Cross-Checked (17 page)

I looked over at Brick again.

Boyfriend?
Was that how he’d introduced himself to them? Well, I guess it was better than, “Hi, I’m Carly’s one-night stand”, or “Hi, I’m the guy who fucked your daughter.” And I couldn’t help but wonder how charming Mom would have thought him if she’d seen him bending me over a table and shoving his pierced cock up my ass.

“Anyway, enough of that,” Mom said, touching the tube of clear fluid running into my good arm. “I’ll go and get Dad from the cafeteria. He’s been sick with worry but I’ve had to keep sending him off to eat because of his diabetes, you know how he gets.”

“Yes, of course, and please, some painkillers if there’s a doctor or nurse about.”

“I’ll do that first,” Mom said, backing toward the door. “Before I go to the cafeteria.” She turned and left. The door clicked shut.

The noise echoed around the room. Brick’s eyes opened. He lifted his head and looked about as if reorienting himself. He saw me studying him.

“Carly,” he said, jumping up and taking three fast paces to the bed. “You’re awake.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked with a frown.

“Where else would I be? Christ, we’ve all been so worried about you.” He shoved his hand through his short turf of hair and loomed over me. “What a scare you gave me, and your poor parents.” He reached for my right hand and, being careful not to knock the tube, scooped it into his big, warm palm. “I said you should train indoors didn’t I, not out on the roads.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I know I can’t.” He sat on the side of the bed. “But I can ask you to keep yourself safe for the sake of my sanity.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I’ve been crazy with worry these last few days, seeing you just lying there.”

I shifted from the scratchy feel of his stubbled chin and turned to look out the window at the hazy Orlando skyline.

“Hey, what’d I do?” he asked, frowning.

“You know what.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” He tucked his finger under my chin and turned me back to face him. His eyes searched my face. “So you better just tell me. I’m not good at guessing what you’re thinking at the best of times.”

“You were gone, in the morning.”

“I left you a note.”

“It wasn’t enough. Not after…”

“I had an early flight, we had a game.” He shrugged but had the decency to look sheepish. “You were sleeping and I knew you were exhausted. I tried to wake you but you just murmured something about your bike and a plane and then you turned over.”

“You should have tried harder.” I was pouting. I couldn’t help it. “It was horrible to wake up alone and have to walk out of the hotel in my stupid evening dress. Everyone looked at me.”

He rubbed his palm over his cheek and screwed up his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

“You just didn’t think of me at all.”

He took my hand in both of his and sighed. “You left me sleeping last week. I woke up, tied to the headboard, covered in lipstick and you were gone. I figured it was okay in your world to leave someone sleeping. Not a big deal.”

“Last week was different,” I said.

“Why,” he grunted, “’cause I’m a man I can take it?”

“No, because…because…that was a game.”

He tipped his head and widened his eyes. “Is that all I am to you, Carly, a game?”

“No, no, of course not.” Once upon a time I’d had a game plan and I was deadly serious about winning. But I hadn’t been playing for a while now. The rules were too complicated and the thought of losing was just too painful.

“You’re not a game to me,” he said quietly. “When I said you were all I could think about, that you were the star of all my fantasies, I was being honest. When I thought I was coming to the hospital to identify a body and help your parents organize a funeral my world ended.” His lips squeezed together and he dragged in a deep breath. “I have never, ever in all my life wanted anything as much as I wanted you to be all right, not even last year, when I
really
wanted to lift the Stanley Cup.” He swallowed and his mouth tilted into the tiniest of smiles.

I looked into his handsome face. He had gray circles under his eyes, adding to the remnants of his black eye, and his golden skin looked a shade paler than usual.

“Carly, Carly, oh thank goodness.”

I looked over Brick’s shoulder at Dad bursting into the room. His hair was wild, his red-checked shirt creased and, like Brick, he had a good coating of stubble, though his was silver and thinning.

Brick let go of my hand, stood and stepped to the end of the bed.

“Carly, sweetie, can you see me?” Dad asked as he pushed his spectacled face to mine. “Can you see me, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Dad, fine, please, not so loud my head hurts.”

“The nurse is on her way,” Mom said, “with painkillers.”

“Dad.” My voice sounded a little shaky as he took my hand. “My bike.”

