Breathe Again (5 page)

The boy’s mother stepped forward cautiously, and Skylar gave her a warm smile as she moved to her son.

Skylar slowly pushed Nick closer. He gave a small grunt and then fidgeted with his pen as he addressed the mother. “Your son is stable for now. We will keep him for observations to make sure he doesn't have a rebound reaction when the adrenaline wears off.”

The woman wiped her tears with a limp tissue. “Thanks, Doctor.”

Nick gave a slight nod and then turned to walk away. A look from Skylar made him stop. He turned back, put his hand out awkwardly, touched the woman's shoulder and then let his hand drop. The movements were mechanical, but somehow they were Nick.

Skylar looked away and hid her smile. There were times when she saw hope. Flickers of the Nick he used to be, maybe still could be.

“Next time, carry his EpiPen. You could have lost him.”

His words grabbed her smile and wiped it clean away.

Skylar bit her tongue. Typical. She scowled her disapproval and watched him walk away.

The boy's mother didn't pay attention to Nick as she went to her son, who was sitting up looking less like a red blowfish and a little more like the boy she adored.

After making sure the boy was comfortable, Skylar went to find Nick. When she eventually found him, he was in one of the treatment rooms. Skylar pushed open the heavy wooden door and watched him. He sat at the foot of the stretcher, concentrating on a little boy’s leg wound.

The boy peeked at her from behind his mother’s waist, as he held on tightly. Skylar gave him a smile and turned back to an oblivious Nick. Although the tear streaks and thumb-sucking would be hard cues to miss, Nick was doing a fabulous job of saving the child’s leg.

Hands on hips, Skylar looked around the room. “Has anyone seen my headless rooster running around?” She walked to the end of the room and pulled out a glove from the box on the rack above the hand basin.

Nick’s steady gaze met hers with a ridiculous pull of electricity. His gaze softened, and her heart ping-ponged inside her chest. A knowing look passed between them, causing Skylar to stagger. Something caught in her throat, and for a moment, reality struck her hard. Her reaction to Nick was stronger than any she’d had before, and that scared her. She wasn’t ready to walk away. She was ready to fight. For him.

“Rooster?” The boy took his thumb out of his mouth and lifted his head before looking around the room with interest.

Skylar smiled at his parents, and his mother unclenched her jaw and smiled back.

Nick tilted his head as he watched Skylar, his eyes alight for the first time ever. Then after he gave a curt nod, he looked down at the boy’s leg again.

Skylar’s heart rate slowed and then picked up pace when she realized that look in his eyes…
that
was the first time he reacted to her. With a headiness she wasn’t expecting, she walked toward the boy. “I am sure I saw him come this way, and if I don't find a head for him soon, he will be in trouble. Are you sure you didn't see a headless rooster come this way?”

The boy shook his head adamantly. Skylar had always loved red-headed boys.

“What's your name?” she asked.

The boy first looked at his mum and after her slight nod, he answered, “Angus.”

“Well Angus, do you want to help me make a head for this rooster? We can’t have him running around headless. It’s against the rules, and Doctor Delaney likes his rules.”

Angus nodded, giving her a gap-tooth smile. She reached across and pulled a pen from Nick’s pocket. It seemed like such a natural thing, she didn’t question her actions until his gaze met hers and faltered. This time when she tugged on her lip and bit down, it was to stop from being the fool. With his face so close, she could reach up and touch that little cleft on his chin, kiss it even. Would that open Pandora’s Box? At that second, the only thing she knew for sure was she wanted to kiss and be kissed. Like she used to be.

“Delaney? Are you two related?” The boy’s mother looked from one of them to the other.

His hand trembled for a second before he looked up.

“Skye and I were married.”

Her gut scrunched at the taste of disappointment to his matter-of-fact words. She placed her lips around the balloon and blew as hard as she could until it quickly inflated. After tying a knot, she looked at the odd-shaped glove.

She wasn’t in the mood to play with the boy who was looking at her.

She continued to stare at the rooster. She wanted to be the headless rooster, so she could run around and hide. Cry, scream, act mental. Be anywhere but here. Skylar turned to find the boy’s mother watching her with sympathy. It was that obvious.

It took everything she had to move the seventeen muscles it took to smile, although something told her the science was wrong, because it seemed like a hundred and seventeen.

Handing the pen to Angus, she held out the odd-looking head, which was an inflated glove. “Do you mind drawing some eyes and maybe a beak? Hopefully by the time you’re done, I’ll find my headless rooster.”

Angus let his tongue catch against the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his drawing. Her gaze didn’t leave the boy. She couldn’t bear to look anywhere else. If she found pity in his mother’s eyes, she’d cry.

If she saw emptiness in Nick’s eyes, she’d—

She wasn’t sure what she’d do. But she knew it wouldn’t be good to lose composure in front of this family.

When the child was finished with his artwork, Nick had completed his sewing. Skylar kept her gaze trained on the boy. In a different reality, Nick would see her discomfort. In a different reality, he would take her in his arms and kiss away the hurt. But that was a different reality.

“All good, young man.” Nick put away the instruments he used and threw the needle in the Sharps box. He looked at the boy’s artwork. Dismissing it, he turned his attention to the parents.

