The Dysfunctional Test (12 page)

“Ibuprofen is okay for pain. If you have any nausea or memory loss, come right back in. Do you have any questions?”

Are you sure you can’t admit my family to the psych ward for observation?

“Nope. Can I go now?”

He nodded. “I’ll get your discharge instructions ready.” He glanced around the room, looking like a five-year-old who just wet himself. “You can get dressed now.”

“Well, at least she won’t be wearing a cast in the wedding photos,” Tetaka Myrtle said.

Troy rose slowly, and before Camryn could open her mouth to intercept, he started yelling. “She could’ve been killed! She could’ve been paralyzed, and you’re worried about wedding pictures? If not for her, Emily could’ve been a patient too.”

Heather clapped her hands. “Out, everyone. Before Troy goes postal. Enough for one day. Come on.”

A halo popped over Heather’s head. The family exited the room in silence.

Troy pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He stared down at her, a look crossing his face she’d never seen before. After staring at her for several moments, he turned and flopped sideways on the foot of her bed.

“I thought I was going to kill them. How’s that for wedding photos? No one would be alive. We’d have to prop them up like mannequins.”

She grinned. “They were just worried. You know them. They treat everything like an apocalypse.”

He turned his head and looked at her. “I’ve never been that scared in my life. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Her chest swelled, making it hard to breathe. “I should have a T-shirt made: ‘I visited a Boulder ER and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.’”

Frowning, he sat up and stared at her. “You pick now to grow a funny bone?”

If only he knew. She shrugged. “At least I saved you from having to ride the horse back to the stable.”

“Dear God, you are trying to be funny. You hit your head harder than I thought.” He shook his head. “If I ever see you on a horse again, it’ll be too soon.”

“May I remind you, if you hadn’t been flirting with a pretty blonde farm girl, this never would’ve happened.”

His gaze darted down to his hands as he swallowed. She’d gone too far. Her stomach sank. She reached for his arm, but he rose and stepped back.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed. I’ll meet you outside.”

Shoot. “Troy, I was only kidding…”

But he was gone.

Troy stepped out into the Hortons’ yard and drew a deep breath. Still shocked at how much cooler it was here at night, he crossed his arms and glanced up. Thunder rolled in the distance. Moments later the western sky lit with lightning. The storm was coming later than forecasted, the humidity heavy. His and Cam’s bedroom light blinked on above him.

He’d nearly lost it today. Seeing her on the ground, with Emily sprawled over her…

They’d been his family, his only true family, since long before he thought he needed one. He told himself the panic was for that reason. Even now, he still feared the Covics abandoning him. In the quiet of night, though, he knew that to be a lie.

Somewhere in the space between right and wrong, between family and friend, Camryn was becoming more. Warning bells went off in his house before they even left for Colorado when she backed into his table. When he touched her. Turning his head, he looked at the spot in the yard where they’d kissed.

He shook his head. Because of his inattention, Emily or Cam could’ve been hurt. There was no force on Earth that would’ve allowed him to forgive himself had that happened.

Ever since his father got locked away when he was eighteen, he’d made a pact with himself to never become the monster his dad was. Never raise a fist, never drink more than one beer, never hurt another person. Use humor when possible, smile freely, show those he loved how he felt.

In honesty, his pact was probably why he never allowed himself to truly fall in love. Love led to marriage, which led to kids… And though it sickened him, his father’s DNA coursed through his blood. It only took a second to lose his patience and repeat the cycle of abuse.

A door closed behind him. He turned and looked at Fisher. “What are you still doing awake?”

Fisher shoved his hands in his pockets and stood next to him. “I could ask the same thing.”

Troy looked out over the horizon. “I keep seeing them in my head, laying there.”

“Me too.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Fisher. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Fisher turned to face him. “That’s not why I came out. It was an accident, Troy. Nothing more. And thankfully not serious.”

Fisher was more forgiving than he was. “What do you want to say, then? I know you. There’s something on your mind.”

Fisher looked up at their bedroom window and then at his feet. “Emily and Camryn aren’t the only ones I keep seeing in my mind. It’s you too. The look on your face when you saw her fall. The one you had at the hospital.” He looked him in the eye. “You’ve never looked at a woman the way you looked at her today. So this thing with you and Cam, it’s okay with me.”

Troy closed his mouth and searched Fisher’s face. Long, perfectly shaven, dimple on the right cheek. Eyes staring frankly into his, offering Troy the ultimate trust. If he was becoming that transparent for Fisher to see, what must Cam be thinking? Troy couldn’t say anything through the lump in his throat, but his mind raced to spill the truth to his best friend.

No words would come. Truth be told, he’d rather have Fisher mad at him.

Fisher nodded. “Good night.”

Troy stared at the door as it closed, and then up at the sky as it rained.

Chapter Eight

Life Lessons According to Camryn:

Most of the time, life doesn’t pass me by, it tries to run me over.

Camryn sat on the bed alone, biting her thumbnail, waiting for Troy to return. She wanted to erase that look on his face she’d put there in the hospital. She’d always thought Troy was too laid back to take anything seriously. Maybe he hid his guilt as well as she hid her discontent.

Lightening flashed, illuminating the room brighter than the lamp did. She’d seen him outside and had turned on the light so he’d know she was awake. They hadn’t been left alone since the hospital. What she had to say was for his ears only.

He came in a few minutes later, glanced at her, then pulled off his damp shirt. Every time he took his shirt off she wanted to run her hands over his chest to see what it felt like. All that hard muscle and smooth, tanned skin. As her skin heated, he stood next to the bed, staring at it like he didn’t know what to do next.

