All or Nothing (22 page)

“I’m not leaving him here with you.” Great,
now
Kyle was playing the grand protector.

“Then go out to the living room. You need some rest. I can take care of this.”

“He’s not a slab of metal, kid.”

“No, he’s not. But if you stay on your feet much longer, you’re going to end up just like him, and unlike you, I’ve got no problem making use of suppositories on others.”

It sounded like Kyle was thinking about it. What the hell was there to think about?
He
would have ditched by now.

“You can’t just spring in and spring out again, Belinda,” Kyle said quietly. Lucas tried to strain to hear, but his voice grew softer and the blackness of the fever started sucking him down. “I won’t let you hurt him anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, sounding dismissive and…worried? Lucas knew then that this was just another hallucination of the fever. Her hand slid into his and her hold followed him into the darkness, along with her dreamed words. “I’m not going anywhere, ever again.”

It was a nice dream.

Well, it was until he heard her voice again.

“…sorry, Lucas, but I’m guessing this is probably going to hurt.”

“What is?” he managed to say through lips that felt cracked and dried. Why did all his bones ache this way? And why did he feel so dizzy? And when did he stand up?

“This is,” she said, then he was sprayed with ice cold blades. At least, that’s what it felt like. Minutes later, he realized it was only water. And she was in it with him. The unrelenting heat started to abate, in tiny steps, but the cool water turned hot by the time it reached his feet. “There you go, let’s lean you back into this chair…”

How she got a chair into his shower, he couldn’t imagine, but he settled into it like a sagging bag of aching bones and the cold water streamed against his face. A touch of heaven in the pit of hell.

“This is the best dream,” he said to himself.

“Sure it is, Lonnigan,” Belinda’s dream-voice said. “I’m sure you’ve
never
had better dreams than a raging fever and ice-cold showers.”

“Dream of you every night. This time you feel like you.” He lifted sore arms to double check she was still there, letting his hands slide over her whipcord body. Her skin felt smooth, its familiar texture even more defined beneath the fever-magnified sensitivity.

“Open your mouth.” She held something in her hand, something long and obscured by the overhead lights.

He did as he was told, surprised to taste sweetness on his tongue. Thick and sweet. Orange. But it was quickly gone. Every now and then, she’d ask him again to open his mouth, gifting him with another taste of oranges. Between the cold water and the gentle rub of her hands over his aching body, he felt himself relaxing a little more. Soon, he was being dried and shifted again.

“Stay with me?” he asked. It was wrong to ask. She hated being asked for anything. But this was a dream, and in his dreams, Belle didn’t mind slipping into his bed with him, beneath the sheet, just to hold him in her arms.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now, remember?”

He smiled, sleep starting to claim him again, pulling her close, where she felt best. “Been stuck with you forever, Belle. But I like it.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, brushing her lips against his forehead. “I like it, too. Now go to sleep, before I slug you one.”

Holding her tight, that’s exactly what he did.

Chapter Eleven

It took two more days to break the fever. Belinda leaned back in Lucas’s chair, watching him sleep peacefully. He still coughed, but the weak thrashing and heaviest wheezing had stopped. They’d managed to bully him to his doctor’s office once his fever was low enough to move him, and he’d received a shot of concentrated antibiotics as well as strict instructions to keep him hydrated. Her little trick with the liquid Motrin, fed in painfully small drops at a time, chipped away at the fever, giving him faint relief while the antibiotics did their work.

She wished she could climb in his bed the way Sparky had the second he’d arrived, but apart from a few minutes after that shower, she’d kept herself clear. Jessica had run errands for her, going to her loft for some changes of clothes, a few special items and to collect the dog. The three of them had created an indefinite sense of shifts. She stayed with him overnight, the only one of the three who had no trouble being awake all night long. Kyle made her sleep for an hour or two when he took over in the morning, but for the most part, she stayed by Lucas’s side. Every hour, she managed to get sips of water into him and at least a few spoonfuls of broth. Sick unto falling down or not, he wouldn’t accept more than a leant shoulder to help him to the bathroom to relieve himself, which she counted as something in their favor. As long as his body was working—and he was cranky about it—he had to be on the mend.

Finally, at four a.m. on the second day, his brow was cool. She let her hand remain there, being tickled by his inky hair falling over his forehead. She gave herself the luxury of ruffling her fingers through it. It rippled under her touch, the straight strands finally long enough to fall back into place. She couldn’t remember the last time Lucas had let his hair grow beyond military lengths. The thick masses had always been his best feature, but he kept them shorn, probably to differentiate himself from his brother. As if they needed a haircut to be told apart.

