Dedicated to the One I Love, page 17
“Kylie, it’s okay if you have feelings for Joe—”
“Oh, I have feelings, all right. He makes me angry … he makes me laugh … he makes me excited about writing again … and he frustrates me … ”
Dylan laughed. “That’s a lot of conflicted feelings. Are you falling in love with him?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Kylie paced the kitchen.
“Why not?”
“It complicates things.”
“Will you take a breath for a minute?” Dylan stood in front of her, forcing her to stop walking circles around the island. “Yes, love is risky. You know that better than I do. But are you telling me that you’re not willing to ever fall in love again?”
“It’s too soon.”
“It’s been three years.”
“I know how long it’s been.” Kylie circled the kitchen island again.
“How long do you have to wait before you can have a relationship with someone again? Will five years be long enough? Ten?”
“I wasn’t expecting this … this whatever it is … with Joe.”
“Says the bestselling romance writer.”
“What?”
“You write these amazing novels where imaginary characters fall in love with one another. Usually, they’re not the so-called perfect match. Or it happens at the most inconvenient time. Or it’s the whole opposites-attract trope.”
“Are you saying Joe and I are a romantic trope?”
“I’m saying don’t be afraid of what’s happening between the two of you.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Yes. Yes, she was. She’d just told her best friend a straight-up lie.
Dylan stared right back at her and, good friend that she was, she didn’t call Kylie on it.
“I’m completely, totally afraid of what’s happening with Joe. The kiss was so unexpected … and I wish he’d kiss me again.”
Dylan took one of her hands and whispered, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to tell him that.” Kylie’s laugh was weak. “I told him we weren’t talking about what happened, and we haven’t.”
“You haven’t heard from him?”
“Nothing. He’s probably regretting that kiss.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Dylan, what should I do?”
“In my what-should-I-do moments—and I have plenty of them—I’ve learned that’s the best time to pray. Let’s take a few minutes and ask God for some clear direction. Can we do that?”
Just like she had so many other times in their friendship—so many times since Andrew had died—Dylan anchored Kylie to their shared faith.
“Yes. I’ve been trying to pray, but maybe if the two of us pray together … ”
“God’s listening. He’ll help you, Kylie. And then I’ll finish these dishes and we’ll wrap this night up and get some sleep.”
“Can we pray about that too? I haven’t slept well since my birthday.”
“That must have been some kiss.”
CHAPTER 16
Kylie: I hope you’re doing okay. I plan to be at your house on Wednesday, regular time, to discuss this week’s chapters. Here’s a quick trivia Q&A for you: Which author wrote his last novel in crayon? James Joyce. Sad to say this was because for years he was almost totally blind and wrote with red crayon on huge sheets of white paper. Your writing partner, Joe
Joe had taken Mallory’s and Tucker’s advice and emailed Kylie Saturday—well, most of their advice. He had no plans to kiss Kylie again. He’d kept the email short, friendly, with a bit of trivia thrown in. Kylie’s response was even briefer—a quick “Sounds good. See you Wednesday.”
He found himself muttering a short “Help me, God” prayer as he drove to Monument on Wednesday. Did God pay attention to mutters from someone who hadn’t talked to him in years? He hoped so.
Kylie let him in with a smile, but she resorted to a side hug that offered him the familiar hint of eucalyptus competing with the spicy aroma coming from her kitchen.
“What smells so good?”
“Chicken fajita soup, continuing with the Mexican theme for lunch.”
“Sounds fantastic.” He dropped his laptop bag on the couch.
“You want to eat first?”
“That works for me. Tucker and I had a killer workout this morning.” So far, so good at keeping things normal.
“Mallory wasn’t there?”
“She’s out of town for her job, so Tucker’s solo for a few days. We’re going to meet up for dinner later.”
“If you like the soup, I can send leftovers home with you.”
“I’ve liked everything you’ve cooked, Kylie.” Joe leaned down and picked up Remington, who offered him a friendly meow. “Been on any secret missions lately?”
Just as he hoped, his question earned him one of Kylie’s musical laughs. If he could keep her laughing, it would be a good day.
“I was thinking we’d stay inside today.” Kylie led him into the kitchen and opened the fridge and retrieved their customary Pepsi and ginger ale.
“Fine with me. Any particular reason why?”
“It’s only going to get hotter—”
“True.” Joe popped open his can of soda with a soft hiss of carbonation.
“I also want to stay off the deck until it’s replaced.”
“It’s been fine all this time.”
“Yeah, but it’s become this ticking time bomb in my head. I don’t want to push my luck, you know?”
“Do you have a start date for the deck replacement?”
“Not until late September.” Kylie leaned against the kitchen counter. “Did you happen to notice that pile of stuff at the other end of the deck? I need to clear that off before then.”
Joe took a swig of his soda. “Let me look at it. Maybe Tucker and I can do that for you.”
“It’s okay, Joe.” She waved off his answer. “That’s not why I mentioned it.”
