Here And Now (American Valor 2) (13 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words thick and liquor-laden.

She shook her head, a heavy lock of hair falling free from her clip. “No big deal.” She couldn’t look at him. If she did she’d completely fall apart and she couldn’t let him see that. Wouldn’t let him see that. “I gotta go.”

“Wait. What?”

She scrambled around the front room to gather her things. She needed to get out of there before she was sick.

“Rach. Rach. Don’t leave.”

“No, I really have to go. I forgot I have to be somewhere.”

Inside her heart was breaking with such force she wondered if he could hear it.

Lucky was still calling after her as she raced out the front door for her truck. She hurriedly backed out of the driveway and headed home with four little words on repeat in her head.

What had she done? What had she done?

S
INCE HE’D SPENT
the past twenty-four hours swimming in a bottle of Jack, he couldn’t do much more than stare out the front window and watch her drive away. Getting in his Jeep and chasing after her could only make a bad situation worse. As if it wasn’t bad enough already.

He’d wanted her from the moment their paths had crossed months ago. He’d dreamed of being with her when he was asleep. He fantasized about her when he was awake. But not even his worst nightmares could have predicted it would happen like this. That he would use her that way. Hurt her so badly that she couldn’t get away fast enough.

He stumbled to the couch, collapsing into the cushions.

The almost-empty bottle of Jack sat on the coffee table in front of him, mocking him for losing his control in such spectacular fashion. Lucky grabbed it by the neck and slung it at the fireplace mantel, at the pictures of the man he used to be. The bottle exploded on impact, raining shards of glass and liquor down upon the room.

How did this happen. This couldn’t be his life. It just couldn’t.

Lucky fell back onto the couch and closed his eyes, hoping that when he woke up this all would be nothing more than a bad dream.

H
E FINALLY WOKE
around three the following morning, having slept off most of his hangover. And most of his work shift as well. He rolled off the couch and stepped into a blazing hot shower where he decided the first order of business was to apologize to Rachel.

He was waiting on her front steps when she arrived home from work, and from the look on her face, he was thankful to be sitting about five feet off the ground. Otherwise, she might have been tempted to take another run at him with her truck. Finish the job this time.

She threw the vehicle into park, climbed out, and slammed the driver’s side door with such force the truck rocked from side to side. “You forgot to call in sick,” she said as she stomped past him on the stairs. “Don’t worry. I covered for you.”

“Thank you for that.” He gathered the various bags he’d brought and rose to his feet, trailing along behind her. “I brought you breakfast.”

“I don’t like breakfast food after a night shift.”

Rachel jammed her key into the lock and turned the bolt as she continued grumbling about him under her breath. The only word he caught for certain was “asshole.” And if that didn’t make him feel like shit, because he’d now been successfully lumped in with all the jerks from her past and he had only himself to blame.

After she shouldered the door open, Rachel did as she always did and dropped her purse and keys onto a small table near the entry. Since she didn’t tell him to get lost or slam the door in his face, he took the open door as an invitation. As she disappeared into the bedroom, he made his way into the kitchen and settled the grocery bags on the counter.

They’d gone through these same motions so many other times after work, but it sure didn’t feel the same. If anything, it reminded him of that first weekend they worked together where they spent all their time dancing on eggshells. When he finally put Bull’s advice to good use the following weekend, everything worked out just as he hoped.

Unfortunately, Lucky wasn’t so optimistic this time.

“Still here?”

She was all piss and vinegar this morning, not that he could blame her.

“Did you expect me to drop the food and leave?”

Rachel climbed onto one of the bar stools as if waiting for him to serve her. “A girl can only hope, right?”

Do not engage, he told himself. Do. Not. Engage.

“So what did you bring me?”

Lucky held up a white and orange bag in each hand. “In this hand,” he said, shaking the bag, “is a Whataburger with cheese, extra pickles, no onions, and French fries.” He set the first bag down in front of her and watched closely for her reaction. Her right eye twitched just the faintest bit, which he took as a good sign. “And I know you don’t like breakfast food when you get off work, but there’s always that one exception.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly and he let the anticipation build as he set the second bag down in front of her. “Biscuits and gravy with an extra biscuit.”

And just as he suspected, she went for the biscuits and gravy, wasting no time opening the Styrofoam container and digging in.

