Had to Be You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (8 page)

•   •   •

Rocki slid into the passenger seat of Pete’s car, threw her coat over the back, and prayed she didn’t ralph. She’d been in such a state; she hadn’t even noticed her stomach rebelling. Maybe doing shots of scotch hadn’t been the best idea.

Slater had insisted on paying for their meals. Of course, he charmed Anita and Rosemary Chin, the beautiful and single daughters of Mary and Charlie—the owners.

The man was annoyingly attractive—which is what she’d told her friends in broken Cantonese.

By the way the two of them batted their eyelashes, they didn’t find Slater nearly as irritating as she did.

He closed her door and went around to the driver’s side.

She waited for him to buckle his seat belt. “Just what do you think you were doing in there?”

He started the car and chec
ked traffic. “Paying for our food. I should ask you the same thing. You were the one speaking Chinese, not me, and you seemed to have an awful lot to say.”

“I just told them I was going to New Hampshire. That’s all.”

“Did you tell them about the accident?”

“No.”

“Why not? I thought they were your friends.”

“They are. Just because they’re my friends, doesn’t mean I’m going to weep all over them.”

“Telling them your brother’s been in an accident isn’t weeping.”

It would have been if she’d so much as mentioned it.

“And there’s nothing wrong with tears. Hell, you can cry as much as you want. At least if you’re crying, you’re not hiding your feelings.”

“I don’t hide my feelings. I tell it like it is. Just ask anyone.”

“Your opinion is one thing, your feelings are altogether a different story. I know you have no problem expounding upon your views.”

“Are you saying I have trouble expressing my feelings?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

If she expressed her feelings, she’d explode. Right now, it was all she could do not to fall apart. Jackson was in a coma. If she expressed her feelings, she would be hysterical and Rocki didn’t do hysterical. Okay, maybe for a few minutes there at the Crow’s Nest she’d rubbed up against the fence separating her from full-on hysteria hard enough to leave some skin on the barbs, hard enough to leave her bleeding, hard enough to taste the metal, but she never stepped through or over, and she’d never even thought about ducking under. No. Rocki knew the danger of going there and she’d never travel that terrifying path again.

If she expressed her feelings she’d have to face the fact that without Jackson, she’d be alone. She didn’t know if she’d survive losing Jackson and she didn’t want to find out. She knew all too well what it felt like to lose the people you loved most in the world. She’d relived losing her parents more than once. She’d had nightmares of the car accident for years afterward.

Rocki blinked away the image of her mother staring at her through lifeless eyes, the metallic scent of blood, and the shrill of her own scream when she realized her parents were dead and she was alone. Their bodies might have taken up space in what was left of the front seat, but Rocki had been alone, cold, scared, and trapped.

She wasn’t sure how long it had taken for someone to rescue her. Hours? Days? She’d been in and out of consciousness and the blackouts reset her mental clock.

She awoke in the hospital with Grace holding her hand and Teddy beside her, praying. They were probably doing the same thing now with Jackson. They’d always been more than just the caretakers of the lake house. Grace and Teddy were the closest thing to parents that she and Jackson had. They were the reason the lake house was still where she considered herself at home.

Jackson hadn’t been in the car accident all those years ago. Jackson had never lived the nightmare that made her scream from the pit of her being, cutting like glass all the way up, and echoing in her mind—clouding the edges of her vision.

Jackson had been spared that horror.

The only reason she’d survived was because she had no choice.

The only reason she’d survived was because she had more to think about than herself.

The only reason she’d survived was because when their parents died, Jackson had become her lifeline. Without Jackson, she would be alone in the world. All alone, just like she’d been in that car.

•   •   •

Slater took his eyes off the road and zeroed in on Rocki. One minute they were talking about expressing feelings, and the next she stared through him as if she were in a trance. She might be sitting beside him, but she was light-years away. Rocki had looked pale before but now she looked ghostly. “Rocki?”

She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She didn’t breathe.

“Rocki?” He hadn’t even hit the West Side Highway and already he was in trouble. He didn’t know what the hell to do. He took her cold hand in his and thought about dropping it to bump up the heat but he didn’t want to let go of her. He gave her hand a squeeze, then brought it to his lap, sandwiching it between his hand and his thigh, trying to rub some warmth into it. Shit.

He dropped her hand, flipped the heat up to roast before reaching for her and cursing the console between them. There was something to be said for bench seats. He did his best to tuck Rocki under his arm, and kissed her chilled forehead. “Come on, sweetheart. Say something. I’m good with silence, but at least answer me so I know you’re okay.”

