Never Let Go (8 page)

Davey drew her into the conversation before her imagination could run wild, and for the next hour she put her confusion aside. Then she realized that Justin was prolonging his visit to avoid being alone with her. As Davey’s eyelids fluttered down for the third time, she insisted that they leave.

Outside the room, she touched Justin’s cheek gently. “You look beat. Was it a rough day?”

“It wasn’t the greatest,” he admitted. He seemed to struggle with something, then finally asked, “Do you have some time?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go downstairs for some coffee. I could use someone to talk to.”

Mallory’s pulse pounded as ecstatically as if he’d just proposed a seduction in the linen room. Justin had actually turned to her openly, admitting that he had a problem and that he wanted to share it with her. She felt as if she’d been given a precious gift.

When they had their coffee and were settled in a booth at the back of the virtually empty cafeteria, Justin seemed to have difficulty finding the words he needed.

“You remember that patient of mine, Mr. Harrison?”

“Sure. Carol told me this morning
you’d talked to him and that he was really optimistic. You must be feeling terrific about that.”

“Terrific? Yeah, I feel just great,” he said bitterly. “I built up the man’s hopes, and now he’s lying in an intensive care unit and may never walk again.”

“What?” Mallory felt as though a cold, damp wind had rushed past and left her shivering. “I don’t understand.”

“His surgery was this afternoon. It was very tricky. The way it looks now, I’m not at all sure it worked. He could very well be paralyzed.”

“Oh, Justin, I’m sorry. Are you sure? Is there any chance for him?”

He hesitated. “There’s a chance, I guess. Call it instinct or whatever, but I just have a bad feeling about it,” he said gloomily.

Mallory wanted to reach across the table and shake him. “Justin Whitmore, you stop that this very instant. As my mother would say, you’re just borrowing trouble. I thought you actually knew he was paralyzed.”

“I told you it’s an instinct. I’ve done this procedure before. I know what to expect.”

“Did one single thing go any differently than it has in the past?”

“No,” he admitted. “The surgery went pretty smoothly. Dr. Hendricks was there and he’s the best. He thought it went just fine.”

“Has anything specific happened to indicate trouble?”

His voice faltered, but he met her gaze. “Not exactly.”

She couldn’t help it. She grinned at him. “You really must meet my mother.”

“What does she have
to do with this?”

“She can borrow trouble with the best of them. You can compare notes.”

Before he could respond, his beeper went off and his expression turned somber. “It’s the intensive care unit. It could be a problem with Mr. Harrison.”

A shiver of dread ran along Mallory’s spine, despite herself.

He gazed at her tentatively. “Wait here for me, will you?”

“You’ve got it.” As he started away, she called after him. “Justin, no matter what happens, you’re a damn good doctor.”

He gave her a halfhearted thumbs-up gesture and took off at a run.

It was three frantic hours later when Justin wrapped things up. It hadn’t been Mr. Harrison they had called him about after all, but another patient. After Justin had finished with him, he had checked on Mr. Harrison as well. He was halfway to the on-call room, when he remembered that he’d left Mallory in the cafeteria. He was sure she would have given up long ago and gone home, but he made a detour just to be sure.

He found her right where he’d left her, leaning back in a corner of the booth, her head drooping to one side. She looked cramped and uncomfortable and utterly desirable.

Gently, he lifted her legs and slid into the booth, then put her slender calves back down across his lap. She barely stirred. His hand resting on the curve of her leg, he sat watching her for several minutes, unable to believe that she was there for him again.

“Hey, lady,” he murmured finally, running a finger lightly across her mouth. “Wake up. It’s time to go home.”

She smiled sleepily, her
eyes still half-shut. “Hi. Is everything okay with Mr. Harrison?”

“It’s looking pretty good,” he said with cautious optimism.

“Does that mean the prognosis is better than you thought?”

“There’s some evidence of feeling in his right leg. I’m still not so sure about the left, but I’m a whole lot more hopeful now than I was earlier.”

She took his hand and lifted it to her lips. The kiss she brushed across his knuckles sent tremors through him.

“You’ve got great hands.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” he inquired lightly.

A blush of pink stained her cheeks. “That, too, doctor, but I was thinking of something Rachel said. She said you were such a good surgeon, you ought to have your hands insured.”

Justin was surprised. “Rachel said that? I didn’t think she thought much of me. I can recall a few less than savory adjectives she applied to my character.”

“She might have been referring to your bedside manner, which as we both know is improving tremendously.”

“I wish I could go home with you now and work on it some more,” he murmured, “but I’m on duty the rest of the night.”

