World Enough and Time (19 page)

“Could you hand me that pillow?” I gestured toward the one that was just out of reach, flinching when that simple motion ignited fresh pain.

He picked it up. “Where do you want it?”

“Behind my shoulders. I can get it.”

“I’ve got it,” he said. “Can you sit up a little?”

I sat up, my eyes stinging when pain tore down my back and sides, but he quickly put the pillow where I needed it. Then, he gently guided me back against it.

I exhaled as the pain receded to a somewhat more bearable level. “I’m going to feel like hell tomorrow.”

Connor moved slowly beside me to keep from jarring me or the bed while he lay on his side. “I hope they gave you something for it.”

“Vicodin,” I said.

“Have you taken it?”

“Nah. It hurts, but I’ll deal with it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no shame in taking them, you know.”

“I don’t need it,” I said. “All it does is fuck up my head and give me crazy dreams.”

He cringed. “Yeah, painkillers definitely do that, don’t they?”

“I take it you’ve had to use them a few times?”

“Trust me, I’ve had my share of bumps and bruises over the years.”

“So is this where we compare battle scars?”

“Well, war stories,” he said. “Most of mine didn’t leave scars.”

“Neither did mine.” I shifted slightly, just enough to remind me how much this hurt. As if I’d forgotten. “And even if they did, I’m not moving to show you any.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to. So, ever broken anything?”

“Arm and collarbone,” I said.

His eyebrows jumped. “At the same time?”

“Nope. Fractured my arm showing off on a horse when I was twelve, and then broke my collarbone after a colt dumped me about three years ago.”

“Ouch.”

“You’re telling me. Same question.”

Moving slowly and carefully, he turned onto his side, propping his head up on one arm. He held up his other hand. “I have three pins in this wrist after a car accident when I was twenty. Made the mistake of putting my hand out to catch myself, and hit the dashboard
just
right.”

I cringed. “Bet that ruined your day.”

“Wasn’t as bad as when I broke my jaw.”

“Are you serious? How did you manage that?”

He tilted his head a little, revealing a couple of faint scars under one side of his jaw. “Riding my bike when I was a kid. Did a face plant on some pavement and tried to use my chin for landing gear.”

I laughed, which instantly sent more pain searing up my sides. “Oh, ow.”

“Sorry.” He cringed apologetically. “I won’t make you laugh anymore, I promise.”

“That’ll be the day.” I winked at him and he smiled back. “Damn it, now that I’m comfortable, I need something to drink. Do you want anything?” I started to sit up, but he caught my shoulder with just enough firmness to stop me.

“Yes, I want you to stay here,” he said. “I’ll go get it. What do you want?”

“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “I need to move around a bit.”

“Dani, you’re in pain. You just got off your feet, and you’d probably be wise to stay that way for a while. Now tell me what you want.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he gave me a look that silenced me.

“Don’t argue with me. Drink?”

Rolling my eyes and trying to look petulant, I said, “There’s Pepsi in the fridge.”

He got up. “Glass or can?”

“Can, please.”

“On it,” he said over his shoulder before he disappeared down the hall. A muffled pop announced that the refrigerator door had opened. Soda cans shuffled around, then the door closed again. A moment later, Connor reappeared with two Pepsi cans in his hands. He handed me one.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said.

“Just making sure you don’t overdo it.” He gave me a playful attempt at a serious look, then popped the tab on his own drink. “And if you keep trying to get up and move around, I’m going to have to stay here and make you stay in bed.”

I almost choked on my soda, my eyes watering when I coughed twice.
Jesus Christ, chest injuries suck
. “Well, if it means having you here, forcing me to stay in bed, I could think of worse things.”

He laughed. Setting the can on the nightstand, he sat on the side of the bed, resting his weight on one arm and gently putting his other hand on my leg. “A shot of caffeine this late probably isn’t going to help you sleep.”

I shrugged as much as my sore muscles would allow. “I doubt I’ll be sleeping anyway.”

