He suspected it had something to do with her doctor’s appointment today. His heart pinched every time he thought of the doctor possibly telling her what her chart had said for weeks. His whole being ached to be with her.

  Normally he checked the charts for the next day, just to get his mind focused on the best ways to help the patients coming in, but he left as soon as he set the chart down for the last patient.

  Abigail smirked at him as he left. He gave her his most professional smile. Their supervisor was out at a training seminar and wouldn’t be back until later in the week. He didn’t have to worry about what Abigail might have told him until then. But he was fairly confident that everything would be okay. He was a very valuable employee. His reputation brought many big-name clients into the practice. He was good at what he did, and he’d never stepped one foot even close to any boundaries. He was never late. He was the most requested therapist. He was handed the hardest jobs. It’s possible that their supervisor might reprimand him, but he highly doubted it. He definitely wasn’t worried about his job. All of his concern for today was on Dusty.

  He drove directly to her house from work.

  It looked like she was having a party. He recognized Kelly’s car, and he thought he recognized Cassidy’s.

  Maybe a girls’ night. Maybe he should have called. But he rejected that thought as soon as it came. He had as much right to be with Dusty as anyone else, and she missed her appointment. So he strode to her door and knocked boldly.

  One of the twins answered. He thought it was Eden. She smiled when she saw him, but her eyes were wet. “There’s a lot of emotion going on in here. You sure you want to come in?”

  “What happened?”

  “Dusty can’t race again.” Eden gave him a level look. “You’re not her favorite person right now. She claims you knew and made a fool out of her.”

  Roland froze. Thoughts raced through his head. He hadn’t considered that she would blame him in any way. Should he have told her? He knew it would devastate her, and he hadn’t felt like it was his position to give her that news. He had also been concerned that it would cause a major setback in her recovery. He thought the doctors might have withheld the information on purpose for that very reason.

  He ran a hand through his hair, hating the thought that Dusty was angry with him but thinking that if he could go back, he’d do the exact same thing. He could apologize, but he couldn’t claim to think he had been wrong.

  He met Eden’s accusing stare. “She’s right. It was written right in her record. I did know. But that wasn’t my information to tell. I assumed there was a reason the doctors didn’t tell her.”

  Eden shifted. “She said the doctor today claimed he did tell her. He read right from her record that they’d talked about it. She just didn’t remember. She’s not sure if it was the painkillers she was on or if the news was so awful she blocked it out.”

  Eden hadn’t made a move to open the door farther, and for the first time, Roland wondered if she was going to let him in.

  “Is she refusing to see me?”

  Eden’s eyes widened, and she straightened, opening the door. “No. Sorry. I’m actually glad someone is here. We’ve been with her all afternoon, but we’re leaving.”

  As she spoke, Kelly, Tough’s wife, came to the door, purse over her shoulder. She was blond and bubbly, and even though her eyes were red from crying, she gave Roland a perky smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Eden backed away from the door and disappeared inside.

  Kelly continued in a lowered voice. “Tough said you’re the man for Dusty. His only concern was that Dusty wouldn’t realize it until it was too late.”

  Roland’s eyes widened at her whispered confession. Tough thought Roland should be with Dusty? He tried to remember if Tough had ever even really seen them together.

  Kelly patted his arm. “She’s not very happy with you right now.”

  That made the nervous clenching of his stomach worse.

  “But Tough’s never wrong.” She started out the door. “You are staying, right?”

  “For a while.” He’d just been planning on checking on her, seeing why she missed her appointment. Kelly made it sound like he should be moving in.

  “Good. She shouldn’t be alone right now. I don’t think she even bothered to call her parents.”

  “Okay.” Roland took one step in the house and met Eden coming back out with her twin, Eve, beside her.

  “You’ve got the next shift,” Eve said with a small smile. “If she doesn’t shoot you first.”

  Roland blinked, hoping she was kidding. With women, sometimes it was hard to tell.

  Harris, Turbo’s wife, met him as he was closing the door behind the twins. “Take care of her,” she said.

  “I’ll try.”

  She opened the door and walked out. Roland felt like the baton had been passed to him. He wasn’t sure if he deserved that trust.

  He walked through the living room to the stairs and started down. Cassidy, Torque’s wife, was still sitting with Dusty on the couch. Dusty had her head down, her hair shielding her face, an empty container of ice cream held loosely in her hand.

  Cassidy looked up at his approach. She squeezed Dusty. “I’m leaving, but I’m going to call you later, okay?”

  If Dusty replied, Roland couldn’t hear.

  Cassidy bit her lip as she looked between him and Dusty. She got to her feet, taking the ice-cream container with her. Roland should have thought to bring something, but he hadn’t realized exactly what had happened.

  Cassidy stopped in front of him and whispered, “She’s taking it pretty hard. I’m not sure which was worse, though. Not being able to race or knowing that you must have known.” Her voice dropped even lower. “I didn’t realize how much she cared about you.”

  Roland looked at the floor. Should he have told her? The question wouldn’t even have made sense for anyone else. It wasn’t his place. But it did his heart good to hear Cassidy say Dusty cared about him. Maybe there was a small ray of hope.