“Are you throwing me out?”

“It’s late. You ought to get some sleep.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Do
you want me to go?”

He sighed. She was doing it again. She was backing him into a corner and, while a part of him rebelled, most of him felt an odd sense of relief. “No. Stay a bit and talk to me.”

“Only if I can ask you a question.”

“You never let up, do you?” he said resignedly. “Go on. Ask away.”

“Was something else on your mind earlier? Something other than Mr. Harrison’s condition?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“It’s just that when I saw you outside Davey’s room, you seemed so upset.”

“You don’t think worrying about Mr. Harrison was enough? I thought you wanted me to demonstrate more concern for my patients.”

“If that’s all it was, fine. I just have a feeling there was more.”

He shook his head. “You and your feelings.”

“So I’m wrong?”

He scowled at her. He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed his mood, but he should have known better. “No, damn it. You’re not wrong.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Since when have you given a hoot whether I wanted to talk about something?”

“That’s not true, Justin Whitmore,” she said indignantly. “Sometimes you just don’t realize that you need to talk about certain things until I point it out to you.”

He grinned feebly. “Oh, is that the way you see it?”

“Naturally.”

“And you think I need to talk about this?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” she said, her eyes widening with expectancy.

“Ah, but this time it
might,” he said, suddenly turning serious. He wanted to tell her. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to be completely open, but he was afraid of ripping apart all the old wounds so they could fester again. Mallory waited until he found the words to begin. “I heard what you said to Davey.”

“About his mother?”

“About both his parents.”

“Why would that upset you? He needs to learn to understand what really happened to his family, that he wasn’t to blame for any of it.”

“I know that,” he agreed, then added in a voice that was barely above a hoarse whisper, “I know it all too well.”

Mallory grasped what he was really saying even more quickly than he’d anticipated. “Justin, how do you know?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“You’re a very perceptive woman. I think you already have the answer to that.”

Her hand was tight on his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Say it, damn it. Just say it.”

“Because I’ve been there,” he said slowly, unable to meet her gaze. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve been like Davey.”

F
or several minutes after
Justin spoke, Mallory sat in stunned silence. Her heart grieved for this man she knew to be sensitive and gentle and kind beneath the harsh facade he maintained for the world. And she was angry, for she understood now why Justin had shut himself off from people, why he had been terrified to let anyone into his life. Those he had loved most as a child had done damage to his ability to trust that was possibly irreparable. It was also just as likely that they had warped his self-image in such a way that he felt he wasn’t lovable.

Thinking back now, it all made sense—the impossibly high standards he set for himself and others, the distance he had kept from his patients, the special poignancy so evident in his relationship with Davey. All were the actions and attitudes of a man torn between wanting love and fearing it.

He was sitting next to
her now, his jaw tightly clenched, his body rigid. Now that he’d said the words, he was clearly regretting them. He radiated tension as he waited for her response. When she started to put her hand on his, he jerked away, much as Davey had the first time she had reached out to him. With Justin, though, she didn’t let go.

“Tell me about it,” she said gently, her thumb grazing his whitened knuckles until his fingers finally relaxed.

He shook his head. “I can’t talk about it.”

“Not even to me?”

“Especially not to you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You’re obviously beginning to trust me. You’ve already told me it happened. Why not the rest?”

“I do trust you,” he said, his gaze intense, trying to tell her far more than he could with words. “You, Mallory Blake, the woman.”

Suddenly she understood and she uttered a soft sigh of regret. “But not Mallory Blake, Ph.D.”

“Exactly.”

“You can’t separate the two, Justin. I am a psychologist.” He had no idea how true that was, how ingrained the training was in her. Now was not the time for her to bring up her own personal tragedy.

“But right now, at this moment,” she reassured him, “I am a woman who cares very much about you. No analysis, I promise. Just a friend who’s willing to listen.”

Whether it was because of the sincerity of her promise or the depth of his own need, Justin finally started talking. The words began slowly, like the first trickle of water that would later become a flood. For the next few hours the story poured out. It was not unlike Davey’s.

Justin’s mother, Karen Lewis, had
been beautiful, socially ambitious and bright. She had been sent to the best schools, not so much for an education, but in the hope that she would find a suitable match. She had met Justin’s father, heir to a large fortune in shipping, during her senior year. They had little in common, with the possible exception of an interest in his future. There had been a whirlwind courtship, which passed by in a blur of champagne and travel and parties. They were so rarely alone, it was little wonder that they didn’t recognize their differences.