“I didn’t mean what I said, Troy.” He didn’t say anything, just kept staring at his side of the bed. “Look at me.” When he did, she almost broke out into tears. “It wasn’t funny, and I’m sorry.”

In the seconds that ticked by, as they looked at each other, she remembered lying in bed one night as a kid, listening to Troy’s cries through the wall. A stupid kid, she’d wracked her brain trying to think of a way to make him feel better. She’d never experienced that kind of sadness. Her parents were odd, but they’d never hurt her. How terrible it must have been to have the one person who was supposed to love you hate you so much.

She’d snuck into the bedroom he shared with Fisher and saw her brother was asleep. Troy had quickly wiped his face and sat up from the bottom bunk. Not wanting to embarrass him, she walked to the shelf and pulled out a blue Matchbox pick-up truck. She handed the toy to him.
Take this to remind you that one day you’ll be old enough to drive away
, she’d whispered.
It’s not your fault
.

She didn’t think it helped him back then, and it probably wouldn’t now either. “It’s not your fault.”

He flinched, then blinked and swallowed. His gaze whipped to the patio doors, and then over her. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I’m fine, Troy.” He needed to know that, so she repeated it. “I’m fine.”

“Does anything hurt? Do you need more meds?”

“No and no. I’m fine.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. He looked at the doors again, probably remembering the kiss they shared the other night. Knowing Troy, he was most likely trying to take a scrub brush to his brain to forget.

“Are you dizzy or nauseous?”

She sighed. “Troy…”

He came around to her side of the bed and looked down at her. “Just answer the question.”

“No, I’m…”

“Fine,” he said. “Good.”

Before she even knew what the heck happened, he picked her up and set her over his shoulder. Visions of him needing spine surgery flashed before her eyes. “Put me down. You’re going to end up in the ER too.”

He carried her to the patio doors, opened them, and deposited her on the balcony in the rain. She made a dash past him to get inside, but his arm snaked around her waist and set her right back. His palm came up as he filled the doorway, in his other hand he pushed buttons on his cell.

“I’m not amused, Troy. Let me inside.”

“Singing in the Rain” began playing from his phone. He turned up the volume and set the phone on a nearby dresser. “Dance,” he ordered.

By now, she was soaking wet and resembling a sodden sloth. “Excuse me?” He grinned, and her heart dropped solidly to her stomach. Damn that smile of his.

“Dance, Cam. It’s on the list. I’m not letting you in until you do.”

Her jaw dropped. He wasn’t serious. First, wishing on stars. Then, scaring the ever-living crap out of her with that movie. Now this? “No. This is…”

“Stupid,” he finished. “I know. Do it anyway.”

She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her breasts. And to disobey. He stepped out into the rain with her and took her hand, wrapping his arm around her waist. Spinning in a dizzying waltz, he lead them around the tiny balcony while singing a terrible rendition of Gene Kelly’s famous song.

Trying her best to hang like a limp noodle, she eventually gave up and started laughing. She wrapped her arms around his waist and danced. He was bona fide nuts. And she was getting there by allowing him to do this.

The song ended and he stopped, but her giggles couldn’t be quashed. This wasn’t only stupid, is was insane.

And God help her, it felt good.

Thunder cracked overhead as he looked down his nose at her. His hair was shades darker from the rain, his eyes darker yet. Rain poured off his face and onto hers. She stopped laughing and stared back. Stopped breathing.

That’s when she realized her hands were trapped between her sopping shirt and his bare chest. Wet, bare, hard chest. She looked at her fingers sprawled over his skin, and just once, just to know what it felt like, she brushed her fingertips over his chest. His heartbeat thumped hard beneath her palm. Despite the heat radiating from inside her, he shivered as if he were cold, but he made no attempt to let her go.

Beneath her palm, his heart rate sped as they continued to stare at each other. A muscle ticked in his jaw. What was he thinking?

She was thinking they were going to catch pneumonia. Then her family could bitch about that. What she wanted was his mouth over hers again. She wanted that more than anything she ever wanted before. The impractical side she never let escape needed him to kiss her. To make her feel like she was a desirable woman worthy of kissing on a balcony in the rain. She’d never felt such a primal need before. In her past relationships, there had been attraction, but not like this. Troy wasn’t her boyfriend. They weren’t a couple.

She made an attempt to back away, but he held firm. He brought his hand up to brush a strand of wet hair from her cheek, and she watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Bending, he lifted her just enough to back her into the bedroom and set her down. Her heart rate sped, hoping he’d…

Drop his arms like she’d electrocuted him. No, that definitely wasn’t what she had in mind.

“Check that off the list,” he said. “You danced in the rain.”

Turning around, he closed the balcony doors and walked to the bathroom. She didn’t so much as blink until she heard his shower running.

Heat drained from her body, replacing the unfamiliar warmth and optimism with her usual emptiness.

Troy glanced at the bedside clock and flopped an arm over his face. Four and a half minutes until he needed to wake Cam again. The first time he had her count backward from twenty. He should have had her recite the periodic table, except he’d have no idea if she was right. Maybe this time he’d mix it up and have her list the state capitals.

She’d know what they were too.

He could listen to her voice longer then. The quiet, sleepy lull that was driving his libido mad. He was starting to contrive ways to irritate her just to hear his name from her lips.

He’d made her laugh. While dancing in the rain under duress, he’d made her laugh. His rib cage was still shaking from the way the sound made him feel. Like he was Superman. Like she was Lois.

Back at his house, when first discussing the plan, he’d joked that shams like this always ended with a backfire. The couple overcame the odds, couldn’t live without each other, and declared their undying love with a musical interlude.