From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two (19 page)

“Hey.” He nudged her arm, and her search stopped, their eyes connecting in that way that forged a bond they could neither deny nor explain.

“What’s wrong with Yia-Yia?”

Her gaze flicked away, her hand resuming her search in her fancy purse. “Alzheimer’s.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but that wasn’t it. “Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t think it … I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. I don’t usually offer up the information. I don’t like talking about it … or thinking about it.” Extracting her keys, she absently thumbed through, inspecting each trinket. “Today was a good day though. They’re becoming a rarity.”

“You come here every day?” He touched her shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the coarse wool of her coat.

She looked up. The vibrancy that usually sparkled in her eyes was merely an ember.

“
Oh,
sweetie.”
He stepped in front of her, hoping she might seek refuge in his arms.

Instead she quirked a halfhearted smile. “I thought you said
sweetie
didn’t suit me?”

He grinned, admiring her strength. “I’m warming up to it.”

Exhaling a wisp of a laugh, she glanced again at her keys. “Speaking of warming up, I’m gonna remote start my car—get it all toasty before I venture out into the arctic out there. You don’t have to wait for me.

“But don’t forget,” She nudged the toe of her boot against his, the return of her megawatt smile like a shaft of dazzling light cutting through the gray haze of winter. “My dad planned our super romantic date for tonight. Sure to have paparazzi in tow. You might want to prepare yourself. It’s bound to be over the top and atrociously snobby. Think you’ll survive it?”

“I get to spend the evening with you. Couldn’t be
that
bad.” He winked. “Plus, you can put those adoring glances you practiced to good use.”

She giggled, and he loved that he was responsible for the sound. “Smooth, Carson. Real smooth.” Nibbling the corner of her smile, she looked down at the remote starter for her car, her thumb flexing over the ignition button.

Thunder shook the ground beneath his feet a split second before the glass doors exploded at his back. He didn’t have time to plan, could scarcely react. But like a freeze frame in his mind, he saw the explicit terror in her eyes as a horizontal rain of glass and inertia propelled him forward.

For one helplessly prolonged moment they were suspended amid the wreckage, sailing on a burst of heat. Then as if catapulted into real time, Finn’s body collided with hers, his arms somehow snatching around her. And though he should have expected they would land eventually, the blow came hard and fast, the tile floor rising beneath them like a tidal wave, jarring through them both, and ripping the breath from his lungs.

Feeling the full, violent force of his weight crash-landing atop her frail body and hearing the sickening sound of her skull slapping the floor, took ten years off his life in an instant. “Joss!” He dragged his crushing weight off of her and pulled to his knees, not wanting to move her until he assessed her condition. “Joselyn. Open your eyes, honey.” He bent over, listening for breath sounds and checking her pulse. Rapid and weak.

“Babe, can you hear me?” He brushed away the glass near her face, the needle-fine shards embedding in his hand not even registering.

Her eyes flickered. Slits of lavender peeked through heavy lids. “Finn.” His name exhaled on a flimsy breath. “My head.”

Lush black lashes batted once more before shuttering her glassy gaze. He touched her face. “Joss, please.” But got no response. 

All his training abandoned him, and all he could think to do was shout, “Call 911!”

Chapter 25

Joselyn Whyte

“Sadie, I didn’t know you played the guitar.”
Joselyn picked up the Ibanez 6-string acoustic and threaded the stitched leather strap over her shoulder.

“I don’t. That’s Finn’s. I only play piano.” Sadie wandered over to a shiny black upright in the music room. The Carsons had converted a spare bedroom in their homey traditional two-story into a sort of music sanctuary. There were rock ‘n’ roll posters framed on each wall, countless retro vinyls in a stacked multicolored assortment of milk crates, a turntable, a red and white electric
Fender Strat
,
and a tall stack of speakers among the eclectic collection of instruments and odds and ends.

What Joselyn liked about the Carson house was that every room was lived in. Useful. Not a pretentious gallery of priceless artifacts like her father’s estate. Whyte Manor felt like living in a museum. She was surprised there weren’t signs designating what she was forbidden to touch.

Joselyn had only been over to Sadie’s a few times, but it felt like a real home. And the Carsons felt like the perfect mold for a family. They encouraged and respected one another. Prayed together. Talked. It was amazing that such elementary things were so difficult to find.

The last time Joselyn had tried to talk to her father, she’d asked him about finding a better place for Yia-Yia to live, and he’d cut her off twenty seconds into the conversation, saying he had an urgent call. It was about ten seconds longer than their obligatory once-monthly conversations growing up. Now that she was living at the estate she felt hopeful that she might get to spend some time with him. Get to know him again.

“Coming!” Sadie hollered and rolled her eyes. “Hang on a sec, Joss. My mom is calling me.” The half-wit literally trudged out of the room as if dreading a confrontation with her mother.

Sadie so didn’t get it. Joselyn should really shake some sense into that girl.

