When Summer Comes (12 page)

“Where’s your cell?” he asked. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No.” After rising slightly, she slumped back to the floor. “I...I know what’s wrong. There’s nothing...nothing they can do for me. I just...I need to rest. You...go back to bed.”

“And leave you like this?”

She didn’t answer. She seemed to be conserving her strength.

“We should get a doctor,” he argued.

“No.”
The word came out as a whisper, an emphatic one.

“How do you know? We’ve got to try. You look...you look
really
sick.”

“I’ll be fine...in a little while. It was just...the shock...earlier. It...it upset my system.”

The shock? Did she mean when she came out to the barn? He’d grabbed her because he didn’t know who it was, but he hadn’t hurt her. How could that have resulted in
this?

“Come here.” He bent to help her up, but she fended him off and lunged for the toilet.

“Go out,” she said, her words feeble, broken, as she retched and sputtered and coughed. “Go...out.”

Levi wanted to leave her in peace, but he couldn’t. He was afraid of what might happen to her. After smoothing the hair out of her face, he supported her by the shoulders while she finished throwing up. Maybe she didn’t want him to be part of this, but he’d seen a lot worse in his day. He was just glad her vomit wasn’t filled with blood.

He flushed the toilet. Then he got a cool damp washcloth so he could wipe her mouth and face.

“It’s freezing on this floor. That can’t be good for you,” he said, and gathered her in his arms.

She didn’t fight him. She didn’t seem capable of it. She did try to protest, however. “I can’t...go to bed yet. What if...what if I have to...throw up again?”

“I’ll get a pan, just in case.”

When he returned from the kitchen, he found her curled up in the middle of the bed. She’d made a halfhearted attempt to cover herself, but even that seemed to require too much effort.

“Look.” He lightly rubbed her back to get her to open her eyes. “Your pan is right here.”

She gave a barely perceptible nod as he wedged it between a pillow and the headboard.

“Now let’s get you warm.” He pulled down her shirt to cover her panties and rearranged the covers, but he couldn’t leave her even then. She was too cool and clammy, too weak. He’d never seen someone look this fragile—not someone who’d lived. He was still tempted to call an ambulance. He would have if she hadn’t been so certain he shouldn’t. His own reservations about not involving public authorities made him sensitive to that.

“Can I call your vet friend at least?” he asked.

“No! Please, no one.” She caught his hand and attempted a smile. “Thanks.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he whispered, curling his fingers around hers so she wouldn’t have to use any strength to hang on to him.

“Just...the flu,” she said, but she was shivering so violently he could barely understand her.

What the hell was going on?

Releasing her, Levi started to walk out of the room. He didn’t want to feel the empathy he was feeling, didn’t want to watch Callie suffer, even through the flu. He’d had a front row seat to so much suffering already.

She’d be fine, he told himself. The flu didn’t last long. But he couldn’t force his feet to move past the bedroom door. He was too worried. He paced for a few seconds, arguing with himself. Then he gave up, took off his shirt and slipped beneath the covers, hoping his body heat would quickly warm her.

She didn’t respond when he pulled her against his body, but it seemed to help. She never had to reach for the pan he’d brought, never spoke, hardly even moved. Slowly, she stopped shivering and clasped one of his hands in both of hers, tucking it under her chin before she fell asleep.

* * *

When Callie woke, she felt almost like new. Sometimes the slightest thing could make her ill. Too much stress. Too much or too little of her medication, which was why her doctor kept adjusting the dosage. The kind of shock that resulted from bad news or a sudden scare. Lack of sleep. She was embarrassed that Levi had seen her retching over a toilet bowl. That couldn’t have been a pretty sight. For some reason, she cared more than she wanted to about what he thought of her; she supposed it was basic female vanity. But regardless of all that, she was grateful for his help and couldn’t fault how he’d handled the situation. He’d been kind, gentle, supportive. He was still in bed with her, his muscular body more effective at keeping her warm than an electric blanket.

She didn’t move right away. She was comfortable wedged up against him, didn’t want him to take her awakening as a signal that he should leave her bed.

