Anything but Mine (22 page)

Tears hurt her eyes and she blinked. “I don’t know what I want.”

He cleared his throat. “If you’d rather, I can handle the arrangements.”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “I think I’d like that. I’m just not…I don’t think I can do it.”

“Then you don’t have to.” His voice lowered to a gentle, caressing tone. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” She darted a look at him and glanced out the window once more. “Lord, I’m tired.”

“I’ll go.” His footsteps whispered on the tile floor. “Goodbye, Autry.”

The door clicked closed.

He’d lost her. Resting his head against the file cabinet, Stanton rubbed at his eyes. Ever since leaving Autry, he’d tried to shift gears, to focus on getting the sheriff’s department set up in temporary housing. He’d hoped the physical exertion of moving furniture would help. Instead, his mind wanted to dwell on that conversation with Autry, with her withdrawal.

He’d never seen her without the life and spark that had drawn him to her. Like inside, she’d died too. He ached with the need to hold her, to take away the pain she was holding at bay.

He was the last thing she wanted. She’d barely been able to tolerate having him in her hospital room earlier. He’d felt it, seen it—in her eyes, her face, her nervous demeanor.

“So what are you going to do?” Tick dropped a banker’s box of files next to the door.

Stanton dusted his hands, stepped back from the cabinet. “About what?”

“About Autry.”

He shot a glance in Tick’s direction. The other man leaned against the door, arms folded over his chest, an intent expression on his bruised face. “What can I do, Tick? She’s…” Stanton shook his head. “It’s over between us. I can see it in her eyes.”

Tick’s mouth thinned. “She’s been through a lot.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Anger simmered along Stanton’s nerve endings. “I don’t want to make it any harder for her.”

“So that’s it. You’re giving up.”

Stanton blew out a frustrated breath. “I have to think about what she wants. Right now, that’s not me.”

Tick gave him a disbelieving look. “What about what she
needs
?”

“Same difference.”

“Like hell it is. Damn, Stan, how can you be so stupid where women are concerned?”

“And you’re an expert, right?”

“Smart enough to know there’s a difference between needs and wants. Maybe if you’d gotten what Renee needed, she wouldn’t have wanted to sleep with someone else.”

The anger boiled into fury and Stanton took a step forward, hands clenched. “You son of a bitch.”

Tick rolled his gaze heavenward. “Yeah, whatever. So tell me this. What do
you
need right now?”

Stanton froze. The anger drained away as the words pounded in his head. What did he need? Autry, plain and simple. He needed to hold her, to let her nearness soothe the awful gaping emptiness of having a child…and then not. He needed to share his grief with the one person who could understand it best.

Autry wanted him gone.

Maybe she needed him near more.

He tugged off his gloves. “Listen, think you can handle this? I’m going back over to the hospital for a while.”

A grin quirked at Tick’s mouth. “All this furniture? Sure, Stan, no problem. It was only half a building that fell on me.”

“Get Troy Lee to help you. He’ll be here later.”

Tick grimaced at the mention of the young deputy. “I’d rather do it myself. He’ll find some way to screw it up.”

“I’ll call Ash, send him over here. He’s been itching for some way to help and Botine won’t let anybody but LE or rescue on site.”

“Just get out of here and go get your life in order.”

“Autry?”

At Madeline’s soft voice, Autry lifted heavy lids. They’d given her a pain medication earlier and she’d finally given in to the drowsiness. She’d welcomed the darkness, the opportunity to forget.

She brushed her hair away from her face and levered up on the pillow. “What time is it?”

“A little after five.” Madeline shifted the overnight bag to the floor and settled into the vinyl chair. “You look better.”

Better than what? Death? Autry rubbed her eyes. “Where’s Mama?”

Madeline’s expression contracted. “Home. I finally convinced her to take one of the sleep aids Mackey prescribed for her. She was sleeping when I left.”

Autry darted a glance at her sister. “Alone?”