Okay, so maybe Mrs. Carson was a bit over the top. So what? She was present, and she loved her daughter. Unquestionably.

It was Joselyn’s greatest dream. A simple and yet unattainable dream, to have someone love her who might actually stick around long enough to prove it.

Joselyn plopped down on the loveseat. Only knowing a few basic chords her fingers awkwardly gripped the neck of the guitar, the buzz of the strings cluttering an already clumsy riff.

Closing her eyes, she strained to remember the next progression for her mother’s song—the one she sang before Joselyn’s bedtime as a little girl. The smooth and velvety timber of her mother’s voice was such a distant memory she could scarcely recall the faintest trace of it. But she missed it. She missed everything.

“Not bad.”

Her eyes shot open, and there he was, leaning against the door frame, looking at her with those irresistible turquoise eyes. His lips quirked with that boyish grin she saw in some of those dreams.
Sigh.
When your crush catches you by surprise your heart does strange things, becoming a joyously inebriated klutz dancing around in your chest. His presence was the trigger. Or maybe it was his smile. Whatever it was, it worked instantly in dumbing down her years of cool refinement. Sucking away her poise as well as all the oxygen in the room until she was breathing only him and was quite pleasantly dizzy with it. One could not be held responsible for any impending foolish behavior with an intoxicated heart like hers.

A foolish heart that all but melted into a smitten little puddle at the mere sound of his husky voice. Not the voice of a high school boy. But then again, nothing about Finn was ordinary. He was perfect, at least in her eyes. Funny, considerate, kind, and to say he was easy on the eyes would be like saying Coco Chanel probably kinda liked clothes.

Her fingers stopped strumming, and she felt herself beam like an idiot. “Hey, Finn. I thought you had practice today.”

He shoved off the door and headed her way. She saw him every other day in their art history class, but she could never seem to tamp down her excitement when he was near. “It’s raining, so coach called it. I didn’t know you played.” Folding into the love seat next to her his leg brushed hers, and she thought her heart might burn out from sheer exhaustion if he stayed there for long.

“I—I don’t really. I only know a few chords. I didn’t know
you
played.” She risked a glance at him.

“I, uh, I get really nervous. So I don’t play in front of other people.” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Here. Let me show you something.” To Joselyn’s utter delight and nerve-imploding pleasure, Finn scooted over until the whole side of his body hugged against hers. His arm stretched around behind her, and his warm fingers repositioned her cold ones on the fret. When he was done, he left them there, resting atop hers like it was where they belonged.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. How could she possibly will her hand to strum at a time like this?

Turning her head, she found his face an inch away and froze. Wanting nothing more than to close the gap she tempted fate and held her position.

She had no idea what he was thinking, but if she didn’t breathe soon she’d faint before she found out.

His hand fell away, the tickly touch of his fingers skimmed down her back as he brought his hand to rest on the seat of the couch behind her. His gaze never wavered.

Kiss me,
she willed the thought into action.
Or say something. Anything.
But he held his position. Hesitating for an unbearably long moment.
Ask me to prom.
She wished. It felt like a wishing kind of moment, a suspension of reality, a dream teetering on the edge of her fragile hopes.

His friend Cody had been working on getting Finn to see that she was interested in him. Prom was the perfect segue. Surely, any day now Finn would ask. Right? How could he not know? Or maybe he knew but didn’t know how to let her down easy.

Joselyn had virtually no experience in the dating world. She’d attended an all-girl school her whole life. But it seemed like Finn’s current position, and the look in his eyes, were a mirror image of her feelings. Maybe he was as scared as she was.

The stare down continued. Swallowed up with desire she lost herself and leaned forward.

“Joselyn.” The words rumbled so close the vibration tickled her skin.

“Yes, Finn.” Their breaths tangled, his lips not even a whisper away.
This is it.

“I—”

“Hey, Joss? Do you want anything from the kitchen before I come back up?” Sadie’s holler jerked Finn away. The look on his face fired straight to the tenderest part of her long-neglected heart. A direct hit. The pain gushed forth. Her hand instinctively went to cover the wound.

It was a look she knew well, always gifted from the other man who was supposed to love her but somehow … wouldn’t. Finn was
ashamed
. And he couldn’t get away fast enough, practically leaving a trail of dust as he shot out of the room, tossing a casual, “Catch ya later” over his shoulder.

Panting to resuscitate her low oxygen saturation, she fought back the burning tears of yet another rejection. Could she have misunderstood? Was she foolish to believe she’d read that wrong? There was only one week left until the prom. And then he’d be headed off to college. Time was running out, and the last flicker of hope was a dying ember.

She sure hoped that Cody had something up his sleeve to seal the deal, and soon.

When Joselyn’s eyes blinked open, an opaque blur sloshed in unison with the contents of her stomach. Oh barf. She needed to … to …

Wait … Was she in bed? It seemed she was lying down, but it also felt like she was moving. A stale, blue-ish light made her wince, and she felt something flex against her face.

