Stone in Love (19 page)

“Wait. You don’t think something was going on between me and Asher, do you?”

His eyes had not deceived him. What did she take him for? Some kind of love–sick fool?

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been thinking about something you said last weekend. You said you were na�ve. Correction—
I
was the na�ve one. To think you might actually
appreciate
my helping you with your elusive job hunt.” He shook his head. “You are the most selfish, ungrateful person I’ve ever met. Oh, and with all of my uppity connections, I’ve met a lot of shady people too. But you,” jabbing his finger at her, “Lindsay Martin, take the prize.”

Lindsay bit her lip and blinked away tears. She staggered to a chair and flopped down.

“I can’t think of one time I ever boasted about money, or career, or social standings,” Charlie continued. “Those kinds of things aren’t the most important things in life. Love is. The love I
thought
I found with you.”

Charlie walked to the door. “You need to take a long look in the mirror and get down to the root of your problem. This is all about
your
insecurities. You need to own them. As far as you and Asher are concerned—it’s best if I keep my thoughts to myself. I’d hate to later regret what I might say.”

* * *

Charlie steered with one hand on the wheel and rubbed his temples with his free hand. It didn’t ease the throbbing in his head. He couldn’t get the image of Asher and Lindsay in such close proximity out of his mind. He wanted to believe the only reason Asher was there was to pick up his dad’s ring. It seemed feasible, but he didn’t know if he could trust her anymore. He didn’t know
her
anymore.

Walking on eggshells to stay on her good side was getting old. Was he a man, or a dog on a leash? He wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty for the things he’d said. Weren’t they all true, not to mention extremely overdue?

Mister Nice Guy was dead and gone. There was plenty Charlie could do to fill his time. When he wasn’t working, he could cut Aggie’s grass, or take Brutus to his vet appointments for Mr. Jenner. Okay, so Mister Nice Guy was dead as far as Lindsay was concerned.

The drive home was a blur. Charlie had been on auto–pilot, lost in thoughts. It wasn’t until he’d pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine that he snapped back to reality. A pair of headlights shone in his rearview mirror.

She wasn’t going to let him just walk away. Not after she’d come to terms with her real problems. She’d been so stunned by his harsh words that she was speechless. When Charlie walked out, her first instinct was to go bury her head in her pillow and sob uncontrollably. She’d changed though. It was time to stop pitying herself and go after the life she desired.

Moments after Charlie left, she’d grabbed the keys to her junky Focus and followed him home. She pulled into his driveway right behind him.

Charlie closed his car door and walked toward his porch. Lindsay followed.

He didn’t look at her. “Just let it go,” Charlie said, keeping his pace.

“I won’t. I let you speak your piece. Now I deserve to speak mine.”

Charlie spun around. “Do you?” he asked in a condescending tone. “I think I’ve given you more of my time than you deserve.”

“You’re right,” Lindsay said softly.

Charlie’s stiff posture relaxed slightly.

“I’m begging you, please, let me explain,” she said.

“I’m listening,” Charlie lied. He would tune her out just to get this over with.

“Thank you. Not only for hearing me out, but also for getting me that job. I should have told you that before, just like you said. I’ve treated you horribly.”

Lindsay hugged herself and paced. “Something happened between me and Asher. Not tonight; a year ago. I had no recollection of it until now. Something he said tonight at my apartment triggered my memory.”

Now she had his attention. He watched her move to and fro, nervously rubbing the outside of her arms as if it were thirty degrees (it was a comfortable seventy).

“He brought me home from a bar one night. I was drunk out of my mind. When I fought against his advances, he belittled me. He said he wouldn’t lower his standards to be with someone so beneath his elite social–class. He degraded my background, where I come from.”

She paused. It was equally painful recounting the event a second time. “He was about to leave … I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I countered. I told him he only had money because of his daddy and that he couldn’t buy me. He was infuriated. He came at me, knocking my head into my headboard. I passed out, and after that, I believe he had his way with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered, looking down.