Rocki didn’t say anything; she just burrowed into his side, her face tucked against his neck, her soft-as-silk hair brushing his chin.

Slater didn’t know what to do to make Rocki feel better. He couldn’t tell her that everything would be all right. No, in situations like these, platitudes were insulting. The only thing he could do for her was keep her fed, hold her hand, and listen if she felt like talking. He was almost glad she wasn’t the talkative type since talking was definitely not his forte. It wasn’t as if he was insensitive—at least he didn’t think he was—but until they got up there and saw firsthand what the situation was, there wasn’t much to say. He’d done everything he could do. He’d bought food so she could eat. He hoped she’d relax enough to sleep. He’d be there for her if she needed him. Other than that, he was completely out of his depth. Just like he’d been with Nicki.

Shit. He felt like slamming his head against the steering wheel. He’d forgotten all about Nicki’s rock. “Rocki, reach into my bag. There’s a rock in there—take it out.” He thought she’d ask what the hell he was doing carrying around a rock, but she didn’t.

Rocki didn’t so much as blink, but did as he asked.

“Nicki wanted to lend you her special rock. She said it’s her lucky charm and swears nothing bad happens when she carries it. Nicki thought it would do the same for you.”

Rocki curled up against the console with Nicki’s rock in one hand, and her other holding his in a surprisingly strong grip. Good thing he could steer with his knees. He didn’t want to drop her hand to turn on his blinkers to merge onto the Cross Bronx Expressway. “Why don’t you close your eyes and try to get some rest?”

She didn’t answer him but after a half hour, he felt her grip on him loosen, her breathing evened out, and her head lolled against his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. At least when she was awake, he could focus on Rocki and her problems. Now that she was asleep, all he had to think about were his.

Rocki’s neck hurt. She tried to find a more comfortable position, but the pillow felt . . . hard? Boney? It was as if she slept on someone’s shoulder. She didn’t sleep with people. Ever. She opened her eyes and realized where she was—in Pete’s car. And who she was sleeping on—Slater. She hoped she hadn’t drooled or anything. Then she remembered why she was in Pete’s car with Slater—Jackson.

“We’re almost there. How are you doing?” His deep voice was like a soft blanket, warm and comfortable, tempting her to wrap herself in it . . . in him.

How was she doing? She was doing as well as could be expected, considering she was living a nightmare. She kept telling herself that Jackson wouldn’t dare leave her. He was young and strong and too damn stubborn to die. But her parents hadn’t been, and she knew they’d done everything they could to live. The fear she’d seen in their eyes had been for her, not for themselves. Until their last breaths, they’d tried to live for her. She remembered the anguish in their eyes when they realized they were losing the battle.

And then it hit her, the fear she had was for Jackson, of course, but it was also mixed with a huge helping of another kind of fear. Jackson was her rock, the one person she knew she could always count on to care about her. The only person who really knew her—all of her. The good, the bad, the snarky, the emotional wreck, and the scared little girl who used to wake screaming on a nightly basis. Her nightmares had been so bad, she’d never been able to have roommates at school, which did nothing but further isolate her.

When she moved to New York after college and met Pete and the gang, Rocki made the first friends she’d had in years. She’d hid her background and the parts of herself that had isolated her since her parents’ deaths.

She looked at Slater and cringed. She’d been so upset, she hadn’t thought of the consequences of falling apart in front of Pete and Slater. She’d been so upset, she hadn’t realized what that one mistake would cost her. But looking at Slater now, she wasn’t sure she even regretted it. Not yet anyway. As much as she didn’t want him to be here, the fact that he was gave her more comfort than she could have ever imagined. “Thanks for this.”

“This?”

She realized he was still holding her hand. His hand was big, warm, solid, and seemed to ground her. She felt protected, which was something she hadn’t felt for so long. “Driving me to the middle of nowhere, letting me sleep on you, taking care of me. I know you’re just doing it for Pete, but I appreciate it. Since I don’t know if I’m going to be in any shape to thank you later, I thought I’d better cover all my bases and do it now.”

Slater squeezed her hand and blew out a breath. “Rocki, I have a lot of reasons for making the trip with you, the least of which is an order from Pop. I’d have insisted I take you to see your brother either way. That’s just the way I roll.”

She didn’t believe that for a minute. “You pick up virtual strangers and drive six hours to take them to see an injured relative?”

“We’re not strangers.”

“We met a week ago.”

“Whether we explore it or not, we have a connection that makes us more than acquaintances.”

“A connection?”

