Killer Heat (36 page)

Tears rolled into Francesca's hair. Jonah wasn't around. She couldn't tell him, had to go through this alone. She was just trying to come to terms with that when a police officer approached the back of the ambulance. “She able to talk?”

“Not really,” the EMT responded. “Why?”

“I've got a Jonah Young on the phone. He wants to speak to her.”

The EMT shut one door of the ambulance and was about to shut the other. “He'll have to do it later. She's got a few broken bones and might have suffered some internal injuries. We need to get her to the hospital.”

“Wait!” Francesca tried to sit up and fell back. From then on, it became even harder to drag words to her mouth. “Let me…talk…to…him.”

She knew she'd said it, but didn't know how her words were received. She seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. It was the pain, the drugs, the shock. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, she felt a phone pressed to her ear and heard a voice she immediately recognized.

“Francesca?”

“Jonah…I—I'm…sorry. I…want…to be…with you…for ever,” she said, and then she slipped into a black void. When she came out of it again, it seemed as if hours, maybe days, had passed. But Jonah was there.

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, hovering over her hospital bed.

She managed a half smile. “Better now.” Her voice was hoarse from disuse. “Am I…am I going to live?”

“You're going to be as good as new,” he promised, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“W
hat about these flowers? Aren't you going to take them?”

Leaning on the crutches that made her mobile despite a broken leg, Francesca hesitated near the hospital bed where she'd spent the past few days and glanced at her mother. Every other bouquet she'd received was waiting in the back of Jonah's Jeep Cherokee—the small teddy bear and single rose from Heather, the tiger lilies from her parents, the wheelbarrow plant from Hunsacker and Finch, the vase of wildflowers from Jill and Vince, and several dozen red roses from Jonah. But these flowers were from Adriana, who'd sent them instead of calling or stopping by.

“I've got a free arm, I can grab them,” her mother said and started to reach for the vase, but Francesca stopped her.

“No, leave them.”

Her mother turned to her in surprise. “You don't want them?”

“Not now.”

Her mother peered more closely at her. “You're not making sense, honey. It's not like you can get them later. They'll be dead and gone.”

Maybe the flowers would be dead and gone, but
Adriana would be living her own life, taking care of her family, just as she should be. And, for the time being, Francesca needed to know Adriana was giving her the chance to love Jonah without thinking about their friendship. This alone proved she was the type of friend Francesca had always thought. “What they represent won't be gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that love
is
enough—when the time is right,” she added with a smile.

Her mother probably would've asked her to elaborate, except that her father wheeled himself into the room. “Hey, how's my girl?”

Francesca hobbled over to give him a hug. “Fine, Dad. We were just on our way.”

“Jonah's got the car downstairs by the lobby doors.”

Jonah had been by her side night and day since she was injured and yet she couldn't wait to see him. “I'm coming.”

Her father let her go out ahead of him, but then caught her wrist. “About Jonah…you sure you want to risk your heart again?” he asked softly. “I'm positive.”

He chuckled. “Well, if he can make you smile like that, I'll have to trust you, won't I?”

She bent to let him rub his knuckles against her cheek. “Thanks.”

His thick, callused fingers curled through hers. “Francesca?”

“What?”

“I'm proud of you,” he said.