“Well, since the pain pills won’t help you sleep, I could try to serenade you with all the reams of sixteenth century romantic poetry in my head. That ought to lull you into a coma.”

“What? Like
Romeo and Juliet
?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Please. There’s nothing romantic about that play.”

“Nothing romantic about
Romeo and Juliet
?”

“Well,” he said with a shrug. “I guess it depends on your definition of romantic. I don’t find it particularly romantic when a clingy twerp gets dumped by one girl, then immediately grabs onto the next girl and falls for her so hard he’s willing to off himself rather than face life without her.”

“Point taken,” I said.

“Though I have to admit, some of the sexual innuendo in that play, along with Shakespeare’s other work, is pretty good.”

I cocked my head. In my mind, I brushed the dust off the countless lines I’d memorized in high school and college. They’d been drilled into my head time and time again, and were all still in there somewhere. Slowly, they came back, but the double entendres eluded me.

“Sexual innuendo?” I said. “Like what?”

He shifted onto his stomach and pushed himself up on his forearms. “You know the line when Juliet says, ‘
Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars
?’”

I nodded.

“Well, are you familiar with the phrase,
la petite mort
?” The last three words were spoken in a flawless French accent, his lips and tongue sliding around the syllables just like they did—

I cleared my throat. “I’ve heard it, yes.”

“So you probably know it refers to an orgasm, then,” he said. “Do you know the literal translation?”

“‘A little death,’ if I remember correctly.”

He nodded. “Exactly. Now, as for that quote from
Romeo and Juliet
, I’m sure there are those who would argue against it, but if I’m not mistaken”—he slowly licked his lips as they curled into a grin—“that dirty girl wants Romeo to make her come so hard she sees stars.”

I recited the line in my mind, and only the fear of more pain kept me from shivering. “My God, where were you when I was taking Shakespearean Literature?”

He chuckled. “You know, if they taught more about that, I’ll bet they could get more students to take Shakespearean Lit.”

“I certainly would have stayed awake for more of it.”

“You and most—” A shrill ringtone interrupted him. Muttering under his breath, he pulled his phone off his belt and pressed a key to ignore the call. Then he pressed a couple more keys and clipped it back to his belt.

“There. Silent.”

“Ex?”

He nodded.

“She just doesn’t leave you alone, does she?” I said with as much of a laugh as my sore ribs would allow. Though it annoyed me that she kept calling him, I felt a bit of relief too. Their unfinished business was my safety net.

“No, she doesn’t quit.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m half-tempted to block her number and quit answering, but…” He gave an apologetic half-shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I feel like it would be cruel to give her the cold shoulder. Maybe it’s ridiculous, I just still feel bad for hurting her.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hurting her?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “She didn’t take it well when I left.”

My stomach flipped. “But, I thought… I thought she left you.”

He cocked his head. “Where did—” Enlightenment came out in the form of a slow nod. “Susan. Right. She and Olivia are friends, too. Most of our friends are mutual friends, so…” He trailed off, exhaling heavily.

“So…?”

He took a deep breath. “Olivia’s a proud woman. It’s one of the things I loved about her, honestly. When I left, I don’t know, I guess she didn’t want people to know I’d called it off, so…” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“She told everyone she left you?”

“Yeah. Everyone. I figured it out when my phone started ringing off the hook from people wanting to know how I was doing, if I was all right, that sort of thing.”

“And you didn’t tell them the truth?”

He shrugged. “If it was that important to her that people thought she’d dumped me, then…” Another shrug. “All I wanted was for it to be over. I couldn’t care less how people think it ended, so why create conflict where there isn’t any?”

“Interesting way to look at it.” I pretended his revelation didn’t twist my gut into knots that were more uncomfortable than the pain Dante had caused.

“So she keeps calling because apparently she thinks that if she asks enough times, I’ll take her back.” He laughed softly. “There’s that definition of insanity again.”

I laughed, but in the back of my mind, I worried. This was safer when I thought he was still hung up on his ex, but he’d been over her all along. He hadn’t pushed for anything more than a casual relationship with me, but he was so dangerously matter-of-fact about his breakup, so unnervingly comfortable with it. He was much more emotionally available than I’d previously thought.

