Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set (167 page)

Shrugging off the frustration, she focused on remembering a few of the songs Brighton had taught her, like Tom Petty’s
Free Falling.
The sound of the notes, the feel of the strings—it made her feel alive. And who didn’t love a Tom Petty song?

She closed her eyes, letting each note touch her soul. The ache in her hand pulsed, but she ignored it, allowing each chord to push away the worries of the day. How her therapist had told her it was too soon to know if she’d get full use of her hand. How her best friend called to brag about the dozen roses her boyfriend had just sent her. How she had no one to give her a Valentine’s Day gift.

“
I love that song.”

Jocelyn didn’t open her eyes. The familiar voice floated in her mind, bringing a smile to her lips.

“
You keep disappearing on me.” She smiled, keeping her eyes close as she connected with each note leaving the resonating chamber.

“
I don’t know why you keep saying that. I’ve been by your side since we first met. You keep ignoring me.”

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him standing beside the window, arms crossed, back pressed to the wall. The black t-shirt set off the blond of his goatee.

Was this some type of coping mechanism? Had the stress of the accident finally caught up with her, leaving her brain with no other way to deal? Then again, maybe it was the music. It played such an important role in her life, a role that a person would normally occupy. Since her relationship with music was changing, this might be her mind’s way of accepting the change.

By this point, it didn’t really matter. If her mind wanted to give her a good-looking apparition to help deal with the stress, she’d gladly go nuts.

“
Do I sound any better than last time?”

“
I’d never know that you’d just started playing, again.”

“
Then you must be tone deaf,” she teased. Expecting his eyes to shift to the guitar, she felt her cheeks warm when she noticed those icy blues remain on her. She wished she knew why he looked so familiar. “I can’t play as well as I once did, but maybe with some practice…who knows…?”

“
I like hearing you play, regardless of how
good
you are. Music is more than making beautiful notes.” The sincerity on his face warmed her heart. “It’s about losing yourself in a song. I saw that intensity on your face, just now.”

He uncrossed his arms and left his spot on the wall. With a few long strides, he stood a foot away from her. His eyes trailed over the guitar, kicking her heart up another notch.

And then they fell on her hand.

“
It’s not about how well you can play. It’s about limitations, isn’t it?” his fingers hovered above hers.

She swallowed hard, fighting back the wave of nausea as she drew her hand from the plectrum. This is not how their conversation was supposed to be going. Her mind created him to help her forget, not to remind her of what she’d been through.

“
So, what do you want me to play?”

She noticed his eyes light up at the question. But just as he opened his mouth to answer, the doorbell chimed.

His eyes shifted from hers to the bedroom door. “Are you expecting someone?”

“
No,” she replied. Whoever stood at her doorstep had the patience of a five-year old. The doorbell rang twice this time.

“
Sounds like it might be something important.” His eyes made it back to hers. “You should get that.”

Jocelyn didn’t want to deal with anyone tonight. Except him. When the doorbell rang a third time, she rose from the bed, making her way toward the door.

“
I’m sure this won’t take long.” She mumbled, stepping into the hallway. Whoever stood on the other side of the door better have a good reason for being there.

One last chime echoed through the house. She’d barely opened the door when Brighton came spiraling through.

“
I tried calling you six times, Jocelyn. Why didn’t you pick up?”

“
My phone must be on vibrate,” she answered, closing the door to the harsh wind.

He paced in front of the hallway, blocking her view to the bedroom. While she loved that Brighton worried, right now he was keeping her from what she really wanted.

Jocelyn held onto the guitar still hanging around her neck. “There’s nothing to worry about, Brighton. I’ve been messing around with this thing ever since I came home. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

He stopped pacing long enough to look at the instrument. Pressing his lips tight, he leaned against the archway, completely blocking her view to her bedroom.

“
What I want you to do is get your head out of the sand, Sis. Each day you slip further away from everyone around you.”

Air trickled from her lungs. She spun away from him.

“
I know you didn’t want to go anywhere tonight, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it’s what you need.”

“
I don’t need anything but a soak in the tub and a good night’s rest…” Maybe some more one on one time with the apparition.

“
You need a hard dose of reality, Jocelyn.” Brighton turned her to look at him. “What happened to you sucks, but you’re alive and well. You need to see what could have happened to you. Grab your purse and coat. We’re going to the hospital.”

“
Beg your pardon?”

“
You heard me. It’s time you let go of your pity party. You need to see how good you have it.”

“
Let me get this straight. You want to take me to a hospital, on Valentine’s Day? Wow, brother, you’re such a charmer.”

“
You need to be around other people instead sitting by yourself alone.”

She wasn’t alone. Her handsome apportion had given her plenty of company. He had her smiling, again, something she hadn’t done since the accident. Why go to a hospital and see a bunch of sick people when she could stay right here and let her mind heal itself. With the help of tall, blonde, and ghostly.

“
Maybe we can go tomorrow,” she said, stroking the strings on the guitar. “I’m sure visiting hours are over.”

“
Nice try, Sis, but it’s only six. We have until nine p.m.”

“
No, Brighton.” She didn’t want to leave nor did she want to let go of the guitar. It was like a blanket to a baby. Having it close made her happy. She met his eyes for a moment, then moved them past her brother to the hallway, where she met those piercing eyes once more.

Just seeing him helped alleviate the tension forming at the nape of her neck. She didn’t dare tell her brother about him. He’d call the men in white coats to take her away.

