Because he wasn’t in it. And she wanted him there.
But what didhewant?
* * *
Clínica Sangre de Cristo—2 days later
With Von trailing her like a creepy, ghostly guard dog, Angel finally broke down and went to see Ford.
She made her way on crutches down the long corridor, to where Ans stood at Ford’s door. She gave him a weak smile and knocked, waited for Ford’s rough voice to invite her in, then entered. It hurt to watch him struggle to sit up, but then again, it would hurt a lot more if he were dead.
She’d get over it.
“Angel.”
“Hey.”
He looked her up and down, frowning. “Shouldn’t you be in…”
She closed the door and leaned against it, then lifted a crutch. “Knee’s good enough to walk with these, so I’m headed back to the U.S. today.”Invite me farther in. “What’s your status?”Ask me to stay. To see where this leads.
“Stuck here for a while. Then PT. Flying out soon. Guess I’ll winter at the university. Then head south next summer.”
He meant antarctic summer, clearly. So he’d be going back.
“Wow, that sounds…” Dangerous, stupid, absolutely incomprehensible.
She needed air, but the big shaky breath she sucked in felt more like volcanic ash than oxygen. She held it in, wound up tight, knowing that if she let the tiniest bit of pain seep out, it would turn into an unstoppable deluge. A broken dam. She forced a smile to her wooden lips. “Sounds good.”
Ford, of course, didn’t bother smiling. “What’s your plan?”
“I’ll figure it out.” She shrugged, going for casual but feeling about as smooth as a broken puppet. “A friend asked me to help her start this little farm-to-table place, not too far from Philly. It’s…”Everything I thought I wanted. But it’s not you.
“Great.” Another humorless look.
“Yeah.” She couldn’t face him for fear she’d break down and beg him to—to what? That was the thing, she didn’t even know what she wanted from him. There was no common ground for them. Or rather there was, but they’d left it on the ice. The way they’d been, the way they’d lived, what she’d thought of as a relationship, had been nothing but survival. She gulped and forced another stiff, bright smile. “Anyway. Just thought I’d check in. They’re discharging me, so I wanted to say—”Goodbye. Or hold me. Or I love you.“Okay.” She indicated the crutches with a grimace. “I’d hug you but…” She scrabbled at the door, grasped the knob, twisted, and pushed. “Take care, Ford.”
She’d just stepped outside when he said—or rather rasped out—her name. “Angel.”
She turned, unable to control the swell of hope that blossomed in her chest. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
She blinked. “For what?” For the sex part? For saving his life? The door closed again with a snick and, just like that, she was back to the Burke-Ruhe kitchen, honing a steel knife blade while he gave her his awkward thanks.
“Ah. For everything.”
Could you specify, please?Or maybe not. Maybe she didn’t want him thanking her for sex. Which she couldn’t even call sex, since it had been so much more than that—the most intimate, most genuine, moments of her life. But maybe to him it hadn’t meant a thing. Just a hot body on cold ice.
“Ah. Okay. Well.” She tried another smile, so fake it had to look painted on. “You’re welcome.”
She’d just reached for the door again when he pierced the little armor she’d managed to wrap around herself.
“We couldn’t be any—we can’t be anything.”
Don’t do this to me. Don’t break my heart.
She didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Why not?”
