Page 47

He ran his hands gently down her calf. “I put that dent there when I was about six. Me and my thick skull.”

“Ouch.” But the way she said it, she didn’t mean her ankle.

“It’s okay. Unlike the fridge, I wasn’t permanently damaged.” His hands were at the top of her socks.

She flinched, but this couldn’t hurt. “You strike me as the type to wear multicolored sneakers.”

A beat passed. Then she said, “I like bright colors, but come on. Those are garish.”

He managed to roll the top edge of her sock over. “When you get older, I see you in bright purple pants. Not jeans, but those polyester things with elastic waistbands.”

“Not a chance.”

He rolled the sock gently over the swollen skin, feeling heat coming from her wound, her muscles tensed as she worked to stay still. “And sparkly jackets,” he added, “like with those little round…things.”

“Sequins?” she squeaked. “You think I’ll wear sequins?”

“And felt hats. You’re definitely the felt-hat type. With feathers, just for the fun of it.” He rolled the sock over her heel. “Or those weird topless visors.”

Maybe her hair would still be long in thirty years, streaked with gray. She’d be gorgeous. Her smile lines would be permanent proof of a happy life.

Gently, gently, he rolled the sock to the end of her foot and pulled it off.

He turned to her, finding her much closer than he’d imagined. So close that, if he leaned forward, he could press a kiss to those perfect lips.

He swallowed and backed up, lifting her sock like a prize. Then, to make her smile, he swooned as if the scent were getting to him. “I think I might pass out.”

“Shut up.” But she laughed. Then, her head tilted to the side. “You’re pretty good at the nursing thing.”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

Her smile was tender. She studied him as if he were a puzzle she wanted to solve. “Thank you, Forbes.”

He grunted, sounding like a Neanderthal.

He needed to do something besides stare at her.

He filled a zipper bag with ice, then put a bottle of ibuprofen in his front pocket. He shoved a kitchen towel in his back pocket. “We’ll wrap it after you ice it for a while. Do you need anything else?”

“Crutches?”

A smile tugged his lips up.

This woman, in the middle of all the chaos and craziness, could still make him smile.

He loved that about her.

The thought sent the irrational joy invading his rational mind running for cover. He loved a lot of things about Brooklynn, but none of that mattered. He’d lied to her. She didn’t trust him, and even if she managed to forgive him, both of their lives were in danger.

There was no room for the wild emotions that had his thoughts bopping around like they were trapped in a pinball machine.

He handed her the ice pack. “If you’ll hold that… Is it okay if I carry you upstairs now?” He asked as if she had a choice, which she didn’t.

“I’ll allow it.” Straightening, she nodded in a dignified manner, which was…very cute.

This time, she came willingly into his arms, and he enjoyed every moment of closeness as he carried her from the kitchen to the second-floor family room.

He settled her on the couch, then propped her ankle on pillows. “You comfortable?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

He took the bag of ice, wrapped it in the towel, and laid it on her ankle.

At the moment of contact, she sucked air through her teeth.

He got it situated, then glanced at her face. “Pain or cold?”

“Yes?”

“Fair enough.” He grabbed a throw blanket and laid it over her. “That’ll help with the cold, anyway.”

“The tablets you stuck in your pocket will help with the pain.”

“But if you don’t eat, they might make you sick.” He filled a plate from the food he’d carried up earlier and handed it to her.

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “You’re very bossy.”

“Stubborn patients make bossy nurses.”

Her eyebrows hiked.

Memories of his own childhood injuries and illnesses overwhelmed him, and he focused on the room, the space, the here-and-now.

The furniture was still out of place after their evenings enjoying the fireplace, and the only lamp he’d lit was dim. He moved a chair closer to her and settled in it.

“Where’d you learn to be such a bossy nurse?” She ate a cracker with a square of cheese.

He grabbed a slice of apple.

They were going to have to talk about this, eventually.

“Rosie used to say that.” Just speaking his sister’s name raised a lump in his throat. “About stubborn patients.”

“Your sister?”

“Mm-hm.” He braced for the barrage of questions or accusations or…or whatever Brooklynn was going to throw at him.

Her hand slid around his wrist. “I’m sorry, Forbes. I’m so sorry that happened to them. And to you.”

The unexpected tenderness had his eyes stinging.