The marriage had been a disaster practically from the beginning. Suddenly Derrick Whitmore’s playboy days were over. He was expected to settle in at the family business, and Karen was expected to remain at home and play the dutiful wife. It was a role for which she was particularly unsuited. She had loved every minute of the globe-trotting and partying. She had shone at social occasions planned by other people. Now that she was expected to entertain herself, she found it was work, and that tarnished the glitter. She became more and more absorbed with her friends at the country club, and Derrick Whitmore became more and more absorbed by his work. It was a marriage headed for divorce. The only thing that stood in the way was Karen’s determination not to relinquish what she’d fought so hard to win—wealth. And Justin had been caught on the battlefield.

“She never wanted me. She got pregnant only to have something to use as leverage against my father. When it didn’t work, she took it out on me. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t remind me in one way or another how much trouble I was.”

The words sent a hot
spurt of outrage pouring through Mallory, followed by a swell of tenderness and compassion. She knew, though, that Justin wanted none of that from her. She waited silently for the rest.

“I was four the first time I had to go to the hospital,” he said, his eyes focusing on something off in the distance, on stubborn, hateful memories that he couldn’t let go. “I can’t even remember how many times there were after that. My father wasn’t interested enough to ask for explanations. In fact, he wasn’t home long enough to even notice the bruises. He’d moved up in the company, and he was once again traveling all over the world. He took advantage of every opportunity to be on the road, and my mother resented me all the more because I kept her tied to home. It got so I dreaded my dad’s trips out of town, not because I missed him, but because that’s when she was angriest.”

“But what about the authorities? After a few hospital visits, wouldn’t someone catch on?”

“Ah, the system,” he said with a wry grimace. “You still haven’t given up on it, have you? Keep in mind that my mother was very smart. We rarely went to the same hospital twice in the same year. She always picked the busiest emergency rooms. If my grandmother hadn’t walked in on one of her beatings, I doubt if anyone would have ever figured it out.”

“What happened then?”

“My grandmother took me away and insisted that my mother get help. It was all kept very quiet. It would have been bad for the family business, for our exalted position in the community, if word had gotten out that my mother was a child abuser. I was never permitted to discuss it, not even with my grandparents. The lengths they went to to pretend that it had never happened were incredible. I stayed with my grandparents at their lake house for the summer. No one would question that. It was a child’s dream vacation. After that, though, I was sent back home. My mother was supposed to be
better
.”

“Was she? Did the treatment
help?”

“It kept her occupied,” he said with an ironic edge to his voice.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“She had an affair with the shrink.”

Mallory felt as though she wanted to be sick. No wonder Justin had such contempt for psychologists. “Was the man ever censured?”

“On whose word? That of a ten-year-old boy? We were already keeping the child abuse quiet. Why not add an affair to the list of secrets?”

Amid the outpouring of bitterness, Mallory heard the pain of a small, confused boy and, for once, was at a loss to know what to do about it. Words alone would never banish years and years of pent-up hatred and confusion and loneliness.

Before she could think of anything to say, Justin gave her a lopsided grin of sheer bravado. She had never loved him more. “Quite a tale, huh?” he said with a light touch he had to struggle to achieve.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that all alone.”

“Don’t be.” He shrugged. “At least one good thing came out of it.”

“What?”

“After all those trips to the hospital, I grew more and more fascinated with medicine. It was a way to make the hurt go away, and I wanted to do that. My father, who seemed to belatedly notice my existence, was only too glad to pay the expenses. He apparently considered it penance. It was only after I was already in school that I realized exactly what studying medicine meant, that I would have to get involved with the patients. I love neurosurgery and I’m good at it, but I chose it because I thought it would mean spending less time dealing with people directly. Pretty cowardly, don’t you think?”

“If you’d really wanted to
be cowardly, you could have chosen research. Surgery certainly didn’t work as you’d planned, did it?”

He gave her a rueful half smile. “Actually it was working pretty well, until you came along and decided to prod my conscience.”

“Maybe you’re just ready to begin coming out of your shell.”

“I suppose anything is possible.”

Suddenly Mallory noticed that the cafeteria was getting busy. Then she noticed that the sky was turning gray.

“Justin Whitmore, do you realize we’ve been here all night? I can’t remember the last time I stayed awake long enough to see the sunrise.”

“I hope it was in a more romantic setting than this.”

“Actually, I think it was when I was studying to take the oral examinations for my Ph.D.”

“You really must come up with a better way to spend your nights,” he remarked, his gaze roving suggestively over her, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Any ideas?” she asked breathlessly.

