The Secrets of Her Past. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ him through an employee entrance, which also required the use of his card. A rainbow of scrub-garbed employees strode briskly through the halls. She checked her watch. It was close to the 7:00 p.m. shift change. Most people nodded or spoke to Adam as they passed. Apparently he was liked and respected here, which suggested he wasn’t always the arrogant sourpuss he presented to her. A barrage of curious glances fired her way, but he didn’t introduce her to anyone.

      The staff elevator was packed when they entered, forcing her to stand too close to Adam. She turned her back and faced the doors like everybody else, but unlike the others, she was totally aware of the man behind her. His scent. His body heat. Her palms moistened and her pulse quickened. An anxiety reaction to the hospital? Yes, that was all it was.

      The doors opened and four more people stepped in, forcing her to squeeze even closer to Adam. He put a hand on her back to stop her and the impact hit her like a spark of static electricity. She prayed he didn’t notice her jump.

      “How’s your dad?” one of the men asked.

      “He came through surgery well. Thank you, Ted.”

      Adam’s breath stirred her hair, sending a shiver skittering down her spine. No, she wasn’t reacting to him, but to his twin, the one whose memory had been dogging her footsteps all day.

      But it couldn’t be a reaction to Andrew, she admitted reluctantly. Andrew had never made her insides quiver by simply breathing. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it be because of Adam, either. It was likely just abstinence causing the chaos. Damn her deprived, confused hormones. They were soaking up Adam’s maleness like a drought-ridden field did a summer rain.

      She tried to think of something besides the man behind her. But her mind went blank. She focused on her breathing, then on feeling the floor beneath each of her toes. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t dull her hypersensitivity to Adam’s proximity.

      The doors opened again. “This is our floor.”

      His hand touched her waist again, delivering another jolt. She bustled out as quickly as she could without knocking aside the others crammed into the box. She’d rather face Dr. Drake and the hospital room instead of this crazy hormonal imbalance.

      The minute she cleared the crowd the smell hit her. Antiseptic. Alcohol-based hand sanitizer. Scorched coffee. Leftover food from the rack of trays waiting to be picked up. Hospital smells were the kind you never forgot. Then the muffled sounds penetrated the pulse pounding her eardrums. Hushed voices. A distant cough. Someone moaning in pain. Televisions on different channels droning from multiple rooms. She hadn’t forgotten the noises, either. When you lie in bed with nothing to think about except your misery, you searched for any distraction.

      “He’s at the end of the hall.” Adam’s long stride carried him away.

      Her mouth dried. It wasn’t the same floor, but the layout was identical. Different paint and tile colors didn’t change the memories or the emotions this place evoked. She didn’t want to be here, but she would get through it the same way she’d gotten through everything else life had thrown at her—by treating each difficult moment like the Iditarod, gritting her teeth and soldiering on step after step, mile after mile. The sooner she did this, the sooner Adam would take her home. No, not home—his house. Back to that shrine to Andrew. But even that was better than here.

      She ordered her feet forward, then stopped outside the room, where Adam guarded the entrance. Through the open door she spotted Helen in the recliner by the bed. Her former mother-in-law hadn’t noticed their arrival. She had her head bent over her wringing hands. Her shoulders drooped and lines creased her forehead. Worry had robbed her face of all color, save the shadows as dark as bruises beneath her eyes. Sympathy clutched Madison’s insides.

      Adam tapped on the door and Helen’s head snapped up. She bolted to her feet, pasted on a forged smile for her son, then her gaze, filled with a cocktail of anger and loathing, focused on Madison.

      “Good. You’re here.” Her cold tone held no welcome. Bitterness twisted her lips. “I need a breath of fresh air.”

      She barged past them. Only then did Madison look at the patient. A chest tube and a catheter drained into containers hanging from the bed. Dann—Dr. Dra— Who was she kidding? She couldn’t keep her distance. Not when she’d been walking in his footsteps and handling his patients and instruments all day. She’d lost count of the number of clients who’d asked about him.

      Danny’s face was nearly as ashen as Helen’s. His eyes were sunken and closed, his lips pale and dry.

      Adam touched his shoulder. “Dad, Madison’s here.”

      Danny’s lids flickered open, revealing a blue-green gaze so like Adam’s, but the irises looked faded and his gaze unfocused. “How’s my girl? I’ve been waiting for you.”

      His weak voice tugged at something deep inside her. She’d never had a chance to say goodbye to her father. Was she saying goodbye to Danny now? No. He’d only been out of surgery a few hours. He’d be back to his old self soon. She had to believe that.

      The hand he lifted from the bed trembled. Madison tried to harden her heart, to block out the worry, but she couldn’t. She did, however, ignore that hand. Say your piece and get out.

      “We had a smooth day at the office. Your staff is wonderful. That’s why I can’t believe—”

      He coughed and winced. The words died on her tongue. How could she condemn and interrogate him when he was in pain and still hung over from anesthesia?

      She couldn’t. Her questions could wait until next week. “I can’t believe how efficient they are.”

      Adam’s hard face relaxed slightly.

      “They know...how I like...things done. You do, too. Well trained. Like you.” His struggle for breath between words made Madison uncomfortable. The hand tethered to the blood oxygen meter gingerly covered his rib.

      “They definitely know your methods.”

      “Dad, you need to rest.” Adam pulled out his wallet and offered Madison some folded money. “Take Mom down to the cafeteria.”

      Appalled at the idea of one-on-one time with Helen, she tucked her hands behind her back. “I’m not hungry.”

      He caught her left wrist, pressed the money into her palm and folded her fingers around it. His hands were warm, slightly rough, inarguably firm, but not hurtful. Her senses rioted.

      “Please, Madison. She hasn’t left his side all day, and she insists on staying here tonight. She needs a break. See that she takes it.”

      When he put it that way, how could she refuse?

      * * *

      HELEN LEANED AGAINST the wall by the nurses’ station, staring into the black sludge they called coffee. If she had the energy she’d teach them how to make it correctly, but every nerve in her body was raw and each muscle was so exhausted from fear and worry she wanted to crumple to the floor and cry. But, of course, she wouldn’t.

      Desperately needing the caffeine and the sugar she’d liberally poured into the cup, she forced herself to sip the vile brew. She had to be strong for Danny. She couldn’t lose him. He was her life, and she’d do anything—even tolerate the woman who’d killed her son and СКАЧАТЬ