Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (31 page)

Three hours later, I sat beside him in a
not-so-private hospital room. He had a whole bunch of injuries –
broken ribs, head trauma, and just enough internal damage to make
them talk about operating.

But they didn't.

They'd checked him for identification. He had
none. They'd asked his name. He couldn't answer.

For the dubious privilege of staying by his
side, I told one little lie. That one lie led to another. And
another after that.

Before I knew it, I was filling out forms,
answering questions, talking to doctors, and holding his hand like
a real sister might.

Except I didn't feel like a sister.

I felt like an interloper. A fraud. And
something else. The something else was complicated – wrapped up in
guilt for not getting help sooner and tinged with something I
didn't want to think about. Curiosity? Concern?

I imagined his face, free of bruises, blood
and bandages. I still had no idea what he actually looked like. I
hadn't seen him. Not really. But I wanted to. And that's when I
identified that mysterious something.

Longing.

Here was a guy who laughed – literally
laughed – after getting beat almost to death and dumped onto the
sidewalk. Some days, I had a hard time laughing at all. But I
needed to. If not for me, then definitely for my younger brother.
He deserved that.

Sure, my mom wasn't around much, and my dad
was dating someone who hated kids. Well,
his
kids anyway.
But we were doing alright. At least compared to this guy.

When he woke up, all hell would break loose.
The name I'd given wasn't real, and neither was the address. If I
wasn't gone by the time he woke up, I'd be in some serious
trouble.

Until that point, I watched him as he lay
there, heavily bandaged, and even more heavily sedated. I talked to
him in whispers, relaying every silly thing I could think of.
Stories about my Polish grandmother, cartoons I'd read in the
paper, ridiculous things my little brother liked to say.

If this guy were awake, he'd be bored out of
his mind. But for now, he was John Livingston of Maple Drive, and
he was utterly fascinated with everything I said.

And I kept my promise. Except for some
made-up history, I told them nothing. Insurance? No idea. Medical
history, didn't know. If nothing else, these things at least were
the absolute truth.

Some sister I was.

I'd fallen asleep in the chair next to his
bed when my cell phone buzzed. I answered with a hushed hello.

"You still at the hospital?" It was
Erika.

"Yeah, why?"

"A heads-up," she said. "My parents are there
looking for you."

"Really? Why?"

"My guess? They're heading on that cruise
tomorrow. And they want to thank you before they leave."

"Thank me? For what?"

She laughed. "For saving their beloved
daughter's life, of course."

"Oh shut up," I said. "I just gave you a
ride." And I would have given her a ride home too, if her latest
boyfriend hadn't shown up to reclaim that honor.

"Yeah. Just kidding," she said. "Actually,
they want to give you a birthday present. You know, the big
eighteen."

Neither one of us mentioned what my parents
had gotten Erika. Nothing. But she couldn’t feel too bad. They
hadn't gotten me anything either. "Awww…they didn't have to do
that," I said.

"Yeah, well you know how they are."

I did. They were amazing, slightly
overprotective and maybe a little extravagant, but one-hundred
percent wonderful. If I didn't love Erika like a sister, I might've
been consumed by jealousy. When it came to parents, she won the
jackpot. Me? I got the booby prize. Two of them, actually.

"Anyway," Erika said, "They're at the
hospital now."

"Really? They're here?" I felt myself
stiffen. "What'd you tell them?"

"About your mystery man?" she said. "Nothing.
I just mentioned you were visiting a friend."

"Well, he might be a mystery man," I said,
"but he's definitely not mine."

"Whatever. I'm just mad that your story's
more interesting than mine is."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't think totaling a
Porsche is interesting?"

"Not the way I did it," she said.

I saw her point. It's not like she was
drag-racing. She'd left the car in neutral at the top of her
parent's steep driveway. She'd also forgotten about the parking
brake. The car rolled down the drive, drifted onto the street, and
got T-boned by a dump truck.

She wouldn't have been injured at all if she
hadn't tripped on the driveway chasing after it.

