Controlled Burn (Scarred Hearts) (9 page)

“You’re not the only one without an immunity to rejection.” Lexi smacked the arm of the chair and stood. When she’d reached the door, she turned back. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready to talk to him about going home.”

He should have realized she’d catch the way the woman looked away from him and his stumble. It was a reaction she’d be no stranger to given her job, yet he didn’t like that she could see into him so easily.

To be completely honest, there wasn’t much about his current situation he did like. Going home might not even be powerful enough to change that.

It was what he wanted. He’d worked hard for it, but now that he’d been deemed ready to see the doctor, it was scary. Going home meant thinking about what came next. Did he try to find a job where he could work from home? Did he try to recover some of the clients he’d lost after the fire? Did he do something completely different that would in no way remind him of the business that had cost his sister her life?

He hated it, but he couldn’t stop feeling defeated.

Chapter Nine

The defeated feeling lingered even after Dr. Hyatt stated his satisfaction with Logan’s progress. It remained, constant and taunting, in his mind. It sat, heavy and ominous, in his heart. It was still delivering its best gut kicks when he was handed signed discharge papers with another amazing breakfast from Delancey.

Nothing was enough to improve his mood, because every moment carried him closer to the moment he was out of time and had no choice but to face his world without Ashley.

A knock on the door sounded a moment before the door opened and Delancey entered with a smile gracing her pink lips. Her eyes were dark, like she hadn’t gotten much sleep on shift, but her mood was bright. “I hear you’re getting sprung.”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“You’ll finally be in your own space without constant interruptions. You’ll be able to sleep in your own bed and sit in that recliner that looked so comfortable in front of the big screen. Your doctor visits will be in the doc’s office instead of the burn unit.”

The darkness that had struck him on his walk with Lexi lifted and he suddenly saw some good in going home. And just as fast Delancey made him second-guess his decision to end their bargain.

“Do you feel sorry for me?” he asked. “Is that why you’re doing these things?”

While the door closed with a slow whoosh she walked over, sat beside him and met his gaze. She was being serious, like she was when she was getting ready to kick his ass for whining about therapy. He swallowed, hating to disappoint her.

“Sorry as in pity? No. Sorry as in I wish no one ever had to experience an eighth of what you have? Yes.”

“Sounds like pity to me.”

“I know. I also know hearing it called something else doesn’t make it better.”

“A lot of people face what we’ve faced. You’ll meet a lot of them as a firefighter, so why me? Why send me food, come to visit, help guide my therapy, go to my house for clothes?” Why was he even asking when he’d convinced himself he needed to keep some distance between them?

“One, I never said I was the one sending you food.”

“Sure you’re not. Two?”

“Why you? Because I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you and the more time I spend with you the more you become a fixed point in my world.”

“Sounds like an obsession.”

“That would be an easy explanation.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to matter since I’m here.”

“I don’t want charity, Delancey.”

“Needing help doesn’t make you charity.” She reached into her bag and pulled out some shoes. “So you don’t have to walk out with only socks.”

“It just makes me weak.”

“No. We all need help at one time or another. We aren’t all lucky enough to get it.”

“So you’re my good luck charm?”

She laughed a bright and cheerful laugh that lightened his spirits. He loved and hated the sensation at the same time. “I’ve never been anyone’s good luck charm. I’m not sure I like it.”

“I’ve never been lucky.”

“Then let’s go with this: we have a bargain that I will help with your recovery. Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean you’re recovered. Let me be your friend, Logan. Don’t try to do this alone.”

“Friends?”

“Would it be so terrible?”

“No.” Having a friend sounded good. He just wasn’t sure they could leave it at friendship. “A friend would be nice.” And a novelty since Ashley had been his only real friend ever. The revelation, shocking in its might, bounced excitedly around his brain.

“I can drive you home, or anywhere else you’d rather go.”

“A ride would be great.” He’d planned on asking for distance, but had instead agreed to being friends. Maybe it was the better deal.

* * * * *

Delancey had parked in the hospital’s back lot with the hope that Logan would allow her to drive him. If he agreed to her offer she didn’t want him exposed to Mother, who was on duty in the front lobby. Delancey worried about Logan’s ability to handle any glances or questions tossed his way, but more immediately she saw no reason to have them come so soon or from one as well-versed in judgments. Since Mother never used or looked toward the back entrance, because back entrances were for the staff, it was the perfect solution.

