Love Will Always Remember, page 6
When Adam, founder and CEO of Computronix, the country’s fastest-growing tech firm, had introduced the HPC to the world, Jonathan had flown back west to be at the presentation. Ditto for the celebration where Mike, Computronix’s COO, had announced the company’s new deal with telecommunications giant, TTL, to purchase exclusive rights to their cable programming. The opening of Sedici was just as important to his career as those announcements had been to theirs and selfishly he wanted his friends by his side. It wouldn’t be the same without them.
Above him, the intercom system sounded.
“Paging Dr. Carillo. Dr. Carillo to trauma room four, stat. Dr. Carillo to trauma room four, stat.”
“You’re not at the restaurant.” Mike’s controlled tone decayed with worry. “Where are you?”
Jonathan sighed. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation. “I’m at the hospital.”
“Is everything okay?” A sense of urgency joined the worry. “Are you hurt?”
“No, not me.”
“Who then? Your parents? Thomas?”
“It’s Leighton.” His throat tightened and he forced the words through the obstruction and out into the air. “She was in an accident.”
“Leighton? The lobbyist? Your brother’s fiancée?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit! Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m still waiting to hear from the doctor.”
A pause. “You’re waiting? Where’s Thomas?”
“He’s not here.”
“I’m confused.” A state he knew Mike detested. “Leighton was in an accident, but you’re at the hospital with her, not Thomas.”
“She was with me when it happened. At the restaurant.”
When Mike didn’t immediately respond, Jonathan rushed on. “Thomas is in London. Leighton stopped by the restaurant to get her bracelet and . . . I said something I shouldn’t have and I . . .” Fuck! Why did he have to kiss her? He’d known it was wrong, but he’d done it anyway. And now . . . “She ran out of Sedici and that’s when it happened.”
“I’m sorry.” Mike’s sympathy served the twin roles of making him feel better—because he knew he had his friend’s support—and making him feel worse—because he knew he didn’t deserve it. “Are you okay?”
Not really. “I just wish I knew how she was doing.”
“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”
“Mike—”
“You said it yourself: it was an accident. Don’t let your brother get to you.”
“I won’t.”
Mike continued as if Jonathan had never spoken. “If he got a paper cut he’d blame you because you use paper, too.”
Any other time he would’ve laughed. But not this time. Not about Leighton.
“Can you blame him? She got hurt while she was with me.”
“Is she a woman or a puppy?”
Jonathan’s gaze flicked skyward. “You know what I mean. She’s his fiancée and I . . .”
You just had to taste her. Mouth whatever platitudes necessary, but they’re only excuses for you doing what you’d wanted to do from the first moment you saw her.
“Dude, did you intend to hurt Leighton?”
His heart clenched in his chest. “Of course not!”
“Adam would say a key component of the definition for accident is that there’s no intent. No plan to cause harm. You didn’t mean to hurt Leighton. So don’t let Thomas blame you, okay?”
That sounded exactly like something Adam would say. He fought the smile that wanted to break free. “I’ll try.”
“Let me know if you need anything. And I’ll call Adam so you don’t have to recite the story again.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Keep us updated.”
Jonathan disconnected the call and slid the phone into his pocket. He crossed his arms over his chest, his feet at the ankles and let his head fall back against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds around him. The people scurrying past, the murmur of voices from the waiting room, the drone of the TV, the whine of children who didn’t want to be there.
“I feel you,” he said to the baby crying somewhere nearby.
His phone rang again. Either Mike had more advice for him or Adam had decided to get the information straight from the source. But when he saw his brother’s information on the caller ID, his chest tightened.
Slow your roll. No need to go into panic mode and spill your guts. You don’t know anything.
“Hey.”
“What happened?” Thomas’s voice was stern and brusque.
He took a deep breath. “Leighton was in an accident.”
“Oh my God. How serious was it?”
Thomas’s tone mingled with Jonathan’s own feelings of responsibility and reduced him to a little boy being questioned by his big brother.
“Pretty serious.” He nudged a seam in the vinyl flooring with the toe of his shoe.
“What about the driver? Hank? Harold? Something like that. Is he okay?”
“It wasn’t a car accident. She was leaving the restaurant and some metal piping fell on her head.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He could hear the disbelief in his brother’s voice, and the weighty pause as his mind worked to find the connections that would somehow make this Jonathan’s fault.
“No. It was a freak accident.”
“The only kind that always seem to happen when you’re around.”
And there it was.
“Oh, come on,” Jonathan said, incredulous that Thomas was bringing up the time he’d jumped from a tire swing, forcing the tire to rebound and hit Thomas in the eye. Hence the stitches above his brow. “You really want to bring that up now? We were kids.”
“I’m not bringing up anything. I’m just saying that I’ve been with Leighton for almost two years and she never got hurt while she was with me.”