“One or two. Would you like to start by going to a ball game with Davey and me? I’ve promised him we could go to the Giants’ opener today.”

“He’s well enough to leave the hospital?”

“Oh, I think I can arrange a
pass, since he’ll be with proper medical personnel. Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, but I’ve been putting it off because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. Davey’s really just about ready to get out of here. Has Rachel said any more about where he’s likely to be sent? Have they found a foster home for him?”

“I don’t know how much you heard earlier, but a foster home may not be necessary. His dad is coming in the morning. The court may want to look into sending Davey home with him, or there may even be a reconciliation. I know that’s what Jenny Landers is hoping for.”

At the scowl on Justin’s face, Mallory added, “Now don’t go getting all worked up again. Nothing’s definite, and I promised you I wouldn’t make any recommendation that wasn’t in Davey’s best interest.”

“Okay, I’ll withhold judgment for the moment, but I’m warning you…”

“Save it, doctor. I know where you’re coming from. Now let me get out of here. I need a shower and some clean clothes before I face another day around this place.” She rubbed her fingers across the stubble on his chin. Somehow it made him look even sexier. “I like the unshaved look, but I doubt if Dr. Hendricks would approve. You’d better get going, too.”

Mallory started to nudge Justin from the booth, but he stopped her.

“Wait. Before we go, I want to thank you…for listening. You kept your promise, and I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” she said softly. “I’ll always be around, if you need me.”

Hazel eyes met hers and
held until her pulse, predictably, began to race. “I’m beginning to realize that.”

They walked out of the cafeteria together, and Justin went with her as far as the front door. Suddenly she found herself backed against the wall, his body mere inches away. She could feel the heat emanating from him, smell his sharp, tangy male scent. It made her head reel and her blood sizzle. If he didn’t move away, the oncoming shift was going to have enough gossip material to keep the hospital buzzing for a week.

“Justin,” she said huskily. She cleared her throat and tried again. If she was going to object to his nearness, she would have to be more convincing than that. His eyes glittered back at her dangerously, the golden flecks in the hazel depths glinting like the eyes of a tiger.

“Yes,” he said with feigned innocence. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re crowding me.” This time her voice squeaked.

“You’ve been crowding me since the day we met.”

“Justin!”

He grinned at her then and before she could slide under one of his arms, he’d lowered his head and brushed his lips lightly across hers. She’d been in San Francisco long enough to know that the tremors he’d just set off were sufficient to rock the city, yet everyone else seemed to be going about their business as if there’d been no earthquake at all. In fact, many of the passersby seemed to be smirking with delight.

“What the hell,” she muttered and lifted her head for the full-fledged kiss he was only too ready to bestow. The roughness of his cheeks tantalized her, his lips were firm and warm and hungry, his tongue teased until sensation overruled caution, and her arms slid around his neck. It was the only hope she had of staying on her feet. Her knees were trembling, and her entire body seemed all too languid.

“Shower,” she finally mumbled, breaking
free of the embrace. Justin was clearly startled as he came back to reality. He blinked and gazed around him, astonishment written all over his face.

“A cold shower,” he echoed, suddenly grinning again. “It seems to have been a night full of surprises.”

“Surprises?”

“No calls from the emergency room and now this.” He seemed awfully pleased about the whole thing, while she was ready to die from embarrassment. Still, she wasn’t going to let him see she couldn’t take a passionate kiss in stride, even if it had taken place in a very public location.

She tried to brace her legs, convinced that they were about to fold right under her. “Later,” she said with what she considered to be a reasonable amount of jauntiness.

“Six o’clock.”

“Six o’clock?”

“The ball game. I’ll meet you in Davey’s room.”

“Right. I’d almost forgotten.” It probably didn’t matter, she thought as she walked away in a daze of exhaustion, that she hated baseball. She’d probably sleep straight through the game anyway.

She was trying to sneak in a ten-minute nap in her office later that morning when Rachel wandered in.

“Ah, sleeping on the job. That’s always the first sign. Could it be that our prize child psychologist is suffering from a common emotional disorder that tends to strike in the spring?” she teased as she sat down across from Mallory. Mallory glared back at her, but it didn’t seem to daunt Rachel in the slightest. “Word has it that love is in the air, the mighty have fallen, and all’s right with the world.”

“Go to hell.”

“Is that any way to treat your
best friend?”

Mallory’s head was back down on her desk. She muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Rachel inquired cheerfully.

Mallory peered at her with one bleary eye. “I said you’re going to be my former best friend, if you keep this up.”

“Testiness. Another significant clue. Come on, girl, give. What’s going on with you and the great doctor?”