“How about a wheelchair on the way down?”

“If I can’t walk I may as well stay.”

“Walking to the nurse’s station and back isn’t the same as making it all the way downstairs and outside.”

“I walk, or I stay.”

He didn’t want to hear he might be taking on too much too soon, so she shushed the therapist who lectured patients when necessary. With a nod and slight bow she gestured toward the door. “I’m at your service, but you lean against me or a wall when we’re not moving. Your muscles will betray you faster than you want to think.”

“You sound more like a mother than a friend.” His lips twitched with humor he quickly wiped off his face. “And don’t bother offering me a hand to hold.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Unless he needed one. Of course, if he needed it she was ready and prepared to carry him. She doubted it would reach that point though. His pride would see to that.

In the hall, he turned toward the main bank of elevators.

“This way. I’m parked out back.” She touched his hand to direct him toward the less public exit.

The touch bolted through her with heat that singed a path to her elbow. Every time they touched it was the same, and every time it made her want to be more than friends.

Logan turned with her, saying nothing about the direction or whatever he might be thinking. If he’d felt the same connection—and she really thought he did—he gave no indication.

In the elevator, she pressed the button for the lobby level and kept an eye on Logan. He leaned against the wall, wincing only lightly. There would come a time when his wince was more out of habit than actual pain until he realized he felt normal and pain-free.

For herself, that time hadn’t been all that long ago. What was harder to shake than thinking she still hurt was the heat from their touch. It lingered, turning slowly into an encompassing warmth.

She couldn’t help but want to lean in and find another reason to touch him. She’d been unaffected by men for so long. That Logan was the first man to impact her, that he’d accept any supportive touch and reject a more personal one, had her holding herself back.

The elevator stopped a couple floors above the lobby. Outside the opening doors, Mother turned. Her eyes skated over Delancey. She drew back the slightest bit. So much for avoiding Mother’s judgment.

“Delancey, today is your day off. What are you doing here?”

“Visiting a friend,” she answered with the slightest lean toward Logan and went on the automatic defensive. “What are
you
doing in
this
elevator?”

Mother, typically the queen of manners, seemed to notice Logan for the first time. She recoiled at the sight of him. Delancey wasn’t sure if it pissed her off more that Mother hadn’t noticed him immediately or that she’d recoiled. All she knew for certain was that disappointment never dulled when the expectation of Mother’s bad behavior was predictably met.

“Working. Are you now too good to come say hi to your mother?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Delancey answered as coldly as her mother had spoken.

Mother clasped her hands before her and stood as far from Logan as possible. “No friend is more important than visiting your mother. Or even going so far as to use the servant’s elevator in an attempt to avoid me.”

Delancey seethed as she moved closer to Logan. She employed the blank tone she’d practiced for years. It irritated her mother, but it kept them out of a fight. Now, more than ever, Delancey needed to avoid a fight with Mother. “Some friends are.”

“Delancey, when are you going to drop this nonsense and accept your responsibilities?” Haughty fit Mother better than her thousand-dollar outfits. An elevator ride would never be long enough to address all the directions that statement could take them.

Seeing they were only a floor away from the lobby, Delancey debated her options. The fastest way to shut her mother up would be to introduce Logan as the friend she was there for. That was also the fastest way to blatantly expose him to the revulsion he would see on many prejudice faces to come.

It wasn’t quite like saving a life, but she took the hit for him and went instead for a bigger shock. “Never.”

“Excuse me?”

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival. Delancey stared directly at her mother. “You can berate me over my failings as your daughter later. For now, I have someplace important to be.”

Expectations again proved predictable. With a huff of disgust, Mother tilted her bent-out-of-shape nose into the air and glided away with all the airs of an angry queen.

Delancey fisted her hands, focusing on the bite of her nails in her palms, and blew out a concentrated breath. Arguing with Mother, even briefly, exhausted her.

“So you’re rich?” Logan asked when her mother was out of sight and they were walking down the hall toward the parking lot.

