Remember Me (28 page)

“That depends on the course of treatment.”

A non-answer.

When Brandon helped her into his Porsche and even buckled her seatbelt, Lucy stared at him. “I have to be able to work, Brandon.”

His gaze was sympathetic. With a gentle touch to her cheek, he murmured, “We’ll get it figured out. Let’s get the prescription for the painkillers and get you home.”

* * * *

When Lucy gave him the address for Mason’s house, he ground his teeth in frustration. She’d been here almost a week, less than five miles from his family’s summer home. He pulled up in front of the house, which stood dark and still in the night. There were no nearby neighbors.

“Do you have keys?” he asked her, switching off the Porsche’s engine.

“No, but I left the kitchen door unlocked. It’s around back.”

Brandon grabbed the prescription from behind her seat, hopped out and came around to help her out. “Can you walk?”

Lucy sighed. “It’s a fractured wrist, Brandon, not an ankle.”

He grinned in the dark at her exasperated tone. “Lead on, then. You know where you’re going.”

“You don’t have to stay,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll be all right.”

He touched her arm, holding gently until she stopped and turned. It was difficult to read her expression in the dark. “I’m not leaving, Lucy. Not this time.”

“Suit yourself.” A world of weariness lay in those two words, and he sensed it was more than the accident today, but then he’d seen that in her face earlier and Monday when she’d stormed into his office. Neither one of them had fared well in the wake of the plane crash.

She climbed the stairs to the deck and from there opened the door into the kitchen. He reached in, found the light switch and then followed her into the airy room.

“Have a seat, Lucy,” he told her. “I’ll get you some water so you can take these pain pills. Are you hungry?”

She shrugged. “Thirsty.”

He located a glass, ran water in it then shook a couple pills into her hand before handing her the water. After she’d swallowed them, he touched her shoulder. “If you’d like to lie down, I can scramble you some eggs or make an omelet. I’m afraid that’s about how far my cooking skills extend.”

She smiled, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “That would be nice. Just scrambled eggs.”

He watched her leave the kitchen, and for the first time in a couple months, hope surged. They were under the same roof. They were talking. Damn, if he could keep Mason away… He left thoughts of the other man alone for the time being and opened the refrigerator. Good Lord, other than yogurt and fruits and vegetables, there was nothing inside. He did manage to find some eggs.

While he heated the pan and mixed the eggs, Brandon decided a cook would be the first thing in order if he could ever convince Lucy to marry him. He paused for an instant. The word didn’t make him break out in hives or wince…even a little. He did want her in his life for good. Now he had to convince her.

Brandon plated the eggs, added some sliced fruit and grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino. Following where he’d seen Lucy go, he discovered her curled on a loveseat, her head leaning into the corner and her eyes shut. She looked…defeated.

“Lucy? I have your food.”

Those dark gray eyes of hers opened, focused on him. “Thanks, Brandon.”

He brought in his own food, watched her while she ate and cleared the plates away when she was done. When he came into the room, she was sitting with her feet on the floor, her right hand brushing hair off her face. She glanced at him, then away.

Uneasiness ate at him. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve already done so much. I don’t want to keep you any longer–”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He cut into her rehearsed speech.

She focused on him and held his gaze. “I’m here. Home, such as it is, and not going anywhere. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stay.”

He held her gaze. “Yeah. I do. We both need it.”

“I don’t want to rehash the past,” she whispered, but no conviction lay behind her words.

He squatted in front of her. “But it’s lying there between us and not going away.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, tears glistened there. “I can’t do this.”

He caught her right hand, felt the fine tremble in it. “I’m not asking you to do anything right now other than let me stay with you tonight. God, Lucy.” He stopped, swallowed then forced himself to go on, hearing the tightness in his voice. “When I saw you in the water… I’ll sleep out here, but I need to make sure you’re okay.” So much pain lay behind those stormy irises of hers. “Come on. I’ll help you get settled, get changed. Where do you sleep?”

She pressed her lips together as if she was trying to collect her emotions. “I’m using the room at the end of the hall, but I can do this on my own. I’m not a baby.” Her cheeks were flushed.

With a touch to her chin, he turned her attention back to him. “This isn’t about sex. You’re one-handed right now. This is about preventing you any more pain.”

A nervous giggle slipped out of her mouth. “I don’t think I’m feeling any pain right now.”

The tension between them eased. Brandon grinned. “Come on, kiddo. Up you go.” After pulling her to her feet, he put his arm around her waist and guided her along the hallway. “Which room?”

“That one.” She pointed, lurching at the same time. “Damn. I should have told you to give me one. I’m kind of a lightweight when it comes to painkillers.”

He propped her against the doorjamb while he reached inside and found the light switch. “Fortunately, you’ll be able to sleep it off.”

Brandon tried to turn off his imagination and his emotions so he could help her get ready for bed. Since she could use only one arm, he ended up undressing her, finding her an oversized t-shirt, then tucking her into bed once she’d used the bathroom.

She grinned at him. “You’d make a good daddy,” she whispered.

His hand hovered for an instant, then he tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. Not what he was feeling at the moment. “Yeah. Go to sleep, baby, before you end up saying stuff you’ll regret.”

She caught his hand, her expression serious. He thought she was going to say something, but she shook her head and dropped her gaze. “’Night, Brandon.”

His fingers trailed across her cheek. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be here if you need me.”

She smiled, but her eyes were already drifting closed. He turned off the lights and leaned on the doorframe for a few minutes. He told himself it was to make sure she was okay, but the reality was he didn’t want to leave her, would have given just about anything to lie next to her and feel her snuggled close to him. When her breathing altered, letting him know she’d slipped into sleep, Brandon returned to the kitchen and cleaned the dishes they’d used.

