Dearly Beloved, page 27
“Chris!” Drew snapped at the end of his rope.
Why was he stalling? “I’m in love with her, Andrew,” he exploded. His eyes watered instinctually with his seriousness. “I’m in love with your sister. I’ve been in love with her for years. I don’t know the exact second the love started, but it’s grown consistently. I tried to get over it, dude. I did. I left for an entire year. Remember?”
Drew nodded.
“I only started pursuing Renée a month and a half ago. When we got there to house-sit,” he admitted. “No sooner. I would never use her for just something to get into. If you believe nothing else, believe that. I haven’t been seeing anyone else. Haven’t dealt with another female in any way, shape, or form.”
“I know,” Drew interrupted. “Samantha’s been blowing up mine and Rand’s phones. This explains that, at least. Though I wouldn’t rule out your tires being slashed by the time we get back.”
Progress. Drew wasn’t as mad.
“Why didn’t you talk to me before?” Drew asked. “If you’ve felt this epic love for years, why not tell me before now? You’ve been puttin’ chicks on the catch-and-release plan for a minute. So, I’m confused about where all this love and devotion came in.”
He expected that. Reforming one’s lifestyle, or owning up, meant owning one’s past. Chris had a lot to answer for, but every dog had his day, right? Renée was his salvation.
“You’ve never been the fat kid, Drew,” he explained. “Invisible. Oinked at when noticed. Bullied. I’m human. When I dropped that weight… I went crazy. Women throwing themselves at me was new. Dudes were hitting me up on social media wanting fitness tips. Shit blew my mind. I wish I’d been strong enough to know better or not to be affected by the attention, but I wasn’t. I took advantage of unfamiliar circumstances, but that gets old. When the high wore off, I took stock of who was there, no matter what. Renée fits that bill and so much more. I love her.”
Drew studied him for a long minute.
Chris hoped his friend saw his sincerity.
“Does she love you?” Drew asked.
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? He wanted to know that answer too.
“I think so,” he replied. “But I don’t know. If she doesn’t know, she will, because I’m not going anywhere. She will feel my love.”
Drew shifted in his seat. He chuckled. “You know how weird this is, right?”
“Very,” he agreed.
“I still want to punch you,” Drew admitted. Whether serious or joking, Chris wasn’t sure. “Maybe run your head into the corner of the wall or something.” Drew shrugged. “I’ll get over it, though, man. It kills me she wanted you over me—not in that way.”
“I get it. You did right by Renée,” Chris assured his friend. “She doesn’t blame you for not being there when Lex was, and she didn’t call me over you. Personally, I think Renée’s more upset with herself for disappointing you. But I know she adores you. More than even she realizes.”
“Damn,” Drew breathed. “When’d you become so wise, Obi-Wan?”
They laughed.
“My mind is spinning,” Drew confided. “So much is going through my head. Life is so short. We have to live in every moment. Seize the day. I’ll feel better when Renée wakes up. Of course, she might not feel better when our parents get here.”
“Yeah, that’s a whole other set of issues,” Chris agreed.
“Among many,” Drew said, smacking his jeans-clad knees. He hefted himself to his feet. “If my sister ever experiences one iota of heartbreak because of you, I’ll kill you. I’m a P.I.—a good one—I know how to hide a body.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Something stabbed her eye. Wouldn’t let her continue sleeping no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut to ignore it. Her brain nagged her to wake up.
Renée rolled to the side. At least she tried to, but a sharp pain pierced her left arm. Her eyelids drifted open; she blinked several times trying to get her bearings. Open blinds. The sun had been the culprit interrupting her sleep.
Her first thought: Where the Hell…?
She tried again, slower, to lift her left arm. Experienced the same painful tug. Glancing over, she inspected herself. An IV was taped in the crook of her arm. Her heart rate accelerated. If she hadn’t felt it, the monitor sounded it. Breathing grew shallow. Why was she in the hospital?
