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“You looked up at me. Mischief gleamed in your pretty green eyes.”
He’d been enchanted, transported back to the time when freedom and fun reigned supreme, when he and Blaine had been impulsive and reckless, goading each other into daredevil challenges and stunts, believing they were untouchable.
“Then you kissed me.”
Changing all the plans he’d had for his life in an instant. He hadn’t been able to think straight from that moment on. He hadn’t cared. Being with her was a total rush. An adventure. Perfect. Nothing else mattered.
“The next night we strolled past the Happily Ever After Wedding Chapel on the strip. You joked about going inside and making things official.”
She’d said if they eloped now he couldn’t forget about her when they returned to Seattle or leave her standing at the altar after she wasted years of dating him and planning their big wedding. He’d promised he would never leave her like that.
The affection in her eyes had wiped out whatever brain cells remained in his head. For the first time since Blaine’s descent into drugs, Cullen had felt whole, as if the missing piece of him that had died with his twin brother had been found in Sarah.
“I couldn’t let you get away.”
Cullen had pulled her through the chapel’s double glass doors. Forgetting about his vow to take only calculated risks in the future, he’d dived in headfirst without doing his due diligence and performing a cost-benefit analysis. He hadn’t weighed the odds or considered the consequences of marrying a woman he knew nothing about.
Common sense couldn’t override his heart. She’d made him feel complete in a way he’d never thought he’d feel again. He’d been downright giddy when she’d accepted his impromptu proposal. Thirty minutes and $99 later, they walked out wearing matching plain gold bands and holding a marriage certificate.
A whim? A mistake?
More like a regret.
He’d remembered back in December, when everyone was kissing under the mistletoe in Hood Hamlet and he was alone. That was when it hit him. He’d wished he’d never been introduced to Sarah Purcell.
But Cullen had. He’d married her. That was why he was here now. They were husband and wife until a judge declared otherwise. But he couldn’t wait to be free, to get his life in order and put his plan back in place. He was scratching one thing off the list, though. He sure as hell wasn’t getting married again. Been there, done that—no need to repeat that particular disaster.
At least he would have Paulson to hang with. The guy was a confirmed bachelor, if there ever was one.
But until Cullen’s divorce was final he was stuck with a wife who’d wanted to talk, to fight, to slice open one of his veins and have him bleed out every single thought and feeling he’d ever had.
After the divorce things will be better.
Cullen sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed. He wanted to hate her, but seeing her like this, he couldn’t. “Your lips are dry.”
He picked up a tube from the bed tray, removed the cap and ran the balm over Sarah’s chapped lips. She didn’t stir. “Better now?”
As he returned the tube to the table, a movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. The blanket had slipped. She’d moved her left arm again. “Sarah.”
She blinked. Once. Twice. Her eyes opened, looking clear and focused. Her mouth formed a perfect O. “You’re still here.”
Sarah sounded surprised, but relieved. Her reaction offended him. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You did.”
Heat emanated from the point of contact, shooting out to the tips of his fingernails and sparking up his arm. He expected her to let go. Instead she stared at him with wide eyes. The corners of her lips curved upward in a hesitant smile.
O-kay. It was a simple touch. Out of gratitude for his being here. No big deal. Except the heat tingled. It felt good. Too good. Cullen pulled his arm away. “Thirsty?”
She nodded. “Water, please.”
He pushed a button on the control device that raised the head of her bed, reached for the cup sitting on the bed tray and then brought the glass to her mouth. He positioned the straw against her lower lip. Even after the balm, her lips were dry and peeling. He remembered how they used to be so soft and moist and taste so sweet.
Don’t think about that. There weren’t going to be any more kisses, no matter how much he’d enjoyed them in the past.
“Sip slowly,” he cautioned.
Sarah did. She released the straw. “Where am I? What happened?”
The roughness in her voice scratched his heart. He held on to the glass of water. That would keep at bay the temptation to brush the hair off her face. “You’re at a hospital in Seattle. There was a steam blast on Baker. You got hit by falling rock and fell.”
Her mouth quirked. “Did the steam blast continue?”
