her eyes, the dots of perspiration on her sculpted lips, the way the lace of her bra pushed at the silk of her shirt as her ribs expanded with quick breaths. Her hair trembled against her cheek.
Or maybe he was the one trembling, wanting to kiss her, to see if she tasted the same, felt the same, if she let out the same sighs. His sensible thoughts had zipped away like that nosy hummingbird.
No. Stop this. Like with that hug in the hospital, they were on automatic pilot. This wasn’t real. It was a pointless response to their past, some misguided nostalgia.
He didn’t want to feel that wild again, that crazy in love. He knew the pain that followed, and he was done with the roller-coaster ride.
The buzz of a cell phone made them both jump. It was like a smoke alarm, alerting them to a fire in the making.
He handed her the jacket—the source of the buzz. She pulled out her phone and looked at the display. “It’s Faye’s nurse!” She shot him a panicked look, then put the phone to her ear. “Rita? Did something happen?” Her eyes were wild with fear. “Oh...okay...whew.”
Relief filled her face. She listened a bit. “Got it,” she said with a nod. “Thanks for everything, Rita. I hope we’ll see you.” She put her phone away.
“What happened?”
“Rita’s going back to her regular floor, so she won’t be Faye’s ICU nurse anymore. She wanted to let me know so I’d stop calling her.”
“You call her?”
“I talked her into giving me her number since I’m so far from the hospital.” She blew out a breath. “That was scary. I thought Faye might be failing.” She locked gazes with him. Sudden tears shivered in her eyes. “If Faye dies...I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He leaned forward to hug her, comfort her, but she held up her hands.
“No. I’m not staining another of your shirts.” She managed a smile. “But I will take a curiously strong mint if that’s what’s making the bulge in your pocket.” She grinned. “Your shirt pocket.”
“You got it,” he said, opening the tin so they could both take mints.
She put on her jacket, then rubbed a finger under each eye. “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”
“Not at all,” he lied, because the effect only intensified her beauty, made her eyes shinier, her cheeks pinker, her lips brighter. “You get to be sad, you know, Tara. You don’t have to tough it out.”
“I have to try, Dylan. You know that.”
“I do. I thought it was worth a shot.” He watched her gather herself, straighten her spine, shake out her hair and jut her chin, ready for battle. He admired her strength in the face of adversity. She was an amazing person and always had been.
“I don’t know how long you’ll be in town, but if there’s anything I can do...any way to help...” He took out his wallet and handed her a card. “Contact information’s on both sides.”
She turned over the card, which had his Ryland Engineering numbers on one side, the town manager’s on the other. Her brows lifted in surprise.
“Even hicks need business cards.”
“Hey, now, I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it.”
She smiled, then got serious. “I may call you. I have some questions about the accident and if I get stalled, you’ll probably be able to help. You’re town manager, right?”
“Right. What kind of questions?”
“Some details. Why my sister was driving my dad’s car, who called the police chief, stuff like that. Some things don’t add up.”
“I’m here if you need me,” he said, wondering if he’d live to regret those words.
He was still wondering that as he headed home. She’d needed him in high school, for sure, just as he’d needed her. They’d been inseparable. She’d brightened his life. He’d steadied hers. In a way, they’d saved each other.
Until he’d disappointed her. He’d had no idea her love for him balanced on a razor’s edge. He hadn’t wanted to give up college, all their plans, but he’d had no choice. He couldn’t let his father sink any lower, but she refused to accept that.
It’s only a delay. I’ll be there in a year. He’s my family. He needs me.
I need you. You’re my family.
I can’t walk away. He needs help to get back on his feet. I’m the only one he’ll listen to. When you love someone, you have to be there for them, even when it’s inconvenient.
Then it got ugly. She’d called him a coward, afraid of