Cedar Cove Collection

As soon as she pulled up to the house, Bobby and Teri hurried out to see James.

“He’s badly hurt,” Christie said in a stern voice. “Keep your distance. His ribs are broken.”

“Oh, James.” Teri began to cry, too. “James, stay at our place, okay? Those stairs to your apartment are too much. We have a downstairs guest room and—”

“No,” he insisted. “No. I can manage.”

Christie knew his stoicism and his need for privacy would keep him from accepting Teri’s suggestion, and she understood that, but it was hard to watch him suffer.

“I’m going to make Vladimir pay for this,” Bobby said through gritted teeth. His fists were clenched at his sides.

Christie’s hand was on James’s arm as she turned to look at Bobby. “If you need any help with that, let me know.” She spoke fiercely and she meant every word.

“Is there anything I can do?” Teri asked.

Christie took the prescription out of her purse. “Get this filled and pick up four cans of chicken noodle soup.” She’d seen a grocery store flyer that advertised four for three dollars; having grown up poor, she automatically noticed a bargain.

“I’ll go with you,” Bobby said, following Teri.

“I’ll take you to your rooms,” Christie said, again clasping James’s elbow and gently steering him toward the outside staircase that led to his quarters above the garage.

“I’ll be fine now. Thank you,” he said when they’d reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Forget it.” Christie wasn’t taking no for an answer, and he must’ve realized that because he capitulated without an argument. Bad enough, she figured, that he’d been so stubborn, refusing to stay at Teri’s house. They took the stairs slowly and each one made him wince. When they finally got to the landing, Christie had her arm around his waist and he was leaning against her. The door was unlocked and, as she’d suspected, his quarters were immaculate. He pointed in the direction of the bedroom and she supported him as he hobbled toward it.

His bed was made with military precision and even when he sat down the blanket didn’t wrinkle.

“I’ll be fine now,” he said again, more firmly this time.

“I.” Christie was reluctant to leave.

“I don’t need your help anymore.”

“Do you mean that?” she asked, trying to disguise the pain his comment had inflicted.

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You said I’m a stuffed shirt.”

“So? You are.”

“You don’t want anything to do with me,” he reminded her. “You said that … the last time I drove you home …”

“I did?” She couldn’t even remember, although they’d argued about what she’d called his “hovering” and “overprotectiveness.”

“You asked—yet again—that I not drive you anymore.”

She didn’t see that as any big deal. “I’m capable of driving myself, you know.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “And I’m capable of looking after myself.”

“Fine,” she said, hands on her hips. “We’re both capable people. Now climb into bed and I’ll tuck you in.”

“Then you’ll go?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“Good.” He averted his head as he mumbled, “Please leave the room.”

Furious—and not sure why—she stomped out of the room and slammed the door. Then she stood on the other side of the door and waited. Twice, when she heard him stifle a groan, she nearly burst in, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion. Fine, she’d see that he was safely in bed and then she’d take off. If he didn’t want her around, she wasn’t going to make a pest of herself.

After two or three minutes of silence, she asked, “Can I come in now?”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” She turned the knob and cautiously opened the door, to find him dressed in pajamas. He’d apparently taken off the sling around his arm, then put it back on, all by himself. That must’ve hurt. So he was a stuffed shirt and a glutton for punishment.

She peeled back the sheets and plumped up the pillows and finally assisted him into bed. He lowered himself onto the mattress with his teeth clenched and eyes tightly closed. Christie bit her lip, resisting the urge to cry out.

“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked once he was settled.

“Leave me alone.”

“Okay.” But instead she leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Good night, James.” When he frowned, she whispered, “Don’t worry, I’m going now.” What she didn’t say aloud was I’ll be back. He’d discover that soon enough.

Then she left his apartment and bounced down the outside stairs. Thirty minutes later she returned from her trip to the all-night grocery. Teri came out to meet her.

“He’s sleeping.”

“Good.”

“Bobby and I got the medication and the soup. I gave him the first capsule with a glass of water but he didn’t want anything to eat.” She walked with Christie to the bottom of the stairs that led to his apartment. “Apparently he put up a real fight when those … those mobsters attacked him and Rachel.”

“And paid the price,” Christie said.

“I was wrong about him,” Teri admitted. “I assumed that if anything like this ever happened, I’d be the one defending him.”

Until this evening, Christie had shared her sister’s assessment. “He surprised me, too.”

“You’re bringing him that?” Teri asked, pointing at the object in her right hand.

“Yes—even though he doesn’t want me here.”

“You’re sure?”

“He asked me to go, so I did. I’ll just leave this upstairs.”

“Come over when you’re finished.”

Christie nodded. It was well after midnight now, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep for a long, long time.