Eudora stopped talking, aware that whatever else she said was going to make Erica out to be thoughtless and uncaring.And while she silently acknowledged that fact from time to time, she wasn’t willing to admit it aloud.Tears welled as she reached out to touch the side of Casey’s cheek.
“Sweetheart, your face.Your poor little face.I’m so sorry.Is there anything I can do?”
Casey shook her head and then winced at the motion.“I’m fine, Gran.Actually, I look worse than I feel.”
“I doubt that,” Ryder said, and then extended the box toward Eudora.“What’s your pleasure?We have orange, cherry or lime.We’re saving the grape ones for Casey.They’re her favorite.”
Casey tried not to grin, but the shock on her grandmother’s face was impossible to miss.
“Excuse me?”Eudora asked, eyeing the box Ryder had thrust beneath her nose.
“Popsicles.Want one?”
Casey held hers up to demonstrate, then realized it was melting and stuck it back in her mouth and sucked, rescuing the juice that would have dripped into the paper around the stick.
“Well, I don’t think…”
Ryder dangled it under her nose.“Oh, come on, Dora.Have one.”
When she almost grinned, Ryder knew she was hooked.“You’re real fond of cherry limeade, so I’ll bet you’d like a cherry one, wouldn’t you?”
Without waiting for her to answer, he took one out of the box, unwrapped it as he’d done for Casey, and handed it to her with a paper towel around the stick to catch the drips.
“If anyone wants seconds, they’ll be in the freezer.”
Eudora stared at the icy treat he’d thrust in her hands and then straightened her shoulders, as if bracing herself for the worst.But when she lifted it to her mouth, the taste brought back sweet memories that made her heart ache.By the time she’d regained her sense of self, Ryder had made himself scarce..
“Well, now,” Eudora said, and leaned back against the sofa cushions.“He’s something, isn’t he?”
There wasn’t much she could add to what Gran had already said.“Yes, I suppose that he is.”
“The question then remains, what are you going to do with him for the next twelve months?Somehow, I can’t see him playing chauffeur forever.”
Eudora ran the Popsicle in her mouth like a straw and sucked up what was melting with a delicate slurp while Casey thought about what Gran had said.What was Ryder going to do for the next twelve months?Even more important, what did she want him to do?
* * *
The clock on the bedside table stared back at Casey with an unblinking response.No matter how many times she looked, it seemed that time was standing still.It was midnight, and she’d been in bed for over two hours and had yet to relax enough to sleep.But it wasn’t because she wasn’t tired.She was.In fact, so tired that her bones ached.
She couldn’t rest because every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing that truck coming out of nowhere—feeling the jarring impact of metal against metal—hearing her own scream cut off by the air bag that inflated in her face.
She rolled over on her side, then out of frustration, kept scooting until she was out of bed.If she could just get her mind into another channel, maybe she would be able to relax.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she eased into the narrow opening like a shadow moving through space.Her body felt like one giant bruise, and every step she took was a lesson in endurance.As she started toward the kitchen, the room was suddenly bathed in light.She stifled a sigh.I should have known, she thought.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned and then stammered on the apology she’d been about to make.Legs.He had the longest, strongest looking legs she’d ever seen on a man, and they were moving toward her.Casey made herself focus on his face.
“Uh…I couldn’t sleep.”
His touch was gentle on her forehead as he felt for a rising temperature.
“You don’t have a fever,” he said, and cupped her face, peering intently into her eyes and checking for dilated pupils or anything else that would alert him to complications from her head injury.
But that could change at any minute, Casey told herself, and took a step back.
“I thought I’d get a drink of water,” she said.