The door across the room creaked open. Rationally, the worst it could be was a doctor. But irrationally, Renée tensed as every instinct went on high alert.
Honey blond hair eased through the crack. Then came a tan, chiseled face and glacial blue eyes. Chris. Her pulse slowed.
“Look who’s awake,” Chris said, his tone bright but strained.
“How did I get here?” she croaked. She coughed to clear her raw and itchy throat.
Chris entered, closing the door behind him. He approached the side of the bed and sat. Renée watched every ripple and bunch of muscles through his T-shirt. The guy was a frickin’ work of art. Donatello, Michelangelo, eat your heart out! She just wanted to rub her hands and body all over his—Wait! Wasn’t she supposed to be mad at him? Her thoughts were jumbled. Brain fog was the term that came to mind.
“I brought you,” Chris’s sinful deep drawl broke her train of thought. With the back of his large hand, he stroked her cheek. “How you feelin’?”
The way his eyes scanned her, examined her, rattled her nerves. Whenever he looked at her, her system went into overdrive. Was she supposed to feel bad? Obviously, she was in the hospital.
“My head’s foggy. Like I took too much Benadryl or something,” she voiced her honest assessment. Her stomach also felt hollow, like she hadn’t eaten in years. “I guess I’m okay. What happened?”
He took her hand in his. He intertwined their fingers. “You were poisoned by your freak of a biological father and his crazy wife,” Chris growled. “I’m guessing you called me cuz you were scared, which surprised the hell out of me.”
Poison? She searched her memory. Hazy images of looking through photo albums. Odd pancake dinner. Her stomach started hurting. And… there was nothing. Black void.
They’d poisoned her. Didn’t that only happen in Lifetime movies and soap operas? People poisoned other people. That happens?! And why would Chris be surprised she called him?
“Why are you surprised I called you?” Confusion laced her words.
His thumb caressed her hand. “Whatever they gave you must cause amnesia,” he joked, giving her his signature lopsided grin. “You’ve been ignoring me for three days. Calling me for help…”
Right! That’s why she was supposed to be mad. She shook her head.
“All that happened,” she breathed. “It seems like a dream. Told you nobody can love me,” Renée kidded—sort of.
Chris released her hand. He bumped her hip, a silent request for her to scoot over. She complied at once. It didn’t escape her notice how easily she agreed to his direction. Weeks ago, she would have balked at his heavy-handedness; now, she scooted. Perspective must come in near-death experiences.
He got in bed. The heat of his gigantic body and his dark, masculine scent caused her hormones to riot. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and rested it behind her head and neck. Hard bicep and pectorals were more comfortable than she expected.
Once settled, he spoke. “How does what those people did make you unlovable?”
She snorted. Didn’t Chris get it? “I’m part of him, which means his evil craziness is part of me, too,” she explained. “That’s why no one ever looked for me.”
“No, you’re not.”
Renée sighed. No one understood. “You don’t—”
“Stop,” Chris interrupted her rebuttal. “I already have evidence to the contrary.” He paused dramatically.
She kept her peace. Curious to hear this proof.
“First, no one is born evil, just like nobody is born racist. Both behaviors are learned. So, you can be part of him every day, all day. It doesn’t make you evil. Second, I love you. I’m in love with you. So, you’re not unlovable.”
Why weren’t the monitors beeping? Alerting nurses and doctors of her distress. Her breath caught in her chest. He’d come for her when he was mad at her. Stubborn, maybe. Dumb, absolutely not. Could he love her, as he claimed? Did she love him?
Chris carefully lifted her hand attached to the IV arm. He kissed her knuckles, then put them down. His tender handling of her would be her undoing.
“See?” He grinned. “Something this beautiful couldn’t be unlovable.”
Her dry lips twitched. “Are you talking about you or me?”
“You’re doing it again,” he chastised.
“What?”
“Making jokes when things get real,” he reminded her. “This is serious. They could’ve killed you, Renée. And for what? Insurance money? Like a random dead chick turning up in their house wasn’t gonna raise some red flags?”
