Wyne and Song (11 page)

Strong fingers clamped around her arm. “Would you wait?” he said again, bringing her to a halt.

She gasped as a sharp pain radiated up and down her sore shoulder.

“Sorry.” He released her and frowned down. “But, see? You’re hurt.”

Riding out the pain, she slowly exhaled. “I have Band-Aids at home.”

He yanked off his hat with one hand and thrust the other through his short hair, muttering something about stubborn women. “Look, all right. Fine. I’ll keep your name off the reports. Just please let the guys look at you or my brother will kill me, and then Lea will massacre what’s left.”

Her lips twitched at the thought of the big army dude in front of her being more afraid of his fiancée than his broad brother. “Okay. Fine. As long as my name stays out of the reports. I can’t afford for it to hit the papers. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be difficult, but you know what I have to deal with.”

The local papers already did two articles about her because of the show, and that was great, but she didn’t want to give them a reason to do a third.

He nodded as he shoved the hat back on his head and waved his men over. “I do. And it sucks that you can’t even be treated for an injury without worrying about it hitting the news.”

“It’s more than that, though,” she said, letting the men lead her to a nearby rock to sit down and begin their exam. “It’s not me I’m worried about this time. It’s Tyler. They’d hound him, Ben, mercilessly, and I refuse to let that happen.”

Surprise lifted his brow, and while he stared at her, some sort of conclusion or resolution passed through his eyes. She had no idea what it all meant, nor did she care, because her body was starting to really ache. That hot bath and
Doctor Who
marathon couldn’t happen soon enough.

Ten minutes later, she headed back down the trail with her shoulder bandaged, following Ben with a giggling Tyler on his back. She’d refused the same offer from one of the staff. Not that she doubted the burly man’s ability to cover the distance with her added weight; she was too sore to play piggy to his back.

When she stepped off the trail and into the clearing, she groaned at the sight of a police cruiser and ambulance.

Dammit
.

Ben twisted around and shook his head at her. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t call them.”

“I did,” Dennis Wyne said, walking toward them with the officer and paramedic.

Correction, hottie officer and hottie paramedic. Tall, dark, and broad. One with piercing blue eyes, the other with green.

“Tyler, what in the world happened?” his grandfather asked, squatting to look the boy in the eyes. “You told me you were going to the bathroom.”

“Sorry, Grandpa.” The little boy’s lip jutted out yet again. “I did, then went out the door.”

Mr. Wyne pulled him in for a hug and closed his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear?”

“I won’t, Grandpa. Promise.”

“Not only did you have me worried, but you tampered with trust.” Mr. Wyne drew back to hold the boy’s gaze. “And that’s something that’s hard to put right. Do you understand?”

Tyler nodded, tears creating dirty streaks down his little cheeks.

Just then, Keiffer came rushing out of the resort then stopped dead, his gaze glued to the flashing lights, while his pale face turned ashen.

Ben muttered a curse. “Come on, guys. Help me get him back inside.” He and the two patrol men rushed to his brother, appearing to try to use their bodies to block out the ambulance and cruiser.

Now her chest hurt on top of her aching shoulder.

“Ma’am, what’s your name. Can you tell us what happened?” the handsome cop with MERCER on his name tag stared at her with his keen blue gaze.

Thank God he wasn’t a Broadway fan because he didn’t recognize her.

“I’d rather not say,” she replied, making to walk around him, only to be stopped by the hot paramedic with HOLDEN on the tag on his broad chest.

“So, I’m guessing you have no idea how you hurt your shoulder.” Holden nodded to the bandaged area.

She shrugged her good shoulder. “How’d that get there?”

“Come on, ma’am. What’s going on?” Officer Mercer flipped open his notepad and stared expectantly at her, his blue eyes rimmed with such dark lashes they appeared lined.

She knew many makeup artists who had to work magic to do that to a performer.

“Mr. Wyne called to report his grandson had wandered off unchaperoned, then you both come out of the woods looking like you fought with a bear.”

“Mountain lion,” Tyler corrected, choosing that moment to step close and grab her hand.

The paramedic grumbled under his breath. “Did he hurt you, Tyler? Ma’am?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We just had a disagreement with the ledge.”

Amusement flickered through his green gaze. “Please, let me have a look at you both,” he said, motioning toward the ambulance where another paramedic waited.

She released Tyler’s hand. “You go ahead, hun. Let them check you out.”

