Just Physical (42 page)

“Just let me out here.” She pressed the fare and a generous tip into the cabbie's hands.

He got out and opened the door for her.

It was a bit of a struggle, but she finally climbed out of the car.

As the cab pulled away, Jill tightened her grip on the four-pronged cane and hobbled toward the gate, hoping to make it past the SUV.

No such luck. The driver's side door opened, and Crash got out.

Seeing her brought a mix of emotions, pleasure and pain. She longed to sink into her arms and cry, but Jill shoved those feelings back.

Crash approached Jill slowly, almost hesitantly, and held out a bottle like a peace offering.

“What's that?” Jill heard herself ask.
No. Don't talk to her. Send her away.

“Chocolate milk,” Crash said with a hint of the grin Jill loved so much. “According to George, it helps with that metallic taste in your mouth. Lauren said they put you on corticosteroids, so I asked George about the side effects. Lauren also told me when you'd be back from the infusion center.”

Great.
Jill gritted her teeth.

“Don't be angry with Lauren. She and Grace are just worried about you. And so am I.” The expression in Crash's eyes was so soft and tender that Jill had to look away. “So? How about that chocolate milk? I also have some lemon drops. I hear they help too.”

Jill bit her lip and hobbled past her without accepting the bottle. “No, thanks. I don't have a metallic taste in my mouth.”

Crash followed her. “Okay. Then I'll drink the chocolate milk while you tell me how you're doing. I called you yesterday and this morning, but you didn't pick up, so I had to resort to this.” She gestured at her SUV blocking the access to the house.

Jill paused in front of the wrought-iron gate. She kept her gaze on the number pad and didn't face Crash. “Please, Crash, go home. I want to be alone right now.”

“Is that really what you want?” Hurt and doubt vibrated in Crash's voice, nearly making Jill turn around and hug her.

She braced herself. “I can take care of myself.”

“That's not what I asked. Look at me.”

Willing herself not to look at Crash, Jill struggled to focus on the number pad. She reached out to tap the security code into the panel, but her fingers were trembling too much.
Damn.

Gently, Crash gripped her shoulder and pulled her around, keeping one hand on Jill to steady her. With her free hand, she reached up and ran her knuckles down the side of Jill's face in a caress so tender that it made Jill ache much more than the steroids or the MS ever could.

She leaned into the contact for a second, then pulled away and desperately shook her head. “Don't you understand, Crash? I'm not a person you should get involved with. It was foolish to think otherwise, and I'm sorry if I gave you false hope.”

Crash didn't move an inch. Her blue eyes were stormy like the ocean during a wind-whipped, cloudy day. “You're the one who doesn't understand. I don't care about the MS.”

“But I do, dammit!” She shoved Crash back with all her strength, nearly falling in the process. At the last moment, she caught herself with one hand on the brick wall next to her and the other clutching the cane. “Go, and don't come back!”

She whirled around, not wanting to see the expression on Crash's face. It broke her heart—both their hearts, probably—but it was better to end it now, once and for all, instead of prolonging the hope and the pain. She remembered only now that she still had the remote control in her pocket. With one press of the button, the gate sprang open. Jill stumbled through. A sob rose up her chest as she reached back and pulled the gate closed, forever shutting Crash out of her life, but she choked it back.
Inside. Not here.

She didn't dare peek through the iron bars to see if Crash had left. It would hurt too much to see her standing there—and even more if she'd left already.

Maybe it was a blessing that she needed all of her focus to make it down the uneven driveway without falling.

Something—someone—landed on the gravel next to her.

Jill whirled around and lost her balance.

Crash caught her and pulled her against her chest, steadying her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jill shouted, caught between wanting to hit her and wanting to hug her.

“Climbing your wall. I heard Grace and Lauren did it once.”

She took a tighter grip on her cane and pulled away from the tempting heat of Crash's body. “That's not funny!”

Crash shook her head, her expression sober. “I'm not trying to be. I don't remember ever being so serious about anything in my life.”

Tears burned in Jill's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Please, Crash. You have to go. I can't do this.”

“I will,” Crash said. Her voice was rough. “But first, I want to cash in that rain check you owe me.”

“What? What rain check?”

“Remember that day I helped you out of the stunt harness and you invited me to Greek takeout in your trailer? Okay, I invited myself, but we had a nice conversation. You asked me about my real name and how I got into stunts, and you promised that I'd get to ask you two questions in return. Well, I never got to ask that second question.”

Jill squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “I remember.” Only too well, actually. She could still feel Crash's fingers on her as she'd opened the stunt harness's Velcro straps, and she could still see how warm Crash's blue eyes had been while she talked about her parents and her five brothers.

“You gave me a rain check on that second question, and now I want to cash it in.”

The only thing Jill wanted was to escape into the house, but she owed Crash that much. Her throat was raw with pain, so she said just one word. “Ask.”

Crash gently touched two fingers to Jill's chin and tilted her head up so they were looking into each other's eyes. Her fingers were clammy and trembled. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I'm not afraid,” Jill said as if out of reflex, but even to herself, she sounded like an actress who had over-rehearsed her lines—not convincing at all. For the first time, she admitted that yes, she was afraid. Scared to death, actually.

“For once in your life, forget your pride and tell me the truth,” Crash said. “I love you, dammit, and I think you love me too, so why do you keep pushing me away?”

They both froze and stared at each other.

Now the tears Jill had been trying to hold back spilled over. One ran down her cheek. She had known or at least suspected for a while that Crash loved her, but hearing her say it took her breath away. If they had met two years ago, those three little words from Crash would have made her jump into her arms and cover her face with kisses, but now they wrapped around her heart like a fist and squeezed painfully.

“I didn't mean to say it now, but I'm not taking it back,” Crash said, her posture rigid and her head held up high.