“Damn straight. Don’t pretend it doesn’t exist. We don’t have to act on it. And hell, it might be better for both of us if we don’t, but something is there, and that something is the reason I’m here. Simple as that.”

Slater was way too smart for her to hide anything for long. As soon as he learned who she was, any connection he thought they shared would change. It always did. It would also change every relationship she had in the life that she’d worked so hard to build in New York.

Maybe she could ask him to leave as soon as she got to the hospital. He didn’t have to know. Maybe she could salvage this disaster after all.

Rocki caught Slater staring. Time to ease into it. They’d be at the hospital in about ten minutes. It was either now or never.

“You can just drop me off at the hospital and then go back to Red Hook. There’s no need for you to come in.” She didn’t look at him but she could feel his stare.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone. Grace and Teddy are there.”

“You call your parents by their first names?”

Her parents? “No. Grace and Teddy are . . . family friends.” Not exactly the truth, but not a lie either.

“Are your parents on their way?”

Shit. “No.”

“Why not?”

Her face heated and she looked down at the rock in her hand. “Because they’re dead.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She couldn’t look at him. She hated seeing the pity in people’s eyes. No one knew—well, no one in Red Hook. Keeping parts of herself to herself had been a way of life for so long, even if she wished she could change it, it was too late. Her friends wouldn’t understand her reasons, and no matter what they said, if they knew the truth, everything would change. She wouldn’t be one of them anymore. Now she could lose Jackson and everything else in the world she loved.

“When did they die?”

“A long time ago.” Eleven years this month.

“What happened?”

“A car accident when I was thirteen. It’s just me and Jackson now.” To her embarrassment, the last word ended in what sounded like a sob but she refused to cry.

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“If it was just you and Jackson, and you were only thirteen, who did you live with?”

“No one. Our uncles sent us to boarding schools.”

“That’s rough, but it beats the hell out of foster homes.”

“Not yours.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t see all the others. Compared to most of the homes I was placed in, a boarding school would have seemed like heaven.” It looked like a bank of storm clouds shadowed his face, turning it to a sharp-edged granite slab. It was as if each muscle in his body tensed.

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

Rocki didn’t know anything about Slater’s life before Pete had taken him in. Patrice must not know either since she never mentioned it. Maybe she and Slater had more in common than she’d thought.

“Pop was definitely an unusual foster father and I mean that in a good way.” His voice sounded mechanical, emotionless, removed. “Still, Red Hook wasn’t what it is now. If things were still the same, you wouldn’t be working there—that’s for sure. I’d bet your boarding school was a damn sight safer.”

“Maybe.” But then he didn’t know what it was like. It may have been one of the ritziest boarding schools in Europe but it felt like a jail. She’d been ripped away from everything she loved and stashed with a throng of overindulged debutantes who hated her from day one. She’d never fit in.

“It wasn’t as if you were alone. You had your brother, didn’t you?”

“No. We were sent to different schools.” When Jackson turned eighteen, he’d tried to get custody of her, but their uncles fought him. No judge in America would give the care of a fifteen-year-old girl to her eighteen-year-old brother who wanted nothing more than to remove her from her world-class boarding school.

Jackson—living away from him then had been hell. She wasn’t even allowed to visit for Christmas. She’d spent her Christmases alone in her room. Sometimes Rocki would get a pity invitation to a teacher’s home to celebrate the holiday with their family. After trying it once, Rocki realized she’d rather spend holidays alone than to be reminded of everything she’d lost.

“Rocki? Are you with me?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Worrying isn’t helping your brother, you know.”

She’d prayed, but then she’d prayed the entire time her parents had been dying—it hadn’t helped.

“Are you two close?”

“Very.” Even though they weren’t geographically close, she couldn’t imagine going more than a few days without hearing his voice. She couldn’t imagine living without Jackson. He was the one person in the world who knew everything about her—even the woman she showed to no one else—and he loved her despite it. They’d promised each other that they’d always be close. They’d promised to take care of each other—no matter what. They’d promised each other they’d always be together.

•   •   •

Slater watched Rocki become more and more nervous. It was strange that no one at the Crow’s Nest had known Rocki’s brother even existed before today except maybe Pop. Pop didn’t seem shocked she had a brother—he just seemed shocked to see Rocki fall apart.

“We’ll be there soon.” He pulled her closer and kissed her temple.

“I know you want to help, Slater, and I really appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. Why don’t you just drop me off at the hospital? There’s a hotel a few miles down the road. You can go there and get some rest before you head back tomorrow. I’ll call you just as soon as I know anything.”