“Me too, but I’m glad I remembered. Don’t you see,” she put her hands on Charlie’s arms, “that’s the reason for my unjustifiable hostility toward you.” She bent her knees trying to meet Charlie’s lowered gaze.

Charlie backed away. “I’m emotionally spent.” He was having trouble processing all this information.

“For the last few months, I’ve given you the best of me. When you give, give, give, ultimately you come to a point where there’s nothing left.” Charlie shrugged. “Do you understand? Maybe now that you’ve dealt with the past, you won’t run in to the same obstacles with your next relationship.”

Lindsay trembled and Charlie noticed, but he couldn’t extend a hand. He was numb. He ascended half of the front porch stairs, then turned. “Good luck, Lindsay.” He grasped the hand rail and trudged the rest of the way up.

Once inside, he shuffled to the wet bar in one corner of the living room. “Just forget her,” he said out loud, pouring a shot of Jack Daniels. Then he wondered, what if she truly was not involved with Asher? Maybe she hadn’t concocted that story about her drunken night with him just to save her ass.

Tires screeched nearby, followed by a crash. He slammed the shot glass down on the bar and ran to the door, swinging it open wide.

From the front yard he could see clearly to the stop sign at the end of the street. It was Lindsay.

Chapter Twenty–Two

Her red Focus had been T–boned by a full–size pickup.

He sprinted down the street.

“I’m so sorry,” cried the man stepping out of the truck.

Charlie waved him off. “Call 9–1–1.”

Charlie yanked open the bent car door, discovering Lindsay unconscious. “Lindsay, honey, everything’s gonna be all right. Charlie’s here.”

He stood and yelled to the driver of the pickup, “Hurry up!”

He knew not to move her. All he could do was hold her hand and wait. “Please be okay, Lindsay. Please.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you … just, please wake up.”

She mumbled something, her eyes flinching.

After what felt like an eternity, sirens wailed. “Help is here, honey. Just sit still.”

“Out of the way, sir,” an EMT said to Charlie. He set down the orange backboard and put a neck brace on Lindsay.

“What hospital are you taking her to?” Charlie asked.

“Medical University.”

“Can I come with you?”

“We need all available space to assess and monitor her inside the ambulance. Can you follow us there?”

Charlie nodded and ran back to his house. He started the car and stepped on the gas, trying to keep up with the flashing lights of the ambulance. His heart pounded in his chest.

At the hospital, he parked in a restricted spot without regard to having his vehicle towed.

Charlie kept his pace with the EMTs as they wheeled Lindsay through the sliding doors of the hospital. She opened her eyes a couple of times, but struggled to stay awake.

“I’m right here, doll,” Charlie said, holding her hand as he walked beside the stretcher.

“Where am I?” Lindsay asked with a groan.

“You had a little accident. You’re going to be fine,” Charlie said.

When they reached the swinging doors into the ER the paramedic stopped Charlie. “You’ll need to wait here, sir.”

“I understand. Please give me an update on her condition as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.” The paramedic pushed the doors open with the end of the stretcher.

Charlie stood on his tip toes and put his hands to the sides of his mouth. “I love you, Lindsay.”

While Charlie was pacing the waiting room, an officer who’d responded to the accident approached. “I understand you came in with the driver of the Ford Focus.”

“That’s right.”

“I thought she might need this.” He handed Charlie her purse. “Any other personal belongings she will have to retrieve from the junk yard. She won’t be driving that car again.”

If he wasn’t so distraught, he’d probably have laughed at that. He finally got his way, after all. And her replacement car was already on stand–by.

“I trust you’ll deliver this to her.” The officer handed Charlie an accident report. “I had to cite her at fault, since she ran the stop sign. She needs to have this form completed by her insurance company and forwarded to the DMV within ten days. Tell her to call me if she has any questions. My phone number is on the bottom.”

“Sure, officer.”

A blue traffic ticket with a hefty four–hundred–dollar fine was stapled to the accident report. Charlie detached it and put it in his back pocket. That’s one less thing she’d have to worry about.

