What Mattered Most (10 page)

Bright morning sunlight bounced off the hospital’s wide, white steps. John squinted, glad the outside air had warmed while he’d been with Lanie. He glanced down at Sonny, who blinked at the brightness like Mr. Magoo. A rusty laugh rumbled through John’s chest, and he winced, regretting the lapse.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to laugh with broken ribs?” Burnett asked from John’s left. “It hurts.”

“No kidding.” John wasn’t surprised to see him since he’d met Caitlin in the hall on his way out. She’d been chillier than the weather outside. He joined the other man against the railing and set the carrier on the low brick wall that ran the length of the steps. John tucked one of Sonny’s hands back under the blanket and quirked an eyebrow in Burnett’s direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Cait’s car wouldn’t start. Gave her a ride over. Hey, have you eaten yet? I skipped breakfast, and I’m starved.”

During the conversation, Sonny’s eyes had drifted shut. John watched his son’s mouth purse in a suckling motion and remembered that cup of coffee he’d never gotten. He shrugged. “I could eat.”

Within minutes, they settled at a sunny corner table near the windows in the hospital’s cafeteria, but when John looked at his plate, his appetite vanished. How the hell could he eat when Lanie still hovered where no one could reach her? He laid his fork down and took a long sip of coffee.

“You know, your guilt isn’t doing any of you any good.”

At Burnett’s matter of fact words, John’s head jerked up. Coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup, scalding his fingers. Anger sizzled along his nerves. “What the hell do you know about it?”

Burnett picked up his own cup. “Probably more than you think.”

“Sure you do.” John reached for his jacket. He didn’t need this.

“I know it eats you up inside until there isn’t anything left for you to give to someone else.” Burnett indicated the baby with a glance. “I know you’re not responsible for Mitchell’s actions.”

The words slammed against his chest. John closed his eyes. “Yeah, right. I put her in that situation just as surely as I did Beth. I
am
responsible for what happened to her. I should have—”

“What? Kept Mitchell from getting to her? The way you did Cameron?” The questions hit John like punches to the gut, and he glared at the other man. He wanted to get up and leave, tell Burnett to go to hell, but something held him glued to the chair. “Come on, O’Reilly. Think like the cop you are. What could you have done?”

“I don’t know.” John pushed out the words between clenched teeth.

“The fact is, some people are just plain evil.” Burnett stabbed the tabletop with his index finger. “Mitchell is one of them. The question is this—how long are you going to let that evil run your life?” He tilted his head towards Sonny, still sleeping. “His life? Lanie’s?”

John continued to glare at him, but the awful weight around his heart lifted, just slightly. “Are you done, Burnett?”

“Yeah.” Burnett grinned and pointed his fork at John’s plate. “Now eat your breakfast.”

Vanilla and cinnamon wrapped around him; hot fingers skimmed over his stomach. John reached for the hand, encircling the wrist and pulling those teasing fingers to his lips. Desire rippled through his abdomen, but he wanted more than physical release. “Lanie.”

“What?” Her teasing laugh warmed his skin, her lips feathering along the edge of his ribcage.

“Come here.” He tried to pull her up, into his embrace, but his leaden arms refused to work. “I need to tell you—”

His eyes jerked open, and he stared at the living room ceiling. Nerves quivered under his skin, and he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. On the television, Jay Leno poked fun at a politician embroiled in a scandal. John shot a glance at the baby monitor on the coffee table. The absence of lights and sound told him Sonny still slept.

God, that dream had been so real. He could still feel her touch on his skin, still smell her. Head thrown back, John rested an arm over his eyes. The urge to shout pushed against the lump in his throat.

The phone’s shrill chirp shot through the room, and John startled, pain freezing his chest for a moment. The phone was on its fourth ring before he was able to grab it. “Hello?”

“John, it’s Sheila.” Elation bubbled in her voice, and hope lifted in his chest. “She’s waking up.”

An unfamiliar prayer of thanks flitted through his mind, and he reached for his discarded shoes. “How is she?”

“She isn’t fully conscious yet. Cait’s with her now.”

“I’m on my way.” He cradled the phone between chin and shoulder, tying his shoes with clumsy fingers. The awkward position compressed his screaming ribs, but he didn’t care. She was awake.

“Would you like Tristan to stay with the baby? She’s getting ready to go off duty and said she wouldn’t mind staying the night over there so you could be here.”

He was on his feet, searching for his car keys. “That would be great.”

Impatience crawling under his skin, he met Tristan at the front door ten minutes later. When he paused to give her instructions, she laughed and pushed him toward the car. “I know what to do with a baby, John. Just go see about Lanie.”

Doubt shadowed him during the drive to the hospital and along the quiet corridors. The memory of the angry hurt in her eyes rose to taunt him. What made him think she’d want to see him? He’d screwed up, destroyed everything. An icy lump of dread settled in his stomach, warring with the warmth of hope around his heart.

Sheila met him in the waiting area. A hopeful smile lightened the tired lines of her face, but she shook her head at him when he entered the room. “She’s sleeping. She came around for a couple of minutes, but she wasn’t very coherent.”

John jerked a hand through his hair. “I want to see her.”

Her smile widened. “I thought you would. You can go in. I sent Cait home. She needs to get some sleep before she falls out from exhaustion.”

Nerves holding his stomach in a vice grip, he eased into Lanie’s room. She lay with her eyes closed, one hand resting on her stomach, but there was a difference to this unconscious state. John couldn’t explain it, but he could feel it, could feel Lanie in the room with him again.

Taking the chair by the bed, he folded his hands around hers and settled in to wait.