“Yes, let Scott check you out,” his grandfather said, coming up behind them.

“Cool.” He smiled, running toward the ambulance ahead of the paramedic and his grandfather.

Once the little boy was out of earshot, she turned to the cop. “Listen, you can talk to Ben. He will tell you everything. I need to keep my name out of reports, especially police reports. So, you don’t see me. I am not hurt. I was never here.”

“Except, I do. You are, and you are,” Officer Mercer stated, still treating her to that same unwavering, stern blue gaze.

She smiled, finding his response funny. Or maybe pain was making her delirious. One of the two. Maybe both. “I understand you’re just doing your job, and I want to continue to do mine. I’m a friend of Ben’s fiancée.”

“Lea.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m her neighbor in New York. I’m an actress, and if my name shows up on any police reports or hospital logs you know the press will pick it up. This is not about me. It’s about that little boy over there.” She pointed to Tyler, smiling at something apparently Scott said. “They will swarm down like hornets on him. So, I’ll say this again. I am not here. I cannot talk to you in official capacity.”

He nodded, flipped his notebook closed, then shoved it back into his shirt pocket. “What happened unofficially, Lea’s actress neighbor from New York?”

Her lips twitched and she relaxed as she recounted the events of the past hour. Felt more like seven, but who was counting. By the time she finished, hottie Holden had re-examined, treated and bandaged Tyler’s arm, and Mr. Wyne was signing some kind of paperwork attached to a clipboard.

“If you have more questions, please ask Ben. He was there for most of it. I’ve got to go,” she said, hoping to escape before the paramedic tried to treat her, too.

“Miss Weston.” Holden stepped in front of her before she made it to the sidewalk. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Damn. Apparently, he’d been to Broadway.

His lips quirked into a lop-sided grin. “Yes, I know who you are. My grandmother’s a big fan. Every year, I take her to a show for her birthday.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

He shook his head. “Not going to work, Ms. Weston. It’s your turn to get checked out.”

“I’m not here, remember?”

He smiled, his green eyes appearing not quite as amused. “But that bandaged shoulder of yours is here. What do you say I have a look?”

“Thanks, but there’s no need,” she replied. “I’m heading to see the doctor now.”

His gaze narrowed. “Doctor who?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say
yes
, but she recovered just in time. “Capaldi.”

She held her breath, hoping he didn’t catch on.

Holden cocked his head. “I don’t know him. Is he from out of town?”

She clenched her jaw for a few seconds in an attempt to keep from laughing, but couldn’t stop the grin. “Yes.” More like out of this world. “So, I’d better get going.”

This time, she did make it to the sidewalk, but Tyler called her name. She turned and watched him run to her.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Yes, hun. I have to go. I have…an appointment.”
With two pain pills.

“I was hoping you’d be with me when my dad got back from his hike.” He drew in a ragged breath, eyes filling with tears. “He’s going to be so mad at me.”

And me.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near Tyler, and now, when the boy looked at her, he had hero-worship written all over his face.

Ethan was going to kill her.

She knelt down, careful not to cringe under the keen gazes of Mr. Wyne, hottie cop and hottie paramedic. “Your dad loves you very much, Tyler. And you’re right, he will be mad, but it’s not only because you snuck out, it’s because of all the bad things that could’ve happened to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” He nodded, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks again. “I just wanted him to be proud.”

The little guy was breaking her heart. She pulled him close and hugged him tight, ignoring the burning pain in her shoulder. After a minute, she slowly drew back and wiped his tears with her the bottom of her shirt. “You know what will make your dad really proud?”

“What?”

“Taking responsibility for what you did. Admitting you made a mistake. Dads love that.” She winked.

“Really?”

“Yep.” She set her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “Besides, it’s kind of a ninja Jedi code.”

“Okay.”

She leaned in to kiss his warm cheek. “I’m proud of you, Tyler.” Her heart squeezed tight for the cutie as she stood. “This is something you need to do on your own. You’ve got this.”

With a final nod to his grandfather, she turned and walked away. What she needed to do was run, and fast, because her heart was aching far too much for the son of her ex-lover. Maintaining a distance from the little boy worked both ways. It kept her from forming an attachment to him.

She just hoped it wasn’t already too late.

T
he sun was just tipping the trees, casting leafy shadows by the time Ethan returned from the hike. He said his goodbyes, bowed out of a few drink offers, and nearly had himself convinced the ominous feeling of foreboding weighing on his shoulders, pinching the nerves in his neck all damn afternoon were all in his head. Just a byproduct of worry over his brother.

