Catch a Falling Star (26 page)

“Oh, Griffin, how awful for you—”

“How awful for me? I walked away from the crash with a broken collarbone. One of the girls broke her arm. David . . . he broke his back.” Griffin shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his fingers kneading his forehead as if the movement could erase the memories.

Kendall risked pulling Griffin close, sitting beside him and daring to slip her arm through his. At first he resisted, but within seconds the tension left his body and he relaxed. Let her hold him. But what could she say?

“It was an accident—”

His words rasped across hers.
“It was my fault.”

Kendall pressed her lips together. She needed to be quiet. Be still. Not try to explain away Griffin's pain. He wanted a friend?
She'd be his friend—but not a Job's comforter who tossed easy answers into his open wound.

So she sat in her office hallway, embracing Griffin Walker. His knees were pulled up to his chest, but he allowed her to draw him against her, his head resting in the crook of her neck and shoulder, his hair soft against her skin. Neither of them spoke, but their breathing fell into a quiet rhythm together. Somehow Griffin moved, and the strength of his arms encircled her. With her arms still looped around his waist, she allowed herself to take pleasure in the warmth of his nearness as he leaned into her. The softness of his hair brushing against her jawline. The whisper of his breath warming her skin.

Sometimes people just needed comfort—a literal shoulder to lean on when they were hurting. She could be that for Griffin.

“Doc?”

The nickname caused a small ripple of laughter to course up her throat. “Yes?”

“You're driving me crazy.”

That was the last thing she expected him to say.

“Hey, I'm being nice here.” She turned so she could look in his eyes and realized he was serious. But not in the way she'd thought. His eyes glinted with something dangerous, a warning that she was trespassing.

He reached up and slid his hand across the base of her neck, his fingers grasping the short tendrils, tugging her toward him with just the slightest bit of force.

His next statement was a husky whisper. “This is a mistake.”

“Of course it is.” She matched her words to his, an even softer whisper.

Why did the man keep talking, keep watching her, even as he pulled her closer?

“I'm only going to kiss you one time.”

“I never said I wanted you to kiss me.”

“Kendall . . .”

He was so close his breath warmed her lips. A ghost of a kiss.

“What?”

“Stop talking.”

Kendall's eyes closed the minute his lips covered hers, demanding a response. Within seconds he gentled his touch, grazing his fingertips across her jaw and then tracing the length of her throat, causing tingles to course up and down her spine. A low moan and he seemed to search for more, causing her to grasp his shoulders as he pulled her into his arms.

He might only be kissing her once . . . but he was being thorough. One kiss melded into another and another.

“What are you guys doing?” Ian's question echoed through the hallway.

Kendall froze. Pulled herself away from Griffin, thankful when he moved as if to shield her from his brother.

Griffin stood, stepping in front of Kendall. One of them should have a minute to regroup before having to deal with Ian. He found the off switch for his emotions, flipped it, and focused on his brother.

“I came to get you, Ian. I've been worried.”

Ian wore a pair of baggy swim trunks decorated with a Hawaiian floral print, a towel draped across his thin shoulders. Water dripped from the hem of the bathing suit onto the floor.

Griffin pointed to the wet spot near Ian's feet. “You're getting the carpet wet.”

Kendall moved to stand beside him. “It doesn't matter.”

Ian's
What are you guys doing?
hung unanswered, an invisible
barrier between them. It wasn't as if Griffin needed to spell it out for his brother. His words were the ultimate rhetorical question. And it wasn't as if he could explain why he kissed Kendall Haynes.

He kissed her because, God help him, he wanted to.

He found himself sitting in the hallway telling Kendall Haynes something he didn't even like to think about, much less share with anyone else. And instead of explaining away his mistake with platitudes and right answers, she wrapped her arms around him and sat with him.

Just let him be.

For the first time in all the months of battling vertigo, waking up day after day wondering if his world would tilt on its axis or not, he was able to be still. And being close enough to Kendall to hear her heart beat, Griffin couldn't deny how this strong, yet tender woman touched his heart.

Kendall walked toward Ian, pulling Griffin's thoughts back to the present.

“You probably want to get changed, Ian, so that you can head home with your brother.” She looked back at Griffin. “Do you want to wait here or come with us?”

“I'll wait here.”

“Fine. I'll show Ian where he can shower and then I'll head upstairs. The front door locks automatically. I'll, uh, talk with you both soon, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

She disappeared into the darkness of the hallway with his brother.

And that was that.

F
inally.
The workday was over. Kendall could stop trying to evade thoughts of Griffin Walker's startling kisses while she focused on her patients.

Not that she was going to spend the evening thinking about kissing Griffin last night—or ever again. Because, as Griffin said, he was only kissing her once.

Kendall smoothed unscented lotion on her hands as she walked up to the front desk. After a long day of seeing patients, and washing and rewashing her hands, her skin itched so much she longed to scratch it raw. Maybe she should install a whole-house humidifier for the office/house complex.

“Evie, where did you put that third package that came in for Dr. Parker?”