“I know, I know. But better that piece of metal than you. And your wrist will be fine. I spoke to Sheila, she sent flowers by the way, the pins are real light, no more than a mobile phone, so they won’t add to the weight.”

“Pins?”

“Yes, the pins in your wrist, sweetheart, it was shattered.” He frowned “They had to fix it back up with metalwork. You should see the x-ray, it’s pretty impressive.”

No wonder it hurt like hell, metal inside me. “What about the nationals, they’re only months away?”

“You’ve always been a quick healer, so there’s still a chance,” Dad said. “With physical therapy and if they get a new bike sorted quickly”

“I don’t think now is the time to worry about that,” Mom interrupted in a tone that Dad and I knew should be obeyed.

A nurse holding a small white container appeared through the doorway. “Good to see you properly awake,” she said, placing it in my hand. “Here, take these, they’ll help the discomfort, then maybe you’ll eat something.”

“When can I go home?” I asked, examining the two tiny blue tablets.

“Well, it’s not really for me to say, but now you’re awake I’m sure the doctors will discharge you tomorrow, providing of course you’re up and about, eating and drinking okay.”

Dad passed me water and I took the tablets as the nurse scribbled on a chart. “I just want to get back to my condo,” I said to Mom. “I’ll feel better there. I know I will.”

“Do you live alone?” the nurse asked, studying me with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, she does,” Mom answered for me.

“I’m afraid we won’t let you go if you have no one to keep an eye on you for at least forty-eight hours. Preferably longer.” The nurse walked to the door. “It’s the rules,” she said over her shoulder as she slipped out.

I saw Mom and Dad look at one another. Mom nodded and Dad raised his brows. It was an annoying habit they had, this telepathic form of communication.

“What?” I asked irritably.

“We’ll cancel our cruise,” Dad said. “And you can come home with us.”

“No!” I was horrified. “You’ve been waiting all year for this cruise. It’s your thirtieth anniversary. I won’t let you do that.”

“Carly, you are our only child and we love you more than anything else in the world. You need us right now and we can re-book a cruise. What we can’t do is replace you,” Mom said, squeezing my hand.

“No, please don’t.” I looked at Dad. “Tell her, I’ll be fine. I’ll get Sheila to pop in and check on me each day or something.”

“No, you need someone with you all the time, you heard the nurse,” Dad said firmly.

“And how could we go and enjoy ourselves knowing you were alone and in pain. We couldn’t, could we?” Mom added.

“Perhaps I can offer a solution,” Brick said, folding his arms across his thick chest, his biceps bulging over his knuckles. “I have a cabin in South Carolina.” He looked at Mom and Dad with his hypnotizing green eyes. “If it’s okay with you, Mr. and Mrs. Flannigan, I’d be happy to take Carly there for a week or so while she recovers. Keep an eye on her and make sure she rests up properly and follows doctor’s orders. Plenty of fresh air, peace and home-cooked food is just what she needs.”

Everyone was silent for a long, drawn-out moment.

“And there’s a physiotherapist in the nearby town if she needs one,” Brick added.

I stared at Brick. Did he know what he was saying? Did he really want to spend a week nursing me? “Don’t you have games?” I asked.

“Only one this week and Fergal wants to play Raven so it should be easy for me to wriggle out of it.”

“But how will we get there? I won’t be able to hold on.” I lifted my arm a fraction off my chest. Once again I regretted it as pain shot up to my shoulder.

“I’ve got a car as well as a motorcycle,” Brick said with a devilish grin. “Several in fact, pick a color.”

“What?” Dad said in a dangerously low voice as he turned slowly to face me. “You’ve been on the back of his motorcycle?”

I swallowed. I knew this was one of Dad’s things. Had known it the first time I’d climbed on the Ninja behind Brick and wrapped my arms around his body. Pressed up against his back and breathed in his delicious scent. “Only a couple of times,” I muttered.

“Only a couple of times could have killed you.” Dad’s forehead crinkled into several deep lines. “I’ve always told you to steer clear of motorcycles, Carly Louise. The bicycle on the road is bad enough—look at the state you’re in now, for heaven’s sake.” His voice began to rise. “And I always said you should be training indoors, but you’re so stubborn and I let you do it your way because I trusted you to be careful with your routes. Just like I trusted you never to get on the back of a damn motorcycle. You know what happened to my cousin Louis.” He spun to face Brick. “Did my daughter even wear a helmet?”

