Wicked Burn (23 page)

A spasm wracked her chest and throat when she felt his long fingers gently caressing her neck, soothing her. She wondered if she wasn’t even more shocked than Vic appeared to be when she abruptly moved away from him.

“I . . . want to talk to you about this, Vic. I just can’t right now,” she said in a rush. She wasn’t looking at him but could easily imagine his rugged features pulling tight with concern and frustration.

“All right,” she heard Vic say after a long pause. “I’m not going to push you about it, baby.”

Niall just nodded her head. She stilled in the process of picking up one of her shopping bags.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vic asked sharply.

Niall could barely get some saliva down her throat in order to speak, she was so choked with emotion. “I . . . I think I better go.”

That galvanized Vic into action. He was beside her immediately. “
No
, Niall. You shouldn’t be alone. If you don’t want to talk right now, fine, but . . .”

Niall just shook her head rapidly as she pointedly avoided Vic’s stare. Her misery threatened to explode out of her at any moment. The feeling frightened her.

“I have to go,” she mumbled. When she felt Vic’s hand on her arm restraining her, she threw him off forcefully as the fingers of panic closed around her throat.

In the end she left the shopping bags and her coat behind, blindly grabbing at her purse before she made a hasty retreat from Vic’s apartment.

 

 

Niall left a message on Rose Gonzalez’s voice mail and shuffled to the next message that Kendra had just given her from Anne Rothman. The first thing she’d done once the pieces of paper were in her hand was check to see if Vic’s name was among them.

It hadn’t been. But then again, she hadn’t really expected it to be. Not after she’d thrown him off her and raced out of his apartment last night.

She’d spent the morning in meetings. She could only be thankful that the nature of the meetings didn’t require her to participate much, as exhausted and listless as she felt after her sleepless night. Considering how she felt, she was half hoping that Anne wouldn’t answer her phone when Niall returned her call. But she did, of course.

“Hey! I’m glad you got back so soon. Are you free for lunch? Guess who I’m meeting at the the Walnut Room?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know, Anne. I’m really busy . . .”

“Well, you have to eat, and it’s just across the street, for goodness sake. Besides, it’s the holidays. When else are you supposed to take long lunches that possibly include two . . . or even three . . . glasses of wine? Besides it’s practically a family occasion. That’s the surprise—I’m meeting with Meg Sandoval! She told me to call and invite you. It’s sort of a last-minute thing on her part. Remember how we talked the last time we all had dinner about one of my graduate students possibly going downstate to teach an art history class to gifted kids? Well, her school board just approved the money for it, and it looks like the Institute is going to approve more than just the funds to pay a graduate student. It looks good for us to offer programs in rural areas. Besides, it’s good P.R. for the Institute. Anyway, you can hear more about it at lunch.”

Niall’s eyes burned when she clenched them shut.

“I don’t think I can, Anne. I’m really swamped. Please tell Meg hello, though. Tell her . . .” Niall swallowed hard. Of
course
she would still be going to Vic’s farm for Christmas. To think otherwise just because of what had occurred last night was pure catastrophic thinking on her part. She really needed to shake herself out of this pervasive gloom. “Tell her how much I’m looking forward to seeing her, Tim, and Ellen for Christmas.”

Anne wheedled and scolded and then became duly concerned when that didn’t work. She hung up without a further fuss only when Niall pacified her by agreeing to have dinner with her at The Art the night before she left with Vic for his farm.

“Bring that gorgeous hunk of a cowboy playwright with you, if you can,” Anne encouraged slyly. “Oh . . . I better go. I’m going to be late for Meg.”

 

 

Vic paused in front of Niall’s front door when he arrived home that night at seven P.M. He’d stopped attending every performance of
Alias X
several weeks ago, although he was still in his office, backstage, or with a member of the technical crew more often than not for at least three nights out of the week.

The show ran smoother than a pricey piece of software on a premium hard drive. The reviews continued to be excellent, and his company usually performed to a full house. He’d started to long for the wide-open space of the farm instead of obsessing about the play, so he figured things must be going pretty well. After Christmas he planned to return to his regular schedule of spending only two or three nights in the city.

