“A branch stabbed through you?” he asked.
“Through my side. Luckily for me it missed everything vital.” The breezy timbre she attempted fell as flat as roadkill.
“Did you have hypothermia from the temperature of the water?” he asked.
“No. It was a hot, sunny day.”
“How much blood did you lose?”
Almost too much. “A good bit.”
“Was the surgery to repair the damage complex?”
Terribly. “Somewhat.”
“Which means it was very complex. How many days were you in the hospital?”
“Only four.”
Radiating restlessness, he interlaced his hands behind his skull. He peered at the water. One breath. Two, three, four. Releasing his arms, he glared at her as if she were a tangle in a book plot he was powerless to unravel. “You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“If a relationship is going to work, then both people have to tell each other things. They have to rely on each other.”
“I...”
Rely. Relying on anything and anyone other than herself had never come easy for her. She found it difficult to rely on God, even. And He was all-powerful.
As far as she was concerned, reliance was way overrated. But she could tell by the set of Zander’s jaw that he didn’t want to hear that.
Just once—just once!—she’d love for someone to congratulate her on her self-sufficiency. No one ever said,Hey, thanks for not being needy, Britt. Or,Props for taking care of yourself. Way to behave like an adult, Ms. Bradford. You get an A+ in girl power. Or, in Zander’s case,Gee, thanks, Britt, for keeping quiet about your accident for the sake of my Grand Tour.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“Because I didn’t want to ruin your trip. And I definitely didn’t want you feeling like you needed to leave whatever fabulous place you were touring last June in order to come home.” She was painting herself to be more honorable than she was because she refused to admit the rest to him. Namely, that she’d been embarrassed. That she hadn’t wanted his perception of her to change. “If you’d returned for that reason, at that time,” she said, “it would have been terrible.”
“Why?” he challenged. “Why so terrible?”
“Because the trip was important to you.”
“There are things that are more important to me.”
She held her breath against the waves of pleasure and fear that broke over her at his statement. This conversation was leading either to paradise ... or disaster.
“I arrived in Merryweather almost a month ago.” His words had a ragged edge. “We’ve had so many conversations since then that I can’t count them all—”
“And I didn’t mention my accident.” She’d rather head him off at the pass. “I know.”
“Nor did your sisters or Maddie mention it to me.”
“I asked them not to.”
“Why?”
“At this point, that’s water under the bridge . . . or water under the fallen tree. I’m better now. Zander, I hate thinking about that day, and I hate talking about that day. Plus...” She struggled to pick the right words.
“You knew I’d be mad.”
