Page 79 of Love By a Landslide

Their family always teased Frankie, claiming she was the stubborn one. And usually, that was true. But on rare occasions—when it really mattered—her brother would dig his heels in ten times deeper than she could ever manage.

This was going to be one of those occasions.

“Fine.” Frankie glanced at Miguel, who was vehemently shaking his head. She rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him. “I know my brother. He won’t let it drop.” She looked in the rearview mirror and found Jonathan staring at her, eyes full of heart-wrenching anguish. “On one condition. First, you will hug Mom, shower, and eatsomething. Got it?”

He sagged back into his seat and blew out a relieved breath. Nodding, he said, “Fine. Thanks, sis.”

“What happened out there anyways?” She’d been there with Jonathan in the aftermath of trauma. First, losing their father then again with Cynthia. Each time he’d just . . . stopped. Off switch engaged. Completely shut down. But this felt different.

It was as though she was looking at a man who knew he’d lost everything but still wanted to go in for another round of punishment. She’d get it out of him. Frankie lacked the sensor that warned a person to back off. Getting him mad was the only way to make Jon spill his guts.

She glanced at him one more time through the mirror. He tilted his head back against the headrest and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. A tear slipped between thick lashes and trailed down his smudged cheek.

Tomorrow. She’d pester him tomorrow.

Chapter thirty-nine

Jonathan

Jonathan ignored the sinking sensation in his gut as he washed the dirt and grime from his ravaged body. Since watching the ambulance drive off, he’d been replaying the incident over and over in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of Lucy falling into that river, nor could he refute the fact that it was his fault that she did.

Instead of protecting her, remaining attentive to her safety, he’d allowed the terror to wash over him. If he hadn’t frozen on that bridge, she wouldn’t have turned around and slipped.

He didn’t protect her. She deserved better than someone who puts his own well-being ahead of hers. Someone who can swallow their own fear and do what needs to be done.

I’m a coward, and it nearly killed her.

Jonathan was the wrong person for Lucy and he had to end things. Immediately. And while he was dreading the look on her face when he said goodbye, he knew ripping off the bandage and cutting ties as soon as possible was the best thing for her. She’d go home, get some distance from him, and it wouldn’t take long before their encounter reduced to an interesting story she shared at barbecues or dinner parties. He, on the other hand, would dream about her nightly, summoning the cocktail of longing and regret that he’d no doubt punish himself for until the day he died.

But she would be safe.

Safer than if she stuck around.

The detour home seemed to take hours, and Jonathan was anxious to get to the hospital. So much so, that when Frankie finally drove him there and turned into the parking garage, he’d all but leaped from the slow-moving car.

“Pull over. I’ll meet you in there,” he ordered, wrenching on the door handle before they stopped. Ignoring his sister’s complaints, he crossed in front of her car, nearly getting clipped by an SUV exiting the pay station.

Jonathan entered through the front doors and marched up to the reception desk.

“Tell me where to find Lucy O’Malley. She was brought into the ER today.”

A young man in his twenties with shaggy blond hair and glasses, unfazed by the bristly demand, typed rapidly on his keyboard. “O’Malley you said?” Jonathan nodded, rubbing his week-old stubble and winching when he caught the stitches on his jaw. Two days past the sweet spot, the beard was itchy, but he hadn’t been willing to waste precious time shaving when they stopped at home. “It looks like she’s no longer in the ER. The general medicine ward is on the fourth floor. You’ll find her there. But it’s outside of visiting hours, so they may turn you away.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Jonathan said then muttered his thanks and hurried toward the bay of elevators, pausing briefly to buy a bouquet of flowers from the gift shop. A few minutes later, he stood at the check-in station, asking for Lucy’s room.

“Visiting hours are over, young man,” a nurse with a pinched expression and wiry gray hair reprimanded as she shuffled around behind the desk.

“I’m here to see—”

She held up her hand. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.” She turned to face a petite, rosy-cheeked woman sitting at one of the computers. “I’m off, Marla.” Eyeing Jonathan onelast time, she flung her purse over her shoulder and lumbered to the elevators, shoes squeaking as she went.

“She’s right,” Nurse Marla spoke loudly, making a show of turning him away. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back during visiting hours.” She watched the elevators until the older nurse was out of sight then turned back to Jonathan. “She’s a little bristly, but Ruth’s a good nurse. Who are you here to see, hon?”

“Lucy O’Malley.” He gripped the bouquet so tightly that a few stems snapped. The crinkling cellophane assaulted his ears as he waited. If he couldn’t talk with her tonight and had to wait until tomorrow, he’d lose the nerve. The weak, selfish man inside him would take over, drop to his knees and beg Lucy to stay. He had to handle this now.

“She’s right down that way, room six. Her parents left a little while ago, so she should still be awake. You can have fifteen minutes before I shoo you out.”

“Thank you,” he said, releasing a steadying breath. The hallway wasn’t brightly lit, probably to facilitate a more restful nighttime atmosphere, but the resulting dim felt ominous.

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