“He doesn't need tetanus, because you have given him all of his immunizations. Keep that dressing on for two days, and then it can come off. Bring him in a week’s time and one of the nurses will remove those stitches. Any problems, don’t hesitate to come in before then.”

The child looked from Skylar to the blown-up glove, and then he held out the head. “Here’s the head. I hope you find your rooster.”

Skylar smiled, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. “You know what? I think you should keep it. You’ve done such a great job on that head, it would be a shame to give it to a silly rooster who is forever losing it. I am sure we can find another head for him.” She turned the head each way and nodded before handing it back to the boy, “Although the next one won’t be as pretty.”

After saying goodbye to Angus and the parents, Skylar watched Nick as he wrote his notes. “That was one cute kid.”

He clicked his pen, fidgeted and then concentrated on crossing a T. “That was one nasty laceration. But it could have been worse.” He looked up. His green gaze caught hers, and kept it. Skylar folded her arms across her chest. He grew uncomfortable under her gaze. “What color hair did he have?”

Nick clicked his pen twice and then looked at the page he held.

Was he actually looking in the notes for the information?

“It's not in the notes.” Her lips thinned.

Green watchful eyes swept up her gaze. He shifted again. “Oh.” The sound was a soft whisper between them. “What does that have to do with his treatment? Did I miss something?”

Skylar shook her head. Her sigh came out in a hiss of warm air.
Only the fact that the boy was gorgeous, terrified and you made no effort to connect with him
.

He always said he couldn’t be a father. Was he right?

She threaded her fingers through her hair. “Do you miss the service?”

He let his stool slide away from her as his gaze narrowed. “That's an odd question.”

“You like your rules and regulations. Everything should fit in nice little boxes. I'm surprised you didn't ask those parents to take away Angus's bike. She let her arms drop rested her palms on the stretcher. She was scared as hell at the thought of having this baby on her own. It would be easier with him there to support her. But she didn’t want him there with a gun to his head. If he really thought he couldn’t be a dad, then maybe she needed to start listening.

His eyes were dark when he finally answered her.

“That wasn't necessary. The child had on a helmet that met all safety requirements. The bicycle was safe and would have met all safety standards. They were good parents, they immunized their child. Did everything they should have.”

“Is that how good parents are measured—by them following the safety standards and ticking all the boxes?” That certainly did make sense. He was good at following the rules.

Nick swung his stool deliberately closer so that he was barely next to her. This time she shifted, watching him.

“You don’t talk about your time in the Marines. Why won’t you let me in?” She tugged at that unruly strand of hair that refused to be tamed.

He pulled her closer, his warm breath on her hair.

Her nerve endings started firing one after the other until she could scarcely breathe. He shot out a hand and caressed her cheek. The movement was so unexpected, she didn’t have time to react.

Her heart thundered in her chest, so loud, she was sure he would know exactly what she wanted. A small voice of reason whispered in her ear. Danger. Then as if picking up on the tempo, her heart rate started the very same beat.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

She sucked in a breath and licked her lips. She knew what he was doing. He was distracting her. Or was she distracting him. Why was this becoming so confusing?

She placed her palm on his chest over his racing heart. He was as affected. This wasn’t in her head. He wanted her. She could smell him. She closed her eyes, remembering that smell. Oh, how she missed it.

She let out a small groan.

“What is it?” His voice was barely audible, husky.

What was it?

She reached up to cup his nape, pulled down his head and opened her mouth, letting his lips crush against hers. His tongue darted into her mouth, hungry, snaking out to quench his thirst. She clutched his shoulders and deepened the kiss. He pulled her closer until she was on his lap. She moaned softly into his mouth before reality struck.

There were in the middle of a consulting room.

On duty.

She pulled back.

“Skye?” He tugged at her ponytail gently.

She let the back of her fingers touch the side of his cheek, felt the warmth. He had a slight morning growth that on someone else might look scruffy. On Nick, it looked dangerous and daring.

She had to tell him the truth.

“I haven’t been fair to you.” He pulled her head down and held her close. “I’m sorry.”

Skylar turned her head away. Her eyes filled with shameful tears, and the words she should have said remained unspoken.

His arms dropped to his side. He didn’t move.

Her gaze caught the big clock on the wall. The second hand slowly moved.
Tick. Tock
. The only thing she could hear was the sound of that clock. “Nick, I’m due for a scan later. Would you like to be there?” She swore the clock stopped as she waited for his answer.

An hour later Skylar rocked back and forth, gnawing on her bottom lip. What the heck was she thinking when she asked him to join her? Her gaze went to Nick, who sat beside her in the small consulting room, and she curled her hand tighter. He could have been on the moon both in distance and mood.

“It's okay for you to come closer and sit next to your wife.” The resident doctor lifted his glasses off the bridge of his nose.

Nick fingered that scar on his hand. It wasn’t a war scar. She’d asked him about it. He never said where it came from. If she thought it would help, she’d ask again. But that look in his eyes was a haunting shadow of what he was thinking when he touched that scar, and it made her afraid of the answer.

 “Are you ready?” the registrar asked.

Her throat constricted. Ready?
Lordy no.
But with a perfect smile, she turned to the doctor and nodded. Years of practicing
yes
when it was really
no
was a gift she couldn’t fault when she clutched rainbow-colored pipe cleaners from a towering height.