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"But today you seem better."
"I am better," she said, feeling a tingle of anticipation. "But don't we have to go?"
"One minute—make that two," he said, as he leaned in for a kiss.
She closed her eyes, savoring the kiss she'd been wanting for what seemed like forever.
And just like the last time, there was an instant spark, a strong, intensely emotional connection. She wanted to stay in Flynn's arms, linger in his kiss, disappear for a while into a beautiful, sexy world of emotion and feeling. But it ended all too quickly; Flynn was moving away.
He gave her a hard look, his jaw tight, as if he was having a difficult time holding himself back.
"I'd like to see you let go," she murmured. "I wonder what that would take."
"Not much," he said shortly. "Let's get out of here before we do something we regret."
"It might be a mistake, Flynn, but I don't think either of us would regret it."
"Well, we're not going to find out."
"Maybe not now, but this thing between us…I don't think it's going away." She grabbed her purse and headed toward the door.
Chapter Eighteen
They didn't talk muchon the way to the hospital. Callie wasn't sure what Flynn was thinking about—maybe their kiss in the kitchen, or perhaps his mind had already returned to work, to trying to figure out who had killed Arthur and the man in the hotel room.
She needed to get her head together, too, because her mother was going to need her attention, and she had to be ready for whatever was ahead.
As Flynn drove into the hospital parking lot, she said, "You can drop me off at the front door. There's no reason for you to come inside. My mom hasn't been cleared to talk to law enforcement, only to me. Dr. Clarke said he'll make that determination later today."
"I wasn't going to come up to interrogate your mother, although I would like to speak to her when she's well enough to do so. My offer is solely for you—moral support."
She saw the sincerity in his soft smile. "I appreciate that, Flynn. But I'm good. Just drop me off."
"All right." He drove into the circular loading zone in front of the hospital. "Call me or text me when you're done here."
"I will."
"Good luck, Callie."
"Thanks. I know it's foolish, but I'm hoping for a small miracle."
"I hope you get one."
"Thanks. Bye." She got out of the car and closed the door, then headed into the hospital. She took the elevator up to the seventh floor, and then stopped at the nurses' station, which was necessary in order to access her mother's room while she was on a psychiatric hold.
"Perfect timing. She's awake," the nurse told her.
"How is she doing today?"
"Much better. She's making good progress."
Callie was happy to hear that, although progress made it sound like her mom had a lot further to go.
The nurse let her into her mother's room with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."
"I hope so," she said, as she stepped inside.
Her mom was sitting up in bed, wearing her own nightgown and the robe Callie had brought from the house. That seemed like a long time ago, even though it had only been two days. Her mother's face was very pale, but her eyes were more alert and focused than they had been. Her gaze, however, also expressed disappointment and anger.