Heat suffused him. “Since we’re drawing thin lines of fault, what about yours? She shouldn’t have been with me. I couriered you her bracelet yesterday morning before you flew to London. Any reason you failed to mention that when you talked to her? Maybe if you had, she wouldn’t have needed to stop by the restaurant and she wouldn’t have gotten in the accident.”
Yeah, because if she’d never been there, you wouldn’t have kissed her and she wouldn’t have run away from you, failing to pay attention to where she was going.
“You’re an asshole,” Thomas said, his words dripping with irritation. “Where is she?”
“They’re still examining her. I’ve been waiting for a while.” Which reminded him—“What took you so long to return my call?”
“What?”
“I’ve been calling and texting you for the past two hours. Why didn’t you get back to me?”
Another heavy silence and then—“I was busy.”
“But I said it was urgent and asked you to call me back.”
“And I would’ve if you’d told me Leighton had been in an accident.”
The subtext was clear. At first he hadn’t understood why Thomas wasn’t returning his calls. Then he’d figured it out: Thomas had thought he’d been the one in trouble and helping Jonathan wasn’t worth his time.
He tried not to let the callous behavior hurt, but it seared through him, flesh, bone and marrow.
“It’s not the sort of news you deliver via text or leave on a voice message. I actually thought it would be better to come from me. Of course, once I realized you were screening my calls, I was left with no other option.”
“Surprisingly, this isn’t about you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Look, the situation here is worse than anyone knew. I just got here. I can’t fly back now.”
“Your fiancée has been in accident. I think everyone would understand.”
“They wouldn’t.” Thomas gasped. “Shit! What about Leighton’s meeting with Kimberly? Did she make it? Did you call her?”
“What is wrong with you?”
“She’ll think we stood her up. I’ll need to call her.” The sounds of typing on a keyboard clicked in the background. “She’s booked solid for the next two years. The only reason she agreed to see us is because of Leighton. She’d be devastated if we lost the opportunity to work with Kimberly. I hope she understands.”
Jonathan couldn’t tell which woman he was referring to.
“Maybe you should worry more about your fiancée and less about the damned wedding planner.”
“Mr. Moran?”
He turned to see a young man in scrubs standing in front of oak colored double doors, their smooth surface marred by two narrow rectangular strips of glass. He hurried over.
“Is that the doctor?” Thomas barked in his ear.
Jonathan put the phone on speaker mode.
“How is she?” he asked.
“What’s going on?” Thomas burst in.
The doctor frowned and shot a look at the phone.
“Family,” he mouthed.
The doctor nodded but spoke to Jonathan. “She’s stable for now, but we do have some concerns.”
His throat thickened. “What kind of concerns?”
“You told the first responders that she lost consciousness immediately. I’m afraid that state remains unchanged. She’s in a coma.”
The attitude leached from Thomas’s voice. “Oh my God.”
Jonathan’s bitterness toward his brother wasn’t far behind. The shock and agony he felt was probably a fraction of what his brother experienced.
“We’ve conducted a CT scan and an MRI and there aren’t any lesions or lacerations on her brain, although there is some slight swelling in the medial temporal lobe. We’ve done what we can to alleviate the pressure.”
The words slithered into his body and stole his breath. Swelling in the brain? That sounded serious.
Oh God, what had he done?
“Is she going to be okay?” Thomas asked.
Jonathan had misplaced his ability to speak.
“We don’t know, but since she isn’t in any distress, we’ll transfer her to the ICU and keep an eye on her.” The doctor squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder. “Just give us some time to move her and I’ll have a nurse inform you when you can see your fiancée.”
Right.
“Doctor”—ah, there it was—“I’m not—”
“What he means is we’re not able to thank you enough,” Thomas said, his voice booming through the speaker.
The doctor, having delivered his news and ready to move on, nodded and headed back to the double doors. He swiped a small white card against a silver square on the wall and disappeared from sight before the sluggish panel completed its opening.
Jonathan took Thomas off speaker. “What the fuck was that about?”
An older woman glared at him and clutched her purse tighter to her chest. He gave her his best charming smile and headed back to the alcove he’d recently abandoned.
“You know how I said the situation was worse here than I expected?” Thomas said.
“Yes. I’m not an idiot. You just mentioned it.”
“It’s really bad.”
Was Thomas really trying to justify a decision not to come home? His brother was unbelievable.
“Did you hear what he said?” Jonathan flung an arm toward the double doors that had swallowed the ER doctor. “Leighton is in a coma. With a swollen. Brain.” He emphasized the pertinent words, in case his brother hadn’t initially understood their importance.
Thomas cleared his throat. “I can’t come back.”
Shock freeze-dried his insides.
“You mean they’d prefer it if you stayed but you’ll explain the situation and hop your ass on the next available plane so you can be here with your fiancée.”
“I can’t. The new system needs to be in place before the end of the fiscal year.”
“They can have someone else handle it.”
“If they send someone else, I can kiss this partnership goodbye. I’ve given that firm ten years of my life. That partnership is mine.”