Where was she? 

The cobwebs receded, and she recognized the roof of a van—an ambulance! Why was she in an ambulance?

Tearing away the oxygen mask and jerking upright, the world spun around like the Highland Fling. Nausea squirmed in her belly. “Ooo, stop spinning.” She squeezed her eyes shut, cottony bells chimed in her ears, clogging up her senses while her body swayed against her attempts at equilibrium.

When she opened her eyes again a menacingly dark pair returned her stare. A cone of light struck her pupils until she saw nothing but floating spots, and then dabbled with another urge to retch out the contents of her stomach.

“Lie back down.” The man’s gravelly voice sent a strange shiver over her skin, resonated and rattled in her ears like a gong. 

When the world slowed to a stop, she blinked her focus back and discovered the large, dark-haired man was inspecting her. A bristly unkempt overgrowth of facial hair webbed down onto his neck to the collar of his EMT uniform. He pulled a pad from the shelf to his right and attempted to guide her head back down to rest. It seemed like he was trying to help, but everything about this man—from the anger brewing in his eyes to the tense plane of his body—insinuated something else.

Ow
, it hurt to think. Her head was throbbing, her pulse in her ears only stirring her nausea. Where had she been today?

The nursing home.

The answer came quick, as if someone was trying to tell her something.

Finn.

“Where’s Finn?” Something happened. She couldn’t fill in the blanks. But Finn would know. Why wasn’t he here with her? Was he hurt? “Excuse me, where’s Finn?”

The EMT pressed her back onto the gurney. “He’s fine. Didn’t want him in my ambulance distracting me.”

“
You
didn’t want him in
your
ambulance? And distracting you from what? I’m just laying here, I’m not going toward the light.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, her motion sickness and prickle of anxiety joining to manifest in some sort of verbal vomiting. “Did you even consider that it might be a little frightening for a woman to wake up to a scary Grizzly Adams in the back of a van?”

“Settle down. Nothing you can do about it now.”

The driver called back from the front seat. “I know you wanted to head the other way, but there’s an accident so we’ll have to take a detour. But we’ve got an escort from Ms. Whyte’s friend from the FBI. He radioed over. We’ll be there shortly.”

The EMT’s midnight eyes narrowed, scanning the cabin of the ambulance. More than merely disoriented, Joselyn felt unease slither around her like a tangle of vines.

She was in an ambulance, so she should be feeling safe. But she didn’t. If any more nervous energy was coursing through her body the hairs on her head would stand on end. Shaking it off was the only thing to do.

And well, she
had
been pretty rude just now. Perhaps he was simply trying to avoid another encounter with the crazy chick who’d spewed her venom all over him. She could see the tabloid now. “
Heartless Snow Whyte harasses man trying to save her life
.”

“Look. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you and call you scary. I must be a little out of sorts, but, nevertheless, I apologize.”

He didn’t respond, but she couldn’t muster up any more conversation anyway. Every word from her mouth rebounded back a shrill jolt to her throbbing head. Knowing that Sal was now caravanning her safely to the hospital, she let herself relax against the stiff gurney, her body freely jostling with each turn and bump in the road. And before she knew it, the gentle lull of movement had coaxed her to sleep.

“Well, I’ll be doggoned. It’s nice to see you again—not under the circumstances, but still a pleasure, Miss Joselyn.”

Dragging her groggy brain out a daze, she connected with a familiar face. Not one she was expecting, but a pleasant one, at least.

“Hi, Shelby. How long have I been out?” The nurse stood at Joselyn’s bedside examining the monitor attached to the blood pressure cuff that was now sucking the life out of her arm. Movement beyond the shifting curtain meant Joselyn was still in the ER.

“Only a few minutes. We’ve been trying to wake you up. That EMT should have known better than to let you snooze with a concussion.” Shelby’s soft hands cocooned Joselyn’s. “How’re you feeling, my dear?”

“Umm, I’m fine. My head hurts a little, but other than that.”
Other than the pickax going to town on my skull, and the fact that I’m once again in the hospital alone, I’m grand.

“Uh, huh. Nice try. Listen, we don’t always do a CT for a concussion but the Doc said because of the force of the explosion, he’d rather be safe than sorry.” Her lips pulled in a slight smile, the fine lines around her eyes imprinting deeper with empathy. “How are you doing, really? And not only the headache stuff. This has all gotta be a lot to take.”

The maternal concern swirling in Shelby’s kind blue eyes made Joselyn’s heart leapfrog into her throat. What if she let someone in? Should she lean on Shelby?

And what if she got used to leaning on someone and was then forced back into the same old solitude? Would she be strong enough to keep from getting sucked down to that dark, desperate place she never wanted to find herself again? “I don’t even know what happened today. I can’t begin to process it all without some information.” Joselyn searched the blank space in her memory bank.