Before stretching out to chase sleep, he checked his phone one last time to find a message from Xavier.
“Got the police reports from Micah Williams’ disappearance. The detective in charge should be fired. Plenty of evidence to launch an investigation and he buried all of it. Get me everything the aunt has and we’ll figure out where the kid is in Vegas. If we can get a line on him by Monday, we’ll plan on having him back in his mother’s arms by Friday. Assuming you want in?”
Terry snorted, then winced, but no sound or movement from the bed reached his ears, and he quickly thumbed out a response.
“You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”
7
Terry
His phone alarm went off a little after eight. He wasn’t sure what time Dana wanted to leave town, but he’d hoped to be able to shower and don his prosthetic before she woke. Hopping from the couch to the bathroom, though, proved just as loud and disruptive as he’d feared, and halfway there, Dana sat up in bed.
“Terry? Oh, shit. Do you need help?” She started to push the blankets away until he held up his hand.
“No. I do this all the time,” he said, the words harsher than he’d intended. At her flinch, he hopped once more so he could brace his hand on the wall next to the bathroom and met her gaze. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not used to bein’ around anyone without my leg. I use crutches at home, but without them, don’t have much choice but to hop around. I’m goin’ to shower. Why don’t you order up some breakfast? Anythin’ you want.”
She fiddled with the blankets, now pulled tightly against her waist. “What...um…do you like?”
Barely resisting the urge to say “you,” Terry grinned. “Waffles? With a side of bacon?”
Dana nodded, reaching for the phone, and he continued his awkward journey until he could close the door behind him. Thank God for an accessible suite with grab bars in the bathroom. His balance was pretty damn good—it had to be—but hopping around on one foot in the shower? Dangerous as fuck.
Fifteen minutes later, he’d shaved, showered, and thrown on his gym shorts and t-shirt again. Opening the door, he inhaled deeply. The rich scent of maple syrup greeted him, and his stomach rumbled.
“Something smells amazing,” he said, hopping slowly to his duffel bag for a clean compression sleeve. Dana sat at the little table by the window, two covered plates and a pot of coffee in front of her. “Don’t wait for me, darlin’. It’ll take me a couple of minutes to put my leg on.”
When he rounded the partition, she turned in his direction. “Do you mind if I…watch?”
Refusing Dana anything wasn’t in his DNA, so Terry shrugged and sank down onto the couch. “Don’t know why you’d want to, but knock yourself out.”
“Because last night, you wanted to get to know me,” she retorted as he rolled the compression sleeve over the end of his stump. “Is it all that surprising I want to know you too?”
“Thought I was just a patient?”
Shit. Where did that come from?
“I never said that.” Dana huffed out a breath and stared up at the ceiling for a brief moment. “Why would you think you were ever just a patient?”
“Because you said you’d never abandoned a patient before. Not ‘I’ve never run away from a relationship,’ not ‘I’ve never disappeared on a guy I liked,’ not ‘I’m sorry I left without a word.’” Terry grabbed his leg, set the foot on the floor, and maneuvered himself into position. The socket fit snugly over the compression sleeve, and after a few small adjustments, he felt the suction take hold. Reaching for the outer sleeve, he chanced a quick look over at Dana.
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she turned to stare out the window. “What was I supposed to say? I walked out on the only guy to make me want more in years. And then I show up here, prepared to beg your boss to help me, and instead, have to face the biggest mistake I’ve made in my entire life!”
Finishing up with his leg, he pushed to his feet, tested the fit, and strode over to the table. Cupping Dana’s chin, he urged her head up, braced his other hand on the table, and kissed her.
It only took her a single beat to wrap her arms around his neck. If Terry weren’t careful, he’d haul her against him and let her feel how much he wanted her.
After a brief flick of his tongue against her lips, he drew back, and the heat he found in her eyes stirred a deeply possessive, almost primal need to protect, to claim, to cherish. “You didn’t make a mistake, sweetheart,” he said, sitting across from her, grateful the table hid his erection. “You put your family first. I wish you’d told me. Left me a way to get in touch with you. But I understand why you couldn’t.”
“You’re not angry?” she asked.
“I was never angry. Hurt. Confused. Sad. But not angry.” Holding her gaze, he reached across the table, and once she’d laid her fingers over his, squeezed gently. “Never.”
Dana
Sitting with Terry in her beat-up Mazda, she couldn’t believe she’d let him drive.
“Don’t do well in the passenger seat. Not anymore.”
