Slow and Steady Rush (26 page)
“I’ll never tell anyone.” Tyler stared at the wall, his face set with innocent teenage determination. Robbie hoped one day Tyler would find someone to trust.
He glanced to Tyler’s alarm clock. “I have to pick up Avery from the vet. You okay?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Yes, you will.” Robbie got up, stiff and sore. With his hand on the doorknob, he added, “I expect you at school tomorrow and at practice. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler saluted crisply.
After reassuring Tyler’s mother her son was on the mend, Robbie slid behind the steering wheel and was on to the next duty of the seemingly interminable day.
The always-rumpled vet met him at the door. “Come on in, Dalt. How’re you feeling? You look a little pale.”
“Tired but ready to see my dog.”
Dr. Martin led him through a wide hallway to a room lined with cages of varying sizes. A low woof and scrabbling against a metal cage door drew Robbie.
Avery looked like hell with his fur shaved off, old and new wounds marring his exposed skin. However, the bright gleam in his eyes and his lolling tongue emanated cheer and energy. He sat on his haunches and waited.
Love and relief overtook Robbie. He’d felt something similar in Afghanistan when they’d rolled him into Avery’s recovery area after the bomb. But everything seemed sharper and closer now, as if the lid he’d kept on his emotional stew had cracked.
The door closed, and Robbie sensed they were alone. He lifted the latch. Avery didn’t bound out but walked with an extra hitch in his already awkward gait.
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we, boy?” Robbie squatted and winced at the pull on his stitches. Avery licked and pressed his muzzle into Robbie neck and along his wounded arm, sniffing. He barked softly.
“I’m glad you’re okay too.” Robbie cupped the dog’s head and rubbed him behind the ears and under his chin. His tail went into a wild thumping. Robbie buried his face in Avery’s ruff where the fur was soft and unshaved. Avery’s tongue lashed at his ear with a soft, sighing whine.
Robbie’s one constant through the storm of war had been Avery. On the days when all hell had broken loose, when all he could see were the faces of the dead on both sides, Avery had been his rock, his comfort, innocence in the evil.
If Avery had died … the thought of going home to an empty house filled him with a similar desolation he’d felt as a child. Now that he knew companionship, the solitude seemed as scary as the beatings he’d received.
“Ready to head home?” Robbie’s voice was embarrassingly rough and, not for the first time, he was glad his dog loved him no matter what. Avery walked at his side, and Robbie slowed his pace so the dog didn’t have to struggle to keep up. He offered to settle his bill, but the vet waved him off.
At the truck, Robbie picked Avery up. Warmth gushed at his side. He set Avery on his favorite blanket. A busted stitch would have to wait. They were going home.
#
Darcy stirred the dumplings and checked the clock for the thousandth time. Almost seven. She had invaded Robbie’s house, and he would have every right to be mad as hell and kick her out. He was so resistant to accept help. Probably from some inane, misplaced sense of manly pride.
At the very least, he needed to eat. Unless he’d stopped somewhere already. Maybe that’s why he was so late. She was an idiot. Maybe she should take her pot and go home. Yep, it was the only sensible thing to do. She slid on her oven mitts.
The sound of wheels on gravel pulled her to the window. She tortured her bottom lip with her teeth. They faced another fork in the road. He’d revealed something to her not even Logan knew. Something no one else knew.
Last night, she’d finally admitted to herself she wanted their casual football-season fling to turn into something more serious.
His footsteps on the porch sent her to the middle of the foyer. The door swung open, and their gazes locked. Her hand rose to brush self-consciously at her hair before she realized she still had on oven mitts. The heat emanating from her body would start a forest fire.
“What are you doing here?” He didn’t sound mad, so she took a step forward.
“I made dinner. Thought you might need some help.” She gestured toward the kitchen with her flowered, padded hand. Ripping off both mitts, she fisted them behind her back and waited for a response, her stomach full of butterflies. No, butterflies were gentle. Her stomach was full of chattering, fighting squirrels.
He closed the distance and hauled her against him. The mitts fell to the floor, and she grabbed under his shoulders. He lifted her until she was on tiptoe, her face in his neck.
