Johnny (Connelly Cousins #2) (14 page)

Despite the aching void in her chest, Stacey smiled. “In that case, Mr. Mancini, I accept your gracious offer.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And it’s Sam.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sam. I’m Stacey.”

“Well, then, Miss Stacey, let’s get to it, shall we?”

Stacey smiled at his charm. Maybe this day wouldn’t turn out so bad after all. Sam had an easy, likable way about him that might just get her through the day.

Sam checked his mirrors. In the rearview, Stacy saw his eyes widen in alarm.

“Is there something wrong, Sam?” Stacey turned to look over her shoulder to see what had put such a look on his face.

“Not at all, not at all,” he said quickly. “Just the way we drive around here.” And with that, he pulled away from the curb a bit faster than she was used to. Stacey grabbed the arms of her chair and held on.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Sam,” she grinned.

* * *

J
ohnny let out a stream of curses that had some of the business people shooting him dirty looks. Granted, he’d probably scared a few of them, tearing across the parking lot after the van like a man possessed in biker boots and leather. Most of them were in suits and ties, carrying man satchels and iPads.

A few minutes later, he was joined outside the hotel entrance by Kyle and Lina.

“I missed her,” he told them, slightly out of breath from his full-on sprint. “I fucking missed her.”

Kyle laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “You’re sure it was her?”

“Yeah. Positive.”

“Hang on,” Lina said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Johnny asked, but either she didn’t hear him or she was ignoring him. Probably the latter.

Lina slipped into the hotel, returning a few minutes later with a key. “Stacey didn’t check out, so she’ll be back. The nice young man at the desk - ” Kyle narrowed his eyes at her, but she pretended not to notice “ – doesn’t know where she was headed, but I slipped him a fifty and he’ll let us know the moment she returns. In the meantime, I got us a room so we don’t have to sit in the car all day.”

Kyle shot her a grateful look, and Johnny was somewhat appeased. It wasn’t ideal, but maybe a hot shower and a few Z’s wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Kyle went to grab their bags from the Jag, and Lina put her hand on Johnny’s arm.

“Everything will work out, Johnny. I know it will.” Johnny pulled his sister into an embrace. Fuck yes, it would. He would make sure of it.

* * *

T
rue to his word, Sam was an excellent guide. He drove around Valley Forge National Park, then parked and rolled her through some of the nicer sections, all the while spouting an impressive amount of little-known facts interspersed with personal anecdotes. The storms that had racked the entire east coast had cleared out to sea, leaving cool, crisp air in their wake.

Once rush hour was over, he took her down the Schuylkill Expressway (locally known as the “Sure Kill”, Sam informed her jovially) into Center City. They spent the remainder of the day touring the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and Stacey’s personal favorite, the Philadelphia Zoo. She ate her first-ever genuine Philly cheesesteak (part of one, anyway), and learned a few new words in Italian, which Sam discreetly told her she should never use in polite company. By the time Sam pulled up to the restaurant in King of Prussia, she was sorry to see him go.

“You have indeed been the perfect companion today, Sam,” she said fondly. “How can I ever thank you?”

“No thanks necessary, young lady, but appreciated just the same. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed myself so much. I can stick around if you’d like, take you back to the hotel when your meeting’s over.”

Stacey was sorely tempted to accept, but didn’t. She had no idea how long she would be, or what kind of shape she would be in afterwards. So much was hinging on what Dr. Hamilton had to say.

“Thanks, Sam, but I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

Sam studied her carefully for a moment before nodding. Stacey had a feeling he was a lot sharper than he let on, but he was wise enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

“As you like. But here, take this.” He pressed something into her hand. “That’s my personal number. You keep that, just in case you ever need a friend in town, you hear me, missy?”

Stacey smiled. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll do that.”

Without another word, Stacey rolled her chair toward the restaurant. Sam hurried to open the door before waving one last goodbye.

Stacey took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Hi,” she greeted the hostess. “Stacey Mallory. I’m meeting someone...”

