Authors: Elle Aycart
As someone mentioned Rosita’s in passing, she remembered she
was supposed to go to work today, which, of course, was out of the question
now.
Before she could say anything, Elle turned to her. “I’ll
take care of it. I’ll call and change my shift at the airport.”
“Elle, we’re totally booked for tonight. And Paige had an
emergency today.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help her,” Tate heard her mom say. Both
sisters froze. Their mother hadn’t visited the restaurant yet. Not once since
the funeral. When Tate looked at her, slack-jawed, her mom smiled reassuringly.
“You stay here. We have it covered.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Elle was struggling too, but
pulled herself together right away.
“Okay, I’m off to the restaurant,” Elle said and went to
kiss James good-bye. She had a bit more color in her face than when she’d first
arrived, but the shaking of her hands was a sure telltale.
On her way to the door, car keys already in her hand, Jack
intercepted Elle. He stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“No, you are not. I’m taking you.”
Everyone in the room quieted. Elle slowly lifted her gaze to
his, fire in her eyes. “What did you say?”
Huh-uh. No one told Elle what to do. Much less in that
high-handed tone.
“You are not driving. I’ll take you to Rosita’s.” And in a
swift movement he snatched her keys.
“Hey. I’m perfectly fine.”
“No,” Jack answered simply, still blocking the door.
Tate was sure Elle wasn’t objecting to him driving her; she
would probably love the opportunity to egg him on all the way to Rosita’s. That
was not it. Her sister took offense at the insinuation that she wasn’t capable
of driving.
She squared off. “Wow, so many sentences together. I’ve
never heard you speak this much, Borg. You high on ether fumes? Do you want me
to call the nurse?”
Her sarcasm had no effect whatsoever. He didn’t move a muscle.
“Not driving,” Jack said, his voice hard. “You’re fucking
shaking, pet.”
Elle lifted her hands up in exasperation. “Of course I’m
shaking; you’re fucking aggravating me! And I don’t recall giving you
permission to call me ‘pet.’”
“I don’t recall giving you permission to talk at all, pet.”
Uh-oh.
Ron defused the standoff. “He’s right, Elle,” he said and
then turned to Jack. “We are going that way. We’ll take her.”
Jack moved aside.
“Can I have my car keys?” Elle asked, her tone deceptively
sweet.
He looked at her, then at Ron, and probably—and very
correctly—deeming that Ron was no match for Elle, he shook his head. “I’ll hold
on to them. I’ll drop them off at Rosita’s at some point tomorrow.”
Some time after Tate’s family left, so did Jack.
When the nurse announced visiting hours were over and the
Bowens said they were going to Alden and coming back in the morning, James
tried to get her to go too.
Tate would have laughed if she’d had the strength. “No.”
She’d barely whispered, but she must have gotten her point across, because
James didn’t insist.
After she saw his family out, James scooted over to his
right and patted the bed. “Come lie with me, princess.”
“You’re hurt. I’ll be okay in the chair.”
“Don’t make me come get you. I want you off your feet and in
this bed now.”
He was injured, but she believed him more than capable of
going through with his threat. She moved toward him. “I’m just doing this to
humor you, you know, right?”
“Whatever. Come here,” he said with a grunt.
She lay on her side facing him. James encircled her with his
left arm and brought her against him. She was afraid to put pressure on his
bruised ribs, so she tried to keep her distance. Didn’t work. Gently, she
placed her hand on his abdomen, opposite his injury. “Does it hurt?”
“Nuh. Painkillers are pretty kick-ass here.”
They lay in silence, tenderly touching each other. Soothing
each other.
“Got your messages, princess,” James said into her hair.
“I’m very proud of you.”
She shrugged. “I did okay with Ron. Elle is right; you are
rubbing off on me.”
She heard his smile in his voice. “Good.”
She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. She propped herself
on her elbow and looked at him. “You really asked them not to call me?”
James sighed heavily. “I didn’t want you to get that phone call,
baby. I didn’t want you to go through it. I knew what that would do to you. If
I could have had my way, I would have discharged myself and gone home. Then,
with you seeing me standing and breathing, I would have told you. This is a
nightmare I didn’t want you to relive for anything in the world.”