“Don't do this,” Jill whispered. “Don't do this to yourself. I don't want you to have to go through this too.”

“Don't you see? It's already too late. I'm in this with you, heart, body, and soul. There's no such thing as keeping things just physical when you're in love.”

Jill stared at her through the veil of tears.

Crash—the woman who fearlessly jumped from buildings—was trembling. Jill's throat tightened when she saw the tears glittering in Crash's eyes.

“I'm in love with you too,” Jill whispered. Maybe it was cruel, but she wanted to say it just once. When Crash reached for her, she struggled backward, heavily balancing on the quad cane. “But that doesn't matter.”

“It's all that matters,” Crash said. “We agreed to give a relationship between us a chance, and I'm not letting you back out now.”

“That was before…” Jill gestured down at her leg. “Before this damn relapse.”

“The way I see it, the MS is like a fire stunt. Okay, you got burned. So what? I know it hurts and you're afraid of it happening again. But you can't let it stop you from getting back on the proverbial horse, or you'll live in fear for the rest of your life. You have to plan ahead for everything bad that could happen, but then trust your team and take the leap.”

Jill dashed the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her eyes. She sank onto a nearby aluminum garden chair, no longer able to stand. “Don't you think I want to? But I can't do it. I have no right to be in a relationship.”

Crash looked at her. “What about my right to be in a relationship?”

Jill squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look at the pain on Crash's face. “Crash…”

Gravel crunched, and then Crash lightly touched Jill's knee—the one on her good side.

Hesitantly, Jill opened her eyes.

“All this time, I let you be the one to make all the decisions. But if you want to be equal, you can't have all the power. You don't get to make the decisions alone. I made my decision. I know I won't be any happier without the MS if it means I'll be without you.”

“That's what you think now, but how can you know that's how it'll always be?”

Crash shrugged. “I can't. The future doesn't come with any guarantees—and that's not just true for people with MS. That's where trust comes in. I have trust in us to make the best of whatever life throws at us.” She tilted her head and studied Jill. “But maybe that has been your issue all along. I don't think you ever trusted anyone enough to really let yourself need that person.”

Each word pierced Jill like painful little darts. She shook her head to stop them, but they kept coming.

“That's what you're so afraid of, isn't it? What if you let yourself rely on someone and then that person one day walks away?”

Abandoning her tight grip on the cane, Jill put her elbows on her thighs and covered her face with her hands. But she couldn't stop the sobs that shook her or the tears that kept falling, no matter how often she wiped her eyes.

Crash shoved the now free-standing cane out of the way, knelt on the gravel, and wrapped both arms around her. One of her hands came to rest on the back of Jill's head, cradling her protectively, while her other hand rubbed soothing circles along Jill's back. She held her close without saying a word, not telling her that everything would be fine or that she should stop crying.

Not that Jill could have stopped, even if she'd wanted. It was as if Crash's words had put a hole in her chest, and now all the bottled-up pain came spilling out, like an unstoppable flood.

Her tears soaked Crash's shirt where she had her face buried against Crash's shoulder. It was a bit humiliating, but mostly it was freeing. She clung to Crash until the storm of her emotions passed and she became aware of how uncomfortable their positions were.

Sniffing, she pulled back. “God, I hate crying. I need a tissue.”

Crash searched in her jeans pocket and handed her one. She was sniffling too. Groaning, she got up from the gravel that must have hurt her knees.

Jill noisily blew her nose and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Ugh.
She probably looked a sight, her face even redder and more puffy than before.

But Crash regarded her as if she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life. “Better?” she asked.

The tenderness in her voice made Jill's eyes fill with renewed tears. Annoyed, she wiped them away and nodded. “Yeah.” She blew out a shaky breath and whispered, “You're right. I thought I trusted you, but…I don't think I really did. I didn't trust myself to keep you interested if my health started to deteriorate. I mean, how could you still love me if I'm a useless—”

Crash pressed a finger to her lips. “I know what word you're thinking. Don't say it. Don't even think about yourself that way. You're lovable, just the way you are, and that won't change.”

“Hollywood doesn't seem to think so.”

“Forget Hollywood. They're a fickle bunch. But that's not real life.”

“It is, if you're an actress. Besides, my parents treat me the same way.” She blew her nose again before stuffing the tissue into her pants pocket. Her eyes were still burning, and she wanted to avert her gaze, embarrassed by her unexpected breakdown, but she forced herself to look at Crash. She found no judgment in those blue eyes, so she continued. “If the same happened with you, I…” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I couldn't stand it.”

Gently, Crash pulled her hands down and looked into her eyes. “It won't. I didn't just inherit my good looks from my parents, you know? They've been together for thirty-five years, and they're still deeply in love. That's what I want with you. So?” She rocked back on her heels. “Ready?”

“To trust you? To commit to a relationship with you?” Jill swallowed. She clutched her knees with both hands and realized distractedly that she could feel that tight grip on her left side too.

“For chocolate milk,” Crash said with a gentle smile and pointed at the bottle that was lying on the gravel, unharmed.

The pressure on Jill's chest eased. She laughed through renewed tears. God, that PMS in a bag was killing her. But maybe she should be grateful that the stuff had made it impossible to keep her emotions under wraps.

“Ready,” she said. She sucked in a breath, held it for as long as she could, and then blurted out, “For all three.”

The smile that spread over Crash's face was all the reward Jill needed for gathering her courage. Some doubts still remained, but Crash was right—she had to trust her to make her own choices instead of deciding for them both. “Thank you for…for not giving up on me,” Jill said.

Crash reached out and traced the tear tracks on Jill's face with her thumb. “Never. Just don't push me away again.”

“I…I won't.” Jill covered Crash's hand with her own, cradling the warm palm against her cheek for several moments before letting go.