Something must’ve told him she was no longer asleep, however, because he spoke. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You scared me.”

She smiled when he snuggled closer. They barely knew each other, but here they were—one with a damaged body and the other, from all indications, with a wounded soul—offering each other the solace of physical comfort. She’d never realized how much being held during such a low moment could mean. Maybe, because of her situation, she was putting too much store in it, but she’d been as content during the past few minutes as ever before in her life—probably more so because now she knew how to appreciate simple things.

“What?” he said as if he could tell she was busy thinking and wanted her to share her thoughts.

“Nothing. It’s just...if you’d told me last week that I’d be spending the night with a tall, blond stranger, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Because there are no strangers in your world,” he said with a laugh. “You know everyone.”

He didn’t laugh often. She liked the sound of it. “Exactly.”

“Even
I
wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my bike—and those dogs.”

The idea of his leaving didn’t appeal to her. He’d given her a new focus, someone to worry about other than herself. She liked having him here. “I know.”

“I hope...”

“What?” she prompted.

“I hope I didn’t cause what happened.”

At first she didn’t understand what he meant, but then she remembered telling him it was the scare that had made her sick. It probably was. But normal people didn’t get deathly ill from an encounter like that. “No. I wasn’t making sense last night. It was just the flu. Anybody can get the flu.”

“So you’re better?” He didn’t seem convinced.

“I am.”

“Good. Then I’m going to make you something to eat so you’ll stay that way.”

“
You’re
cooking?”

“Unless you don’t want me in your kitchen.”

She’d rather have him in her bed. But she was also eager for a few minutes of privacy to brush her teeth. “The kitchen’s up for grabs,” she said, hiding a yawn. “Knock yourself out.”

When he got up, he inadvertently gave her a good view of his backside in those briefs. As thin as he was, he had a nice build. But last night hadn’t been about beauty or physique. Only now that she felt well enough to appreciate the sight did his attire, or lack thereof, matter.

Her excitement over his near-nudity withered instantly when Kyle’s voice boomed through the house.
“Callie?”
He sounded as if he was on a tear. “Where are you?”

She sent Levi a startled glance, but there was no time to say anything, no time for Levi to grab a shirt or a pair of pants. A second later, Kyle stood in the doorway of her bedroom, his jaw hanging open at the sight of Levi in his underwear.

“I was going to ask why you’re not answering your phone, but I think I can guess.” He seemed more shocked than angry.

Levi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond, and Callie was glad he was allowing her to handle Kyle’s surprise visit. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said. “I was sick last night. It’s fortunate that Levi was here to take care of me.”

“He did that in his underwear, did he?”

“He was sleeping when I started throwing up.”

Kyle’s chest lifted as he took a deep breath. “How could he have heard that from the barn?”

“He wasn’t in the barn. I—I’d asked him to come in because—”

“You could’ve called me,” Kyle broke in. “I would’ve helped you.”

“I know. But I had no warning, and I didn’t realize it would get as bad as it did.”

“What made you sick?”

“The flu.”

“Wait...” He blinked as he shook his head. “Why was he inside again?”

“I didn’t want the two guys who own the dogs that attacked him to come back. They gave us some trouble night before last, remember?”

She purposely didn’t mention that the prospect of the police returning also worried her. She knew how it would make Levi look to say he wanted to avoid them.

Kyle didn’t seem to be listening, anyway. If she had her guess, he was feeling too many conflicting emotions. Shock. Outrage. Possessiveness. Chagrin at the knowledge that he had no right to be possessive.

Once again they were in that no-man’s-land they’d created when they’d slept together.

“Shit,” he said at last.

Levi raised a hand. “Look, I’m leaving in a few days. You have nothing to worry about.”

Kyle eyed him, gave a deep sigh. “I’m not worried about me. Don’t you get that? She deserves someone who’s capable of loving her. Someone who’s stable and can help her build a good life. She wants marriage, kids. Is that what you have to offer?”

“I have nothing to offer. I’m leaving, like I said.”