She longed to stretch her limbs out next to him, to lay her cheek over his heart and listen to the steady beat. For now, though, she contented herself with touching his face.

His lids fluttered, the heavy lashes lifting carefully. He blinked slowly, probably realizing the haze was gone. Then he must have registered her touch, because he lolled his head her way, confusion in the dark blue gaze that met hers for the first time in days.

“You’re really here.”

She nodded, feeling tears sting her eyes. “Yup.”

“Did Kyle call you?”

“No, I came all on my own. He tried to throw me out a couple of times, though.”

“Yeah?” His barely-there grin made her chest swell with relief. He really was going to be okay.

“I swear.” She raised her hand in a girl-scout pledge. “It’s just lucky I’m wearing my clodhoppers or I’d have been pitching my tent at the front door. He’ll be walking funny for a few weeks, but at least he stopped trying to get rid of me.”

“He’s protective.”

“Yes, he is. He’s a good brother, Lucas.”

“I know, but he’s still a moron.” He finally lost the battle to keep his eyes open and went back to sleep.

She let him, content to watch him for a while. When she finally tried to slide her hand free from him, he startled back awake. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she said, ridiculously thrilled that he still wanted her. He shouldn’t. He was a smart man. He should have ditched her spiteful self years ago and never looked back. But he never had…and she was going to spend the rest of her life making it up to him. To herself. “You keep forgetting. You’re stuck with me.”

“
Love
you,” he said, almost sounding like he was correcting her.

“I know you do.” She pressed her lips to his cheek and eased her arm free. “I love you, too. Now sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise.”

“I promise. Now sleep.”

He tried to say more, but he was back in the hold of sleep and there was no getting free. She crept from the room, taking Sparky with her so the pup could get some fresh air. She stayed quiet, finding Jessica asleep on the couch in the living room and Kyle in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar, head resting on his forearm.

Kyle lifted his head, blinking blearily at her. “Everything okay?”

Belinda nodded. She could say a lot of things about Kyle, but she’d never again accuse him of always putting himself before his brother. “Fever broke. He’s sleeping now, but I think he’s through the worst of it. My brothers both got this when they were little. Losing the fever is a good sign. He just needs sleep now. I was wondering, could you take Sparky out for a bit?”

“Sure.” He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. As he passed her, he surprised her by laying a kiss on her cheek.

She frowned at him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was. But he’s better and you’re still here. Gives me hope that I wasn’t wrong about pushing you two together all these years.”

“You need
your
temperature checked.” She pushed at his side, making him laugh.

“You’re good medicine, kid. Bitter, but good.”

“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes and headed for the small table on the other side of the room. The snick of the front door closing behind him was a relief. The vigil had taken its toll and the relief was almost as exhausting. She ached for the chair and just a minute or two to close her eyes, but she had the strangest sense of someone watching her. She turned, ready to threaten various precious parts of Kyle’s anatomy only to gasp at who she found. Lucas, wearing a dark blue robe, rumpled hair and the sexiest frown Belinda had ever seen.

“Where were you?” he demanded as if he’d been looking for her for hours. Given his exhaustion, he probably felt like he had.

“Right here.” She tried not to smile. He wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You said you were staying.” The accusation in his gaze was the same as she’d seen when he was six. And just as cute.

“I am.”

“Good.” Except now he looked more aggravated.

Belinda pushed her tiredness away and put an arm around him. “Come on, big boy, let’s get you back to bed. Better yet, another shower. Your sheets need changing.”

“It’ll wait.”

“No it won’t.”

He stopped her in the hall by leaning against the wall and scooping her in front of him. “It’ll wait.”

She swallowed, meeting his fiery gaze. “All right.”

The cute look disappeared, leaving an impatient strain to his mouth and his breathing. “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“What you said when I was falling asleep. Say it again.”

She thought back, then smiled as his hands cupped her jaw. She took his lapels into her hands and shook her head at him. No bottleneck this time. “I love you, Lucas.”

He looked down at her, then closed his eyes as if he were savoring the sound. She rose on her toes to whisper it again, right in his ear where he’d hear it for sure. His arms tightened around her, pulling her close and breathing deep against her neck.

She let herself enjoy the embrace, but not for long. He shouldn’t be up. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. There’ll be plenty of time for talking later.”

“You’re sure?”

Not really, but she would try to be. She nodded and he finally let her lead him back into the bedroom.

Lucas let her fuss with his bed after he showered and brushed his teeth. His skin felt raw, his gums were swollen and he was pretty sure he’d die if he didn’t lie down again soon, but there was still some measure of happiness that she was insisting on fresh pillowcases and fluffing his pillows first.