W
hy is it that doctors are always late?
  Stacey wondered, glancing at her watch for the umpteenth time. Their meeting had been set for three; it was now three forty-five. Stacey would give her fifteen more minutes to show before she said the hell with it and went back to the hotel. Then Dr. Hamilton could just tell her what she had to say over the phone, because she was more than ready to go home. She’d even gone as far as to call Philly International to find out when the next non-stop flight to LA was.

A mixture of both relief and trepidation hit her the moment the doctor walked into the restaurant. As Dr. Hamilton scanned for her, Stacey noticed how much younger the doctor looked without her sterile white lab coat and her hair pulled back into a severe bun. With casual jeans and a pretty short-sleeved pink pinstripe shirt, Elena Hamilton caught more than a few appreciative male glances as her long legs glided the distance to Stacey’s table. Stacey found herself envious, then felt a bit guilty for that, and tried to shoot for feeling just plain nervous again.

“Stacey!  Thank you so much for waiting. I got stuck in traffic.” Elena Hamilton plopped down adjacent to her and gave her a genuine smile. The male server was there in a flash, taking Dr. Hamilton’s drink order.

“You’re looking good, Stacey. How are you feeling these days?” The doctor’s eyes were probing. Stacey knew when she was being sized up.

Despite the pleasant day she’d spent with Sam, she felt like a wire strung too tight and close to snapping. She was not in the mood for polite chit-chat.

“Why did you want to meet with me, Dr. Hamilton?” Stacey asked bluntly. “What is it that you would not tell me over the phone?”

The woman took a moment before she answered. Her practiced smile was in place, her confident physician’s manner rising to the surface.

“How have you been doing with your therapy, Stacey?” Elena asked instead.

Stacey looked away. More often than not, she’d missed her appointments these last few months, and Dr. Hamilton probably knew that. It was just so frustrating! No matter how hard she tried, it didn’t seem to help. The therapists were so patronizing, spewing clichés and platitudes. Their mouths said encouraging things, but their eyes held little hope. It drove her mad.  

“Your latest test results show little, if any, improvement. We’re almost beyond the window of opportunity, Stacey. Another few months and there’s almost no chance you are ever going to get out of that chair. Is that what you want?”

Stacey blinked, somewhat taken aback. It was unlike the doctor to be so blunt. Usually there were at least a few buffers placed around that kind of news to soften the blow.

Elena’s drink came, and they placed their food order, though Stacey doubted she’d be able to get anything past the huge lump in her throat. Not to mention that the cheesesteak that had tasted so good earlier was now sitting like a rock in her stomach.

“Is that the only reason you wanted to see me, Doc?  To chastise me for not spending half my life busting my ass doing exercises that aren’t going to do me any good?” She felt bad the moment she said it, but surprisingly, Dr. Hamilton looked pleased.

“No. Nor am I here to blow sunshine up your ass and promise you unicorns and rainbows,” Dr. Hamilton smirked.

Stacey’s jaw nearly hit the floor. The woman looked like the same doctor she’d been seeing, but this was not the calm, unaffected persona who spoke in neutral tones and was flawlessly professional. Stacey found that she liked this woman much better.

Dr. Hamilton leaned toward her, dropping her voice slightly. “But I am here to offer you a
chance
.”

“What chance?” Stacey eyed her suspiciously.

“I told you I’m here for a conference, right?” Stacey nodded. “It’s a conference on breakthrough procedures for severe neural injuries, particularly those to the spine and lower body.” Dr. Hamilton’s eyes grew lively, her face animated. “There’s a new procedure that is showing great promise in reversing certain kinds of nerve damage, and based on your latest test results, you, Stacey, are the perfect candidate.”

Stacey blinked, afraid to hope. Was Dr. Hamilton really offering her a chance to walk again?

“Okay, you’ve piqued my interest,” she said carefully. “What’s involved?”

Elena gave a very detailed description of exactly what the procedure entailed. After several years of hearing the medical jargon drilled into her head, Stacey was able to follow along fairly well.