The tight hug compressed her lungs. His chest rumbled, his rough words skittering between them like a landslide. “You didn’t have to come over. We would’ve been okay.”
His arms loosened, but she stayed flush against him, enjoying his warmth and solidness. Her lips found his jaw and against the stubbly skin, she said, “I know you would be okay, but I wanted to make things easier for you and … wait, where’s Avery?”
“He fell asleep on the ride, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I could carry him in by myself.”
“See, you
do
need help.” She skimmed her lips along his jaw toward his ear. A shudder cascaded through his body.
Between the two of them, they carried a sleepy Avery to the doggy bed in Robbie’s bedroom. After he had settled into the warm cocoon, Darcy got the last thankful lick on her cheek.
“Are you trying to steal my man?” Robbie teased, following her back into the kitchen.
She tossed a wink over her shoulder. “You’d better watch out. I might.”
She spooned out generous helpings of chicken and dumplings in two bowls and took the bread out of the warm oven. He ferried huge spoonfuls to his mouth and made caveman-like grunts of satisfaction.
Between smaller bites, she studied him—a purple bruise colored one cheek, dark circles under his eyes, and his skin tight from pain or exhaustion or both.
Another car approached too fast, spitting gravel. Darcy rose and laid a hand on Robbie’s shoulder to keep him seated while she checked. Moonlight reflected off the blue-and-red lights perched on top even though they weren’t flashing.
“Police,” she said, walking back into the kitchen. “Probably Rick. Do you remember him questioning us at the hospital?”
“Vaguely. I want to keep Tyler out of this. Have you told anyone?”
Her outraged harrumph was answer enough. At the hard rap on the front door, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
Rick walked past her into the foyer. “I need to speak with Dalt.”
“In the kitchen.” She pointed.
Rick took off his patrolman’s hat and smoothed his dark hair on the way down the short hall. He took the seat she’d vacated at the table, and while he and Robbie exchanged polite greetings, she cleared the bowls and glasses. Normally, she’d offer Rick the hospitality of at least a drink, but the waves of animosity rolling off Robbie made her hesitate. Best get this interview concluded quickly.
“I’ve called you a half-dozen times,” Rick said.
“My phone’s broken. Didn’t get your calls.”
“You were pretty out of it last night. Need to ask you two some questions.” Rick took a notebook and a stubby pencil out of his back pocket. “Darcy, you stated last night that there was no one else besides Dalt and the boys who attacked him there. Sticking by that?”
She gripped the counter at her back with trembling hands. “Why would I lie?”
“Don’t know. To protect someone?” Rick’s head rotated back to Robbie. “What about you, Coach?” Somehow, Rick conveyed disrespect with the use of Dalt’s moniker. “You recognize any of your attackers after a day to reflect?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. One of them jumped me at a convenience store at the end of summer.”
“Did you report it?”
“No need. I flattened the little turd. This stunt was probably out of retaliation. He’s pale with white-blond hair. Name’s Jeremy aka Whitey.”
Rick’s face stayed blank, but he hadn’t been so careful the night before. “Anyone else?”
“Nope.” The two men locked gazes.
Rick worked his jaw. “I’ll look into things.”
“If—when—you find him, I want to talk to him, but I’m not ready to press charges.”
“Robbie—why?” Surprise drove the question out of Darcy. Rick’s eyebrows rose as well.
“It’s the Christian thing to do.” Considering Robbie hadn’t attended church one time, his platitude was weak. “Anything else, Rick?”
Rick stayed seated a beat too long. “I’ll be in touch.”
The chair teetered on two legs before it clattered back to settle on all four. He shoved his hat on, shielding his eyes, and Darcy saw him out the door. She wasn’t one to worry about locking up usually, but tonight she shot the deadbolt before Rick was off the porch.
Robbie stood by the kitchen sink, his shirt off and his fingers tugging at the taped gauze over his side. A brownish-red bloom of color marred the pristine white. She brushed his hands away and took over.
“Did I rip the stitches?”
She pulled the first aid kit over and cleaned the dried blood away with a medicated wipe. “No, but you overtaxed yourself.” After retaping his side, she checked the cut on his bicep, which looked improved even from that afternoon.
