Page 20 of Accidentally Mine

Brent

I had as much a distaste for hospitals as I had for automobiles.

But I’d failed Roselynn when it came to driving her to Charlestown. I wasn’t going to let her down by leaving her now.

Three hours later, we were still in the waiting room.

Ernest had come and told us that Marie was feisty and in good spirits, and I’d told him to go back to the house to get some dinner, since he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The flowers had wilted some, but Roselynn hadn’t shifted position at all.

She sat stick-straight and tense, in the same seat, staring at the same page of an office copy of Good Housekeeping.

“Are you all right?” I asked from the seat beside her.

She looked at me and nodded, her hair falling into her face.

She’d forgotten the hat in the back of the Buick.

I’d imagined her without it a hell of a lot of times, but still, I was unprepared for how gorgeous she was with it falling loose over her shoulders.

Wild and untamed, blonde with strands of a deeper blonde running through its length. I had to touch it.

Starting at her cheek, I lightly pushed a tangled spiral behind her ear. “She’s going to be okay,” I said.

She gave me a grateful smile and dropped her head onto my shoulder. Her hair smelled like shampoo. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of clean, sweet flowers, and damned if I didn’t feel her in every pore of my body.

“She’s all I have left,” she whispered into my shirt.

A few moments later, a nurse appeared and told us that Marie was waking and that we could go in for a few minutes.

Roselynn sprang up, and I followed as she dashed to the elevator and then into her aunt’s room without hesitation.

She immediately bent over the bed and hugged her aunt, who looked a lot smaller and more fragile in that large hospital bed.

I could tell that Roselynn was very fond of her aunt by the way her voice broke as she said, “Auntie, are you okay?”

“Fine, doll,” the elderly woman said, patting her niece’s hand. “I’m not on death’s door or anything. I just had a spell. Now, stop worrying about me!”

She sounded every bit as annoyed as I felt whenever Ernest and Claudia babied me.

Marie’s eyes trailed to me as I set the flowers by the window. “Oh, hello,” she said, her voice husky. She gave me a come-hither smile as she scanned me from head to toe. “Are those for me, big boy? I’m sorry, handsome fella, but I don’t remember your name.”

I smiled at Roselynn’s mortified expression. “Brent, Ms. Monroe. I’m a friend of your niece’s.”

“Yes. Of course. Brent. You remind me of the young stud I lost my virginity to,” she said as I looked over at Roselynn, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

Marie smacked her lips together and her eyes clouded with memory.

“South Boston High. It was under the bleachers at school, and he was on the football team. Tight end. I don’t remember his name, but he had the absolute biggest—”

“Auntie!” Roselynn shouted.

“Helmet! The biggest helmet, I was going to say.”

“Okay, okay,” Roselynn said, exasperated. “Very nice. But I’m sure you’re really tired and Brent obviously doesn’t want to hear about these things.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure he’s rapt. He’s a red-blooded boy, like any,” she said, licking her lips as her eyes roved over me, clearly undressing me in her head. “And why is everyone so afraid of sex? It’s a natural thing.”

Roselynn was the color of a stoplight. I didn’t know she could blush that red. She gathered her hair into a ponytail at the top of her skull and let the hair fall, puffing out a long breath.

Marie paid her no attention, motioning me closer as she studied me carefully.

I thought she might tell me to spin so she could get the full three-sixty view.

When the fronts of my thighs hit the bed, she crooked her finger, motioning for me to move closer to her face, subjecting me to her inspection. I played along.

“Hey, hotness,” she said to me. “What’s the difference between a tire and 365 used condoms?”

I grinned at her. This was one of Ernest’s favorite jokes. “I don’t know. What?”

She sighed. Scratched her head. Threw herself back against the pillow so that her bright silver hair fell in her face. “Oh, gosh. I just had it. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Really.”

I leaned in. “One’s a Goodyear…” I prompted.

Her eyes lit up. “The other’s a great year!” She laughed hysterically, holding her hand up to give me a high-five. I responded, and she grabbed my hand, stroking it. And…from the grip she had, I could tell she probably wouldn’t let go. Ever.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said to Roselynn. “He’s much more handsome than that Anthony. Nicer, too. He doesn’t look like mafia at all.”

Roselynn reached over helplessly, grabbing her pillow to fluff it. “Now, Auntie, why don’t we get you comfortable. I’m sure you could use a nap.”

“If you ask me, prison’s the best place for that creature,” she continued, still eyeing me.

She leaned in as if to whisper, but her voice remained at the same volume.

“Obviously, he didn’t treat her well in bed, and that’s why she’s frigid.

Now, you clearly look like a man who could take my niece and—”

“Auntie!” Roselynn shouted, louder than I thought she could. “Please. You’re embarrassing Brent and me.”

Actually, I kind of wanted to know more. What did she think I could do with her niece? And who was Anthony, and why was he in prison?