“It is not without risk, however,” the doctor said. “There is a chance it will do more damage or that your body will reject the implants. And, of course, as with any major surgery, there is also a chance of fatality.” She mentioned it calmly, an honest if not welcome declaration.

Stacey considered her options. “What kind of percentages are we talking about here?”

Dr. Hamilton’s face darkened slightly before clearing again. “A fifty percent chance of complete success.”

Well, that sounded better than the less than ten percent chance she had now of ever walking again. “And the other fifty percent?”

“Forty to forty-five percent chance of rejection, resulting in an even greater loss of function.”

Not so good. Stacey swallowed hard. She didn’t have to ask what the remaining five to ten percent was.

“And how much time do I have to think about this?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. If you’re willing, we’d like to perform the surgery in the next few days, right here in the city. The best neurologists in the country are here for this conference, and I’ve shared your case files with them. You’d have the dream team of neurosurgery working on you. You’ll never find a better opportunity.”

“A few days?” Stacey said doubtfully, having been through enough surgical procedures to know better. “Pre-op testing takes longer than that.”

“Under normal circumstances, yes, but there is an expedited process for emergencies.”

“This isn’t exactly an emergency, though, is it?”

“Not in the true sense, no. But we are working with a very limited time frame. If you hadn’t called when you did, that window would be closed and we wouldn’t be discussing this. We’ll need a decision by tomorrow morning at the very latest.”

Stacey nodded. From the moment she first woke up in the hospital after the accident, she’d been asking herself what she would do if a chance like this came along. Would she be willing to take the risk?  Until a few days ago, her answer would have been a resounding “Yes!” with no hesitation whatsoever.

That was before she’d met Johnny. He was the first man to treat her like a beautiful, whole woman since the accident. The first man to hold her through one of her panic attacks; to make love to her as if she was the most desirable woman on earth. To make her breakfast in nothing but a thin pair of pants that invited her to recall everything they held within them while assaulting her with that jump-me-right-now sexy-ass grin of his.

Johnny was also the man she’d been able to push away so easily. The one who sped off on his Harley without looking back. She pictured the look on his face when he’d first seen her chair next to the bed. Thought about how he’d escaped up the stairs and she couldn’t follow after him. How she dreamed of being able to scoot behind him on that cycle, wrapping her arms around him and riding off into the night.

Maybe, just maybe, if she had this procedure, she might be able to do just that.

The other option, of course, was to decline. That was the safest. She was already living the worst-case scenario if she did that, namely, remain confined to her chair. It wasn’t so bad, really. Besides being unable to walk, she was healthy and relatively content, if lonely.

Could she be happy with that?

The more she thought about it, the more she knew her answer was “no”. These last few days reminded her what it was like to not just exist, but to
live
again. To experience fire and passion, to wake up and look forward to the day. To laugh and scream and hope.

Maybe, just
maybe
, she had misjudged Johnny. He’d said he was sorry, said he’d come get her. In truth, other than the initial shock of discovering her inability to walk, he had handled it better than most. There was a spark there, a chance for something beautiful, just the way she was.

If she didn’t take this chance, wouldn’t she always wonder “what if”?  Wouldn’t she always stare at a flight of stairs, wishing she could follow along behind him, even if it was to smack some sense into his thick male head? Or, more likely, to land a stinging slap on that tight ass of his? Wouldn’t she always dream wistfully that she could be with him when he rode off on his Harley into the sunset?  Or, even better, ride beside him on one of her own?

This decision was more about her inability to accept the rest of her life “as is” than his. Before the crash, she’d been the type of person who lived life to the fullest, without requiring special adaptations or arrangements. She loved roller coasters and thrill rides, skied and went white water rafting. She danced and flirted and drove a fast, sporty car. Went to rock concerts and dove from cliffs in Hawaii. Her dream was to visit Scotland and Ireland, the lands of her ancestors. To see a real castle and climb to the highest tower, without using her chair or specialized scooters...

On a less grand scale, but of no less importance, Stacey wanted people to
look
at her again. To see her face, receive her smile, say “hello”, instead of glancing away the moment she tried to meet their eyes.