At loose ends, he wandered, found her makeshift studio and examined what was there. This was the Lucy he knew. She had talked about working in clay and pottery while they were together in Colorado. Here he could be closer to her, the Lucy he loved. The woman he’d seen on the stage at Flamingo Road was a persona, but not her. After running his fingers along the edge of a beautifully glazed and fired bowl, he acknowledged how much it had hurt to realize she hadn’t felt she could share that part of herself with him, that she had to hide it.

But hadn’t they both hidden from each other?

Brandon returned to the living room and sat in an overstuffed chair, stretching his long legs in front of him while he fought off the urge to check on her again. How pathetic was that? He couldn’t even leave her alone for five minutes without needing to see her. Forcing himself to use some restraint, he pulled his phone out and began checking messages. When he saw one from Mason Hatch, he frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to him, but damn it, he was in the guy’s house, sitting on his furniture.
Taking care of his woman?
Brandon wasn’t even going there. That just opened a whole lot of shit he couldn’t deal with tonight.

Brandon listened to Mason’s message two times, then hit erase. Mason was at the marina onboard his own boat. He’d be here midday tomorrow so Brandon had better make use of the time he had.
What. The. Fuck?
He shoved the phone into his brother-in-law’s shorts and leaned back, staring down the darkened hallway. First his father, then Stacey, now Mason. With everyone pushing him at Lucy, why did he hesitate?

* * * *

He must have fallen asleep. When Brandon awoke sometime later, his neck was stiff. After he sat up, he rubbed the crick in it and struggled to alertness. A minute passed before he remembered where he was. Mason Hatch’s house. With Lucy. The sailing accident came to mind, seeing her flying into the air and then how still she’d been when he’d reached her. It was almost worse to relive it because now he knew who it was, knew how easily the boat could have plowed right over her.

He shook his head to clear those thoughts, becoming aware of sounds drifting down the hallway. Brandon sprang to his feet. Lucy? Something must be wrong. She was crying. Had she hurt her wrist by accident while she slept? God, he hoped not. Hurrying down the hall, he raked his fingers through his hair and blinked several times to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleepiness.

“Lucy?” he called, hurrying over to her in the darkness. She flailed on the bed, twisting in the covers. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

“Not you!” she cried. “Not you!”

Brandon’s gut clenched. Was it Mason she wanted? He caught her arms, felt her shaking and heard her sobs. She cried with a hoarse weariness that made his throat tighten, as though she had cried this way night after night. When she continued to sob, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her into his arms, careful to keep from jarring her.

“Hush, Lucy. It’s okay.” He smoothed a hand over her hair.

“You were dead,” she choked. “In my dream, it’s always you I find dead when I dig you out.” She twisted, reaching toward the night table. “Turn the light on. Please. Turn the
light on
.”

Her tone bordered on hysteria, and Brandon hastened to comply. As soon as the lamp glowed, Lucy stared at her hands, breathing like she’d run a mile. “What is it? Are you in pain?”

She shook her head. “It’s always so real. I can’t make it go away until I see there isn’t any blood.” The
this time
was implicit. Brandon let his eyes close while he rested his cheek alongside her head. She trembled again. “And then I feel so guilty because I’m always so relieved. A man died and all I can feel is relief.”

He pulled her across his lap, careful of her wrist, and tilted her chin so she had to meet his gaze. “There was nothing you could have done.”

She twisted her face away. “I dug you out first, got you out. Only then did I try to help Hanson.”

He cupped her chin in his hand. “Listen to me,” he ordered. “There was nothing you could do.”

“You don’t know…”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “I do. You had your head between your ankles. I didn’t. When my memory returned, Lucy, it wasn’t just the memories of you. I also regained my memories of what happened that afternoon. I saw him die.” Brandon stopped, touched his forehead to hers. “There was nothing you could do. He was dead before the plane stopped moving.” She clutched his shirt with her good hand. Silence stretched for another instant, then it was broken by her harsh sob. “That’s it, baby,” he coaxed. “Get it out. You did everything you could, more than many people would have, and thank God or I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’ve felt so guilty,” she whispered.

“As I have. Even before I remembered, I knew there’d been something between us, had seen firsthand what you’d had to do.” He stopped, struggling to get his emotions under control. “To know I failed you, when you needed me…” He couldn’t continue, pressing her face to his body instead. When her arms crept up to hold him, he shuddered.

“I’ve missed you so, so much,” she murmured.

“Then let me hold you now like I’ve longed to.” He couldn’t breathe as he waited for her response. If she turned him away this time, he would have to accept it was over.

Chapter 18

Could she accept what he offered? Was it that simple? Lucy let her head fall back so she could study his face. His blond hair was tousled, his cheeks rough with beard stubble and his eyes… His eyes were a little wary, a little vulnerable. In fact, they reflected what she felt. She touched his full lower lip with her fingertips, saw the heat blaze in his light hazel irises.

He needed to know what she felt, what she feared. She needed to tell him before they could move forward. He captured her hand, touched his lips to her fingertips, once again holding her gaze with his. His expression took her breath away.

“Lucy,” he whispered. “God, baby, don’t leave me hanging.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, not even attempting to hide the way her voice shook.

He stroked his hand across her cheek. “Why?”

“All my life I’ve been alone, even when Gram was alive. Then I met you and we clicked. In a few days, I felt closer to you than I had to anyone…ever. When I pulled you out of that plane, Brandon, my only thought was I couldn’t lose you. I would do anything…anything to keep you alive, keep you with me.” She paused, closing her eyes for an instant and continuing in a voice choked with emotion she couldn’t control. “Then when you looked at me and asked who I was…my world fell apart. I can’t do that again.”