“Lenora Calvert’s with her.” Madeline looked away, staring at something outside the window for a moment. “What’s going on with Nate?”

Autry closed her eyes. She couldn’t handle Nate’s issues right now too. “What do you mean?”

“He disappeared yesterday evening and hasn’t shown back up. Did you know his phone’s disconnected?”

No, but she wasn’t surprised. Autry sighed. No point in hiding. “He probably tied one on and passed out at home. He’ll show up at Mama’s when he’s hungry or needs his laundry done.”

“Where’s Helen? And the kids?”

Irritation spiked under Autry’s skin. If Madeline was so concerned about the state of their family, why not stay in touch? Couldn’t she realize Autry really didn’t feel like a game of twenty questions right now? “She left. The divorce was final months ago.”

Madeline grimaced. “We’ve got to do something about Nate. Get him into AA. Help him land a decent job, clean up his act.”

“Damn it, Maddie, stop pretending you care. If you’d cared, you’d have been here before now.”

Madeline jumped from the chair, pacing to the window with jerky movements. “The only reason I’m here now is because Daddy…you know why I’m here.”

The flat words held no trace of remorse. Autry gripped the edge of the sheet. Didn’t Madeline care at all that she’d broken their daddy’s heart all those years ago? Broken it every day after that by staying away? Didn’t she get that Autry hadn’t been able to make up for Madeline’s defection, even by being all their father asked?

Her stomach turned over. She’d tried, damn it. She’d tried so hard to take that look out of his eyes.

It had never disappeared.

The door opened and a hospital worker bustled in with a cheerful smile and a dinner tray. “Dinner time. Hope you’re hungry.”

She settled the tray on the table and wheeled it to the bed, adjusting the top over Autry’s legs. “I’ll be back to pick that up in a little while.”

With listless hands, Autry lifted the lid. Chicken, broccoli, mashed potatoes. She popped the top off the plastic beverage cup. In a lazy swirl, steam drifted upward from dark coffee.

Madeline tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Doesn’t look too bad.”

The aroma of coffee hit Autry’s senses…and didn’t make nausea rise in her throat. Oh Lord. She could handle the smell of coffee again. The reality crashed in and her throat closed, tears rushing to her eyes. She shoved the table away, coffee sloshing over the side of the cup.

“Get it out of here.”

“Autry, I know it’s hospital food, but you need to eat.”

“Get it out of here!”

Madeline pulled the table away. “Autry—”

“Now!” The tears spilled, tearing sobs shaking her chest. “And you go too. Back to Jacksonville or to hell…just go. You wanted out and you didn’t care what it did to Daddy or Mama or any of us…” The sobs stole her ability to breathe and she pressed a hand to her chest, over her pounding heart, the stitches in her abdomen pulling with sharp tugs of agony. She welcomed the physical pain, nothing compared to the anguish pouring through her.

She pulled up her knees, muscles aching, and curled against the tearing hurt.

“Autry.” Unease hovered in Madeline’s voice.

She cried harder, unable to stop now that she’d begun. “Go
away
.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Stanton’s authoritative tone cut through the room. On a shuddering breath, Autry lifted her head, a blur of tears casting a shimmering veil over her vision. She wiped at her wet cheeks, the uncontrollable sobs still ripping at her. He glared at Madeline and crossed to the bed, arms closing around Autry’s shaking body. His scent, warm, spicy, a little sweaty, enveloped her, and she buried her face against his chest.

He stroked her hair. “Autry, baby, it’s all right.”

“No.” She shook her head, the cotton of his polo shirt abrading her cheeks. “It’s not. It’s real, Stanton. She’s
gone
. And Daddy too.
It’s real
.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He murmured the words against her cheek, the bed dipping with his weight. “I’m so sorry.”

