As Darkness Gathers (Dark Betrayals Book 2) (12 page)

“Will you go home?” I asked as I curled up next to Clay later that night.

“The cabin in the woods has lost some of its appeal.”
 

I chuckled.
 

My IV had been removed earlier that evening, so I hadn’t had a creaky IV stand to tote along to his room. Even without the squeaking wheels to give away my approach, he’d been lowering the bedrail as I entered his room.
 

“Will you go back to work?” I asked.

“I haven’t taken a vacation since I was elected, so I’m going to enjoy my days off while I can.”

There was a note in his voice that made me wonder if he’d reached a point of burnout in his career. “You’re young to be a district attorney, aren’t you?”

“Are you trying to ask me how old I am?”

“Early thirties.”

“Thirty-two as of last month. There’ve been younger DAs.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

He was silent for so long I propped my chin on his chest and peered at his face in the darkness. All I could see was the strong cut of his jaw.
 

“I set a path for myself a long time ago.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“I chose the career so I’d be in a position to . . . right an old wrong. Whether I enjoy it or not isn’t relevant.”

I let that sink in a moment. “Your family hasn’t visited you.”

“There’s no one to visit.” His voice held no emotion.

I tucked my head under his chin. “Eloise seemed nice.”

“She’s an exceptional woman. We grew up in the same town, and I . . . knew Cormac’s mother.”

“There’s a story there.”

He combed his fingers through my hair. “Maybe I’ll tell it to you sometime.”

“I’d like that. Are you going to give me your phone number before you’re discharged tomorrow?”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Are you always this forward?”

I was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see my blush. “No, not usually. But my father encouraged me not to be afraid to go after what I want.”

“Your father is also a shark when it comes to Uno.”

I giggled.
 

Timothy, Daniel, and Clay had joined my father and brother in a card game in my room this evening. Uno had been the only game the nurses could find. My mother, Julia, and I had shaken our heads over how fierce the competition had gotten and the insults tossed around.

“Never play me in cards. He taught me everything he knows.”

He tightened his arm around my shoulders. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Chapter Seven

The ride home was a long one, but I was thankful Darcy had driven the almost nine hours to visit me in the hospital. I didn’t think I was ready to set foot on a plane so soon.

Arnold Beecher, Sydney’s father and the owner of the airline, had visited me the day before. He was a dignified man with a stern face and a reluctant smile. Despite his imposing demeanor, I found him to be kind, and he’d told me to take all the time I needed before coming back to work.
 

“Paid leave is the least I can do for you,” he’d said, and I suspected he was the anonymous donor who had paid everyone’s medical expenses, bill unseen.

William, Sydney’s brother, had come with their father to the hospital. He’d looked uncomfortable the entire time and kept his chin tucked to his chest. I’d caught him glancing at me from the corner of his eye several times, and before he and Mr. Beecher left, he’d said, “I’m . . . glad you’re . . . okay.”

As much as I’d been thankful to be released, I’d been reluctant to leave the hospital.
 

Mark had stopped by my room with his wife and four teenage daughters as he’d been discharged, and Timothy had clung to me as we’d said goodbye.

“We’ll see each other soon,” I’d said.
 

Timothy had gone pale at the prospect of flying home, so Julia had offered him and Daniel a ride in her car. They’d taken her up on it, and as we hugged before departing, I’d whispered, “I think we have a lot to talk about when we get home.”

She’d only smiled.

Eloise O’Malley had clasped my hands and thanked me again as her husband stood silent and watchful behind her.

I couldn’t explain the connection I felt to Clay Gandy, but my smile had wobbled when I’d said, “This isn’t goodbye.”

I’d thought he would say something glib, but instead he’d surprised me by kissing my forehead and saying, “Until later, then.”

The hospitals security had led us out the employee entrance to avoid the press waiting outside.

Eight hours later, as my brother parked in front of my apartment complex, my mother turned her worried gaze on me. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us, sweetheart?”

I did want to—that’s why I knew I had to say no. “I’ll be fine, Mama.”

“Your father or I could sleep on your couch if—”

“Margo,” my father said.

She glanced at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time letting you out of my sight.”

My eyes burned as I hugged her, and I had to work to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll give you a call in the morning.”

My apartment was dark and silent when I let myself in, and I turned on every light.
 

The loaf of bread on the kitchen counter had begun to collect mold, and several sweaters I’d debated packing were draped over the back of my couch. My bed was unmade, and the top drawer of my dresser was ajar and spilling hosiery. My blue nightgown lay in a silken puddle on the rug before the shower. The cap had been left off my favorite bottle of perfume—a light, romantic fragrance I’d purchased on a layover in Paris a few years ago.

My home looked as if I’d left in a hurry, like I’d stepped out to run a few errands and was returning after mere hours, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. For the first time since I’d moved in two years ago, I felt out of place.
 