Joe ignored her dismissal, set his drink on the counter, and strode toward the side of the house. He was a man on a mission. He’d gotten Kylie to laugh. Maybe he could help her out and get them back on firm ground as friends again.
Footsteps sounded behind him as Kylie tried to catch up. He’d check out this pile of stuff on Kylie’s deck. Text Tucker about moving it for her this weekend. Then they’d get some writing done. Easy.
Once outside, he focused on the far corner of the deck that was filled with a hodgepodge of objects.
“It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Kylie stood beside him, shading her eyes with one hand. “It’s been so easy to ignore for too long.”
“Okay, what do we have here? An old hammock. A couple of broken chairs.” Joe moved around the pile, shifting the chairs out of the way to see what was farther back in the corner.
“I think there’s an old grill that stopped working—”
Joe took a few more steps. The plank beneath his right foot seemed to move just a bit. He paused. All good. As he took another step, the plank gave way. The next second, his calf disappeared below the rotted deck.
“Joe!” Kylie’s voice pierced the warm summer air.
Joe’s hands slammed against the top of the rough wooden deck, his other leg bent, his knee scraping the surface. “I’m okay … ” He huffed out a breath as a jolt of electricity seemed to course through his body. “I’m okay.”
“What happened?”
“Rotted board … my foot … went through … ”
“How badly are you hurt?” Something scraped on the deck. Was Kylie coming closer?
“Stop!”
“What? You’re hurt.”
“Kylie, stop.” A trickle of sweat slid down the side of his face. “I can’t risk you falling through too.”
“Wh-what do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to get myself out of … this mess … And get back over there.” Joe grit his teeth. “Pretty sure I cut my leg. Could you … get a towel or something so I don’t bleed on your floors?”
“I’ll be right back.” Kylie’s voice wobbled. “Please, please, be careful, Joe.”
Be careful. That was the plan. He didn’t want to fall any farther through the deck. His lower leg burned and ached at the same time. He needed to extract it from the hole without injuring it more. That would be tricky, what with the jagged edges of the wood plank.
Success.
His stomach roiled, and he swallowed the bile that rose against the back of his throat. Bright red blood covered his lower right leg, pouring from a deep wound on the inside of his calf near his knee. He scooted on his backside around the chairs and hammock and then stood, balancing himself against the side of the house so he could hop toward the door.
Kylie jolted to a stop just inside the sliding glass door. The piles of towels she carried almost reached her chin.
“You think you got enough?” Joe forced a laugh.
“Hush.” Her face paled when she saw his blood-covered leg. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I don’t think about how much it hurts when I’m moving.”
“Oh Joe … wait, where’s your shoe?”
“Still under your deck.”
He bent forward, ignoring the queasiness building in the pit of his stomach, and wrapped his bleeding leg with one of the towels.
“Put your arm over my shoulder. Lean on me. Come on.” Kylie guided him into a small bedroom a few hops down the hallway. Laid a large towel on the bed. “Just lie down there.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He rested his head on a pillow. Closed his eyes. “I’ll apologize now if I get any blood anywhere.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Joe grabbed her hand. “I should probably elevate this. And do me a favor? Keep pressure on my leg, will you?”
“S-sure.”
He closed his eyes again and sucked in a breath. Kylie did as he asked. “I looked at my leg. I’m no doctor, but I’ve done a lot of research plotting Remington Gerard’s adventures. I’m pretty sure I skewered myself with a piece of wood.”
“Joe … th-that’s awful.”
He scrounged up a smile. “Sorry to say, but lunch and writing is postponed while I go get this looked at. Obviously, I can’t drive myself—”
“Of course I’m driving you!” Kylie looked ready to swat him with the towel.
“I just thought of something … ”
“What’s that?”
He rested his hand on hers again, where she held the yellow cotton towel that was becoming tinged with pink. “This is a bonding moment, right? Like Remington and Evangeline in the book?”
Her laughter was off-key. “Joe, I can’t believe you said that!”
It was a poor attempt to add humor to the moment. But Kylie’s eyes were clouded, and his out-of-the-blue question had earned him the smallest of laughs. Not her normal laughter, but it was something. Now to get to the hospital.
…
Joe had survived the drive to Urgent Care. Kylie had apologized for every bump in the road. He’d then acquiesced to the doctor’s recommendation he go straight to an emergency room because his injury demanded more care than they could provide. He’d appreciated how quickly the staff whisked him back to be evaluated by a physician, ahead of all the other people waiting. A towel saturated in blood must scream, “Deal with this injury now.”
Kylie couldn’t grip his hand any tighter—and it still didn’t distract him from the pain in his leg. Or from the ER doctor’s announcement right before she left and closed the door.
“Surgery. This means I won’t be meeting Tucker for pizza tonight.”
“Joe!” Kylie bit her lower lip. “Is that all you can think about? Pizza?”
“Well, I didn’t get any of your soup earlier, so there’s that too—”
Kylie groaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop. You promised no more apologies. It was an accident, Kylie.”