  Cassidy held up the ice-cream container. “I’m throwing this away on my way out. Call me if she needs me.”

  Roland nodded, feeling strangely deserted as Cassidy walked away. There were a few sounds, then they faded as she went up the stairs. Finally the door opened and closed, and he was alone with Dusty. She hadn’t moved.

  He walked slowly toward the couch, moving around the end and going to where Dusty sat in the middle with her shoulders hunched and her back bent, her head pointed down toward her knees. The silky blond hair that so fascinated him hung around her head like a soft blanket. His hand itched to run over it, soothing, but he shoved it in his pocket instead.

  He swallowed, loud in the stillness of the house. She didn’t move or acknowledge him. The Dusty he knew was vibrant and alive and met life head-on. The news that she couldn’t race again really had devastated her.

  Kneeling in front of her, he carefully put one hand on her knee. She stiffened but didn’t move.

  “Dusty?”

  After a few seconds, her head shifted, her hair parted, and her face came into view. Red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot and swollen, she looked at him.

  His heart beat painfully. His arms itched to hold her, but he wasn’t sure she would welcome his comfort, although she’d made no move to remove his hand from her knee. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out. Not sorry for not telling her. Maybe sorry for not being able to tell her. But sorry that she couldn’t race again. That something she loved with all her heart had been taken from her.

  Her head moved back and forth as she shook it slowly. “No.”

  “Yes. I really am. It kills me to know how much this means to you and how bad it hurts for you to find out that it’s not something you can do anymore.”

  She bit her lip and closed her eyes at his words. There was no hatred in her expression. She didn’t even look angry. Just devastated, which hurt his heart more than all the anger in the world.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear.

  “No. But that doesn’t keep me from hurting for you.”

  Her head came up. “You knew.”

  It was a statement, and he couldn’t deny it. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  At least he was prepared to answer this. “I didn’t know why the doctor hadn’t told you. I was only the therapist. The stuff in your record is to help me treat you better, not for me to share.”

  Her forehead crinkled, and her eyes filled. “I thought I was more to you than just a patient.”

  Roland swore. This was why he shouldn’t have gotten involved with a patient. “You are.” He closed his eyes against the need to pull her close. “You’re so much more.”

  “Then, why?”

  “It wasn’t my place. I knew it was going to hurt you. I didn’t know why the doctor hadn’t told you.”

  “I went on and on about how much I wanted to race again, and you were laughing the whole time!” Her voice was no longer soft.

  “I wasn’t laughing!” His hand had tightened on her knee, and he made himself loosen it. “I wasn’t laughing,” he said softer. “It sent pain through me every time you said that. Yeah, I knew what your record said. But I care about you, and I didn’t want to be the one to dash your hopes.”

  “I was devastated, you’re right. But I have had some time to process it and get used to the idea, and I know I can live with it. The issue that’s lingering is that you knew. You knew.” She emphasized those two words. “And you didn’t tell me.”

  The emotion on her face was betrayal. Like he had betrayed her trust. It sent burning pain down his throat and through his chest. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t.”

  “I thought at first you were hiding it for some competitive reason, but I couldn’t think of any time you’ve been anything but considerate and kind to me. My brain knows you couldn’t tell me.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “But there’s something else, my heart maybe, that feels like if you truly cared about me, you would have told me.”

  “I swear I care about you.” He moved closer and slid his hand over her hot, wet cheek, into her hair. “It’s killing me to not be able to fix this.”

  His heart leaped when she leaned her head into his hand. He cupped her head, pulling her closer. “I trusted you,” she said raggedly.

  “I didn’t betray you,” he whispered. “I considered telling you, even though it wasn’t my place, but I worried it might set your recovery back. I thought that’s why the doctor might not have told you.”

  “I know. I believe you. In my head, I know you want the best for me. My heart just hurts right now.”

  His did, too. “I want to hold you.”

