All They Need (21 page)

Mel stepped out of the way as they made their slow way out the door. Flynn waited until his parents had left the room before sagging against the sink and scrubbing his face with his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“It's a pretty bad burn.”

“The ambulance guys seemed really calm, though, and I figure that's got to be a good sign. And she did the right thing with the water.”

“You're probably right.” He pushed away from the counter. “We should get going.”

He started for the door, then stopped. “Sorry. Here I am, just assuming— You probably need to head home. I can take Mom's car if you need to go.”

“I'm coming with you.” The answer was out of her mouth before she could think about it.

He reached out and hooked his arm around her neck, drawing her close and dropping a kiss onto her mouth. “Thank you.”

They locked the house and Flynn drove her car to the Epworth Hospital in Richmond. They walked hand-in-hand into the hospital and made their way to the emergency department. An enquiry revealed that his mother was being treated by a doctor and they were advised to take a seat in the waiting room. She sat beside Flynn, talking quietly, doing what she could to reassure and distract him. An hour later the nurse came to tell them that his mother had been moved to a private room and that they were free to visit her. They followed a complicated set of directions until they located her room and found her sitting up in bed with
her injured arm carefully resting on a pillow to one side of her body. Her forearm was covered in a thick, many-layered bandage and the tight, pained look was gone from her face. Adam sat beside the bed, his face set in the same dogged, determined expression he'd worn earlier.

“There you are. We were beginning to think you'd gone to the wrong hospital,” Patricia said with a weary smile.

“We've been waiting downstairs until the nurse gave us the all clear. How are you doing?” Flynn asked, reaching to take his mother's good hand.

“Better and better. The doctor wants to keep me in overnight so one of the plastic surgeons can take a look at it. Apparently it's a borderline third-degree burn and I might need a skin graft.”

“And that's something they'd do straight away?” Flynn asked.

“I have no idea. I forgot to ask them that.” Patricia gave him a small apologetic smile. “They'll be back soon—you can ask them yourself.”

“But you're comfortable?” Flynn asked.

“Very. A little spacey, but there's no pain.”

“Good.”

Mel had been hovering in the doorway but Flynn drew her forward now.

“I didn't get a chance to introduce anyone earlier, but Mel, this is my mother, Patricia, and my father, Adam. Mom, Dad, this is Mel,” he said.

“Lovely to meet you, Mel. I wish the circumstances were different, but there's not much I can do about that,” Patricia said.

“I'm glad to hear you're feeling more comfortable,” Mel said.

Flynn's father didn't say anything and Flynn fixed his father with an assessing look. “You doing okay there, Dad?”

His father met his eyes and Mel could see that the older man was working hard to keep a lid on his emotions.

“What's going on, Dad?” Flynn asked gently.

“I'm fine. You're mother is the important one here.”

Patricia eyed her husband shrewdly. “You're blaming yourself, aren't you?”

Again, Adam didn't say anything but his answer was in his face as he made eye contact with his wife.

“Don't go all quiet on me. Talk to me,” Patricia said quietly. “We said we'd always talk. So talk to me.”

There was a moment of silence before Flynn's father responded. “I let you down.”

He said it so quietly Mel almost didn't hear him.

“No, you didn't. You called Flynn. That was the exactly right thing to do.”

Adam shook his head. “Don't. Don't try to make me feel better. I panicked. I couldn't handle it.” The grief and self-disgust in his voice and his face were so real, so deeply felt, that Mel stirred uneasily and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“No,” Patricia said. “You got help. You helped me. You waited with me.”

“I stood there crying like a baby. I could barely think. I'm useless. Might as well have had a five-year-old in the room.”

Patricia surprised everyone by reaching over the edge of the bed to grab a fistful of her husband's sweater. Her expression determined, she gave him a none-too-gentle shake.

“You listen here, Adam Randall. You are not use
less. You are not worse than a child. You are an intelligent, articulate man. You make me laugh more than anyone I've ever met. You still beat me at golf, even though I've been taking lessons for fifteen years, trying to beat you. You are kind and you are loving and you are the man I have loved all my life. Those other things you're talking about, that's not you. We both know that. You have a disease. A horrible, shitty, low-down bastard of a disease, and that's the reason you got confused this morning. That wasn't you, and you did not let me down. You have never, ever let me down. Not once in more than forty years of marriage. You are my knight in shining armor. You will always be my knight in shining armor.”

There was so much fierce love on the other woman's face, so much determination and vehemence in her voice, that Mel could not look away, even though she knew she was witnessing an intensely personal, private moment.

“I love you so much, Patty.”

“I know. Now give me a kiss.”

Adam's face was filled with emotion as he stood and stooped over his wife, cupping her head with infinite gentleness as he lowered his head to kiss her lips.

Mel sniffed and finally managed to drag her gaze away, using the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her eyes. She glanced at Flynn to see what he'd made of his parents' touching, humbling display and found that he was looking at her with a fierce, undeniable intensity.

Everything that lay unspoken between them was in his eyes. His love. His commitment. His passion. Everything that he wanted for them, all his hopes and dreams.

Her breath got caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat for long, unblinking seconds.

Then he looked away and the moment was gone.

But she knew she hadn't imagined it. She knew that what she'd seen had always been there, sitting beneath the easygoing smile Flynn had offered the world—and her—during the past few months. A feeling of dread engulfed her as she pasted a smile on her face and listened to Flynn make small talk with his parents.

Flynn loved her. He wanted to share his life with her in every sense of the word. Five weeks ago she'd thought—she'd hoped—that she'd struck a deal with him, that they could continue on as they had been, spending time together, their friendship deepening, without her having to give up any of her hard-won freedom or security.