Tears filled her eyes. Chris lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He scooted into the center of the bed, spread his legs, and placed her between them.
“Stop manhandling me,” Renée chided. “My brother’s gonna assassinate you. And this is against hospital policy.”
“No, he won’t,” Chris said casually. “He knows already.”
“What?!” Renée jerked, yanking off the pulse oximeter attached to her finger. Bells chimed. Chris clipped the monitor back to her finger. The bells quieted. She settled into his embrace. “How are you still alive?”
“Once you called, I had to tell him,” Chris enlightened her. “He came with me to get you—and let me just say, nobody plays a gay man like Andrew. He really commits.”
They laughed.
“He can’t be your sole protector forever,” he continued. “But you need to open up to him again. He loves you more than anything,” Chris advised. “Well, I guess, not more than his girlfriend. Oh, my bad, fiancée.”
He was right. Renée had punished Andrew for so long for a situation that was of her own making. Pride had kept her from admitting what was happening with Corey. Andrew was her brother in every way that mattered, and—
Renée swiveled around to face Chris.
“His what now?” she asked. “How the hell long was I asleep? Who’s his fiancée? Don’t you have to be dating someone to get affianced?”
“Hey, you miss a lot in thirty-six hours.” Chris laughed. “Once Drew knew you were out of the woods, he got all philosophical. He decided—and I quote—tomorrow’s not promised to anyone. So, he carpe diem’ed and proposed to Christina.”
Her jaw fell slack. “My Christina!” she shouted. “My brother proposed to my best Christina?” Renée gritted her teeth. “I knew it! I had a feeling. I should strangle both of them. They’re lucky I love them, or they’d be dead. No wonder Andrew’s so cool with us. Ooh!”
Chris forced her face forward and head down to rest against his chest. His deep laugh vibrated his chest and, by extension, her body. It did interesting things to her lady bits, considering she only wore a fifteen-sizes-too-big hospital gown.
“Wanna hear a funny story?” he asked once he sobered.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“So, I was talking to Ashley, right?” he said mockingly, chipper. “She told me about a little talk she and Christina had with you.”
Renée rolled her eyes. “Ooh! I can’t stand her! And?”
“And next time you decide to write your man off, talk to me first,” he appealed. “Bitch me out so I can at least explain myself.”
“My man?” She scoffed. He presumed too much. But if Andrew already knew then… “Fine. Is there anything else I should know? Did World War III start in Nebraska? Gas prices go down?”
“Actually, yes,” he answered casually.
Renée turned slack jawed. “Gas prices went down?!”
Chris shot her a droll stare.
“Fine. Sorry. Fine. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Sorry,” Renée apologized. Old habits die hard. She preferred humor when things were too serious. Renée required a certain amount of levity with her drama.
His deep sigh said more than she cared to hear. But he said it anyway. “Your parents are on their way. They know everything.”
Renée relinquished all her body weight to Chris. She rested her head on his chest. The euphoric feeling of being able to trust someone with her entire being momentarily eclipsed dread. Yes, her friends provided support. She could be herself with them, but this intimacy coupled with support was different.
“Super!” she retorted sarcastically. “This day keeps getting better and better.”
Steely arms gripped her in a bear hug. Chris placed his lips to her ear. “You have no idea how scared I was for you,” he whispered. Goosebumps broke out all over her arms. Tingles raced up and down her spine. “I’ll be right here when your parents get here,” he assured her. “But first, you need to answer a question. Can you do that—without making a joke?”
She gulped. Couldn’t help it. Things were upside down. If he did something like propose, she’d die. Die!
“Umm… I think so. Ask and find out.” She chuckled nervously.
“Please,” he pleaded.
Fidgeting with her gown, she nodded.
“In case you didn’t catch the two other times, I said it,” Chris said, then paused for a beat. “I’m in love with you. Do you at least have feelings for me, too?”