After all, he kept checking his phone when he had reception and there had been no missed calls or voicemails or urgent texts. He walked around the back of the resort and through two locked gates to the private area, glad he was at least able to spend a few hours of quality time with his son to make it up to him for missing out on the hike. Maybe let his son annihilate him in a video game, or stay up a little later to watch a few innings of the Mets. Tyler’s choice.

But when he found the fire pit unlit and vacant, that unease immediately rippled straight up his spine. And when he entered the sliding glass doors to find his father and all three of his brothers sitting around the kitchen drinking coffee with his friends, Scott and Jeremy. Their cop and paramedic uniforms gave him the impression they weren’t there on a social call.

Tyler…

His gaze scanned the kitchen then living room, and his heartbeats stumbled to a halt when he found his son sitting on the couch. The clothes he went to school in that morning were all torn and dirty. Tears stained his pale face, and a bandage covered his right arm from wrist to just above the elbow.

God, he looked so small and frightened Ethan’s heart stopped beating for the damn three-hundred-and-ninety-two hours it seemed to take to reach his son.

“Tyler, are you okay?” He dropped onto the couch and pulled his son close, not really caring about the answer at that moment.

Right now he knew three things: One, he loved his son more than life. Two, he thanked God his son was safe. And, three, he was not going to like the explanation of what happened.

When the tightness around his chest eased enough for him to draw in a breath, he sucked in a deep one, then glanced at the men in the kitchen.

Ah hell
. They all wore the same damn worried expression. He was going to have to do this in stages.

Still holding his son tight, he glanced over at Scott. “What’s wrong with Tyler’s arm?”

“He has a long scratch with a few deep parts, but not deep enough to require stitches,” the paramedic replied.

His gaze drifted to Jeremy, but he wasn’t ready to hear why the police were involved. He just couldn’t fathom his son deliberately hurting someone. But he needed to know what the hell was going on.

“Who’s going to tell me what happened?”

“I
am,” Tyler replied, pushing back to look him in the eyes. “It’s my fault, Dad. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

He hauled his son in close again and pressed his cheek to Tyler’s hair. “I could never hate you.”

His son nodded then pulled out of his arms to stand in front of him. “I was mad when I got home from school, and you weren’t here like you said you’d be. We were supposed to go hiking up South Ridge Trail.”

“I know, but I had to fill in—”

“For Uncle Keiffer, I know.” Tyler let out a heavy sigh.

Ethan met his brother’s gaze, and the remorse clouding it almost made him feel bad.

Almost.

“But I wanted to hike, so I snuck out and went myself.”

Good God.
His heart dropped to his gut then bounced into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t function for several long seconds.

“It was cool, and I was walking and having fun, then I saw the cougar.”

Shit!

“He was big and cool so I followed him.”

He wanted to jump to his feet, but his legs suddenly felt like marshmallows at the thought of his son alone with the carnivore.

“But he disappeared over the edge. So I leaned over to take a peek, but he was already climbing down too far. That’s when I slipped and fell and scraped my arm.” Tyler held up his bandage. “But I didn’t cry. Not even when I couldn’t get back up. It was too far, and there weren’t any handholds or anything for me to use to climb back up.”

Ethan wasn’t sure he could take anymore and contemplated stopping his son, but a niggling told him Tyler needed to finish. So he found it in himself to sit quietly and listen. “Then what happened?”

“I started to call out for help.”

Jesus
…that could’ve alerted the cat.

“And after a few minutes, help came.”

He glanced over at the men and couldn’t fathom which one had shown up, but he was so damn grateful and ready to admit it as soon as he knew who to thank.

“I heard Phoebe calling my name.”

He sat up straight. “Phoebe?” His gaze scanned the guys in the kitchen and they all nodded.

How the hell…?

“I don’t know how she knew I needed help,” Tyler said as if answering. “Must be her ninja Jedi skills, but she found me. And when I couldn’t jump to reach her hand, she climbed down. Which was good since the mountain lion must’ve heard us and started to climb back up.”

The tightness returned to his chest, squeezing tight enough to crack a damn rib as the scene played out in his head. And by the time his son finished, and the guys filled him in on the rest, including Phoebe’s injury, he knew five things for sure.

One, he still loved his son more than life.

Two, his son was grounded for life.