He turned and leaned back against the counter. Pulling her between his splayed legs, his hands pressed her close. Darcy fell into him. His bare chest warmed her from the inside out, and the sprinkling of hair tickled her cheek.
His chin rested on her head. “As much as I would like for you to rip my pants off and take advantage of me, I’m so tired I can barely function.”
She pulled away, hands braced on his shoulders. “If I can’t use your body, what’s the point? I might as well pack up and go.”
With all tease gone from his voice, he whispered, “Don’t go.”
She swallowed past a lump that materialized in her throat and whispered back, “I won’t.”
His shoulders slumped with his gusty sigh. After making sure Avery was comfortable, he shucked down to his boxer briefs and collapsed on the bed. “Grab a T-shirt if you want.”
Her heart stuttered. She flipped the light off but felt the heat of his eyes as she opened the drawer and pulled out another white T-shirt. Overcome with modesty, she turned her back, took off her shirt and bra, and pulled his shirt over her head. Her shorts hit the floor.
The cool sheet slipped over her legs. Her foot collided with his hairy calf, and she kept it there, needing the contact. He snaked an arm around her and hauled her against his good side. Her hand roved over his chest to rest close to his heart. The thumping rhythm of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest soothed her into sleep.
The awkwardness of their past mornings together was gone. He allowed her to change his bandage one more time, copping a feel of her butt in the process. They made plans to have dinner together. A real date. He whispered wild, dirty promises in her ear as he drove her back to Ada’s house. The heat of the words and his breath made her throb between her legs and laugh like a giddy teenager. She’d
never
laughed like a giddy teenager—not even as a teenager. But, then again, she’d never been in love before.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her in for a light kiss before she scooted around Avery to hop out of the truck. She watched until the truck rounded the first bend. The first thing she did was shove an entire sleeve of condoms into her purse.
Maybe she would sneak into the practice pavilion and wait in his office. Maybe she’d wait naked, sprawled over his desk. Fantasies scrolled while she drove to the rehabilitation center.
Ada wasn’t in her room. Worry compressed Darcy’s lungs as she headed toward the therapy rooms. White hair flashed through a window, and the brick on her chest crumbled. She stepped inside, her mouth dropping. Ada’s face was the definition of concentration as she walked with a cane. Maybe walked was generous, but shuffled anyway.
“Look at you. You’re doing awesome.” Darcy clapped her hands and drew a smile from both Ada and the physical therapist.
“What else do you notice?” Ada folded both hands over the top of cane, popping her hip out with pre-broken-hip sass.
“Your IV is gone,” Darcy said with a grin.
“You know what that means. You can spring me today! I’m craving a chicken casserole and apple pie, and we can play cards and gossip.” Ada sounded as happy as a kid going to an amusement park for the first time.
Darcy kept her smile in place. Ada would not see a hint of the disappointment coursing through her. Not a hint. Ada, not Robbie, was the reason she was in Falcon.
“That sounds perfect.” She choked on the word, her lips frozen in a facsimile of a smile. “Wonderful.”
It was wonderful, but it would have been more wonderful tomorrow. Or maybe even next week, after she and Robbie had decimated the industrial-sized box of condoms, after a few nights—and mornings—in his arms.
Darcy confirmed everything with the supervising doctor. After making plans to pick Ada up after lunch, she walked out, hating herself for feeling depressed.
Ada coming home disrupted her plans for the night, but that’s not what made her heart hurt. Ada was on the mend, which was incredible, amazing, outstanding—but it also meant Darcy was that much closer to not being needed in Falcon. Not by Ada, anyway.
Her relationship with Robbie was too new, too fragile. She didn’t know if her love would grow like kudzu, tenacious and impossible to kill, or like honeysuckle, sweet and beautiful but transient, dying with the change of seasons.
She needed time. Time to discover what she wanted, where she belonged. Her job in Atlanta still waited, and she loved that job. But, she’d distorted the Falcon of her youth. The reality was like all of life, complicated and filled with good and bad.
And what did Robbie want? Maybe he didn’t even want her to stay. Maybe he wanted the simplicity of a season together and a clean break. As Logan had wisely said, she didn’t have to figure it out today, but the day was coming. Faster than she wanted to admit.