He picked up the other bag, and since her mouth was already full, she shot him a look that said without words,
Get your hands off my food.

“I’ll put this in the refrigerator so you can have it later.”

That must have been an acceptable solution since she went back to eating instead of vaulting over the breakfast bar at him. Now came the tricky part.

“I realize it’s a little late to ask this, but are you on the pill? IUD? Anything?”

She paused midbite and just from the expression on her face he knew what the answer was going to be before she even spoke.

“Unfortunately, not at the moment.”

“Well, aren’t we just a couple of responsible medical professionals.” He was trying to make her laugh, smile, anything to lighten the mood even though nothing about the discussion was very funny but she wasn’t having any of it.

“But after I take a shower and change, I was going to drive to Sherman and pick up some Plan B.” She lowered her fork, resting it on the edge of the container. “I didn’t want to ask someone for a script and I doubt any place around town has it on the shelves.”

He placed the small pharmacy bag on the counter next to her. “I had to drive all the way to McKinney before I found a store with it on the shelves,” he said as she opened the bag and found the box of Plan B. “At least I saved you a trip.”

“I really was going to go after work. If I’d been thinking straight yesterday . . .” Rachel popped the single pill from the blister pack. “I’ll pay you for this,” she said before swallowing it down with a drink of orange juice.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She kept her head down, her attention focused on the fork she used to push around her food. “It was good that you weren’t at work last night. It gave me time to think about things without you around.”

He leaned back against her kitchen counter, using every bit of his self-discipline to remain calm and in control. “And what were you thinking about?”

“How I didn’t hear from you for two days after I kissed you in your kitchen. How miserable I’ve felt for the past twenty-four hours.”

His gut told him this was going to go one of two ways: badly or really badly. After what happened the day before, since he hurt her, the decision of where they went from here was completely up to her. “So what do you think we should do? Where do we go from here?”

Rachel took a deep breath, held it a couple of seconds before letting it all go. “I think . . . we should forget it ever happened.”

“Which part of it?”

She lifted her head then, looking him directly in the eye. “All of it.”

Chapter Thirteen

F
O
R THE SECOND
weekend in a row, Lucky watched the new interim ER doc monopolize Rachel’s time for their entire shift. Every patient Rich Hamilton saw, she saw. They took lunch at the same time and hung out in the break room together. She laughed at his jokes while he ogled her rack.

And apparently he wasn’t the only one to notice.

Lucky was eating leftover cold pizza and studying for an upcoming psychology test when Dottie came into the break room on her lunch break.

“How are you today, darlin’?”

“Not too bad,” he replied while consolidating his piles of handwritten notecards, making room so she could join him at his table. “How’s your evening going?”

She dropped into the chair opposite him, a little sigh escaping her mouth as she took a load off her feet. “Probably better than yours.”

He huffed a laugh. “I definitely hope so.”

Already this evening he’d had three pukers, screaming twin toddlers, and a Code Brown. Of course, he had Dr. Hamilton to thank for assigning him all the shit jobs.

If Doctor Dick happened to see Rachel talking with Lucky, patient related or not, he’d call her away for a “consult,” then tell Lucky he needed to wipe down a bed or clean an exam room. The man was clearly trying to mark his territory while sending Lucky a message at the same time.

Dottie was quiet through most of her lunch, not wanting to disrupt his studying. While she ate her sandwich and chips, she scrolled through her Facebook and Pinterest and Tumblr accounts, occasionally stopping to show him a gif or meme that had tickled her funny bone.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here all by yourself,” she said once she’d finished her lunch.

“No?”

Dottie shook her head. “When you first started here, I remember you and Dr. Ferguson would eat together a lot of the time.”

Which was true. He and Chad spent most of their spare time talking about battlefield medicine. Or more accurately, Chad asked a million questions and Lucky answered based on his personal experiences. Questions like how difficult it was to treat patients, both military and civilian, in such extreme conditions. He wanted to know the kinds of equipment medical personnel had available to them in the field and how medical protocols varied between the military world and the civilian world.

It wasn’t long until Doc Ferguson admitted to Lucky that at one time he’d seriously considered joining the military to become a pararescueman. But he’d been married for a few years by then, and didn’t think it would be fair to his wife since she hadn’t signed up to be a military wife.