Brick nodded vigorously. “Yes sir, absolutely.

“And if it’s any conciliation, I took an advance riding course a few years ago and I’m always very careful, plus we didn’t hit the freeway.”

Dad’s cheeks were flushing, his fists balled at his sides and his eyes narrowed on Brick.

Mom placed her hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Ted, Carly is going to be fine.”

“And now I know how you feel, sir,” Brick said quickly. “I can assure you Carly won’t be going on the motorcycle again.”

I watched the frown lines on Dad’s forehead relax slightly and he stretched out his fingers. Oh god, this was so embarrassing. Dad having a go at the Orlando Viper’s top right-winger for taking me on the back of his motorcycle. What could possibly be more toe-curlingly embarrassing? Nothing I could think of, that was for sure.

“Good,” Dad said sharply. “And I’ll hold you to that, young man.”

Brick nodded. “You have my word.”

The room fell quiet except for the heart rate monitor to my right—
Beep, beep. Beep, beep
—rhythmically charting the steady pounds of my heart. I felt tired, tired and a little woozy all of a sudden. My joints felt mushy and weak even though I was lying down. It was as though I was melting into the bed.

“But we won’t drive, that will take hours, we’ll fly,” Brick said. “I’ll use the team plane if it’s free. I’m sure Fergal won’t mind, given the circumstances.”

My mouth dried. My stomach clenched. The beeping at my side escalated, higher and higher.
Beep, beep. Beep, beep.
Faster and faster. “Fly.” Just the word made me break out in a cold sweat. I looked at Mom.

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile, rubbing my forearm. “You don’t have to.”

I glanced at the monitor. One hundred and twenty flashed on the screen where seconds before it had read eighty. A wave of nausea washed over me.

“Carly, Carly,” Dad said, glancing at the monitor. “For goodness sake, no one is going to make you.”

“I can’t,” I said, tugging at my bottom lip with my teeth. “You know I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Brick asked, glancing nervously at the monitor then at my parents’ worried faces.

I mashed my lips together. I couldn’t bear telling him. Letting him know there was something I couldn’t do that everyone else could. I was strong, tough and independent. But now I was helpless and pathetic. It was an alien, paralyzing feeling.

“What did I say wrong?” Brick asked, his expression one of extreme confusion as he looked between the three of us.

“Carly hates to fly,” Mom said quietly.

I groaned, turning away and shutting my eyes.

“Well, if he’s your boyfriend, he’s going to find out sooner or later,” Mom said sternly. “She hates to fly, Brick, always has.”

“I didn’t realize,” Brick said.

My heart rate didn’t slow, not one tiny bit.

“You won’t get her on a plane unless she’s drugged,” Dad chipped in, much to my further mortification. “Drugged and floppy so she can’t think about how high up she is.”

I willed the blackness of the last few days to whisk me away again. Take me out of the situation. Not only was I physically wrecked with my pounding head and throbbing arm, now I was also having my psychological weakness exposed and dissected.

“Then we’ll drive after all,” Brick said in a light voice. “That’s not a problem. Is it?”

“I think that would be the best plan, dear,” Mom said. “She’s been through enough this week without coping with a flight.”

I opened my eyes. Drive, yes, I could do that. That was a much better suggestion. The beeping at my side began to slow as my heart stopped fluttering. “But you said it’s hours in the car,” I said to Brick.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind driving, besides it will be fun taking you on a road trip. You can entertain me with your witty conversation.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Are you sure?” Dad asked Brick. “It really would be extremely good of you.”

“Positive.” Brick grinned. “It seems like the best solution for everyone, doesn’t it?”

I sighed and closed my eyes. They’d all made the decision for me. If I hadn’t felt so weak and exhausted, I would have stomped out in a huff. Who were they to say I was going with Brick for an entire week to his cabin to be looked after?

But I couldn’t stomp out. I knew full well if I tried to stand I’d crumble into a boneless heap on the floor. There was nothing I could do but sleep and let them sort out the details.