Her heart tightened, and she fought to speak around the lump
clogging her throat. “You know, I had an epiphany today.”
His lips twitched. “Really? You got electrocuted too?”
Pretty much. “Last time I saw Em, aside from two weeks ago
in Rosita’s, was almost a year ago, before I visited my mom in Florida. After
she lost the baby, she moved to Seattle, and that was the first time she came
back. She was so broken. As broken as the rest of us. I asked her whether it
was all worth it. The crippling pain, the grief. The despair of missing a loved
one, knowing you’ll never be with him again. She was with Jonah for only six
months. She could have saved herself so much torment if she would have not let
him in. I asked her if she regretted meeting Jonah. She said that she wouldn’t
have traded a single second of those six months for anything in this world,
much less to avoid the pain. That she only regretted the time wasted, what was
left unsaid. Undone. That if she’d learned something from what had happened, it
was that you needed to live life to the fullest. Every day. Balls to the wall.
Afraid of nothing. Much less of possible pain to come. Giving yourself
unconditionally. I didn’t understand her then. At all. I thought she was nuts,
but I understand her now, James.”
He jerked. “Tate—”
She lifted her face to him. “Today my worst nightmare came
alive. I feared I’d lost you. My only thought was to get to you, even if it was
just to kiss you good-bye. Not for a second did I regret meeting you or falling
in love with you. I regretted the time wasted fighting and trying to put up
walls. You were right. I was scared. And holding back. Afraid of living, of
being hurt, of being left alone. Afraid tragedy would strike again and I would
lose you. Terrified Lady Luck would decide to fuck with me again. Actually
waiting for her to do so.”
In the back of her mind she’d always feared she wouldn’t be
allowed to keep him, that he would be taken away from her. He was just too
perfect, and Lady Luck was that much of a bitch. So yeah, in a way she’d been
waiting for the other shoe to drop. Keeping a small part locked away from James
so that when the shit hit the fan, there would be something to salvage.
“But I’m not scared anymore. I will not let her terrify me.
Or keep me on my knees. I’m yours, fully and unconditionally. For however long
we get, I will stand on my own two feet. By your side.”
Slightly trembling, he wrapped his hand around her neck. “My
princess has let me in completely. She’s not holding back.”
“No, she’s not holding back,” she whispered, both her hands
cupping his face now. “I’m in all the way. For life. Come hell or high water.
But you’ve got to trust me to be strong enough to cope and take care of you
when you need me. You’ve been taking care of me since the very beginning,
James. You’re a protector; that’s who you are, and I’m okay with it. But this
taking care goes both ways. We take care of each other, and you need to let me
be there for you. Trust me to have your back the same way you have mine. I want
to stand by your side through the tough moments as an equal.”
“You do, baby, but I wanted to spare you this.”
She put her fingers on his mouth, silencing him. “And I love
you for it, but you have to believe me when I say there is no place I’d rather
be than here with you. Nowhere, James. Let me shoulder your burdens too. I’m
not fragile. You can lean on me because I won’t crumble. For you I can take
anything.”
He looked at her, struggling to talk. “I love you,
princess.”
“I love you too, James.”
* * * *
After three days in the hospital, James was fucking climbing
the walls. The only thing that was making this bearable was Tate. She hadn’t
moved from his side. Seeing her groom-to-be bloody and banged up in a hospital
bed less than a week before the wedding had been something he hadn’t wanted for
her, but she hadn’t wavered. That first night she’d been exhausted and still
shaking but had stubbornly stayed awake, soothing him until the meds got him
under.
Tate had been right. She wasn’t fragile. She was fucking
tough. Much tougher than he’d given her credit for. She hadn’t lost it in the
hospital; she hadn’t broken down. She hated being there, but she was refusing
to leave, bandaged feet and all. She’d slept with him those three nights, never
falling asleep before him, regardless of how tired she must have been after
watching over him nonstop.
