Out of the Depths - By Pamela Hearon Page 0,54

start Crutches 101 this afternoon, and the doctor has promised I’ll be out of here the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s good news.” But as he studied her face, his wrinkled brow didn’t convey the same message. “You look like you’ve been crying. Are you in pain?”

“Oh—” she waved her hand toward her laptop “—looking

at some photos made me weepy.”

His eyes locked on to the picture of Chance, and she watched his mouth press into a thin line.

She reached to close the laptop, but Rick’s head got in the way as he leaned down and peered at the picture.

“Y’all must have been terrified. I’ve seen that same look on faces in Afghanistan.” He shook his head but the movement seemed to filter down his entire frame. “Still gives me nightmares.” He cleared his throat, straightened and pointed to the eyes in the background of the photo. “What’s all that?”

Kyndal told him about the room with the red walls and the black eyes and the pelts on the floor. “Chance thought it might be a Native American fertility room.”

Rick’s eyes went wide with wonder, and he gave a low whistle. “Well, how many of your competitors are going to have anything like that? I’d say this job is yours.”

Kyndal shook her head. “I’m not going to use these. Chance has had a lot of problems with vandalism, and if people knew this was there, they might try to find it and loot it.” She shook her head in disgust. “Or spray paint the walls.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” Rick nodded his agreement.

“And it’s not like I don’t have plenty of others.”

That brought a chuckle from the former marine.

Kyndal closed the laptop and set it aside as Rick pulled a chair closer to her bedside. “Have you been able to see Chance?” he asked as he sat down.

She shook her head and tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. “He’s two floors up, but they won’t let either of us travel that far. We’ve talked on the phone, though…in small spurts. Did you know he had kidney failure?”

Rick nodded. “Bart’s kept me well-informed.”

“Then you know he’s going through dialysis.”

Rick nodded again.

“He’s going to be fine, but he’ll have to stay a little longer than I will.” Kyndal reached out and took Rick’s hand. “We’re alive thanks to you.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “That’s what rescue teams do best.”

The sweet gesture caused a pang of guilt. She had to be honest with him. “Rick…about our date—”

“Yeah,” he broke in. “Um…would you mind if we cancelled that?”

She gave him a quizzical look, which he answered with a smile.

“Bart filled me in on the history you and Chance have, and I saw the way you clung to him when we loaded you into the ambulance.”

Ouch! His word choice stung, reminding her of the promise she’d made. “There’s nothing going on between me and Chance.”

Rick snorted. “Yeah? You just keep telling yourself that until the two of you come to your senses. And, in the meantime, you and I can continue to be good friends, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to get caught in the cross fire.”

She looked at him directly. “Do you mean that? Can we be friends?”

“Hell-pee-roo yeah.”

“Hell-pee-roo? That’s a new one.” She squinted in question. “What does that mean?”

“Just an expression my best friend made up.” He gave a soft laugh. “It means I want to be there for you—as a friend—like Jaci and Bart.” He shrugged. “And we’ll be getting together more often with my night tours finishing up.” He brushed a finger down her nose as he stood up. “Gotta go now, and let you get some rest. I’m going to visit Chance on my way out.”

“You really are my hero,” she said as he started toward the door.

He stopped at the end of the bed and shook his head. “Naw. A true hero would have gotten the girl.” He winked and left her with a smile.

His words about her clinging to Chance had caused a tightening in her chest. She’d been feeling pulled toward Chance since the night they made love, and, if she wasn’t careful, their chemistry would have her believing stupid things again. Like that getting this job would showcase her work and make her successful—make her somebody—make her good enough to be the kind of woman Chance needed in his life.

Crazy ideas.

She pulled her laptop onto her lap and opened Word.

When she finished typing, she sent the document

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