“Your fiancée is here, fighting for her life. You need to be here with her, helping her, not in London.”
“Leighton knows how crucial this assignment is. I’ll get valuable face time with some of the partners. She’ll understand.”
“How can she understand? I don’t understand. The woman you love, the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with, is in a coma. How can you even think about anything else?”
“You don’t know Leighton and you don’t know shit about our relationship.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Not that it’s any of your goddamned business, but I asked Leighton to marry me because I respect and admire her, and because we have the potential to become an influential couple in this city.”
He’d swoon if he wasn’t horrified by what his brother was saying. “I see. And do an acre of land and three cows come with this transaction?”
Where was the love? The passion? And why in the hell would Leighton agree to settle for this eighteenth-century bullshit?
“Spare me your judgment. I know her better than you do. She would support this decision because she knows it’s important to my career and what’s important for my career is important to our marriage.”
Jonathan shook his head. Despite their differences, he’d thought his brother was a better man than this. For years, he’d felt like he was lacking when he compared himself to his brother. But he wouldn’t abandon the woman he’d pledged his life to when she needed him most.
Thomas cleared his throat. “I need you to do something for me.”
The balls on this guy! Jonathan’s top and bottom molars met and tangoed. He tilted his head back. “What?”
“Stay there. Visit her. Do what I would do if I were there.”
“You should be there!”
“It’s impossible.”
“Time travel is impossible. Licking your elbow is impossible. Returning home from a business trip when your fiancée is in a coma is very fucking possible.”
“Her mother is in Europe. I’ll try and get in touch with her, but who knows when she can get back. She has no siblings—”
“Lucky her,” he mumbled.
“—and I don’t want her to be alone,” Thomas concluded.
“But not enough for you to cancel your trip.”
“The doctor called you her fiancé.”
He swallowed. “About that . . . I had to tell them—”
“It doesn’t matter. Don’t correct them. You can be there while I’m gone. When she wakes up, explain the situation. I promise, Leighton will agree this was the right thing to do.”
Was he insane? How could he even consider this?
The image of Leighton slumping to the ground.
Her warm body pressed against his, their heated breaths co-mingling as they kissed.
How could he not?
And the thought of Leighton being in the hospital all alone, waking up with no one there . . . It was a fiery poker to the gut. Still—
“I have a restaurant to open in three weeks.”
Sensing a crack in the ice, Thomas set about enlarging it. “It’s just a couple of hours a day. You stop by. You see how she’s doing. You give the hospital your number so they can call you when she wakes up. And when she does, you tell her what happened. I’ll have a better chance of getting the time off in a week.”
“A week?”
“Two at the most.”
Jonathan rubbed his jaw, the scruff bristly against his palm. “I don’t know.”
“Please. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Leighton.”
If his brother had said anything else he would’ve gladly told him to kiss his ass.
But for Leighton . . .
Because Leighton was somewhere in this hospital seriously injured because of him.
Because seeing her hurt had taken a decade off his life.
Because even with everything that happened, he didn’t regret seizing the opportunity to kiss her.
And that made him the worst kind of bastard.
Jonathan closed his eyes and exhaled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Chapter Six
She went from unaware to aware in a nanosecond.
Blackness.
Sounds invaded her consciousness first. A rhythmic, high-pitched note. Angry, insistent beeping. Indecipherable voices, whose tones gradually increased in volume only to recede out of her hearing.
On some level came the awareness that she may be able to control the darkness she experienced. She fluttered her eyelids and slowly attempted to open them. The task required a near herculean effort, but she immediately capitulated when assaulted by the piercingly bright light.
She inhaled deeply, her nose twitching at the antiseptic smell, and tried again, prying her eyes open, her body tensing for the anticipated luminous onslaught. This time, the experience wasn’t as excruciating, so she squinted her lids without fully closing them. After some time, she let them expand and took in her environment.
She was lying on her back, semi-reclined. Above her, the ceiling consisted of large white squares with what appeared to be dozens of holes in them. Several of the tiles had been swapped out with flat lighting fixtures. Pale colored paint covered the walls and a wood-grained board floated across the foot of the bed. Beyond that, a closed door boasted a rectangular pane of glass that offered a limited view of the space beyond.
Was she in a hospital room? Her left index finger felt slightly compressed. The back of her right hand felt tight. She balled that hand into a fist and felt a pull at her skin.
An IV?
A taped loop of clear tubing ran from her hand, up her forearm . . . She turned her head to see where it led and pain burst through her skull.
Sweet Jesus!
A sound, like that of a wounded animal, erupted in the room.
Was that her?
She tried to lift her arms, to press her hands against her head in an effort to lessen the pain, but she couldn’t. Without moving her head, she glanced down and noticed brown leather cuffs, cushioned by white cotton, encircling her wrists. A strap and buckle led from each cuff to somewhere over the sides of the bed, in effect, restraining her.
