Chapter Nineteen
Brian pausedat the door of Cait’s hospital room. It was early in the morning, and he’d spent the night alone at the cabin after speaking to the sheriff. They’d asked him worrisome questions about Cait’s mental status and whether she had any enemies. He had no clue about any of it, and at the end, the sheriff had told him that he would be contacting him for more information.
“Go ahead,” the nurse said, opening the door. “She’s waiting for you.”
“How’s she doing?” He could barely get his voice to work.
“She’ll be stiff, but she’s ready to go home. It’s a miracle she survived.”
He breathed out in relief, even though his heart was on the edge with jitters and nerves. He’d been given another chance to show Cait what a wonderful wife she was. He hadn’t had time to buy her another bouquet of flowers, but when he stepped into the room, his breath caught in his throat.
The flowers he’d bought for Cait were on her tray table.
“Hey,” his voice was tight in his throat.
“Hey.” Her smile warmed him as she peered at him, her head propped up high by the neck brace.
“I would have come sooner, but I didn’t want to disturb you, so I went up to the cabin.”
His excuse was lame, but when he’d come to see her last night, she already had a crowd in her room. He also heard Grady ranting—all of it true, about how he, Brian, didn’t fit into the Hart family.
The police had already made Brian feel as if the accident were his fault. Witnesses claimed she was going too fast and didn’t slow down at the curve. Word had gotten around the small town that he had made wild claims about Senator Thornton’s son, and speculation was rampant that Cait was so despondent that she had tried to take her own life.
Brian swallowed a lump in his throat and slid into a chair next to her bed. He’d never thought of his wife as being frail and needing someone to look after her, but seeing her so pale, propped up with a neck brace, and averting her eyes from his gaze, gripped his insides with a fluttery ache.
For better or worse, she was his wife, and he wanted her to be happy and have all the things she deserved—a normal husband who loved her, possibly children for her to dote on, and a home where she’d feel safe and secure. All he could offer her was a lifetime of worry as a firefighter’s wife, and now, a complication with having to work around Glen, his son.
“I had a good night’s sleep,” Cait said. Her voice was so small, he could barely hear her. “Thanks for the flowers.”
“Do you like them?” Brian leaned toward her. “I didn’t know what to get, but these were pretty.”
“I love them. They make me happy.”
Brian cleared his throat and felt his face go hot. He’d never been bashful around Cait before, but with her staring at him like he was one of the good guys, it was hard for him to breathe.
“That’s what I want. For you to be happy.”
She sniffed the flowers and averted her gaze—a sign he’d been told meant she was either uncomfortable with him or hiding something. “Thanks, Brian. It means a lot to me that you care.”
The words were at the edge of his lips, that he more than cared for her, that if he knew what love was, it would certainly apply to her, but he couldn’t choke them out.
They sounded like a lie.I love you.Those three words were some of the most misused words in the English language. Greeting card words. Words used to cover a multitude of sins. Words with no precise definition.
He studied the neck brace and the bruising on his wife’s forehead. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What really happened? How did the car run off the road?”
Cait shook her head and kept her nose in the bouquet, closing her eyes. “I don’t remember. I was told I was going too fast. When I fell asleep, I dreamed I was in a runaway train with no brakes. I woke up drenched in cold sweat.”
“I shouldn’t have let you drive by yourself. It was my fault.”
“No, we agreed for me to stay behind. You needed to delete your social media accounts and contact a lawyer.” She patted his hand. “Have you deleted your Twitter?”
“No, I haven’t had time,” he said. “I’m taking you home first. Are you feeling okay?”
“As well as possible. I don’t want to go home, though.”
“You don’t?” Brian sat up straighter. “Then where would you go?”
Before Cait had a chance to answer, a horde of Harts herded into the small hospital room.