In the cold waiting room, Charlie flipped through the channels of the wall–mounted television. On one of the sports networks, the scroll across the bottom of the screen read:
Tom Lally traded to his former team, the Atlanta Braves, for two minor league players yet to be named.

That caught his attention. He made a mental note to look on the Braves website once Lindsay was better.

“Sir,” a nurse called.

Charlie stood. “Yes?”

“You can come back now.” She held the emergency room door open for him.

“Is she okay?” Charlie said, dashing past the nurse.

“She’s going to be fine,” the nurse said when she caught up. At the end of the hall, she pulled back the privacy curtain of a temporary room.

Lindsay was sitting up in the bed, her back supported by two pillows. She glanced toward Charlie out the corner of her eye. “Hey there, stranger,” she said softly.

Charlie approached the side of the hospital bed and kneeled down. He gently slid his hand, palm first, under hers. He pressed his cheek against the outside of her hand and kissed it.

“I love you,” Charlie said. “I want to say that right now, so there is no confusion.”

“I know.”

“You do? But we fought, and I said some terrible things I shouldn’t have, and—”

“I heard you earlier,” Lindsay said, “before I went into the ER.”

“How? You were so out of it.”

A tall, graying doctor walked into the room. “You doing all right, Miss Lindsay?”

“Just a little sore.”

He powered on a flat–screen monitor bolted to the foot of the bed. X–ray photos appeared on the screen. “As you can see,” he said pointing to the screen, “there is no bleeding or swelling. Looks like you’re going home with a few superficial scrapes and that’s about it.”

“What a relief. Thank you,” Lindsay said.

The doctor gestured in Charlie’s direction. “Will this gentleman be driving you home?”

“Will you?” Lindsay asked Charlie.

“Of course. You’re going to
my
house.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the doctor said. “Keep a close eye on her tonight, and call if you need us. The nurse will be here in a few minutes with her discharge papers.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Charlie said, shaking his hand.

He kneeled down beside Lindsay again. “So, just a few scrapes, huh?” A marked groove set in between his eyes. “And what about right after the accident, when I opened your car door? Were you knocked out then?”

Lindsay couldn’t keep a straight face. “I confess, I never lost consciousness. Don’t get me wrong, little birdies were circling my head, but I knew you were there. I wanted so badly to hear that you still cared for me.”

“You drive me nuts, woman, but I always have cared for you. I think I always will, even if I don’t want to.” Charlie raised his head and looked down his nose. “You didn’t cause that accident on purpose, did you?”

“Of course not! There were so many cars parked along the road, I really couldn’t see the truck coming. Good thing he was maneuvering past them slowly. It could have been worse. Damn beach–goers. They just park anywhere they want to, causing all kinds of problems.”

Charlie extended his arm over her pillows and pressed his cheek to hers. “You would know, wouldn’t you, doll?” A kiss on her cheek followed.

“I guess so,” she said, and hid her face behind her hands.

They both laughed.

* * *

Although Lindsay didn’t have serious injuries, she was still too sore to climb stairs. Charlie carried her up the front porch steps and set her down just inside the house.

“Want me to set you up right here in the living room?” Charlie asked.

“That’d be a good idea, since I’ll be close to everything.”

Charlie helped her to the sofa and eased her down. He put a throw pillow behind her head and took off her shoes and socks. After he covered her with a soft green blanket, he pulled the recliner right beside her.

“Aren’t you going to bed?” Lindsay asked.

“Nope, I’m staying right here to watch over you.”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to—”

Charlie held a finger to his lips. “Shh. You’ve had a long night. Get some rest.”

It took less than a minute for Lindsay to doze off.

Too anxious to go right to sleep, Charlie raised the footrest on the recliner, grabbed his laptop off the side table, and typed in the Braves website address. The headline on the home page read:
Charity dinner featuring Braves players this weekend. Tickets still available.

He clicked on the next article that confirmed Tom Lally was once again an Atlanta Brave. It didn’t take him long to conjure up a plan—one that could go down in history as the greatest date ever.

Chapter Twenty–Three