"You know what?" I said. "Come to think of
it, your story's way more interesting

"Stupid's more like it," she said. "Hey, I
just got a text. They're in the cafeteria. They wanna know if you
can meet them there."

I glanced at the guy in the bed. He hadn't
moved. "Tell them I'm on the way." When I disconnected the call, I
reached out for the mystery guy's hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
"I'll be back in a few minutes." I made myself smile. "Don't go
anywhere, alright?"

The joke was lame, but it wasn't any lamer
than the story of Josh's imaginary friend. Humor heals, right? Even
bad humor? Shaking my head, I left the room and headed three floors
down to the cafeteria.

I returned with a ruby pendant, way too
extravagant, but impossible to refuse – and not because I hadn't
tried. But I couldn’t help but smile as I felt the ruby resting
against my skin.

But as I returned to that hospital room, I
felt my smile fade.

He was gone.

As I sat in a totally different hospital,
under a totally different scenario, I thought again of that mystery
guy, trying to assemble the pieces in some way that made sense.
That was how long ago? Five years?

That had to be just a month or two before
Lawton had rocketed to fame and eventual fortune, all starting with
some Internet video of a gritty back-alley fight. I'd seen that
fight myself, with Lawton in all his tattooed glory, beating the
living crap out of some guy who'd supposedly been unbeatable.

Unbeatable. The thought made me frown.
Supposedly, Lawton had never lost a fight either. But on that very
first night, something terrible had happened. The injuries, I
might've chalked up to a fight gone wrong, but the cigarette burns
made no sense at all.

So what had happened?

Thinking about it, I must've dozed off,
because I jumped in my chair when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I
whipped around to see Bishop, standing just behind me.

"Oh," I said. "It's you."

He glanced toward Lawton. "Is he
alright?"

I nodded. "Mostly."

Bishop shook his head. "What a dumb-ass."

"Hey!" I said. "That's not very nice."

He gave me a look. "Just so you know, I
talked with the nurse."

"Oh." I cleared my throat. "So, uh, she told
on me, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"How'd you find out he was here?" I asked. "I
would've called, but I didn't know how to reach you."

"Eh, heard it through the grapevine," he
said.

"What grapevine?"

He shrugged. "So he gorged on seafood,
huh?"

I nodded, feeling my eyes water just a
little. "Here, I just thought he hated it," I said.

"Of course he hates it." Bishop flicked his
gaze toward Lawton. "Look what it does to him."

"But why on Earth would he do something like
that?" I said.

Bishop gave me a deadpan look. "My guess? He
didn't want to see you hurt."

"But you don't even know what happened," I
said.

"It's not hard to figure out. Here, lemme
guess. And you can tell me how close I am."

I crossed my arms. "Alright. Go ahead."

"For whatever reason, it was either you or
him. Or maybe it was either someone you care about, or him. Either
way, he took the bullet so you didn't have to."

"It wasn't a bullet," I said. "It was oyster
gravy."

Bishop made a face. "Is that real?"

"Unfortunately."

"How much did he eat?" Bishop said.

I glanced at Lawton. "A lot."

"Well, that's love for ya." Bishop shook his
head. "Poor bastard."

"Hey!"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying."

I gave him a look. "So how about you? Haven't
you
ever been in love before?"

He glanced at Lawton, and then back at me.
His voice was oddly quiet. "Yeah. Once."

"What happened?" I asked, suddenly
curious.

Bishop was silent a few beats. And then, he
reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his
wallet. He opened it up and slid something out of an interior
pocket. It looked like a playing card, all folded up in a neat
little square.

"What's that?" I said.

Silently, he handed it over. The creases were
worn and the pattern was scuffed. Taking it from his cool hands, I
had the feeling it had been handled a lot, and folded often.

Careful not to mangle it worse than it
already was, I unfolded the card and studied the image. Obviously,
it hadn't come from a regular card deck.

"Is this a tarot card?" I said.

He nodded.

I studied the image. "The Fool? Is this
supposed to be you?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "No. Not if I can
help it."

