Taming Cross (Love Inc.) (30 page)

After a minute, she pulls away. “Thank you,” she says, and I can tell she’s working hard to hid her embarrassment. She slips on the jacket and I smile. “See? No one will know about your shirt.”

“Except my therapist.” She laughs, a hollow little sound. “I think I need to find one, ASAP.”

I shrug. “You don’t seem too crazy to me.”

“Maybe not,” she sighs. “I’m definitely terrible at the boy-girl thing, though.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right boy.” It sounds trite, but it makes my heart ache because I think of Cross. No son of Drake Carlson can ever be the right man for me.

The girl standing across from me bites her lip, then shakes her head—reminding me, in that moment, of someone years younger. “Not really,” she says, as her eyes glitter with tears again. “I’ve started thinking there’s just…no one.”

I hug her again, this time one-armed. “That’s not true. There’s someone for everyone.”

She sighs. “My guy is probably a missionary on some tiny island somewhere.”

This makes me laugh, and a second later she giggles. She has a cute-sounding giggle. As we smile, I can see why Cross likes her. Before I can wonder how much, the intercom hums on, and a woman’s voice calls my name. Well, she says “Meredith Carlson. Please come to the Operating Room Intake Desk.”

My lungs seize up, because the woman didn’t say who was paging me—a nurse or the cops. Maybe I should just walk out. Hitchhike to Vegas. I could do that, couldn’t I? It would suck, but I could do it.

The girl sniffs loudly. “I guess I can go meet the real…” She almost loses it. “His new wife,” she finishes gamely. “I think maybe that means he’s out of surgery now, and we can get an update.”

I hold my breath. I hold it for so long I almost start to see stars. Then I make another choice—the choice not to leave quite yet, despite knowing Cross has people here for him. “Would you like me to walk you to the OR waiting area? You seem like you could use some company and I’d like to see how the patient is doing.”

Cross’s pretty friend smiles. “That’d be great.”

She zips the jacket, igniting a sting of envy somewhere behind my breast bone, and we step into an over-bright hallway that smells of stale coffee and antiseptic.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Stepping out into these halls with nothing to shield me. No one to protect me. If the cartel is on my heels… If Cross killed Jesus’s sister, Christina… If he
didn’t
…

I’m a fool for not just leaving, but I can’t seem to walk away.

All of a sudden I notice Cross’s friend is looking at me, and I realize she doesn’t know where she’s going. I’m the ‘nurse’. I’m supposed to be leading us.

“Oh, the OR waiting room. Sorry.” I rub my eyes. “Long day.”

Her gaze trails down my clothes, and her lips pinch together. “Are those dark stains from…”

I let my sorrow over all of this show on my face, and her expression matches mine.

“He’s had a really rough time,” she tells me as I lead us to the waiting area.

I don’t want to hear this from her…but I do. “What happened to him?”

She sucks her perfect lip into her perfect mouth. “He got into a motorcycle wreck a couple of months ago. It’s a really long story, but let’s just say he had some enemies. One of them caught up with him and…it really is a long story, but it led to his wreck.” She lowers her voice and moves her head a little closer to mine. “People think he wrecked because he was drunk. It kind of tarnished his reputation…not that he was thought of as a saint before.” She sighs. “Anyway, after that he had a lot of health issues. He was in a coma, then he had a stroke. His parents are selfish, awful losers and they never came to visit him at all.” Her shoulders rise and fall, like she’s taking a deep, composing breath. “It just makes me so mad, you know. He’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve what’s going on.”

I nod, feeling twenty things at once: the strongest of them are jealousy, want and loss. I’m not sure how much more Cross stuff I can stand to hear from this woman’s mouth, so I ask a self-serving question. “Why was he down in Mexico?”

She shrugs. “That’s the thing. I really don’t know. My friend Liz said he was going to some motorcycle convention, but her fiancé Hunter is suspicious. After we got the call that Cross was here, we all jumped on a plane together and talked about it. I think it’s even weirder because when we got here, another nurse told us Cross had arrived in the helicopter with a wife.” Her hazel eyes widen. “A freaking
wife
!” She shakes her head, and I get the feeling she’s trying not to get upset again.

“Have you met her yet?” I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but I can’t help myself.

The woman shakes her head. “I’m not sure I want to, either.”

We walk in silence to the OR’s waiting room, and as soon as I open the door, I wish I wasn’t here. The place is filled with pretty, well-dressed people who I know at a glance are Cross’s friends. There’s a very familiar-looking guy dressed in slacks and a button-up; he’s got a goatee and hair that is neither red nor blond nor brown, but some mix of all three. Beside him is a handsome guy in a baseball cap, blue jeans, and a worn-out-looking t-shirt; he’s sitting in a plastic chair with his legs spread wide. He looks casual, but something about him just screams
wealth!
A pretty, dark-haired girl is latched onto his arm, practically sitting on top of him; that’s how close their chairs are. Her eye-makeup is just as smeared as Barbie’s. She’s wearing skinny jeans, an over-sized white sweater, and charcoal Chucks, and she’s got her eyes trained on some double-doors topped with a sign that says ‘ICU’.

When I see that, my stomach twists.

I stand there, feeling like I just swallowed a ball of cotton. My blood-crusted clothes cling to me, and I think my heart is going to explode if I can’t get my hands on Cross—right now.

And that’s when I know: I have to leave. I’m too involved. I’m living in a fantasy.