Three, he was so furious with Keiffer he couldn’t even look at him. If his brother had just done his damn job, Ethan would’ve been home to take his son for that hike, and no one would’ve gotten hurt.

Four, he needed to visit Phoebe to thank her.

Five, he needed to hit something. Hard. Several times.

As if sensing this, his father rose from the table and sent him a warning glance to keep it together. “Come on, Tyler. I think it’s time we got you cleaned up.” His dad approached his son with a grin. “You’re going to have to keep your arm raised so the bandage doesn’t get wet, which means we’ll have to get creative in order to wash this dirt off you in the tub.”

“Okay, Grandpa.” Tyler turned and climbed back on Ethan’s lap to give him another hug. “Are you very mad at me, Dad?”

He closed his eyes and sighed, holding his son tight, feeling more blessed than ever to have that ability. “No, Tyler. Just scared. What happened to you scared me.”

His little head nodded against his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Part of owning up to what you did includes consequences,” he said. “You need to be punished for sneaking out and hiking by yourself. I want you to think about what a fair punishment might be.”

Tyler nodded. “Phoebe said you were going to be scared.”

Phoebe again.

He kept the twitch from his mouth. “She did, did she?”

How the hell was it possible the woman knew him better than he knew himself? They’d only met barely a month ago.

“Yeah.” Tyler nodded as he drew back to stand by his grandfather.

“What else did she say?” Damn, the question was out before he could stop it.

“That I needed to take ‘sponsability and tell you what I did. And that she was proud of me.” The biggest, brightest, thousand watt smile split his son’s face and lit the whole damn room, knocking the wind out of him.

He was still sitting on the couch, trying to find his feet long after Tyler and his dad went upstairs. Between Phoebe’s actions and the look she put on his son’s face, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find firm footing again.

“Ethan. I’m sorry.” Keiffer dropped into a chair across from him.

Much too damn close to him and the uncontrollable anger brewing inside. He shot to his feet and began to pace.

“Sorry? Dammit, Keiffer, Tyler could’ve died, and you’re sorry? Phoebe could’ve died and you’re sorry?”

“Yeah, man, what more do you fucking want from me?”

Now Keiffer was on his feet, too.

“I don’t know. For you to be more responsible. To get help.”

Suddenly, Scott and Jeremy were blocking him while Mason and Ben pulled Keiffer away.

“I don’t fuckin’ need help. Just maybe for you to get off my goddamn case! And for you all to stop looking at me like you’re waiting for me to off myself, too! Newsflash! I’m not a coward. Greg was a coward.”

“Keiffer! Greg was in pain.”

“Yeah, well, I am, too. But committing suicide is not even a thought. So quit looking at me that way.”

“All right,” he said, admittedly a little relieved to hear, although, he suspected other people with PTSD had felt that way and still ended their own lives. “But don’t keep things bottled up. Talk to someone.”

“It’s not that simple, Ethan. You don’t get it. Some days I’m fine. And then others…you don’t know how it feels to wake up and not want to get out of bed. I tried. I swear I fuckin’ tried to get up today, but I just couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

The pain and remorse was so raw and deep in his brother’s voice Ethan’s throat instantly closed. He pushed his friends aside and yanked Keiffer in and held tight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he choked out. “I’m sorry. You need to get help. You know this isn’t right.”

His brother drew back and nodded. “I know. I just need time. I have to deal with this in my own way.”

That wasn’t working out.

“Keif.” Mason set a hand on their brother’s shoulder. “You know this is PTSD.”

“Jesus.” Keiffer brushed past them and strode a few feet away. “I don’t have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You know I came back fine from combat. Tell them, Ben. You know I came back just fine.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to be in a war to get PTSD,” Ben said quietly. “A traumatic instance is the cause.”

“Finding Greg’s body with the gun in his hand would do that,” Jeremy said. “Trust me, between the guard and the force, I’ve seen some nasty shit, and it eats at you.”

Keiffer nodded.

Thank God. Maybe they were finally getting through to him a little. Baby steps.

“Google the symptoms of PTSD, Keif,” Mason suggested. “I did, and you have several.”

Again, his brother nodded, and some of the tightness around Ethan’s chest eased. He loved his brother and wanted him to get well. He’d do anything to help him. But never again would he fill in for his brother if it meant breaking plans with his son. 

“I’m really sorry about today, Ethan.” The remorse in Keiffer’s gaze matched his words.

He nodded.