And then, I heard a groggy voice from the
direction of the hospital bed. "Damn it. For the last time, just go
find her already, will ya?"

A half hour later, Bishop stood to leave. The
three of us had spent the last thirty minutes talking, a lot about
what happened at dinner, and a little about the very first time
Lawton and I had met.

"So you're Hospital Girl," Bishop said. He
glanced at Lawton. "You could've mentioned that."

"Why?" Lawton said. "So you could spend
another five years giving me a hard time? No thanks."

"Hospital Girl?" I said.

Lawton gave a sheepish grin. "I didn't know
your real name."

"Well, you could've mentioned it to
me
," I said. "I never gave you a hard time."

Bishop made a noise that sounded suspiciously
like a snort.

"Hey," I said. "I didn't. Much."

I turned back to Lawton. "So why didn't you
tell me?"

"Maybe," he said, "I wanted you to love me,
not that guy on the sidewalk."

I rolled my eyes. "Because the guy on the
sidewalk lost a fight? Lawton, don't you get it? Win, lose, it
doesn't matter. I don't love you because of what you do or what you
have. I love you because of who you are."

Lawton grinned. "You wanna say that
again?"

"That's it," Bishop said. "I'm gonna go get
your car. See ya in a few days."

"Um, actually," I said, "I think I lost his
keys."

"Not a problem," Bishop said.

"So you've got a spare?" I said.

"Something like that."

"Hey," Lawton called out to Bishop, when he
was halfway to the door. "Have 'em drop a car in visitor's parking,
will ya? Something low-key."

Nodding, Bishop walked out the door,
silently, just like he'd come.

"He's kind of scary," I said.

"Baby," Lawton said, "you don't know the half
of it."

"Speaking of which." I turned to face him.
"Since you're incapacitated…"

He raised his eyebrows. "Incapacitated?
That's what you think, huh?"

I gave it some thought. I'd seen him walk
away from a different hospital looking far worse than this. "Hey,
I'll take what I can get." I gave him a stern look. "Time to answer
some questions, mister."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

I glanced toward the door that Bishop had
just walked out of. "Just what is it that you two are involved
in?"

His smile faded. "What do you mean?"

"Oh c'mon," I said. "Don’t play dumb. You
know exactly what I mean. You've got this bullet-proof car and all
kinds of weird skills—"

"Like what?"

"Well, like getting into locked houses, for
starters."

"Oh that."

"Yeah. That."

"Sorry," he said. "I can't tell you."

Silently, I studied his face. He didn't look
sorry.

"Why not?" I said.

"Because I've taken an oath."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please. Do I look dumb
to you?"

"No," he said. "What you look is so damn
beautiful, it hurts just to look at you."

"Now you're just sucking up."

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean it's not
true."

"Are you ever gonna tell me?" I said.

"Yup."

"So why won't you now?"

"Because we're not married." He grinned.
"Yet."

My lips twitched. "Yet?"

"A guy can hope, right?"

"C'mon, be serious."

"You think I'm not?"

"Honestly?" I said. "I'm not sure."

He grinned. "Good. Because whatever happens,
I'm gonna do it right. Because you deserve it, and a hell of a lot
more."

My knees were trembling, and I was having a
hard time focusing. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? And
if so, how did I feel about that? I heard a giggle. Oh God, it was
coming from me. My face blazing, I slapped both hands over my mouth
and tried to look serious.

Lawton reached up, gently tugging my elbow
until I tumbled down next to him, lying with him in the hospital
bed, shoes and all.

I was laughing so hard, I couldn't stop.
"You're gonna get me trouble," I said.

"From who?" he asked.

"The nurse."

"Eh, if she gives you a hard time, we'll just
leave."

"You can't do that," I said.

"Why not? We'll just walk out and take care
of the paperwork later."

I believed him, too. "So tell me," I said.
"What happened that night we first met? Obviously, you lost a
fight, but–"

He shook his head. "I didn't lose."

"But I saw you," I said. "No offense, but you
were a mess. If you won, then the other guy must've ended up
dead."