Still facing away from her, Evie lifted a hand, stopping Kendall from repeating her question. As she got closer to the desk, Kendall realized her receptionist was counting out the
cash drawer—a necessity for patients who preferred not to use credit cards or checks. Half an uneaten sandwich from Panera sat on a paper plate, and the tangy scent of two slices of dill pickle made Kendall's mouth water. Apparently Evie hadn't taken time for lunch today, either. She still couldn't figure out which were busier: Mondays after a weekend or Fridays going into the weekend.

Maybe she'd go grab a sandwich while she waited for Evie to finish her calculations. Thank God Shelby, one of her regular pharmaceutical reps, brought lunch in today.

“Good night, Doc.” Liz, the medical assistant who worked late that night, waved as she left.

“Thanks for all the help with Kory. He's not crazy about immunizations.”

“What kid is?” With a jangle of her car keys, the girl exited the building.

Kendall walked down the long hallway, stopping to turn off the light in one of the exam rooms. Evie hadn't shut down the office sound system yet, and Kendall hummed along with the instrumental piano music. Everyone in the office got a turn selecting the music. The only thing Kendall vetoed was heavy metal or lurid lyrics. This was a family practice and she didn't want irate parents complaining to her about the type of music they listened to in the waiting room.

Evie found her in the break room a few minutes later. Kendall had kicked off her brown leather clogs and sat at the round wooden table surrounded by four chairs. She'd scavenged a Sierra Turkey sandwich from the fridge and a can of North Carolina iced tea. The clock on the wall indicated it was five forty-five. The meal certainly counted as a late, late lunch.

“What did you need, Kendall?” Now that it was just the two of them, Evie relaxed and dropped the “Dr.” title.

“I wanted to know where you put the box that came in for Dr. Parker.”

“Oh, that. I can get it for you. Are you seeing him again tonight?”

“Very sly.” Kendall tore off a piece of the sandwich and popped it in her mouth, savoring the tang of the chipotle mayo and red onions. “No and yes.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Her receptionist stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

“Dr. Parker is seeing a couple of patients here after hours—some friends of his who are just back from the mission field and need a basic checkup. I think it's for health insurance.” Kendall bit into the sandwich, realizing how hungry she was. She swallowed before continuing. “After that, he's going to come upstairs for some dessert.”

“Uh-oh.”

Kendall wadded up her napkin and tossed it at Evie. “Oh, don't be like that. I'm thirty-six years old, for goodness' sakes. I can take care of myself. We'll have some cake and then take Sully for a walk. My reputation is safe with Heath Parker.”

“If you say so.” Evie walked over to the compact kitchen area and surveyed the dirty dishes and silverware piled in the sink.

“You sound like my mother when I was sixteen.” Actually, Evie sounded more like her mother talking to Bekah. Kendall's nonexistent love life in high school negated any reason for her mother to lecture her about the dos and don'ts of dating. Kendall retrieved another napkin from the basket on the table. “Believe me, Sully's so protective that if the man tried anything, the dog would be all over him.”

She watched as Evie rinsed the collection of coffee mugs, plates, spoons, and forks in the sink and loaded the dishwasher, turning it on so everything would be clean in the morning.

“Don't worry about that, Evie. Logan and Javan are waiting for you. Get on home.”

“It's no problem. My husband manages everything just fine without me. I'll finish this and then go get the package.” Evie wiped down the small expanse of countertop. Straightened the coffeemaker. The wire basket of sugar and sweetener packets.

“Put the package on the counter of the MAs' desk so Dr. Parker will see it when he gets here.” She watched Evie begin to rearrange the items in the fridge, opening Styrofoam containers and tossing food that didn't meet her still-good-enough-to-eat standard. “So, how are things going? Your adoption is almost final, isn't it?”

“We can sign the final papers in three months.” Evie dumped a several-days-old salad into the trash.

“No problems with the birth father?”

“No. The lawyers posted the proper announcements in different papers and we've never heard anything.” Evie organized the sodas in the fridge so that they lined up by flavor. “So the lawyer's not worried that he'll contest the adoption. We're fine there.”

“And the mother relinquished her parental rights?”

“After her last DUI and her conviction.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“Is there some other problem with the adoption?” Kendall watched Evie, who stayed facing away from her the entire time they talked. Her voice never changed from a monotone, almost as if the information had nothing to do with her. After a long pause, Evie shut the refrigerator door, turning to answer her question.

“I told Logan that I'm not sure I want to go through with adopting Javan.”

Kendall couldn't have heard correctly. Her receptionist talked about adopting for years. She posted photos of Javan all over her desk.

“Why?”

“It's not working . . .” Evie covered her face with her hands so her words were stifled. “I'm not . . . the right mom for him. He's just so angry with me all the time.”

Kendall crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her receptionist. “What are you saying? Of course you're the right mom for Javan. He's been with you almost two years. You love him like he's your own son.”

Evie's shoulders shook. Once. Twice. Then she sniffed. Rubbed her hands across her face. “I'm learning loving somebody isn't enough sometimes, Kendall. Every time I think I make headway with Javan, something happens—or nothing happens—and he rejects me again.”