“No,” he said. “But Tucker Samson—he introduced himself as your boss and the head of MBVI—said this could be a sign of an impending event.”
Her eyebrows slanted. Beneath the bandage on her forehead, lines formed as if she were deep in thought. “I…don’t remember much.”
Sarah had a mind like a steel trap and never forgot anything. He didn’t blame her for sounding worried. “It’s okay. You have a concussion, but it’s a closed-head injury. No traumatic brain injury.”
His words didn’t ease her concern. Panic flickered in her eyes. “I wasn’t up there by myself.”
“Two others were injured, but they’ve been released from the hospital. You took the brunt of it. Fell quite a distance.”
The words were easy to say now, but the image of Sarah when he’d first arrived at the hospital haunted him. His uselessness then reminded him of trying to help Blaine—who had wanted only to blame Cullen for his drug addiction—and of trying to revive his brother later, after he’d overdosed. Being forced to watch from the sidelines as others took care of Sarah was like having his heart ripped from his chest. He’d felt the same after being pushed away from his unconscious brother when the paramedics had arrived at their parents’ house. But Sarah didn’t need to know any of that.
A corner of her mouth rose into a more certain smile. “Guess that’s why I feel like I’ve gone nine rounds in a boxing match.”
“Mixed Martial Arts seems more your style.”
“Yeah, now that you mention it, this does feel more like MMA than a few punches, hooks and jabs.”
She hadn’t lost her sense of humor. That and her intelligence had been two of Sarah’s most appealing traits. She’d had a hot body, too. The hospital gown and blanket covered much of her, but she’d lost weight. Her cheekbones appeared more prominent and she looked smaller, almost fragile, a word he would never have associated with her before.
He pushed the straw toward her lips again. “Drink more.” Sarah took another sip. “I’ve had enough. Thanks.”
“Ice chips will soothe your throat. It has to be sore from the tube.” He placed the cup on the bed tray. “Hungry?”
“No.” A question formed in her eyes. “Should I be?”
She sounded nothing like the strong, independent woman he’d married. The vulnerability in her gaze and voice tugged at his heart, twisting him inside out. He wanted to hold her until she felt better and her uncertainty disappeared. But touching her, even out of compassion, wasn’t a smart idea. “Your appetite will return soon enough.”
“Maybe my appetite doesn’t want hospital food.”
That was more like his Sarah. Not his, he corrected. “Then your appetite is one smart cookie.”
She smiled.
He smiled back.
This conversation was going better than he’d imagined. Maybe the bump on her head had shaken some sense into Sarah. Not that it changed anything between them. “I’ll sneak in some decent food.”
“I should eat even if I don’t feel like it. I need to get back to the institute to look at data.”
Her words made him bristle. Sarah was a scientist, first and foremost. Studying volcanoes wasn’t a job for her, but a passion. The need to be where the action was happening was as natural an instinct as breathing to Sarah. Her work was for the greater good of science and mankind. If only she cared to put as much effort into her personal relationships.
Into him.
“Other scientists can analyze the data,” he said. “You need to recover first.”
“I’m the institute’s specialist. They need me. Those are my seismometers up there.”
“Yours?”
Her lips pursed, but not in the kiss-me-now way she had perfected. “A grant paid for them, but the data…Was the equipment damaged?”
“Tucker said the equipment was recovered. The data from the laptop is being analyzed.”
“Thank goodness.” She glanced around the room until her gaze landed on the door. “How soon until I can get out of here?”
He held up his hands, palms facing her. “Not so fast.”
“We may be able to use the data to figure out what’s going to happen on Baker. If we predict an eruption successfully, we can use the same process with other volcanoes and save lives.”
Her passion cascaded out. Cullen understood why she was so adamant about her work. He felt the same about his. But he had to play devil’s advocate, even if he wanted nothing more than to send her on her merry way to Bellingham. “A concussion is only one of your injuries.”
Sarah looked down at herself, as if finally realizing she was more than a talking head. Her eyes narrowed at the cast on her arm. “I can slog up Baker with a sling.”
