squeaked and had her cell phone open and about to dial for help with one hand, the other drawn back, about to swing and defend herself when the man said, “Jenn?” and she realized it wasn’t a man, it was Ben.

It was
Ben
, and instead of dialing 9-1-1, she quickly dialed Eden’s cell number, because Izzy was probably still on with Dan. “Thank God,” she told him. “We were just about to launch a citywide hunt for you, starting by kicking down Greg’s front door. Do you have
any
idea how worried we were about you …?”

On the other end of the phone, Eden picked up. “Jenn?”

“We found him,” Jenn told her as she reclaimed the key and pulled Ben with her into the better lit part of the courtyard. “Or rather he found us. Ben’s here, he’s safe.”