Ugh! She wasn’t good at emotional talks. Verbal expressions of love and all that came across as corny when she saw them on television. Her mind and heart might say one thing, but her mouth saying it would ruin it. She was more of a horror girl.
“Chris, don’t be weird.”
He frowned. She knew it without having to see his face because his shoulders sagged behind her. However, she wasn’t done. He needed to understand.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” she powered through. “It means more than I can ever express.”
“Renée,” he reprimanded.
Damn! “Okay, okay.” She inhaled to her toes. Then let it out. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since I was in eighth grade. And puppy love before that. Happy?”
Chris pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. Renée needed more. Before he backed away, she turned. She wrapped her unencumbered arm around his head and pulled him close. His lips descended. Fire spread through her, and she forgot all about being in the hospital. Her lips trembled under the force of his. Chris’s tongue barged into her mouth; permission be damned. Entrance was demanded, and she relented. A moan escaped her lips. He swallowed it whole. For passionate minutes, their tongues dueled. She could get used to this.
Breaking the kiss, Chris smiled. “Thanks, brat. Love you, too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Renée picked at tape clinging to a microscopic arm hair. Hospital tape always seemed to find the tiniest hair and yank the crap out of it. All afternoon she’d felt this pinch in her left arm, aside from the irritating IV, yet couldn’t find the source of the pain until now. Funny how minute nuisances emerged as distractions when waiting for your world to crumble. Or was she the only person who fidgeted and fixated on anything to keep from focusing on what one perceived as impending doom?
Somewhere in the hospital were a livid Randall and Susan Sutton. Chris had gone to get an ETA ten minutes ago. The fact he hadn’t returned yet was a bad sign. Her stomach did a move impressive enough to make a gymnast proud.
She should never have done this road trip. Her brother, bless his heart, wanting to regain her trust, put his, and the lives of their friends, in danger for her. For a stupid quest to find something, she realized after her first stop. The sum of a person’s experiences, morals, values, the content of character, and loved ones form a person’s identity. Self-identification was personal. Not some formula mixed in a lab. Blood determined the potential for hereditary health risks. It didn’t make a person who they were. Didn’t make her, more, or less, valid. Needing to understand her past and heal from it wasn’t wrong. Her past, no matter how volatile, was part of what made her, her. A part Renée needed to reconcile with her present. Where she went wrong? Dismissing the love and care her parents, brother, and friends showed her in favor of obsessing over people she didn’t know.
Her room door creaked. Renée jumped. Almost ripped all the tape off her arm and pulled out the IV. Patting the offending adhesive in place, she held her breath. Cast her gaze to her lap. She was prepared for her parents’ ire.
Quiet greeted her. She looked up into wide, round, frightened dark eyes.
“You whore!” she blasted. “How could you?”
Christina flinched as if struck. Her skin paled. She gasped. Tears made her dark eyes glisten. The corners of Renée’s mouth inched into a smile.
“So, we’re gonna be sisters!” she said. “Come here, girlie.”
Fear not yet receded; Christina shuffled toward the bed. She sat in the chair Chris bypassed earlier. Renée pegged her friend with a flat stare. Color slowly returned to Christina’s face. She approached the bed. Grabbing her hand, Renée jerked Christina to her. Finally, her friend cracked a smile. They shared a quick hug.
“I’m sorry,” Christina apologized. “I was scared how you’d react. Andrew said he’d tell you. And I didn’t want to lose you as a friend. I love—”
“Calm down,” Renée coaxed. “First off, I’m not your mom; you should never fear me. Second, there isn’t anybody in this world better for my brother than you. And third, you could never lose me.”
Christina flashed a smile and retook her seat. “You know they’re mad, right?”
Renée resettled herself on the bed. Smoothed the now destroyed IV tape. “Unfortunately.” She exhaled loudly.
“You’re a brave girl,” Christina complimented. “Chris? And now your parents? You haven’t even talked to Andrew yet. Ash and I are here if you need us.”
“Thanks.”
The door cracked open again. Their heads swiveled in that direction.