As ridiculous as the image of her doing that was, he could see her attempting it. She would hurt herself more, given the pain medication she was on, if she even survived another fall. “How will you self-arrest if you slip? It’s hard enough to dig in an ice ax to stop yourself with two usable hands and arms.”
She moistened her lips and lifted her chin with a look of defiance. “I won’t need to stop myself if I don’t slip.”
A smile threatened to appear at her bravado. He pressed his lips together. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. “You suffered internal injuries, a collapsed lung, broken ribs and an arm fracture. Not to mention you’ve had two surgeries.”
“Surgeries?”
“You have a pin in your right arm, and you no longer have a spleen. Due to the trauma and bleeding, they had to remove it with an open procedure rather than using laparoscopic techniques.”
“Oh.” Sarah looked as if he’d told her she’d overslept her alarm, not had an internal organ removed through a four-inch incision. “You don’t really need a spleen, right?”
A groan of frustration welled up inside him. Why couldn’t she be one of those ivory-tower-type scientists who worked in a lab and never cared if they breathed fresh air or saw sunlight? Then again, he wouldn’t have been attracted to someone like that. “You can survive without one.”
“That’s a relief.” She touched her cast. “How soon before I can get back to the institute? Next week?”
Try four to six weeks, if everything went well with her recovery. Most likely six to eight with the surgery. But he reminded himself he wasn’t in charge of her medical care. “You’ll have to ask your doctor.”
Her gaze pinned him. “You’re a doctor.”
“I’m not your doctor.”
“You have to have some idea.”
Cullen had more than an idea. But he wasn’t here as a medical professional. He was here to support her, even if he wasn’t part of her life anymore.
He’d been surprised to find out he was her only emergency contact. She’d mentioned her parents to him once, saying they were no longer a part of her life. He supposed the blank line on the employment form had needed a name, any name. No one ever thought the person listed would be contacted. “More than a couple of weeks.”
She rubbed her lips together. “Guess I’d better talk to my doctor and find out.”
“Once you know—”
“You’ll go home,” she finished for him.
She wanted him out of her life. He would be happy to accommodate her. “Yes, but not until you’re out of the hospital.”
Leaving her alone until then wouldn’t be right.
“Thank you.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “Thanks for being here. This had to have messed up your schedule.”
Sarah’s unexpected sincerity curled around his heart and squeezed tight, like a hug. He shifted his weight between his feet. “My schedule doesn’t matter.”
Her gaze met his with an intensity he knew well. She might look bruised and battered, even broken, but intelligence and strength shone in the depths of her eyes. Her eyes were what he’d noticed first about her when they’d met over morning coffee at a campfire. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
“Your schedule matters,” she countered. “It always has before.”
“I don’t want you to be alone.” That much was true. “You’re still my wife.”
Her face paled. “My fault. I’ve been so busy at the institute I never followed through on my end with the divorce. I’m sorry. I’ll have to get on that.”
After bringing up a divorce, she’d been too busy slogging up and down Mount Baker in the name of research to file the marriage-dissolution paperwork. He’d contacted an attorney. He rubbed the back of his neck. “No need.”
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. “What do you mean?”
A part of him wanted to get back at Sarah, to hurt her the way she’d hurt him.
You’re a great guy. You’ll make some woman a fantastic husband. But our eloping was impulsive. I acted rashly and didn’t think about what I was doing. Or what would be best for you. I’m not it. You deserve a wife who can give you the things you want. Things I can’t give you.
Correction. Things she didn’t want to give him.
Regret rose like bile in his throat. “I knew you were busy, so once I established residency in Oregon I got things started there.”
“Oh.” Her gaze never wavered from his. “Okay.”
It felt anything but okay to him. The knots in his stomach tightened. His throat constricted. He’d had their entire future planned out. A house, pets, kids. And now…
Putting Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens, Mount Adams and Mount Hood between Sarah and him had never appealed to Cullen more. “I’ll go see if your doctor is around so we…you…can find out when you might be discharged.”
He strode toward the door without waiting for her reply.
“Is it okay to get out of bed and use the bathroom?” Sarah asked.