But Flynn wanted more. He wanted everything. He wanted love and marriage and babies and growing old together. He wanted everything she had to give, and he wanted to give her everything in return.

She took a step backward, overwhelmed, as always, by the thought of trusting another person in that way again. After years of not protecting herself, she'd learned her lesson too well and she had no idea how to let anyone in. How to let Flynn in.

She realized that Flynn and his parents were talking, that Flynn had asked her something. It took her a moment to play it back in her head and understand that he'd asked if she was hungry. She said yes because it was easier than saying no and listened as he asked his parents if they wanted anything, then she found herself following him out into the corridor.

“Are you okay?” he asked as they approached the elevators.

“Yes,” she lied.

They bought muffins and coffee from the cafeteria and returned to his mother's room. After half an hour the doctor appeared to check on her and Flynn peppered him with questions until he was satisfied that he understood the situation. She could see the tension leave his body as he slowly came down from the adrenaline high of the emergency and started to accept that his mother was going to be okay.

By the time noon rolled around, Patricia was sleepy from all the painkillers she'd been given and Flynn decided to leave so she could get some sleep. His father wouldn't hear of leaving her side, so Flynn promised to return later in the afternoon. They walked out of the hospital into a slow, steady rain, Mel's sense of dread growing with every step.

Now that they were alone, now that the crisis had passed, the feeling of impending doom that had dogged her for weeks seemed to swell until it was filling her chest. There was no way she could pretend that she hadn't seen the raw devotion in Flynn's eyes when he looked at her. She'd kidded herself for over a month, but there was no way she could deny the depth of his emotion anymore. He loved her. He'd said it to her last night when he thought she was asleep. He loved her and he wanted to share his life with her.

In her head, a clock was ticking as she waited for him to stake his claim, to demand that his needs be met as well as her own. To destroy the fragile balance they'd somehow achieved—or, perhaps, faked—for the past month.

It seemed impossible to her that he wouldn't say something. She'd seen the look on his face, seen the intensity of his feeling. It was undeniable.

He didn't say anything during the drive home, however, and she grew more and more tense with every passing moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I might swing by the supermarket and grab some bread for lunch,” he said. “The cupboard's pretty much bare at home.”

Inside her head, she wanted to scream. She wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake him until he said what needed to be said. She wanted the impasse to be acknowledged, she wanted the disaster to arrive, she wanted to confront it head-on so she could start to deal with the enormous hole he would leave in her life.

She sat stiff and cold beside him as he pulled into a parking spot at the local shops.

“I'll only be a moment. You can wait in the car if you like,” he said.

She didn't say anything as he got out. She watched him stride toward the entrance, confident and assured and beautiful, and something inside her snapped. She wrenched herself from the car and went after him.

“Flynn.”

He turned toward her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to catch up. She stopped in front of him, feeling breathless even though she'd only jogged a few steps.

“You should just say it,” she told him starkly. “Whatever you need to say. Get it over and done with.”

His brow wrinkled into a frown. “Sorry?”

“That moment with your parents… I know what you want from me, Flynn. I know you love me. But nothing's changed. I'm still me.” She choked on her final words, strangled by her own misery and brokenness.

His blue eyes looked into hers and she knew, absolutely, that he understood what she was saying. But instead of agreeing and showing his hand and drawing
his line in the sand and forcing her to draw hers in turn, he leaned close and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I was thinking we should grab a quiche instead of making sandwiches, maybe have it with a salad. What do you think?”

He didn't wait for her to respond, simply gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning and entering the supermarket. She took one, two, three steps after him, following him through the automatic doors before stopping in her tracks.

She watched as he walked into the fresh produce section and started inspecting the lettuces and suddenly she understood not only that he wasn't going to say anything today, but he was also
never going to say anything.

Ever.

There would be no demand from Flynn. No line in the sand. No ultimatum. He would never force her into a corner or ask more from her than she was able to give. He would never do that to her.

He loved her.

He wanted her to be happy. And he was prepared to sacrifice his own happiness, his own dreams, in order to make that happen.

His love was generous and mature and all-encompassing—but most of all it was selfless, in the truest meaning of the word. He gave, but he didn't demand in return.

The realization rolled over her like a wave, inexorable, undeniable. It was like staring into bright sunlight, painful and purifying at the same time.

This man. This amazing, incredible man…

Tears burned the back of her eyes and slipped down her face as she thought about the way he'd already
walked away from his landscape design business for his parents and the long hours he worked to preserve the family legacy and the way he dropped everything when his loved ones needed him. He gave and he gave and he gave. And he never asked.

A wave of heat burned its way up through her belly and into her chest and throat and into her face. It took her a moment to recognize it as pride. Fierce, bone-deep pride in him. Flynn Randall was a man in a million. He was a man who a woman could trust with anything—her heart, her mind, her pride, her passion.

He was a man who deserved a love that was as generous and self-sacrificing and openhanded. A love that wasn't afraid or self-protective or narrow or scared.

He deserved all of her. Everything she had to give.

If she had the courage to give it.

There was only one answer in her heart. There had always been only one answer in her heart. She just hadn't been ready to see it.

Her hands trembling, she reached into her pocket. Her fingers closed around her car keys. She pulled them out and blinked away tears as she tried to find a particular key on her ring. She slipped her thumbnail into the split and worked the key free. Then she clenched her hand around it and lifted her head.

Flynn was standing by the bananas. She started walking, the key cutting into the soft flesh of her palm. A woman with a stroller looked at her with concern, clearly worried about the tears dripping down Mel's face. Mel flashed her a quick smile to let her know she was okay. Because she
was
okay. Terrified. Absolutely shit-scared. But for the first time in years, she was really, truly okay.