Both of their phones pinged at the same time, causing Kylie to jump and release his hand. “That must be Abbie.” She retrieved his phone from her purse, handing it to him, and then skimmed her message. “She’s here. Want me to go get her?”
“She’ll find her way. Once you leave, they might not let you back again, although I think it helped when the nurse recognized you and confessed she’s a diehard Veronica Hollins fan.”
“I think she was quite taken with you and your blue eyes, Mr. Edwards.”
“My blue eyes, eh? I didn’t know you even noticed my eyes, Mrs. Franklin.”
“Hush.” Kylie wouldn’t meet his gaze. This was almost as much fun as making her laugh. Now if she’d just hold his hand again.
“Oh wait, Abbie just texted that they told her to come back.”
Joe appreciated Abbie coming to the hospital, but he would miss it just being him and Kylie. There was something to this whole bonding together over a crisis theory. Any uncomfortableness between them had evaporated. And even though Kylie wasn’t holding his hand, she was standing close to his gurney, just like she’d stayed close to his side all day.
They were most definitely having a Remington Gerard and Evangeline Day moment all their own.
The door opened and Abbie peeked around. “There you are! I accidently walked in on this poor guy trying to pass a kidney stone or something … ”
“Abbie, you didn’t.”
His sister screwed her face up in a grimace. “Didn’t count the doors right. Sorry it took me so long … and never mind all that.” She hugged Kylie and then faced Joe. “How’s my big brother?”
“Your big brother is being sent to surgery.”
“No!”
“Yep. When I injure myself, I do it thoroughly.” Joe relaxed back against the plastic-covered pillow. “The doc just left to set things up. The trauma surgeon is on the way in.”
“I thought you just cut your leg … that they’d apply a big Band-Aid … ”
“Master of understatement, your brother.” Kylie stood at the foot of the bed now. “He has a six-inch piece of wood from my rotted deck in his leg. And he’s lost a lot of blood. They’ve decided surgery is the safest way to deal with the wound.”
“Is this still outpatient surgery?” Abbie gripped both her hands.
“That’s the plan.” Tears filled Kylie’s eyes.
“It was an accident.” Joe’s words were firm.
Kylie sniffed. “I feel horrible … ”
“Hey, at least I’m not trying to pass a kidney stone. Have you ever had one of those?”
“Joe, will you please be serious?”
The door opened again as a medical tech appeared pushing a cart filled with tubes, needles, tubing, and IV bags.
“Hello. I need to ask both of you to go to the waiting room while I get some labs on Mr. Edwards and start an IV.”
“May we come back when you’re done?”
“I don’t see a problem with that, unless it gets busier back here.”
“Okay.” Abbie pressed a kiss to Joe’s forehead. “Be brave. I know how you hate needles.”
“I’m fine with needles. Get out of here.”
Kylie started to leave.
“Hey, come here a moment.” Joe grasped her hand. “You can stay. I really do hate needles.”
“I’ll be right back. I’ll text a few people to pray for you.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, just like Abbie had. “Be brave.”
“Thanks. See you soon?”
“See you soon.”
The warmth of Kylie’s lips on his skin? Almost as good as having her here holding his hand while the tech poked him with needles. While the guy searched for veins and drew his blood, he’d think about Kylie coming back.
“So, do you like to read books?”
“Me? Yeah, I like a good mystery.”
“Really? Read any Tate Merrick books?”
“Who’s he?”
“Never mind.”
…
“I’m so glad you’re here, Abbie.” The words rushed out of Kylie on an exhale.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to get a few of my clients covered by another trainer at the gym.” She pulled Kylie in for a hug. Kylie choked back a sob. “You okay?”
“Joe was just going to look at this pile of junk on my deck. I told him not to worry about it … and then … ” She pressed her palms against her eyes as if to block out the memory of Joe’s accident.
“When he texted me all he said was he’d scratched his leg on a piece of wood on your deck. I’m playing catch-up here with the whole idea of his needing surgery.”
“There was blood everywhere. I didn’t even have time to clean it up.”
“Good thing you don’t get queasy at the sight of blood, right?”
“I guess so.” Kylie wrapped her arms around her waist. “Did you let Tucker know? Your parents?”
“Yes. I need to update them. I gave them the same ‘scratch on his leg’ story. This is going to be a bit of a shock for Mom. I’ll call Hudson and ask him to come down.”
“You need to step outside for phone calls.” Kylie motioned to the ER rules sign. “I’ll text you if we can get back in to be with Joe. I’ll text Dylan so she can update Zoe and Leah. I know they’re praying.”
“Kylie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t blame yourself, okay?” Abbie touched her arm. “It was an accident. That’s all. And Joe’s healthy. He’ll bounce back and be at the gym again next week.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“How about I get us something to drink?”
“A bottle of water would be great.”
“Got it.”
It was comforting to have Abbie here. To have her share the emotional load Kylie had been bearing all day.
The clamor of the ER held her in place. The ebb and flow of conversations. The constant shrill of the telephones. The murmur of the TV. An unrelenting cry of a toddler hunched up in his mother’s arms.