You’re being ridiculous
. Ex-fiancée or no, he was leaving in a few months. We’d known from the beginning what this was and what it couldn’t be. I was only flattering myself if I thought he might try to make it into something more.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a safety net had just dropped out from under me.

Then Connor’s voice brought me back to the present.

“To be honest, I don't know why she’d want to be back together except that it would give her the ability to say ‘I have a boyfriend’ or ‘I’m engaged.’ We were miserable together, but she'd rather be miserable together than on her own.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. “And there were some things we just couldn’t compromise on.”

“Such as?”

“She wants kids, for one thing,” he said. “Kind of hard to compromise on something like that.”

“Didn’t she know you’d had a vasectomy?”

He nodded. “She knew about it before we started dating, but I guess she hoped I’d either get it reversed or be okay with adopting.” He shrugged. “She
told
me she was okay with it, that she didn’t want kids, but after we got engaged, the truth started coming out.”

“So she’d rather be with you, even knowing you’d dig your heels in about something like this?”

“Sure, if it meant not being single.”

I couldn’t be certain, but I thought there was a bitter edge to his voice.

He took a breath and made a dismissive gesture. “Anyway, that’s all in the past.” Picking up his empty soda can, he said, “I’m going to grab another. Do you want one?”

After he returned with our drinks, the conversation drifted to somewhat safer topics. Before I knew it, it was almost midnight. Sleep wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, but it was worth a try.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want,” I said. “Just, don’t expect much in the way of company, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh please,” he said. “Like I’m going to ditch you when you’re in pain just because we can’t fool around.”

“It’s up to you.”

“Of course I’ll stay.” He leaned down and kissed me lightly. “I just need to go down to my car and get a few things.”

I smiled. “Came prepared?”

“I always keep an overnight bag in the car now.” He grinned. “Just in case.”

“Glad I’m not the only one.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, before you go,” I said. “Would you mind helping me up so I can change clothes?”

“Of course.” He stood and offered me a hand, resting the other between my shoulders while I sat up.

Once upright, I sucked in a breath, the fresh pain bringing tears to my eyes. “Ooh, ow…”

“You okay?”

I nodded, still not breathing. After a moment, the pain receded enough for me to let out my breath. “I’ll be fine. Just shouldn’t have stayed still so long.”

“You’re going to be sore either way.” He kept his hands on my shoulders while I slowly stood. “Might as well not overdo it.”

“Damn you and your logic,” I said.

“Damn you and your stubbornness,” he shot back. We exchanged playful glances. Then he picked up our empty soda cans and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back. Don’t kill yourself while I’m gone.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”
“
Go
.”

He laughed and stepped out. After he was gone, I went about getting undressed, moving slowly and gingerly as every stretch and bend sent pain tearing up and down my body. I tried to ignore the fact that tomorrow was undoubtedly going to be worse. A
lot
worse. As much as I hated bowing to the Vicodin altar, it was probably going to be a necessity in a few hours.

I’ll cross that bridge when I get there
. I held my breath and pulled off my shirt, moving as slowly as I could to keep some of the pain at bay. In the mirror, I scrutinized my upper body, inspecting the various marks and bruises. They’d darkened considerably since I’d seen them at the hospital, and would probably get even uglier before they went away.

It could have been worse. It could have been a
lot
worse. I counted my blessings and reached back to unsnap my bra, but a torrent of fresh pain brought tears to my eyes. I took a few slow, deep breaths, as deep as I could with sore ribs. When it had receded, I tried again, moving slowly this time, but the pain stopped me again.

“Fuck,” I muttered, as much from frustration as pain. I held my breath and tried again.

“Here, let me help.” Connor’s voice startled me. He dropped his overnight bag beside the bed and came over to me.

“I can get it,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Probably, but there’s no sense causing yourself more pain when someone else can get it for you.” He gently grasped my wrists and brought them down to my sides. “I’ve got it.”