Page 17 of Cruel Love

It was warm outside, even though it was getting close to Thanksgiving. “We’ll be on break from school soon. Are you going to be able to go back after?” It was probably too early, especially since his memories hadn’t returned.

Phoenix hooked his hand under my chair and tugged it closer. He was getting his strength back. “The doctor thinks I should wait until next semester. I want to go back, but without football, it’s not a bad idea to wait and get stronger before I do.” He tucked a strand of my hair that had fallen to rest on my cheek behind my ear. “And since I can’t drive yet, why don’t you leave that piece of rust you drove here in the garage and take my SUV to school? You can use that to come back and forth, and I won’t worry about your car breaking down halfway here.”

“No way. I can’t take your car.” I curled my knees toward my chest. “Besides, that thing probably costs a fortune to fill up.”

He shrugged. “My uncle bought SUVs for my brother, me, and our cousins, and a gas card came with it. He pays the bill. Just use that, and you won’t have to worry about it. I’ll let him know. He won’t care.”

“That’s incredibly generous, but there’s no way I can do that.”

“You can. When Mom hugged me, she suggested it.” He chuckled, the deep cadence of his laugh spreading warmth in its wake. “Not that I wasn’t already thinking it when your car died in the driveway. And you don’t have your keys, anyway. When you set your stuff down inside, she swiped them, so you don’t have a choice.”

“Wow, you guys are devious.” Guilt ate at me. I needed to talk to her about the baby, even if I couldn’t tell Phoenix. A part of me thought she already knew. She’d looked over my chart after the accident and learned I was pregnant. And with Phoenix’s protective instincts during the crash… maybe she’d put two and two together. Either way, she’d never made me feel uncomfortable or unwelcome.

I would tell her the first chance I got. Maybe tomorrow morning when she was off her shift. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And trust me”—his grin turned wolfish—“it’s for my benefit too. You’ll have to come see me more often.”

I laughed. “True. How’s PT going? You’re so much stronger already.”

“I added a pool workout.” He notched his head toward the pool. “It’s helped a ton. And being home, I can control my nutrition with higher amounts of protein and more of what I need to heal faster. Plus, without everyone watching me like crazy, I’ve added in some light weights. Nothing too strenuous, but it’s been a game changer.”

“Do you miss throwing the ball? The games?” I pushed myself up so I was sitting and facing him. Otherwise, I was liable to fall asleep, and I wasn’t ready for our time to end.

“Yeah, it’s a part of me, and without it, I’m drifting.”

“I get it. I had to give up cliff diving a few months ago. I’m lucky I can still surf. It keeps me sane.”

His brows furrowed. “Why did you have to give it up?”

“It was for a medical condition. I’d rather not talk about it. Besides, I have my art, and that saves me like football probably does for you.”

“You’re an artist?”

“Yep.” I grinned. “My sister, Regan, and I were going to open up a shop as close to the beach as we could, where I would sell custom surfboards and she would have a line of board shorts and bathing suits. Regan’s a genius with fashion design. I’m super proud of her. My little sis is going places.”

“That’s cool. Can I see something you drew? Or do you only work with paint?”

“I do both. I have a sketch pad in my purse.”

“I’ll get it.” He stood and went into the house before I could stop him.

I worried my bottom lip. He was the one recovering from brain trauma, and I should have gotten up, not him. But he’d already stood and gone inside. My limbs felt so heavy. It was relaxing out there, and I didn’t even want to dream about what it would be like to wake up to this every morning.

When he came back out, he handed me my purse, and I pulled out my sketchbook and gave it to him to look through.

As he flipped through the pages, I studied him. His blond hair was longer. The accident had weakened him, but one would never know it by looking at his body. His muscles were as defined as before. It was the ease of his smile that had changed. I could probably count on one hand the number of times Phoenix had smiled in my presence after I’d told him about the baby.

“These are incredible, Aspen.”

I glanced at the page he’d paused on, his eyes rapidly moving over the swirls on the surfboard’s surface. They had to be familiar to him, and I held my breath. The questions would come. I knew it. Why did I let him go through the sketches? Those were his tattoos drawn on the board, combined with the things I loved to do, and then there was the date tucked into one of the tribal designs of when we were together at the cove… when our baby was conceived. A pair of baby shoes stood out clearly. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Hey.”

I jumped out of my skin when Shane came out of nowhere, his voice harsh and annoyed. I took in his dark, messy hair and how his blue eyes snapped with fire. The brothers were so similar, just not in coloring or bulk. Phoenix had more of a quarterback’s build, and Shane was built like a beast. The artist in me had dissected their facial structures, which were very similar, many times. Those high cheekbones and strong jawlines looked like they could cut glass. Chiseled and stunning. I’d drawn Phoenix too many times to count and was glad he wasn’t holding that sketchbook.

“What’s up?” Phoenix raised his gaze from my book to take in the agitated stance of his brother. “Mom said you wouldn’t be home tonight.”

“Yeah, well, things change. Grandad’s here to see you.”

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