I swallowed and wandered back into the living room to switch on the television so the silence wasn’t so pervasive.
 

My phone rang and I answered it without even glancing at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Miss Rhodes?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Adam Lane with WCNT, your local news station. I’d like a statement about—”

I hung up on him and paced for several minutes then retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator and gulped the entire thing. When I opened the kitchen cabinets, a half-eaten bag of pretzels sat foremost on the shelf. I froze, and then, in a rush, grabbed the bag and poured it down the garbage disposal. My hands shook as I flipped the switch and listened to the roar and crackle of the blades shredding it. Once I turned the disposal off, I sank to the floor and rested my forehead on the cool wood of the cupboard. My breath was rough and ragged, and my heart felt as if it thumped against my ribcage.

The ringing of my cell phone startled me, and I staggered to my feet. I snatched the phone off the counter but this time checked the number before answering. “Clay.”

“I thought you might have trouble sleeping since I’m not there to be your pillow.”

My breath left me on a soft sob.
 

“What’s wrong?” The dry humor in his voice morphed into sharp concern.

“Nothing. Nothing really. I just . . .” I glanced around my apartment. “I just got home.”

“Overwhelming?”

My laugh warbled. “Slightly.”

“You’ve been through an ordeal that you’re lucky to have survived. Needing time to adjust is normal and nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You went through the same ordeal.” I sat at one end of the couch and folded my legs under me. “Are you struggling to adjust?”

“Everyone handles things differently.”

I had begun to notice he rarely gave my questions a direct answer. “Deflection, counselor.”
 

He laughed.
 

“Are you home now?” I asked.

“Just for the night. El talked me into helping her and Cormac move.”

“You care for her.”

“I do. I have for a while.”

I wasn’t sure why it bothered me to hear him say so. “Is it hard to see her with another man?”

He chuckled, and I raised my eyebrows. “No. I always knew we’d never become more than friends, if even that.”

“She thinks of you as a friend. She came all the way to check on you.”

“That caught me off guard. There’s a lot of history between our families. My family, hers, and her husband’s.”

“History is sometimes difficult to overlook.”

He was silent for a moment. “You have a great family, Finch.”

Something in his voice made me wonder what his family had been like. “I know.” A yawn punctuated my statement before I could smother it.
 

Clay laughed. “I’ll let you get to bed.”

“I’m glad you called.”

“I assumed when you forced your number on me, you wanted me to use it.” The dry humor was back in his voice, and I rolled my eyes.

“Good night.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

There was a promise in his voice, and it kept a smile lingering on my face until I crawled into bed, stacked the pillows around me, and fell asleep.

“Oh, honey,” Sydney said as I opened the door to her knock the next morning. She drew me into a tight hug. Never one to show much emotion, her eyes were wet when she pulled back and cupped my face in her hands. “You look like you need some pampering. Spa day, my treat.”

“If you’ll let me buy lunch.”

“Deal.”

The normalcy of the day was comforting, and Sydney didn’t press for details about the crash. We had a manicure, pedicure, facial, and massage before going to our favorite Greek restaurant for lunch.

“He hasn’t even called to check on me,” I said as we talked over our gyros.
 

“Jeremy? You broke the man’s heart.”

“Syd!”

“I’m just saying he wanted to marry you. He’s not going to be able to do the whole ‘just friends’ thing now.”

“I realize that. And I regret it, because he was a good friend, but I still would have thought he’d at least call.”

“I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised as well. Maybe he tried to call your phone before you were able to get a replacement.”

I nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Speak of the devil,” she said when we pulled up to my apartment complex a few hours later to find Jeremy waiting outside my door. There was a local news station’s van parked in front of my apartment as well. “Those vultures. Will you be okay, or do you need me to come up with you?”

“No, you go on. I’m fine.”

She leaned across the gearshift and hugged me. “You have no idea how thankful I am I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll have to try harder next time,” I said, and she choked on a laugh.

I waved goodbye as she pulled out of the lot and approached my apartment slowly.

The doors of the news van opened, and a man and woman hurried toward me. “Miss Rhodes? We’re with—”

“That’s enough,” Jeremy said, coming to my side. “I told you earlier if you want a statement, you need to contact Sylvan Air.” He caught my elbow and steered me toward my front door.

“Miss Rhodes, do you think the crash was pilot error? What was it like out there? Do you think you did the right thing leaving behind those who were hurt?”

When I glanced up at the woman asking the questions, she shoved a microphone in my face, and I had to resist the urge to slap it away. Jeremy shouldered between us, standing behind me as I unlocked the door. He followed me as I hurried inside.

“Miss Rhodes, have you—”

I closed the door in her face and rested my forehead against the cool wood, taking a deep breath before straightening and turning to face Jeremy.

“Thank you for helping out there. Did you need something?”