“Speaking of today,” Jeremy said. “What’s the scoop on Phoebe?”

“Yeah, she’s Lea’s neighbor from New York, right?” Scott asked. “You never told us she lived next to a famous Broadway star, and a beautiful one at that.”

Ben smiled big and smug. “Yep. And she’s single.”

Bastard.

“Really?”

Ethan didn’t like the gleam in Jeremy’s blue eyes.

“How’s a woman that hot still single?”

Or the interest in Scott’s. His stomach bunched as if punched.

“She has gumption and a sweet a—”

“All right,” he cut the cop off. “That’s enough.”

He wasn’t going to stand there and let them continue. If anyone was going to talk about her sweet ass it was him. But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his style. He’d just think about it. A lot.

Jeremy and Scott both turned to him, and he wasn’t sure what they saw, but they suddenly grinned and held up their hands.

“Sorry, Ethan. Didn’t know.”

“Yeah, no harm done.”

Keiffer actually grinned. “Probably should’ve warned you, Ethan’s been sniffing that skirt since last month.”

“Good for you, Ethan”

“Yeah, good for you,” Scott agreed. “She certainly stepped up to the plate today. But she refused medical treatment. Said she was going to see the doctor. I hope she did. Maybe you can make her go if she didn’t see this Doctor Capaldi.”

His bunching stomach suddenly knotted. She wouldn’t see a doctor. Not with her issues with the press.
Dammit
. That meant she needed treatment.

This time, Keiffer actually laughed outright. “Did she say her doctor or
the
doctor?”

Scott frowned. “Uh…
the
, I think. Why?”

“Oh, man, Ethan. I like her.” His brother’s smile grew. “There’s a
Doctor Who
marathon on TV, and Capaldi is the actor’s name.”

Ethan muttered a curse and strode for the door.

First he was going to thank her.

Then he was going to spank her.

P
hoebe wasn’t sure who invented peroxide, but she wanted to beat the tar out of them every time Jill poured some on the top of her arm.

“Sorry,” her friend said, blowing on the cut in an attempt to lessen the sting. “You sure you can’t go have this looked at?”

She glanced at the mirror in her bathroom to check out the quarter size scrape in the middle of a blob shaped black and blue bruise that curved around her back. She didn’t even remember getting it. Had to be in her haste to grab the leather straps and not get eaten.

“I’m sure.” She nodded, wanting to get back to her
Doctor Who
marathon she could hear on the TV in the living room. “Just put that healing ointment on it now. It’ll be good in a few days.” Of course, the same couldn’t be said for her shoulder which hurt like a son-of-a-bitch if she lifted her arm too high.

So, she was just not going to lift her arm too high. She had great mobility in it otherwise, and thankfully, none of her routines required a hand stand. She smirked at her own stupid joke, then grimaced when Jill spread the salve.

“Do you want to cover it, or let the air get at it?” Her friend held up the gauze bandage Phoebe had stopped at the store to grab on her way home.

“Air,” she replied. “I’ll cover before rehearsal tomorrow.”

Jill nodded and straightened the supplies on the counter while Phoebe tried to decide what to wear. She’d slipped into a front-hook peach bra and matching panties after her shower, but wasn’t too keen on having any material touch her arm.

Opting for a pair of slip on shorts with ACTRESS written across the ass, she contemplated nothing but her bra on top. She wasn’t going anywhere, and when she ordered pizza later, it would just be the delivery boy’s lucky day.

Unless he recognized her and posted on social media about her answering the door in her underwear.
Damn
. Sometimes it sucked to be her.

She was still rooting through her closet when she heard a car door slam.

Jill poked her head out of the bathroom. “You expecting anyone?”

“No.”

“Order pizza?” her friend asked on her way to the bedroom window in front.

She laughed. “Not yet.”

Jill sucked in a breath then turned from the window to smile at her. “I don’t think you need to worry about a shirt,” she said as the doorbell rang. “It’s Ethan.”

Ethan? Shoot.

She wasn’t ready to face him. Although, she wanted to know how Tyler was doing; she just wasn’t up for a reprimand at the moment.

Phoebe grabbed her robe from a hook on the closet door and gritted her teeth as the satin brushed her bruise when she slipped it on. Rushing out of the bedroom, she tied the sash and just managed to step into her living room as Jill waited for her to nod before opening the door.

“Hi, Ethan. She’s in there with the doctor. Bye, Phoebe,” the bugger called, then closed the front door behind her.