He hadn’t shed a tear for his family in decades. And he’d only ever talked about them to his therapist, not even to Grandmother anymore. The subject seemed too painful for her, especially where Rosie was concerned.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had expressed sympathy for his loss. How could they, when they didn’t know who he really was?

Here, in the house where they’d all lived, his family felt so close.

And farther away than ever. He missed them. He longed for them, tonight, right now, more than since he was a little boy, hiding his damp cheeks from bullies at boarding school.

Brooklynn linked their fingers and held on. She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t seem to expect anything. She was just there for him.

Grief washed over him like a wave crashing on the beach. And like a wave, it rolled away again. He let it come, and let it go. And held onto Brooklynn like a life preserver.

Just when the silence started to feel awkward, Brooklynn said, “Tell me about her.”

“She was…” He swallowed fresh emotion, feeling like a fool.

But Brooklynn didn’t seem embarrassed by it.

“She was ten years older, but somehow she always felt like my best friend. She played with me and read to me and told me stories. She was funny and sweet and happy, and when I was sad, she could always make me smile.” He lifted his gaze to find Brooklynn watching him as if he were the most important person in the world.

“You remind me of her. She was cheerful and kind, like you.”

Though he’d managed to keep his own tears at bay, Brooklynn's trailed down her cheeks. “What a nice thing to say, Forbes. Thank you.”

She should be angry that he’d lied, or at least guarded. But Brooklynn was neither. She was too filled with hope to hold a grudge, too good to be anything else.

“That last summer, Rosie was getting ready to go to college. I could already feel her pulling away. I remember thinking how lonely I would be without her.”

“Pulling away how?” Brooklynn asked.

“She had this guy she was spending a lot of time with. She didn’t tell me much about him—not even his name—only that he was older and very sweet.

She confided to me that she didn’t want to go to college because she didn’t want to leave him.

I thought it was stupid that she might give up college for some boy, but, you know, I was eight.

” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind the idea of her staying home, though, even if it was for some stupid guy. ”

“Did you ever figure out who it was?”

“No. I’d actually forgotten about him until just now.”

While she ate her snack, sipped her water, and took pain tablets, he told her about Mom and Dad and their lives at the mansion.

He told her about summer days splashing in the waves in their small, private cove and fall hikes through the forests west of town.

About skiing and trips to the city to see new construction projects Dad was proud of.

He told her about family dinners and Sunday morning breakfasts before church and game nights and so many other memories he’d long forgotten.

“We were happy. We had everything we needed. I’ll never understand why Dad…

” He swallowed emotion that choked off his words.

“What do you think he did?”

“He was involved in all of this.” His words came out too harsh. He softened them as he faced the woman who deserved none of his wrath. “We know that.”

She bit her lip. “Do we? We know he knew what The Network was doing, but that doesn’t prove he was involved. Maybe he was investigating. Maybe?—”

“He was involved.”

“Tell me why you think that.”

He huffed a breath, his gaze catching on the room’s only hiding place.

It was a tiny cutout beside the fireplace.

With the grate covering it, it looked like part of a ventilation system.

It wasn’t, though, just a tiny boxlike hole.

It used to be Forbes’s favorite spot when he and Rosie played hide-and-seek because he could see out and, thanks to the mesh between the slats, nobody could see in. It was ingenious.

She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “What?”

“You heard the story about what happened here? That the boy…” He didn’t need to lie anymore. “That I was at my grandmother’s house?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t true.” He walked across the room, undid the rusty latch, and swung open the grate. “I was in here.”

Tossing the ice pack aside, she used the arm of the sofa to stand and limped close. She bent down to look.

It seemed smaller now than it had back then. It’d fit an eight-year-old boy perfectly, even if the space had become claustrophobic after a few hours. Though nobody had ever looked, the hole hadn’t felt safe that terrible day.

Nothing had felt safe since that day.

The opening was two feet wide and two feet tall, but inside, it stretched on the side away from the fireplace. Back then, he’d been able to lie down flat. He wouldn’t even make it through the opening now.

Brooklynn straightened, her eyes wide with horror. “You were here?”

He glanced toward the hallway. “Dad didn’t know. He brought them here. There were two of them, a man and a woman. They accused him of betraying them. Dad swore he didn’t, that he’d never told a soul, but they…”