At least he had hoped to do that, if he could talk Niall into spending a good portion of her weekends with him on the farm.

Vic couldn’t believe that just last night he had been feeling so content, like nothing could interfere with the smooth roll of his world. How quickly that had all crumbled to ash when he’d turned and seen Niall’s face last night.

It had been like all those nights he’d awakened her from her dreams. Except that last night she’d been fully awake and he’d looked straight down into her wide eyes . . . right into the heart of her nightmare.

It made him feel like a shit to know that he’d caught a hint of her suffering early on, before they’d become more involved, and that he’d made a point of not seeing it. Now that he was ready to acknowledge everything about Niall, however—including her painful past—she was shutting him out.

He didn’t know what the hell to make of that fact. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was tired of it. At some point during the past five weeks, he had decided that he wanted
in
. Not just in Niall’s body, but in her mind . . . in her life.

Seeing Jenny on the opening night of
Alias X
had allowed him to resoundingly finish a scenario in his mind that had long been in need of a final act. He’d thought he’d accomplished that by refusing to see or speak with Jenny, but that particular coping mechanism had just served to make her bigger and bolder in his mind than she had ever deserved.

Opening night of
Alias X
had taught him something valuable—Niall had as much in common with Jenny as a butterfly did with a viper.

His face stiffened at the thought, and he knocked loudly on Niall’s front door. His little butterfly was being buffeted by some turbulent winds, and Vic was determined that she tell him what was going on, so that he could offer her some insulation against them.

She answered almost immediately. His eyes flickered over her in concern. She still wore her clothes from work, a narrow black skirt, black pumps, and an emerald green silk blouse. His gaze lingered for a moment on her elegant, pearl-entwined neck. He couldn’t quite fathom how Niall always managed to convey a sense of timeless, classic beauty and at the same time seem so earthy . . . so utterly touchable. Despite how lovely she looked to him at that moment he noticed the paleness of her cheeks. Her lips trembled slightly as she smiled. Vic stilled an overwhelming, and increasingly familiar, urge to enfold her in his arms and shield her. From what, precisely, he couldn’t say.

Neither could she, and therein lay the problem.

“Hi,” she greeted him huskily before she moved back in the doorway. “Come in.”

Vic didn’t speak as she closed the door and led him into the living room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked brightly when he sat on the couch.

Vic scowled. “I didn’t come over here for a social visit, Niall.” He called himself a foul son of a bitch when he saw her smile fade.

“Shit. Just . . . come here, baby,” he muttered as he reached for her. She felt so good wrapped in his arms. He pressed her head beneath his chin and inhaled the familiar light, fruity scent from her shining hair. His eyes closed tightly for a few seconds as he absorbed her into him.

“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly when he finally loosened his hold and she straightened enough to look up at him. Her large eyes shone with tears and something else . . . something that radiated from within.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so sorry about last night.”

Vic winced slightly. “Why do you keep apologizing, Niall? Just—”

She held up her hand. “I know,” she said softly. “Just tell you why I get so jumpy sometimes. The thing is, Vic, it’s not all that simple for me . . . or that easy.”

Her head fell forward as she inhaled as if for courage. Vic felt an inexplicable weight press on his chest and a tightness in his throat as he watched her struggle with her emotions. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it for reassurance.

A knock resounded down the hallway from the front door.

Niall’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I wonder who that is,” she murmured as she stood. “Meg, maybe? She was in town to have lunch with Anne . . . but surely security would have called first.”

“
Mom,
” Vic heard her exclaim in surprise a second later.

“I had to come, honey. Something amazing has happened.”

Vic stood as Niall returned to the living room with Alexis Chandler at her heels.

“Oh . . .” Alexis started when she saw him. Her beautiful face stiffened. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Mom, this is Vic Savian. Vic, I’d like you to meet my mother, Alexis Chandler. I never got the chance to introduce you two before . . .”

Niall paused shakily. Something indefinable passed across Alexis Chandler’s face as she looked at him that reminded Vic of a cloud quickly moving across the sunlight. But it was gone in a millisecond and her icy, impenetrable expression was back in place.