“Then do it before you hurt her,” he snapped, and walked out.

A second later, Callie heard what she hadn’t noticed before he let himself in—the sound of his truck engine. It flared up, then dimmed as he drove away.

Levi shoved a hand through his hair. “How’d he get in?”

She’d locked the door. Levi had watched her do it after she’d brought him into the house. “He has his own key.”

Lowering his head, he started to leave the room, but she didn’t want him to go just yet. She felt the need to explain.

“Kyle and I have slept together. You were right about that.”

He looked at her but said nothing. She couldn’t even ascertain what he was feeling.

“It’s happened a few times—five or six. But...it’s not what you think. It’s not about love, and it’s not about screwing around just to get off.”

“Then what’s it about?”

She got the impression that he didn’t want to ask but couldn’t resist. “We’re both tired of being alone, I guess.”

He seemed to consider her response. “I can understand that,” he said, and went to get dressed.

* * *

Callie had a doctor’s appointment. She didn’t want to admit that to Levi, didn’t want him asking any questions. But she was also nervous about leaving him there alone. Not because she thought he’d steal from her or harm anything. She was afraid he’d be gone when she came back.

That was really an odd reaction to have to a drifter, someone she’d always known she couldn’t maintain a relationship with. But she couldn’t help it. All morning she kept remembering how it had felt when he’d snuggled up with her. Different from Kyle. Different from any other guy she’d been with—not that there’d been very many. She’d also been unable to get the image of Levi standing by her bed in his briefs, with certain body parts more apparent than usual, out of her mind.

“So do you want me to put Rifle in the fenced yard while I’m gone?” she asked as she stood beneath the ladder Levi was using, holding her purse and her car keys.

Levi focused on the dog pacing at her heels. Rifle had been running loose on the property—she let him do that when someone was out with him—and there hadn’t been any trouble between the two of them. Still, before she drove off, Callie wanted to be sure Levi felt safe. She didn’t want to come home to see either him or her dog hurt. The stitches that snaked across the golden skin on his arms were a constant reminder.

“He’s fine. He doesn’t go more than a few feet from me.” Levi’s biceps strained as he adjusted a piece of heavy metal he was attaching to the roof.

“You’re sure?”

He shifted the metal until he was satisfied he had it in place. “Positive.”

He’d made a lot of progress since breakfast. Not long ago, she’d heard him start his motorcycle, knew he was double-checking his repairs. Now he was working on the barn.

She gazed around the property, seeing all the other jobs he could do. But he wouldn’t want to stay, even if she could offer him work. Whatever had sent him out on the road seemed to be chasing him, especially when he let down his guard. He refused to allow himself to form any attachments. For whatever reason, even friends were too much of an emotional risk for him.

She wondered what had happened in Afghanistan, guessed it was the tragedies of war that had left him so scarred.

“When will you be back?” he called as she walked toward her car.

“It’ll be several hours.”

“You’ll be at the studio?”

She cleared her throat. She’d said she had some errands to run. Apparently, he assumed that stopping at the studio would be one of them.

She didn’t correct him. “That’s right.”

“Can you pick up a handful of these nails from the hardware store on your way back?”

He got off the ladder to show her what he had in his pocket, and she took one with her, just to be sure she got the correct kind.

“Don’t worry about dinner,” she said. “I’ll bring something.”

He squinted against the sun as he stared at her.

“What?” she said when he didn’t go back to work.

“You sure you’re okay? Last night was...last night seemed bad.”

“The flu always seems bad. I’m fine.”

“Good.” His gaze moved down. “By the way, I really
like that dress.”

A tingle of awareness made her curl her fingernails into her palms. She’d chosen the dress with him in mind.

* * *

Callie chewed her bottom lip as she tried to read her hepatologist’s expression. Had her situation worsened? Would her placement on the national organ-donor list change?

She hated going to the doctor’s alone. She was most tempted to tell someone about her condition whenever she faced an appointment. One of her friends would gladly have driven her the hour it took to reach the University of Davis Medical Center.