The Winner Takes It All. Alison Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ Dr. Marshall mentioned a discharge date?”

      The anticipation in her voice made Cullen feel foolish for enjoying this time together. She wanted a divorce. He wanted one, too. “No. But given your progress, Dr. Marshall might have one in mind. Ask him when he makes his rounds.”

      Hope danced in her eyes. “I will.”

      Sarah took another step, swaying. She stumbled forward.

      “Whoa.” Cullen wrapped his right arm around her waist and grabbed her left hand. “Careful.”

      She clutched his hand. “I lost my balance.”

      If that was the case, why was she leaning against him with her fingers digging into his hand? But he liked the way she clung to him. “This is the longest walk we’ve taken. Let’s head back to your room.”

      He expected an argument. Instead she nodded.

      Sarah loosened her grip and flexed her hand. “I can make it on my own.”

      He laced his fingers with hers. “I know, but humor me anyway.”

      She held on to his hand. “I suppose that’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

      A list of what he’d done for her the past two years scrolled through his mind. “I suppose it is.”

      Sarah owed him, and he would gladly take this as payback. He wasn’t about to let go of her. And that had nothing to do with how good having her close felt. He caught a whiff of her floral-scented shampoo. Or how good she smelled. Nothing at all.

      That afternoon, Sarah gripped the edge of the hospital blanket. She stared at Dr. Marshall, wondering if she’d misunderstood him. She sure hoped so. “Don’t you mean an independent discharge?”

      “An independent discharge is not going to happen.” Dr. Marshall looked like a grandfather, rather than one of Seattle’s top surgeons, with his silver-wire-frame glasses and thinning gray hair, but the man was turning out to be the devil in disguise. “You are unable to care for yourself. Your discharge planner and orthopedist agree.”

      She hadn’t been waiting all afternoon full of hope only to hear this. “That’s…silly.”

      Cullen, who leaned against the far wall near the window, gave a blink-and-you’d-miss-it shake of his head.

      Her fingers tightened on the fabric, nearly poking through the thin material. She didn’t like being so aware of Cullen’s every movement. Her senses had become heightened where he was concerned. She’d wondered if he felt the same way. Now she knew.

       No!

      Frustration tensed her muscles, making her abdomen hurt more. Disappointment ping-ponged through her. They’d shared lovely walks though the hospital, holding hands like high-school sweethearts. She’d assumed Cullen would support her independent-discharge request, but he hadn’t. He didn’t want her returning to her apartment in Bellingham to stay by herself.

      “Nothing about this is silly,” Dr. Marshall said. “You are lucky to be alive.”

      “Damn lucky,” Cullen murmured.

      She didn’t feel that way. Nothing but bad luck could have put her at the crater rim when a steam blast occurred, something that hadn’t happened on Mount Baker in nearly four decades. Now she was stuck in the hospital with only her soon-to-be ex-husband for company when she needed to be at the institute figuring out if the event was a precursor to an eruption or just the volcano letting off steam as it had done in 1975. “Silly was the wrong word to use, but I’m not an invalid. I’m getting around better.”

      Dr. Marshall gave her the once-over. “There’s a big difference between walking the hallways and being capable of caring for yourself.”

      “You overdid it this morning,” Cullen added, as if dumping a carton of salt onto her wounds helped matters.

      “I know I have a way to go in my recovery.” She would be doing fine once the pain of her incision and ribs lessened. The throbbing in her head, too. “But I don’t need a nursemaid.”

      A knowing glance passed between Dr. Marshall and Cullen.

      Sarah bit the inside of her cheek.

      “No one is suggesting a nursemaid. But I agree with Dr. Marshall. You’re right-handed.” Cullen’s gaze dropped to her cast. “Dressing yourself, doing anything with your left hand, is going to take some adjustment. Not to mention your sutures and ribs. You’ll need assistance doing most everyday things. There will also be limitations on lifting and driving.”

      Maybe she shouldn’t have expected Cullen to take her side. But even with his lack of support now, she had no regrets. Bringing up a divorce was better than waiting around for him to do it. And he would have. People always walked away. He would walk away from her once she was out of the hospital, leaving her alone. Again.

      The sinking feeling in her stomach turned into a black hole, sucking her hope down into it.

      No, she couldn’t give in and admit defeat. The institute relied upon her expertise. Others had been looking at the data since the steam blast, but volcanic seismology was her specialty. She couldn’t let people down. It wasn’t as if she had anything else in her life but her work. She glanced at Cullen, then looked away. “I don’t care if it hurts. I’ll figure out a way. I need to get back to the institute. I have a job to do.”

      “Is your current health and your long-term health outlook worth risking for your job?” Dr. Marshall asked.

      Sarah raised her chin. “If it means determining how to predict a volcanic eruption, then yes. It’s worth it.”

      A muscle ticked at Cullen’s jaw. “If you return to the institute too soon, you won’t be doing them or yourself any favors.”

      She saw his point, even if she didn’t like it. “I’ll be careful.”

      “What does your job entail, Sarah?” Dr. Marshall asked.

      “Analyzing data.”

      “After she climbs Mount Baker to gather it,” Cullen added. “Or am I wrong about that, Dr. Purcell?”

      Of course he wasn’t wrong. From his smug grin he knew it, too. That was why he’d used her title. “I can send a team up to download the data.”

      Maybe that would appease him—rather, Dr. Marshall.

      “Are you able to work remotely from home?” Dr. Marshall asked.

      Sarah would rather be at the institute, but she would take what she could get. “Telecommuting is an option. I have internet access in my apartment.”

      Dr. Marshall looked her straight in the eyes. “Is there someone who can stay at your apartment and care for you?”

      Sarah’s heart slammed against her chest so loudly she was sure the entire floor of the hospital could hear the boom-boom-boom. Even though she knew the answer to his question, she mentally ran through the list of coworkers СКАЧАТЬ