“Then, once Rachel started, the two of you usually had lunch together.” Dottie opened up her polka-dot lunch pail and pulled out a small bag filled with Oreos. “I have to say, I thought for the longest time you and Rachel made the cutest couple.”

Then she handed him a cookie. One he readily accepted.

“We never were a couple. Just friends,” he said, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he pulled his cookie apart.

“If you say so.” She rose from her chair and gave his shoulder a little pat. “I’d better get back out there. Don’t want people to start thinkin’ I’m replaceable.”

He ate his cookie while she packed up her things; then, not long after she made her way out the door, he reluctantly began to do the same.

Three months ago, he looked forward to work and enjoyed being part of the team here. And once he and Rachel got past that first awkward weekend of working together, things were really good. But since Chad Ferguson left for a more exciting position in the city and Rich Hamilton had replaced him in the interim, not only had the shine worn off his job, but he was starting to dread coming to work. There was a world of difference between working with the two men. One respected Lucky’s medical training and battlefield experience while the other . . . didn’t.

This job’s only saving grace—working with Rachel.

With less than an hour left of his shift, Lucky was cleaning what he hoped would be his last exam room of the night when Rachel popped her head in the door. “Diner, today? I’m dying for a club sandwich and a chocolate milkshake.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when he heard Dr. Hamilton call her by name. Rachel made a silly face, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue, before disappearing into the hallway.

He had to hand it to her. She was trying really hard to make him happy with this agreement of theirs, pretending nothing happened between them.

Two weeks earlier, when tears filled her eyes as she talked about their friendship, how it meant more to her than almost everything else in her life, he would’ve agreed to just about anything to keep her from walking away.

So he let her make the rules.

No talking about their kiss in his kitchen. No talking about having sex on his couch. If they were going to go on as friends, they’d both have to act like it never even happened. No inappropriate touching, no sexual innuendo, no talk of something more.

She believed they’d put their friendship at risk and came so very close to ruining everything, and the only way they could avoid repeating history was to follow the rules.

When he arrived at the diner, Rachel was already seated in what had become their booth, chatting with Peggy about who knows what. Both were laughing like old friends by the time he reached the table.

Peggy slid a menu in front of him as he sat down. “Long night, sugar? You look tired.”

“I’ve been better.”

She gave him a little pat on his shoulder and told him she’d be right back with his drink.

Lucky fought the desire to lay his head right down on the table and close his eyes, but he propped his head up on his hand instead. The view was better this way.

“She’s right, you know. You’re not looking your best.” Rachel reached across the table and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

If it had been anybody else, he would have torn their hand off for being so patronizing. But Rachel, well . . . he’d let her do about anything to him. He was just happy she was touching him, even if it fell well within the rule guidelines. Her hand skimmed across his temple, down his cheek, and he fought the urge to cover her hand with his just so he could keep her there.

Then, all too quickly, she drew back her hand when Peggy returned with their drinks.

“You should have said you didn’t feel well. I would’ve survived eating a club sandwich and chocolate milkshake by myself.”

“I’ll be better once I get some food in me.”

Her smile was so sweet. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he agreed partially because he feared she’d ask Doctor Dick to come in his place. And the thought of that jerk taking his seat in their booth? Well, not gonna happen.

In the meantime, he needed to keep up his side of the conversation or else.

“I forgot to tell you I got an email from Bull’s mom yesterday. They transferred him from Germany to Walter Reed a week ago.”

She was fiddling with her hair as he spoke, freeing it from its clip and twisting it back up. He might have been imagining it, but it was even redder than it was a couple of weeks ago. It had more fire to it now.

“So that’s good news, right?”

“He’s lost both legs at the knee, but at least he’s alive. Thought I might go visit him when finals are over.”

She smiled again. “I’m sure he’d like that.”

Peggy returned with their sandwiches, a single order of sandwiches and fries for each of them this time, along with Rachel’s off-menu chocolate shake.

Immediately she shoved a straw into it and took a drink.

“Look who’s getting the special treatment now.”

She smiled wide around the straw held between her teeth. “What can I say? She loves me.”

Then, just as he always did, he offered her the ketchup first so she could make her little puddle. And then she passed it back so he could make a pond for his fries.

“Would you want to go with me? My treat.”