“Only if I do as Mother wishes and marry a properly chosen man.”

“Your failing is being single?”

“Being single, not living for volunteer work and social acceptance, being a servant to the masses rather than the perfect husband.”
Not judging every person by their looks or job.
“I could keep on with the list if you like.”

He shook his head. “Which one of your failings kept you from saying I was the friend?”

“Oh, that would be that I’m human and have the capacity to care for others. In this case you.”

“You shouldn’t care for others?”

“Only if they can advance my duty to be a Society Wife.”

“I have to admit, I’m curious about the rest of your family. And how you ended up the way you did if they’re all like her.”

The rueful smile wouldn’t be held back. She hated that the truth was so ugly. “My brothers are the perfect robots who’ve followed her plan perfectly, right down to letting her choose their wives.”

She pointed to a bench near the entrance and asked, “You want to wait here and I’ll pull the car up?”

“I’ll walk with you.” He sounded less bitter about the suggested offer for help than when they’d left his room. She had to admit to herself he seemed to be moving fairly easily.

“My family was less than perfect, but I was luckier than I knew with Ashley,” he said as they headed toward the cars.

“How do you mean?” She’d loved listening to him talk about his sister, maybe because the idea of someone being so unconditionally accepting and supportive was a rarity in her world. Maybe because his voice lightened when he reminisced.

“She taught me that, money or not, our greatest asset was each other and what we had to offer others. She especially loved being able to help people when they didn’t know who she was.”

“Mother only helps if there are witnesses and public rounds of
Thank you for your generosity
to be heaped upon her.” Delancey pulled the key fob from her pocket and unlocked the door to her Jeep. She didn’t go so far as to open Logan’s door for him, but she did stay close until he’d eased himself, obviously with the introduction of more pain, into the passenger seat.

By the time she got into the driver’s seat he’d gotten his seatbelt on and had almost stopped wincing.

“Where to?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go see Ashley. I missed her funeral.”

Sadness swept through Delancey’s heart. The moment Logan was free from the hospital, he took on the most depressing task possible. She wanted to hold him again, to offer support. Somehow she didn’t think he’d welcome it this time like he had in the hospital. “Where was she buried?”

He told her the address of the cemetery. Sure the hits would just keep coming, she nodded and turned the Jeep in that direction.

Once they were on the road and Logan had shifted the seatbelt to a different position, he said, “Don’t you think pulling me out of the fire would be the kind of thing your mother would approve of?”

Delancey chuckled. The question was identical to the argument Andy had made, because he knew very well how much her mother liked public accolades. And a female firefighter saving a man’s life was a hell of a headline. “If it wasn’t what I did for a living, maybe. Doubtful though.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“As a physical therapist, she can pretend I’m doing something admirable because it’s part of the medical industry. Though her greatest hope is that I meet a rich doctor, get married, quit my job and have babies.

“Fighting fires is only noble for men, and if I’d gone in after you as a civilian she’d have berated me for taking unnecessary risks. Especially if there were no media cameras there to catch the act.”

“Can your mother really be that bad?”

“I tell myself she’s not entirely evil, mainly because of the good things she accomplishes through her volunteer work.” She shrugged. “I struggle to believe it though.”

“But you save lives as a firefighter. How is that not heroic?”

“Fighting fires is beneath a Winston. At best she sees us as adrenaline junkies.”

“My mother and father would have been fine with anything Ashley and I wanted to do as long as we included them in our lives.”

“They sound great.”

“They were.” He rested his head on the seat and watched her for a long moment before speaking again. What he said next whispered with wisdom. “Maybe to your mother you’re not a hero because you’re not accepting the accolades you deserve. But to you, it’s what people don’t know that matters. Just like Ashley. You want to protect your privacy as much as that of the people you help.”

“And that’s why we’ll never see eye to eye.”

“Ashley would have liked you.”

Being compared to Ashley, someone Logan loved so blatantly, and then being told she would have liked Delancey came close to an acceptance she’d grown up craving. Discomfort moved along her spine. He understood her better than anyone she’d explained herself to, partly because she’d shared her scars with him. More than seeming to understand her, he didn’t act like he wanted anything more from her than what they’d talked about.