I’m so grateful that I’m out of Mexico. I’m grateful for Cross’s arms around me when I told him my story, even if at the moment I knew him as Evan. I’m sorry and grateful and confused at how he took two bullets for me…but I’m living in a fantasy. Whatever I think this is—it’s not.

I don’t even know this man.

And if I did know him, it would be wrong. So wrong and weird.

Whatever you think this is—it’s not, I tell myself.

Tears start falling, but I keep on moving. This time, I’m not turning back, no matter how much I might want to.

CHAPTER THIRTY

I wake up with an IV in my hand and pull it out. I’m itchy, hot, and I feel like I’m floating. I know what this means. I know where I am, and I remember why. I also know I’m alone in this room. I can’t see red-blonde hair, and I don’t smell her, either.

The IV machine starts its beeping—
‘put your IV back in, you fucker’
—and I decide I’m going to unplug it from the wall. The adjustable bed is sitting me up, and I don’t really think about why that is before I grip the bed rail with my right hand and agony rips through my shoulder, so bad it leaves me gasping on my back. The lights on the ceiling are spinning like teacups. Teacups at the fair…right? Or is that Disney Land?

A nurse comes in, she’s fussing with the machine. I can’t make out what she’s saying. I don’t fucking care. I think the IV was in my left hand but she takes my right one and I’m dizzy but I know her game.

“You think…I can’t…take it out with this…hand?” I try to raise my left.

She gives me a look I can’t decipher. The room is way too bright and she’s all eyes—a creepy aberration all in white.

All in white…like a bride.

“Where’s…my wife?”

“Your wife hasn’t been here.” Again, those eyes. They’re big and green. Like ones I know. “…the police…” she’s saying.

But I can’t seem to follow. “What?”

“…your sister…”

I shut my eyes. I must be really out of it, ’cause I don’t think I have a sister. I focus my eyes on her big ones and swallow past the soreness in my throat so I can croak, “Where’s Meredith?”

“…get…sister, sir. Maybe she can…”

She turns to go, and I bat at my right hand with my left. “Turn this shit down. I can’t…think.”

I guess I pass out, because the next time I wake up, the halo around everything is dimmer and Lizzy is sitting in a chair beside my bed reading a magazine. I’m looking at her impassively, trying to get my brain to start working, when she jumps up and leans over me.

“You’re awake!”

“…No shit.”

Lizzy looks pretty and perky, and for some reason it’s fucking annoying. I scowl at her. Don’t mean to. My mouth just does it, and I’m too tired to think about why I shouldn’t.

“Are you hurting? They’ve been—”

I shake my head, fighting the dizziness that makes the room seem to tilt a little. “I wanna…get out of here.”

Her eyes, on me, are big and concerned. She bites her lip, looking around the room. There’s a flower poster on one wall. “You’re out of ICU and in a floor room now. They don’t want to discharge you until tomorrow at the earliest.”

I shut my eyes and sink back into my pillows. “Fuckin’…stupid.”

I think of Merri—I project her image onto the back of my lids. All I want is to get out of here and see her. Is that too much to ask?

I open my eyes again and unleash the full force of my misery on Lizzy. “The only thing I need from you is to find Meredith.”

Lizzy looks surprised, then sad. She sits back down and scoots her chair closer to me. I wish she would scoot it back.

“Cross, about this Meredith… No one here seems to know who she is or where she is. We’ve looked, I’m sure you can believe that. We can’t find her. And the police are here. They want to talk to you, but so far we’ve been able to keep you covered.” There’s a pause. I slit my eyes open and look at the stupid clouds somebody painted on the ceiling. “In case you can’t tell already, they
had
to give you narcotics. I know you didn’t want that, but your blood pressure was too high. Apparently they had to stitch your shoulder twice. It was the second time. No offense, but I think whatever they gave you is making you grumpy.”

With some effort, I hold her gaze. “I’m not fucking grumpy.”

“Okay.”

I’m not. I just want Merri. Damnit, I want her so much I can hardly stand it. Where the fuck did she go? I sigh—a little louder than I meant to—and attempt to cover my face with my right hand. A shot of pain reminds me that I can’t. I don’t have a single fucking arm that I can use. I turn my head away from Lizzy and push my cheek into the pillow.

A second later, I hear her voice. “Cross…who is she? Are you really married?”

My eyes are rolling back into my head, but I don’t want to go to sleep. I feel so…out of it. I lift my two-hundred-pound head and make it turn toward Lizzy. “Turn this stuff down, Liz. I don’t want it anymore.”

Instead of an ass, now I sound pathetic. Like I’m about to cry.

“I’ll tell them, C.”

I nod. My head feels hot and full. I need Lizzy to leave, but I’m too tired to tell her.

“Cross, who is Merri? Where did you meet her? …If you’re too tired, we can talk about it later.”

I force my eyes open, though the effort makes me feel like passing out. “…won’t tell?”

She shakes her head. “I promise. No one.”

“Missy King,” I croak.

I feel Lizzy’s warm hand on my forearm. “Cross… Are you telling me you went to Mexico and found Missy King? And brought her back here?”

“Yes.” The word’s a gasp.

“So the wife story is a lie. You’re not married to her.”

I open my eyes. The light above the bed is bright—so bright. I can feel the fluorescent bulbs surging in time with my heartbeat. I look at Lizzy’s face.

“I love her,” I whisper.

Her eyes grow wide and I groan, “Go away.”

When she shuts the door, I let a tear slip out.