  After several beats of his heart, she twitched then slid off the couch and into his arms. He wasn’t expecting it and lost his balance. With his arms wrapped around her, they fell backward together, lying on the soft carpet, Dusty tucked in his arms. Her tears hit his chest, scalding. Feeling her cry hurt him worse than anything he could ever remember. But there was a coolness in his body, too. Relief that she didn’t hate him, that she hadn’t turned from him. And hope that she would understand and forgive.

  ~~~

  Dusty clung to Roland. She didn’t care that they were on the floor. She didn’t even care that he’d seen her looking awful, as she always did when she cried.

  Logically she’d known her friends were right. They’d comforted her, and when she’d complained about Roland knowing, they’d assured her that he’d not kept it from her out of selfishness or unkindness.

  Her brain had known that they were right. But, like she told Roland, her heart hurt.

  It helped that he’d come. He had to have left work and come immediately to her.

  His arms around her, his ragged whisper of apology, the pain she saw in his eyes over her hurt—it all helped.

  He tucked her head under his chin, and their legs tangled together. His arms pulled her closer, and she snuggled into the shelter they provided.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but her tears dried up as the darkness fell. The lack of light gave her a feeling of safety, buffered by Roland’s arms, and she spoke.

  “I’ve spent my whole life working toward winning a championship.” Her voice felt loud in the silence of the room.

  Roland’s hand moved over her back. “And I’m sure you could have done it. No one doubts your determination.”

  “It’s hard to let that go.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier if you replace it with something else.”

  “There’s nothing that could take the place of what I’ve done my whole life.”

  He was quiet for a few minutes, his hand stroking gently, soothing. “Was it the thrill? The challenge? The competition?”

  Dusty closed her eyes. He was trying to help her. Her friends commiserated, but Roland wouldn’t let her wallow. He was trying to get her to pick herself up. And he was right. She didn’t want to wallow. She’d spent a few hours grieving. She’d need more time...how much time? She wasn’t sure, but she’d need more than just an afternoon to fully recover. But he had a good point. Replace.

  Isn’t that what a rebound relationship was? People helped themselves recover by replacing one relationship with another. Why couldn’t she recover from this by replacing motocross with...?

  “I love the competition,” she finally said. “I love pushing to win. But I guess it doesn’t have to be against other people. I can compete against myself.”

  “Okay. So, we’ll think of something that doesn’t necessarily have to be a competition against other people.”

  She sighed. “I suppose I could work on building a design business. That would provide the competition that I crave, but...”

  Roland’s hand had found its way to her hair, and he ran it through his fingers. So gentle and careful she couldn’t help but close her eyes and enjoy.

  “But?” he prompted her.

  Where had she been? Oh. “But I do love the danger. The risk. That makes the victory sweeter.”

  “You probably won’t get that in the design business. Unless you get hired by a drug lord. Do they have websites?” Roland asked with a lot of humor in his voice.

  She smiled, surprised, because a few hours ago, she would have said that it would be a long time before she smiled again. Yet, here she was.

  “I don’t think that’s the kind of danger I’m looking for.”

  He breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I’m happy about that. I’d hate to get kidnapped and held as ransom just because they didn’t like the font you’d used.”

  She chuckled with him.

  He cleared his throat. “Quit making jokes. I’m trying to figure out a new, slightly dangerous, competitive activity that will keep my fake girlfriend happy but also safe.”

  Maybe it was time to lose the “fake” part of girlfriend. But she kept her mouth closed. After all, if they hadn’t had more than a patient-therapist relationship to begin with, she wouldn’t have felt betrayed when he didn’t tell her what was in her chart.

  She let it go.

  “Mountain climbing?” Roland asked.

  “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. We could do that together.”

  “I’d hike up the Appalachians. Nothing bigger.”

  “If you’re mountain climbing, the goal has to be Everest.” She shrugged. “Aim for the top.”

  Roland gave a little snort. “It’s kind of hard for me to believe that motocross is out but mountain climbing is in, anyway. What, exactly, did the doctor say?”

  “He didn’t say no mountain climbing.”

  “Maybe he didn’t feel like he had to go through the whole shebang of what you couldn’t do,” Roland said reasonably.

  Dusty stuck out her chin, even though he couldn’t see it. “Then maybe he should know me better, because if he didn’t say no, then I assumed it’s a yes.”

  His hand smoothed down her hair, holding the back of her head, like he could protect her. “I’m definitely talking to that doctor.”

  He could, too. And probably would.

  “Whoa. You cannot use your job to manipulate your fake girlfriend.”

  “When it comes to fake girlfriends, I need to use everything at my disposal. This is rough territory.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He moved so that his forehead and nose touched hers. “It means, Dusty Gibson, that I care about you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. And if I need to talk to your doctor so that we know exactly what is going to keep you safe, then I will.”

  “But you’re the one who said I should replace motocross with something else.”

  “Me. You can replace motocross with me,” he said, just before he lowered his head even more and ended the argument.

  Chapter 17

  A long time later, Roland pulled back. Their lips still clung, and Dusty pressed forward, placing small kisses on the corners of his mouth, unwilling to stop.

  Kissing on the floor held certain advantages, like taking away the fear of falling when her head swam and her knees felt weak.

  Roland returned each small kiss with one of his own. “With you, one kiss always feels like more.”

  “I never told you to stop,” she said, running her hand up over his biceps and shoulder.

  “If I don’t stop now, I might not be able to later.” His statement was punctuated by his rumbling stomach.

  “Oh! I bet you never ate dinner.”

  “No. I guess I am kind of hungry.”

  “I don’t even know what time it is. Must be late.” She tried to untangle her legs from his.

  “It’s almost eleven.”

  “I can make you a sandwich.”

  “I can make my own sandwich. You can keep me company.”

  She laughed as they sat up then managed to stand.

  “Hang on,” he said, and a few seconds later, his flashlight app lit up. “There we go. Now you can walk without me worrying you’ll run into something and reinjure yourself.”

  “When is that worry going to go away? I’m going to have a hard time climbing mountains if you won’t even let me navigate my living room by myself.”

 

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