She wasn’t holding back anymore. He’d seen it in her eyes
when she’d told him, the last wall crumbling down. Only for that, he could kiss
the motherfucker who had sent him to the hospital. And then he’d punch all of
the asshole’s teeth out for driving like a fucking lunatic.
He turned at a knock on the door.
“How are you doing, man?” Jack asked as he walked into the
room.
“About to lose it,” James said, switching the TV off and
throwing the remote control onto the nearby bed.
Jack sat in the chair near him. “You alone?”
“Yep.” Tate had gone for coffee. His brothers and his dad
had left a while after dinner had been served. Like every day since he’d been
admitted into the hospital, they had come to visit, spending an enormous amount
of time bugging the hell out of him. They would call it concern probably.
That was why, even though they’d claimed that first night
that they were going home when the nurse had said visiting hours were over, the
three of them had stayed in the waiting room in the hospital. He’d found out by
mistake, when one nurse had later told him. She’d also described someone very much
resembling Jack joining them.
Of course, none of them had said a word to James.
“How are your ribs?”
James snorted. “You know I’ve had much worse. This is
fucking nothing.” His ribs were still a bit sore, and the stitches on his
abdominal wound itched, but it had closed. The swelling on his face was gone,
and the bruises and cuts were healing. He would have discharged himself
yesterday against medical advice, but Tate wouldn’t hear of it.
“So I take it the wedding is still on,” Jack added looking
somehow resigned.
He nodded. Yes, the wedding was still pretty much on. Tate’s
mom and his aunt had wanted to postpone it, but no fucking way. Funny thing,
though, he hadn’t had to say a word. Tate had looked at him and read his
thoughts.
“We’re marrying as scheduled,” she’d said.
Pride blossomed inside him at the memory. He knew how much
she would have wanted to bail off that wedding.
“By the way, where is bride-to-be?” Jack asked.
“Stepped out for a coffee with the maid of honor.”
Jack’s face didn’t register any emotion when he asked, “So
Elle’s around?”
“Came by earlier, but after the coffee she was heading to
Rosita’s.”
Jack didn’t say anything.
“Is she still bugging you?” James asked.
“Define ‘bugging.’”
That got James chuckling. “Well, I don’t know. Desecrating
your cell with emoticons and such.”
“Nope. No more cell phone desecration. She’s graduated to
e-mailing me now. Best-man speeches and etiquette mostly.”
James laughed. “Well, I can assure you if you keep taking
her car keys, she will graduate to shooting you in no time. And that’s nothing
compared with what she’ll do to you if you tell her again she needs your
permission to talk.”
Jack’s lips quirked slightly. “You know, she reminds me of
Ronnie.”
He nodded. “Same fucking attitude.”
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you I’m going under soon.”
Shit
. “You going
to be okay?”
“I always am, aren’t I?”
Yeah, until the day he wouldn’t be. “What is it this time?”
Jack’s expression tightened. “Same shit. Different name.”
Fuck. James wanted to ask him more, but Tate walked in the
room.
“Hi, guys,” she greeted, smiling brightly at them both.
“What are you doing?”
“Just shooting the breeze,” James said as she approached and
kissed him.
Jack stood up. “I got to go.”
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked and then motioned
at the door. “I can come back later. I’ll just—”
“No need,” Jack said. “I was leaving anyway. Got shit to do.
See you, man. Take care.”
After Jack left, Tate turned to him. “Something wrong?”
A fuckuva lot. Nothing he could explain to her, though, so
he took the light route. “It depends; is your sister still anywhere in this
building or the immediate surroundings?”
“No.”
“Then nothing is wrong.”
It worked, for she shook her head, amused. “So, what do you
want to do?”
“I want out of this hospital. Now. I’m bored out of my
fucking skull.”
“Poor baby,” she said, and after leaving her bag on the
chair, she stood in front of him and took off her coat.
James’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”
She had on an extremely tight, extremely short white-and-red
naughty nurse dress. A red garter belt peeked under the skirt, and white
fishnet stockings decorated with a red cross on the top covered her legs. A
stethoscope hung around her neck.
Thank fucking God he was sitting; otherwise he would have
fallen on his ass.