Roselynn gave me an apologetic look, then came over to my side of the bed and whispered, “Sorry. I have no idea where this came from. It’s all like, not even true. She’s been watching too many Godfather movies, I think.”

I laughed. “Hey. It’s all right.”

“Where’s Hugh?” Aunt Marie suddenly burst out, eyes wildly scanning the room. Roselynn stared at her aunt, at a loss for words. “He brought me here, and he left? Why would he do that? He’s probably with that Hoodsie Angela from the South Shore again. What a rascal! Remind me to hide his key.”

“No, Auntie,” Roselynn said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing the sheets. “Ernest brought you to the hospital. Remember?”

Marie scowled. “Who?”

“She found out her ex-husband Hugh had another family and divorced him twenty years ago,” Roselynn whispered to me. “I don’t know where this is coming from.”

“It’s normal for there to be timeline confusion in a brain injury,” I murmured. Even if I didn’t know anything else, that much, I was an expert on.

She shifted her eyes back to her aunt. “Aunt Marie, Hugh isn’t here. He died over ten years ago. Remember?”

I watched as tears formed in the woman’s eyes. She clearly didn’t remember.

I’d been through nearly the same thing over two years ago. I’d come out of a two-week induced coma, looking for my dad. It hurt just as much to find out he’d died then as it had the first time I’d learned of his death so many years ago.

Roselynn handed her aunt a tissue and hugged her, telling her it would be all right.

The nurse came in and told us that Marie had to get her rest. Roselynn kissed her goodbye, but Marie had crawled into a shell by then, rolling on her side and burrowing under the covers. She didn’t seem to notice as we left.

Roselynn’s lips trembled as we walked from the room, her head lowered. “Oh, god. What do I do?”

The neurologist, Dr. Andrews, met us out in the hallway.

She explained that Roselynn’s aunt had suffered what was called a transient ischemic attack, which was a brief interruption of blood-flow to the brain.

Another mini-stroke. At that moment, they hadn’t determined a cause, but there had been a battery of tests performed to try to narrow down why they might be happening.

We just needed to bide our time and wait for the results.

Roselynn held up her hands, clearly feeling helpless. “But this isn’t her first one. So they can just keep happening?”

Dr. Andrews lifted a shoulder. “Not if we narrow down the cause and put her on the correct medication to stop them.”

“But what do we do in the meantime?”

“We keep her here overnight, and your best bet is having her moved to a rehabilitation facility so they can keep an eye on her until she’s stabilized.”

Roselynn nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “But I’m not sure where that would be.”

“The best one in the state is right in Charlestown,” I interjected. “Spaulding will take good care of her.”

Dr. Andrews looked at me. “I’m sorry. You look so familiar. Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet.” I reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Brent McKee.”

Her face brightened. “You mean, from Key Technologies? You’re the inventor of the Key 2000 Imaging Sensor.”

“Yes. That’s me.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Wow. It’s an honor. Truly. Your invention is saving so many lives right here alone. It’s a godsend, especially for those who have trouble with traditional MRIs.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, deflecting Roselynn’s astonished look.

As the woman continued to gush, I felt vaguely like I did during the galas, my face growing hot. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

“Yes. You can make sure that Marie Monroe receives the best care possible. That would be a huge weight off our shoulders, knowing everything’s being done for her.”

“Oh, of course,” Dr. Andrews said, reaching out and shaking my hand. “I’ll see to her care personally. She’ll be moved to the rehabilitation facility shortly, and depending on how her condition is and whether we can keep her stable, we’ll look into when she can be released.”

“I appreciate it,” I said as Roselynn offered her own thanks.

“Now, Miss Reid, I see your aunt is divorced, but you’re currently living with Ms. Monroe?” the doctor asked her, sorting through her aunt’s file.

Roselynn nodded. “Temporarily, though. I live out of state.”

“Temporarily?” Dr. Andrews frowned, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose as she regarded the woman at my side. “That’s unfortunate. Temporarily isn’t going to work. We need to make sure she’ll be cared for once she leaves the rehabilitation facility.”

Roselynn’s mouth opened then closed again.

She looked at me, and I got the feeling she wished I wasn’t present.

But why? I had no intension of walking away.

I wanted to know from her own lips what was so bad about Boston that she simply couldn’t stay.

“Are there options for a nursing home? Or maybe a visiting nurse? I really do think that that might be a better option. My aunt loves her home and would hate to be away from it.”

Dr. Andrews looked at her folder. “Depending on how well she responds to treatment, that could be an option if you need to be elsewhere. Of course, nothing beats a strong family support system close by.”

Roselynn nodded but wouldn’t meet my gaze. Instead, her eyes drifted down to her fingers, clasped in front of her so hard that the knuckles were white. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense,” she said quietly. “But I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I do have to leave town very soon.”

Can’t.

That damn word again.