“Just make sure he gets plenty of rest.” The doc pointed her pen at Xander, her expression stern. “And Mr. Anagnos, it’s vital that you get plenty of rest and take your pain meds. Deep breaths will be uncomfortable for the next few weeks, but it’s crucial you use your spirometer. Shallow breathing can lead to pneumonia.”
He groaned. “I need to work. So does Hannah.”
The doc wasn’t having any of his excuses. “Mr. Anagnos, you are lucky to be alive. If you don’t give your body the rest it needs, your healing could easily drag on for several months, not to mention the effects a close brush with death can have on your mental health.” She swiveled to Hannah. “That goes for you too, Ms. Leone. Do not underestimate the impact of this trauma.”
Hannah gingerly took Xander’s hand and squeezed, though the motion tugged her stitches painfully. His one-eyed gaze lasered onto hers, and a silent understanding passed between them. Whatever their differences, they’d narrowly escaped disaster yesterday. This kind of second chance is not something you squander.
She rubbed her thumb over the back of his bruised hand, memorizing the fine bones, the delicate lines of blue veins beneath his skin. The realization of what she’d almost lost suffused her body with aching remorse and giddy gratitude. “We’ll both rest up, doctor.” She lifted his hand to her lips. “Even if I have to tie him to the bed.”
The doctor and nurse exchanged amused looks. “Sorry, but that kind of fun is off the menu for at least two weeks. We’ll re-evaluate at your follow-up appointment. Until then, no exertion, Mr. Anagnos. No alcohol, no stress, and absolutely no heavy lifting.” She patted his uninjured leg and hurried out, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and happy birthday.”
His eyes closed on a groan.
“Helluva birthday present,” Hannah muttered under her breath. What had poor Xander ever done to deserve this?
“How old are you today?” Nurse Tamara sing-songed as she fetched Xander’s belongings from a locked cabinet.
“The big four-oh.” With Hannah’s help, he rose to a sitting position. “I used to wonder how I’d celebrate this day.” He gave a dry chuckle. “No disrespect to Zora, but her curse cure is crap.”
“By the way.” The nurse opened a cabinet and shook out Xander’s torn, blood-stained clothes. “You might want to fetch him something to wear home. These won’t do, and hospital gowns are kinda drafty.” Grinning, she left them alone.
Hannah clutched his shredded shirt to her chest. “Oh, Xander, I’m so sorry. I thought if I nudged Malinowski and Alterman, they’d support your mini mall by renting out one of the shops. I had no idea they’d try to take over.” She dabbed her streaming eyes with the dusty rag. “I should’ve seen that coming. I swear, I’ll never interfere with your plans again.”
He studied her for several seconds of agonizing silence before rasping out, “If you hadn’t meddled, the demo would have taken place on time and without a crowd. It’s a miracle we were the only two hurt.”
She hung her head under the weight of his well-deserved condemnation.
A soft touch under her chin raised her gaze back to his. “But you ran into the wreckage to find me. Hell of a brave thing to do, Hannah. So, thank you.”
His watery smile rekindled her hope. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would take time, but maybe they could recapture the love that had started to bloom before it all came tumbling down.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Twoweekscoopedupin an RV? Not fun.
Hannah’s quiet presence kept him from coming completely unglued, but she refused the deep conversation he craved, insisting he rest up and heal.
Being confined with a cranky, restless patient couldn’t have been much fun for her either, yet despite her responsibilities as new editor-in-chief of thePacific County Beacon, she stayed stubbornly put in their little sick bay for two.
By day, she worked from the tiny dinette at one end of the RV while he made phone calls and pored over insurance documents from his bed at the other end, his injured leg elevated on a pile of pillows. Eagle-eyed and fierce as any mama bear, she thwarted his every effort to get out of bed except to limp to the toilet.
By night, his mental wheels spinning, he listened to her faint snores and mumbled sleep-talk. Knowing her sleepy-soft body was only thirty feet away was sheer torture. And hearing her morning shower in the tiny RV conjured memories of her slippery wet skin beneath his hands, warm water trickling between her breasts, dripping from the curls between her thighs…
“Arrgh.” He tossed aside yet another packet of insurance claim forms.
Footsteps hurried toward him. Hannah’s worried face popped around the accordion door. “What’s wrong?”
He stretched as far as his injured ribs would permit and stacked his palms behind his head. “You.”
“Me?” Her nose wrinkled adorably as she tried to puzzle what the hell he was talking about.
He patted the mattress, but she just folded her arms and leaned against the narrow doorframe. “None of that. Doctor’s orders. Besides, you and I have unfinished business to tackle before we re-open that can of worms.”
“I miss you, Han,” he protested. “And you’re right there, twenty-four seven. It’s unbearable.”
“You’ll see Doctor Bakshi on Wednesday.” He caught her gaze skimming down his supine body. She missed their connection as much as he did, yet she kept their physical contact to a minimum.
She was annoyingly smart that way. Probably still chewing on her guilt too.