She cried in his arms, until the tears were spent, until the sobs were nothing but small, shuddery gasps. He stayed, holding her, whispering endearments and reassurances, infusing her with a strength she didn’t have within, until the exhaustion claimed her once more.

Hours later, the murmur of Stanton’s voice pulled Autry from her doze. She opened her eyes, the room lit only by the fluorescent light over the bed. Beyond the window, night hovered. Stanton sat in the chair, phone to his ear, scribbling on an envelope.

“Thanks. Bye.” He replaced the receiver and stuffed the envelope in his pocket before glancing up. His smile didn’t quite reach his sad eyes. “Feel better?”

She passed a hand over her eyes, gritty and sore. “I feel drained. A little fuzzy still.”

“Pain meds.” He leaned forward, hands between his knees. “Autry, we have to talk. You know that, don’t you? About us.”

She looked away, nerves jumping in her stomach. “I know.” She laced her fingers together, needing something to hold on to. “I know I’m all over the place, Stan—”

“I think you have a right to be,” he said, his voice quiet, and she slanted a shaky smile in his direction. “I can deal with it.”

“I’m glad you can.” She rubbed a hand over her cheeks. “I’m so confused.”

“Then talk to me, baby.”

Tell him what had been bouncing around in her mind? Face what he’d surely think of her? She sucked in a shaky breath. “You’ll hate me.”

“Hell, Autry, don’t you know I could never do that?” He closed his eyes, opened them, fixed her with a fiery stare. “I’m in love with you.”

Panic poured through her and she clenched her hands to stop their trembling. “Don’t say that.”

He leaned closer, his expression intent. “I am. I should have told you sooner, as soon as I figured it out, but I was scared.”

He was scared? He had no clue.

“So why are you saying it now?” she whispered.

“Because I learned there are worse things I should be afraid of.” His jaw tightened. “Like losing you.”

“You can’t say this. Not now. I can’t handle it.”

“Then I won’t say it again until you’re ready to hear it.” He reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb over knuckles. “But it doesn’t make it less true.”

She stared down at their linked fingers. “Do you ever think about your decisions? Where you’d be if you’d made different ones?”

“Every damn day.” He squeezed her hand. “Honey, you’ve been through hell in the last thirty-six hours. I’d be worried about you if you
weren’t
questioning everything.”

She closed her eyes on a wave of tears. “I’m an awful person.”

“Ah baby, you’re not.” Cloth rustled, and the edge of the bed dipped, warm arms enfolding her. “Don’t say that.”

Lord, she was weak. All she wanted was to stay in his arms, let him shoulder her problems. Just like all her life she’d let her father direct her decisions? She tugged away.

“My father’s dead, and I’m thinking about myself, how it affects me. Like whether or not everything I’ve ever done, I did for someone else. After Madeline dropped out and left, Daddy wanted me to go to law school, so I went. He suggested criminal defense as a specialty instead of family law. He believed in giving back, so I went for the public defender’s office instead of private practice.”

“If you don’t want to continue in defense, don’t. You don’t have anything to feel guilty for. People’s needs, what they want out of life…all of that changes. But you also don’t have to make those decisions now. You need to rest, to get well.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not sure about you either.”

Beside her, he stiffened. “Explain.”

Hugging her midriff, she looked away from his shuttered hazel gaze. “I don’t know if I wanted you back because I wanted you, or if it was because—”

“Of the baby,” he finished for her, his voice reserved. She didn’t miss the hint of pain there, though. He rubbed a hand over his knee. “And now there is no baby.”

A rough sigh shuddered through him and her chest tightened. “I’m just not sure. I’m such a mess…”

“Listen.” He smoothed her hair behind her ear, his touch tender. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re hurting and you’re confused. I’ll back off; you can have whatever time you need. But don’t give up on us, Autry. Not yet.”

She looked away. “When Jay releases me, I’m going back to my house.”

He cupped the back of her head, tilting her face up so their gazes met. “Are you sure? We haven’t found the person sending those notes—”