Her eyes widened and she shielded her mouth to answer since he’d caught her midbite. “To Washington, D.C.?”

“Have you been there?”

She laughed. “Uh, no. You know I haven’t.”

They’d had this conversation more than once, about how he’d traveled all over the world and she’d never been anywhere, really. She’d never been on a plane. Had never seen the ocean. Had never really traveled further than a three-hour drive from her hometown.

“Would we drive or fly?” The little crinkle between her brows gave away her nervousness.

“Fly, of course,” he said with total confidence. “We can drive to Dallas, fly out on a Monday afternoon, come back Thursday evening and still have a chance to rest up before our shift on Friday.”

Her smile widened. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“Sure.” He could feel his own excitement growing. “I think it’d be fun.”

And then, without any warning, her smile dropped and she suddenly found the remains on her plate very interesting. Lucky’s gut told him there was a bomb about to be dropped.

“There’s a reason I wanted us to have breakfast together. I need to tell you something and I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else first.”

Holy shit. This wasn’t just going to be bad, but really bad.

When she looked up at him, there were no remnants of the smile that had just been there. “Rich asked me out. On a date.”

“Rich Hamilton.”

“Yes.”

“Doctor Dick asked you out.” He could actually feel the blood pounding in his skull he was so pissed off.

“Please don’t call him that,” she begged. “I only agreed to it because I thought it might be best to get back in the dating pool.”

There was little doubt God was trying his patience today. “What happened to Miss Independent?”

“She’s still here!” Her face said she needed to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. “I’ve been thinking a lot for the past two weeks. Ever since we made our little . . . agreement. I thought maybe we shouldn’t spend so much time together.”

He leaned his forearms on the table and stared directly at her, not even trying to hide his frustration. “I thought the agreement was so we could still be friends? Because our friendship was so important that you never wanted to lose it?”

“That is true!”

“So why are you going out with him of all people?” he said, tossing his hands in the air. “Do you not see the bullshit he pulls with me just because he can? He’s at the top of the food chain and I’m just a bottom feeder as far as he’s concerned. And he’s taking great satisfaction in proving that.” He jammed his index finger into the tabletop. “Every. Damn. Day.”

Lucky scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to regain control of his emotions, because arguing with Rachel wasn’t going to help matters. If anything he might succeed in just pushing her further away.

She reached across the table and touched his arm, and when he looked up, that sweet smile had returned. But there was worry in her eyes, too.

“Maybe you should do the same thing? Ask someone out on a date. Like Catwoman.”

Lucky shook his head, having no idea who she was talking about.

“The woman from the bar. You have a class with her. I can’t remember her name.”

“Krista.”

Rachel forced a smile. “That’s it. She’s pretty. And she seemed nice the little bit I talked to her.”

He could tell that smile was less than genuine, even if she couldn’t. Rachel wasn’t any happier about the idea of him going out with Krista than he was about her going out with Doctor Dick. And it was her idea to begin with.

“I hope you can understand why I’m doing this.” This time she took hold of his hand, twining her fingers between his. “You have all these plans. Getting your degree. Going to medical school. You’re going to leave this town a second time and move on with your life and I’ll still be here.”

“Rach.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “Come on. That’s years away.”

“I know. But if I spend all of my time with you for the next two years and then you leave? I’ll have no one.”

He wanted to tell her she could have him forever, but that would be breaking their agreement.

Rachel pulled back her hands, sliding them over the tabletop until they disappeared in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have to get going. I have to go to the grocery store and get some things for my mom on my way home.”

When she went to pull money from her wallet, he told her breakfast was on him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she slid out of their booth. “I’ll see you tonight. Get some rest.”

Rachel waved goodbye to Peggy as she headed out through the front doors, then Lucky watched her cross the parking lot and climb into her dead brother’s truck.

He could take her to Dallas. He could take her to Washington, D.C. He could take her anywhere in the world and she’d probably come back to this place. He knew she could leave this town and do just fine. There was no reason for her to be scared of the world outside the bubble she’d created for herself. As much as he’d like to have something far more than friendship with Rachel, his gut told him it would never work. Not until she figured out she could survive beyond the limits of this town. And that she would have to figure it out on her own.

He had two years to wait her out. He only hoped she’d come to her senses sooner rather than later.