Lanie drifted into awareness. Pain came first, a dull thud in her brain and a stinging in her arm. The detestable scent of hospital disinfectant followed, with an odd, rhythmic beeping noise trailing behind. A shiver sent fiery discomfort slicing through her abdomen. An urgent question nudged at her mind, but she was too tired to put the disjointed words together. Her teeth chattered, elevating the thud to a sharp roar.

Warmth. The one warm spot on her body was her hand, and she focused on that sense of comfort.

She opened heavy eyes to find John slumped in a chair by the bed, her hand in his loose grip. She blinked. What had happened to put that lost, tense expression on his face?

His presence made her uncomfortable, sadness squeezing her heart. She tried to think past the pain and fuzziness, the fingers of her free hand tangling in the sheet. What happened to his nose?

Her fingers moved in slow motion, brushing her thigh before resting against her lower stomach. The slight pressure increased the burning tenderness. Under her questing fingers, her stomach was soft and rounded, nothing like the hard bulge she knew should be there.
The baby
.

A deluge of memories rushed in—blood, pain, a madman’s voice.
What had happened to her baby?

She moved her hand, trying to pull away. The only sound her raw throat produced was a weak mew. The effort drained her strength, and black dots hovered in front of her eyes. Weary, she let her lids drift shut. The darkness offered forgetfulness, and she reached out for it, let it take her.

Fingers shifted, pushed at his grasp. That was enough to bring John to screaming awareness. He lifted his head. Lanie’s eyes were open. His fingers tightened around hers, and he rose to lean over her. “Lanie?”

Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled. “Go…”

Tears made her eyes glitter, and her fingers moved again. He stroked her forehead, a gentle caress. Joy tightened his chest, and his own eyes burned. “Hush. Don’t try to talk.”

The tip of her tongue touched her chapped lips. “Baby?”

Pride and love curled through him. A wide grin tugged at his mouth. He wished Sonny were here, that she could see the boy they’d made together. “He’s fine. The most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, next to you. Lanie, baby, I need to tell you—”

“Cait.” Panic colored the word, and dread settled in his gut.

He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost eight. She’ll probably be here soon.” He smiled at her, his fingers touching her cheek in a tentative caress. Her eyes narrowed. Foreboding shivered over his nerves, and he swallowed hard. He recognized that look. The same expression had iced her eyes when she’d cuffed him to his hospital bed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Get…out.”

He stilled, the smile wiped from his face. Desperation rushed through him in a sickening rush. “Lanie, baby, please. Don’t-”

“Beth.” She spat the name at him, the heart rate monitor jerking to a higher speed. The single syllable said everything.

John pulled his hand from her face. Was this it? How everything between them was going to end? Damn it, he wouldn’t let her go this easily. He had to find a way to make her listen, make her see how wrong he’d been to think he still loved Beth, had ever loved her. “Baby, I know I screwed up—”

“Don’t…want you…here.” Her lashes dipped, and a pair of tears shimmered across her cheek.

“Lanie.” He took her hand again and felt the tension singing in her body. This couldn’t be good for her, but he had to try one last time. “Listen to me. Please.”

Her wet, spiky lashes lifted. The florescent light glinted off her wet cheeks. John stared into golden eyes that before had always held warm desire for him. This time he saw nothing but ice—a cold, dark lack of emotion. She was lost to him. Her lips moved, and he leaned closer to catch the raspy word.

“Out.”

Caitlin reached out to help her steady the cup. “I’m not defending him. All I’ve said is that he’s haunted the hospital the whole time you’ve been here.”

“And I’m supposed to be impressed by that?” She took a couple of sips and set the cup down. Weakened by the effort of sitting up to drink, she subsided against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. The incision on her lower abdomen burned, matching the resentful anger roiling in her chest. “Award him brownie points for hanging around to make sure I didn’t die?”

A wry smile curved Caitlin’s mouth. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who worries about scoring points.”

Lanie shook her head and glanced away. She didn’t feel like talking anymore, didn’t want to think about John. Tears pushed at her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. She wished she could just blot him out, like smearing correction fluid over a mistake, like having a coma erase days of your life.

Blotting him out wasn’t an option, though. Her fingers lingered over her oddly flat stomach again. She would be tied to him the rest of her life now. They had a child, a baby she hadn’t even seen yet.

The weak tears were stronger than she was. They pushed between her lids and trickled down her face. “Cait,” she whispered, weariness tugging at her body. “I want to see my baby.”

“I know.” Caitlin’s warm fingers covered hers. “Sheila’s working on it.”

“What is there to work on? Just bring him down from the nursery.” Was that thready, plaintive voice really hers?

Caitlin’s fingers tightened in a calming gesture. “He’s not in the nursery, Lane. They could only keep him two days. He went home with John.”

Shock skittered through her, and she opened her eyes. “What?”

Discomfort fluttered across Caitlin’s face. “He’s a healthy newborn. Without a reason for him to stay, John had to take him home. It was that or foster care.”

Feeling out of control, Lanie stared at her cousin. Panic rose in her throat. “He took him home. He has my baby.”

“His baby, too, Lane, even if you don’t want to face that right now.”

John didn’t know anything about taking care of a baby. He couldn’t do it alone. An ugly suspicion crept through her mind. “What do you mean by home? Beth’s?”

Caitlin shot her a level look. “Your home. From what I understand, Cameron went to El Paso a couple of days ago.”

Lanie fought down rising fear. Beth had gone to El Paso? Oh God, what would keep John from taking the baby and following her? Nothing. Caitlin was right—he had as much right to their son as she did. Eyes closed, she stifled a raw moan with her fingers. Her life had turned into a waking nightmare that got worse with each second.

Gentle fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “You need to rest,” Caitlin whispered, her voice somewhere over Lanie’s head.

Sleep. The darkness beckoned, promising shelter from the pain and fear.