“
Fine, if you want to stay here and sulk, do it.” Brighton huffed. “Maybe I can help set the mood. How about I go into your music room, you know the one you keep locked, and serenade you with some Ozzy Osbourne?” He backed a couple steps down the hallway. “How does
Crazy Train
sound? Better yet, I think I’ll play
Paranoid
from Black Sabbath.”

“
God, you’re such a pain, sometimes.” She dropped her hands to her side, stomping past him.

“
Where are you going?”

“
To get my coat. And be prepared. I’m taking the guitar with me.”

“
I don’t care if you take the kitchen sink. Just get your butt in gear and let’s head out. I’ll drive.”

Yeah, ‘cause that had worked out so well for them in the past. Jocelyn’s fingers burned as much as her cheeks. She shouldn’t have thought that. It’s not like he was the one who caused the wreck. Maybe if she went, she’d get him off her back for a while.

* * *

Jocelyn shifted in the passenger seat. She clenched the guitar, holding it close as her eyes scanned the snow covered road. Ironic how much it reminded her of the night they’d left for the concert in Chicago. The night that changed her life forever.

“
The roads are getting really nasty, Brighton. Maybe we should turn around and go home.”

Brighton gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “I know this reminds you of that night, but it wasn’t the weather that caused the accident, Sis.”

She plucked at the strings the way her brother plucked her nerves. “Well, we both know that snow doesn’t keep the drunks from traveling. Who’s to say the person driving the car in front of us isn’t plastered?”

Releasing a sigh, she pressed her cheek against her shoulder, glancing out the backseat window. A smile crept on her lips when she saw the broad shouldered figure sitting behind her brother. Blue eyes had appeared, again.

“
Is the offer to play me a song still good?” he grinned.

Her eyes darted to Brighton, making sure he hadn’t heard his voice. Thankfully, her brother was focusing on the road. She nodded her head, sitting up in the seat. Her apparition leaned closer, a tender request tickling her ear.

Though she didn’t know how she knew the chords to play, she placed her fingers on the strings. She noticed Brighton gaze over at her.

“
You’re going to play that right now?”

She nodded, strumming downward. The notes filled the car, each chord coming to her like she had the sheet music implanted into her mind. Her fingers moved up and down the fretboard, pressing different strings to form chords.

When she turned to look at the image sitting in the back seat, she noticed the wide-eyed stare Brighton gave her.

“
What the heck, Jocelyn,” Brighton grumbled. “How do you know that song? I never taught it to you.”

She shrugged, playing each chord a little faster than the one before. “I’m a trained musician. It’s not hard to find the right keys, well, chords in this case.”

“
But you don’t even like REM. Why would you play
Losing My Religion
?

Because her handsome apparition requested it? Not that she could tell him that. But in all honesty, if it was her mind’s way of dealing with the stress, she’s the one who had chosen the song. And thinking back to the lyrics, it really did fit her situation.

* * *

Sucking in a deep breath, Jocelyn stepped off the elevator behind Brighton. The twenty-minute drive through town remained a blur. She didn’t know how she knew the entire REM song, but she’d played every chord. She gripped the strap around her neck, holding the guitar close.

Gazing around the corridors, a flood of memories came rushing back. The stench of burnt rubber. The sound of brake pads squealing. The thick, black air bag smoke taking her breath. The rusty taste of blood from her smashed lips. Even the searing pain through her fingers.

They passed a nurse in the corridor, pulling an IV stand. Brighton greeted her with recognition as she did the same. And she wasn’t the only one he called by name. The woman pushing the housekeeping cart exchanged cordial sentiments with him. A patient, standing in his doorway with his wife and kids spoke to Brighton. The man’s little girl came running up to hug him, thanking him for giving her candy the other day.

So many people knew him. But how? Since the accident, he’d been fussing over her from the moment they placed her in the ambulance. When did he have time to develop this whole other life?

It was like that the rest of the way down the hall. Brighton stopping by different rooms, peeking in to say a quick hello or how are you, explaining to her who each person was and what injuries they had suffered from the accident.

As they came to the last door at the end of the hallway, her chest tightened. He didn’t have to tell her whose room they were about to enter. Tracing the guitar’s rosewood form, she wondered what kind of shape Adam would be in? She’d never seen anyone in a coma.

Her stomach flipped as Brighton pushed on the door handle. Adam’s room smelled of rubbing alcohol and bleach. Typical hospital aroma. Many flower arrangements with get-well-soon balloons floating above them sat on the window ledge.

Jocelyn stood by the door. When her brother stopped at the foot of the bed, his eyes darted over to her.

“
Come on,” he said, waving her forward.

Jocelyn joined him, then she stepped around him until her eyes landed on Adam. It wasn’t the man in the bed, the fact that he was in a coma, or even the smell of his room that made every hair on the back of her neck stand up. It was the fact that Adam and the man she’d played to in the car, in the bedroom, even in the music store, were one and the same.

Adam lay motionless in the bed. Tubes ran in and out of his body connecting to several monitors above his head. Scratches covered his cheekbones. A longer one invaded his hairline meeting fringed bangs lighter than a glass of champagne.

Jocelyn’s knees started to shake. She leaned against her brother, hoping he’d catch her if she passed out.

He turned to look down at her. “You okay, Joc—” Warm fingers curled around her arm. “Stay with me. Breath, Jocelyn. Take a deep breath.” She couldn’t form any words to answer him. The muscles in her legs wanted to give.

But then she was moving. Brighton was talking in a soft voice, the same voice he used when he took care of her. She felt firm coolness greet her bottom as her brother helped her onto a chair. He knelt before her, pushing the guitar out of his way.