“Mr. Savian,” Alexis said with a cool nod. “I’m afraid I need to speak with my daughter privately.”

“Mom . . .” Niall interrupted, obviously uncomfortable with her mother’s brusque dismissal.

“It’s okay, Niall,” Vic said quietly. He crossed his arms under his chest and met Alexis Chandler’s stare calmly. He didn’t want to make things difficult for Niall, but he didn’t care for her mother’s bitchy attitude, nor did he appreciate the way her presence made Niall’s face rigid with anxiety. He wasn’t going to throw Niall to the sharks so easily this time.

“Your mother hasn’t been caught up on things. She just doesn’t realize that whatever she needs to say, she can say in front of me.”

Alexis’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise at his challenge. Her glittering blue eyes moved over him rapidly, as though she was taking his measure.

“Is that true, Niall?” Alexis asked. Vic cringed inwardly when he saw Niall’s face. It looked like it’d been bleached. Even her lips were tinged with white. He opened his mouth to apologize then and there for his cockiness. It obviously wasn’t helping Niall any—

“If it’s true that you want this man to hear about what’s happened with Stephen, then I’ll respect your wishes,” Alexis Chandler continued.

“Who’s Stephen?” Vic asked.

Alexis Chandler laughed shortly. “Niall’s husband, of course.”

Vic squinted at the woman who stood just feet away from him, as though he couldn’t quite bring her into focus.

“Niall’s husband,” he repeated flatly. He glanced over at Niall, a grin of disbelief starting to curve his lips.

His smile was aborted when he met Niall’s eyes.

“I was . . . I was going to tell you . . .” she whispered.

He felt as if he hadn’t quite heard her because of the strange noise in his ears like rapidly rushing air. “You were going to tell me
what
?”

He saw her throat convulse with difficulty as she swallowed. “About Stephen,” she tried to continue in a choked voice.

“He’s been very ill,” Alexis stated bluntly. “That’s why I came by tonight. I got a call from Evergreen Park just an hour ago. Get your things quickly, Niall.” Alexis’s brilliant smile at her daughter pierced the daze of Vic’s shock. “It’s nothing less than a miracle. Your husband has recovered, darling. And he’s asking for you.”

Vic put up both his hands at once before he pointed at Alexis Chandler. “Can you be quiet for a second, please?” He focused on Niall. “What the hell is she talking about?” he demanded. Surely Alexis Chandler was batty or something. Niall couldn’t be married.

She would have told him. He
knew
she would have. That wasn’t something you just forgot to mention when you were in a relationship with someone.

Unless you were purposefully trying to keep it secret, of course . . .

He noticed that Niall seemed to be searching his face for answers just as desperately as he sought them in hers.

“You
can’t
be married,” Vic declared in a harsh voice.

Niall’s expression sagged. Her posture wilted, as well. She lowered her gaze from his. The gesture was silent, of course, but Vic felt like a door had just been resoundingly slammed shut in his face.

“I am,” she said blankly. “Let me get my purse and coat, Mom, and I’ll be ready to go see Stephen.”

THIRTEEN

Niall stared at the fake Christmas tree in the large, airy day room. A Christmas tree that was still up during the third week of January was always a bit depressing, but combined with the fact that this particular one was in a mental institution, the sight turned downright gloomy. All of the ornaments were made of paper, of course, no sharp edges that could be put to a harmful use. Niall actually recognized some of the ornaments from the two previous Christmases that she’d sat in this room . . . and that only added to her sense of gloom.

The day room might have been more aptly a day arena, as wide open and large as it was. Evergreen Park had been built in the 1970s, during the height of a period of psychiatric optimism. Niall thought that the original impetus behind building facilities like Evergreen Park had probably been good. But the promise of medical “cures” for such virulent conditions as schizophrenia and manic depression had fallen somewhat short of their expected glorious apex. Government funding for such facilities waned as more and more of the mentally ill were farmed out to less expensive nursing and group homes. Niall doubted that anything in the décor of the day room at Evergreen Park had been altered one bit since the 1970s, except for perhaps the new coats of paint that were likely mandated by the health code.