She finally let him sink into the soft, crisp fabric and he sighed in relief. Then he tumbled her down next to him with a yank on her hand.

“This is not going to help you get better, Lonnigan.”

He coughed, none too pleasantly, and had to agree with her. “Even if you did all the work, I’m not sure I could handle you.”

“Since I’m such a slave driver when it comes to sex, better for you to save your strength.” She settled him back against his pillows, but stayed on the mattress with him, leaning her head on his arm, her bent leg over his and her arm around his waist. It was nice, lying together peacefully. It wouldn’t last, but it was nice.

“You ready to talk to me now?” he asked, watching her face for any sign of panic.

She grimaced. “Probably not.”

“Belle, I’m a sick man. Show a
little
mercy.”

She shifted, rotating until she could cross her arms over her breasts and her feet at the ankles. He watched her stew, wondering suddenly if those were his socks on her feet, and waited for her to talk.

Maybe he could fit a nap in.

“I don’t know where to start,” she complained, ruining that idea.

He stifled a yawn. “Anywhere’s good.”

“Thanks, that helps a lot.” But she sounded more amused than angry. Always a preferable tone.

“How about where you were before you came here?”

She shrugged. “My mother’s.”

That gave him pause. He didn’t remember being too friendly with her father. If Lucas had made him angry and she walked blindly into it… The thought made his blood cold. “Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, he was warm and loving as always. But don’t worry, he kept his hands to himself.”

“He damn well better have.” Coughing erupted from his chest without warning, burning his lungs from the inside out while he strained to get it back under control.

“We should do this another time,” she said, now on her knees on his bed, pushing his hair back with a worried expression on her face.

“We do it now.” He dragged in a shaky breath through gritting teeth.

“It can wait.”

“I’ve waited my entire life, Belle. No more.”

She nodded, but made him sip at some water before she’d say even one more word. “After the banquet— No, I should start before that. When we argued. I didn’t mean what I said, Lucas. Not any of it. You were right. I
was
terrified. I couldn’t make myself stop sniping at you and when you said those things—”

“What things?”

“You called me a faithless, fragile coward,” she reminded dryly.

Damn, but it sounded like something he’d say if pushed too far. He couldn’t remember clearly. Then again, it wasn’t what
he
said that stuck with him.

“You didn’t mean what?” His tired body managed enough energy to stiffen with tension.

She paused, took a breath and pushed it out. “I lied about the baby.”

He expected relief, but all he felt was more hurt. “Why would you say something like that if it wasn’t true?”

“Because I wanted you to go. I wanted you to hate me and I knew nothing else would—”

“Why?” he demanded. A hacking cough begged to burst forth, but he clamped his throat around it to keep it in.

She looked him in the eye, abject misery all over her face. “Because I realized that day that I
wasn’t
like my mother. Part of me is still afraid I might get there, but the truth is, I’ve never taken after her. I’m like
him
,” she growled, self-disgust draping her shoulders, causing them to slump. “I
am
a selfish, fragile, faithless coward. I’ve needed you in my life, all my life. And I think I resented that.”

“Resented?” Past tense. That was good, wasn’t it?

Belinda climbed off the bed to pace, her loose cargo pants barely hanging onto her slim hips. “Adam loves my mother. I’ve never been able to argue that. I’ve never known two people more in love than they are.”

“Belle, what they have isn’t love. It’s strangulation.”

She nodded. “I know. God, even they know it. But it’s still love. Under all the mistrust and abuse and anger and cruelty, it’s still love. It’s passion. When they’re good together, you have never seen anything so incredible. But they never should have had children. My mother was too weak to fight for anything but her right to be with him and my father…he was too jealous.”

As if Amanda had ever thought of anything but Adam. “Of what?”

Belinda shrugged, stopping and shoving her hands into her uppermost pockets. “Of us. Of the time she needed to spend on us kids. He wanted to be first and only in her life. We got in the way. We needed time, money, food, energy. He resented the hell out of us. Especially me. Because I was first.”

Lucas stared at her, trying to get his brain to see where she was going, but his insight wasn’t fast enough. He couldn’t pull her back.

“Of all of us kids, I’m the most like him. I don’t back down from a fight. I don’t kowtow to his bullying. I’m a bully right back. He doesn’t know what to do with me and I’m the biggest threat to his peace with my mother.”

“You’re her protector.”

“I tried to be,” she said wearily. “I tried so hard.” He saw the tear that fell from her bowed head, but she didn’t seem to want him to. “You can’t fight for someone who doesn’t want to be saved. I saved my sisters, though. And my brothers. Some of them, anyway. He was too busy fighting me off to bother with them. I don’t know about the others.”