She was trying to get rid of him. He didn’t know why; all he knew was that she needed him and didn’t want to. That’s the way he’d prefer it himself. This was an extraordinary circumstance—Rocki wasn’t a needy person, he knew that right off. She needed someone and it scared her. His only question was why? Was it the fact that she wasn’t completely independent? Was it something to do with all the other questions rolling through his mind? Was she afraid he’d get his answers? “Thanks for the easy out, but I’m here because I want to be and we’ll see this through together.”

She looked like she was going to say something else, so he saved her the time and trouble. “Rocki, Pop is waiting for me to give him an update. I can hardly do that without knowing what we’re facing, and if I want to live, I’m not going back to Red Hook without knowing you and your brother are going to be just fine.”

He thought knowing people cared would make her feel better; instead it just seemed to agitate her more. She was tense to the point of shaking, and the hand he still held lost whatever warmth he was able to pump into her. “What’s the problem with me staying?”

There was a wealth of information scrolling over her face at lightning speed. If it were code, he’d be able to read it without a problem. But Rocki was a woman, and women used a mystery code he’d as yet been unable to crack, though, truth be told, he’d never really tried that hard. He’d never wanted to before. Now, for some strange reason, he did. He just wished she spoke C++, Java, PHP, or any other computer language. Instead she looked confused, scared, hurt, and completely conflicted.

She opened her mouth and closed it, as if she was unable or unwilling to tell him.

He wanted to kiss the worried look off her face. He wanted to hold her until her shaking stopped. He didn’t think either would help. “I’m staying until I see that you’re okay and your brother is too. Then if you want me to leave, I will. That’s the best I can do.”

He pulled into a parking space and she was out of the car before he turned off the engine. He grabbed their coats and hauled ass inside.

Rocki was already pressing the elevator button like a woman driven to vengeance would push a button to shock a cheating ex.

When the doors finally opened, he barely got his butt inside before she gave the button to the ICU floor the same treatment.
Driven
wasn’t quite the right word he’d use to describe her, but then he didn’t know what was.

When the doors opened, Rocki flew through, her long legs eating up the distance to the nurses’ station. “Jackson Sullivan. Where is he?”

Sullivan? Slater thought her last name was O’Sullivan.

The nurse lifted her gaze to Rocki. “And you are?”

“Racquel Sullivan. Jackson’s sister.” She looked from Slater to the nurse and back again. All the color in her face disappeared like the picture on an Etch A Sketch after a good shake.

Her name was Racquel? He guessed Rocki was a nickname. So okay, that made sense, but Sullivan didn’t.

“Racquel?” An older woman—a woman who looked as if she could pose for a picture in a dictionary under the word
grandmother
—rushed past him and grabbed Rocki in a crushing hug. A big man stopped beside the women and looked Slater up and down.

“How is he, Grace?” Rocki asked.

“There’s no change. They put a tube into his skull to release the pressure on the brain from swelling and put him in a drug-induced coma. We should know more tomorrow.” Grace looked from Rocki to him.

“Grace, Teddy,” Rocki said, hugging the old man and kissing his bristled cheek, “this is my friend Slater Shaw. Slater, this is Grace and Teddy Watkins.”

Slater shook hands with Teddy and felt very much like a boy meeting his girlfriend’s father for the first time on the way to the prom. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

The nurse cleared her throat. “You can go in two at a time, but you can only stay for five minutes.”

Grace patted Rocki’s shoulder. “You two go ahead. We’ve been in and out of Jackson’s room all day. It will do him good to hear your voice, Racquel. I believe coma patients can hear so be sure to talk to him.”

Rocki grabbed Slater’s hand and held on so tight; she was practically cutting off the circulation. They trailed the nurse to a glassed-in room and she held the door open for them.

Slater followed Rocki in, looked over her shoulder, and broke into a cold sweat. He swallowed back bile, his salivary glands went into overdrive, and he prayed he wouldn’t be sick. It was as if he was reliving a nightmare. Tubes and wires, machines, the beeping of a monitor, the swoosh of a respirator, the IV hanging beside the body of a man he’d never seen before. He shouldn’t feel as if he was going to lose it. He forced himself to take a deep breath through his mouth. He didn’t want to smell the scent of antiseptic. He didn’t want to hear the squeak of rubber shoes against the linoleum. All he wanted to do was escape.

He had the urge to drag his hand from Rocki’s and run as fast and far as his feet would take him. The glass wall seemed to cage him in. His heart pounded a dirge beneath his breastbone and he rubbed his chest—pain, or the memory of it, speared his consciousness. He grabbed the cold metal bedrail beside Rocki to anchor himself in the present. He had to be there for Rocki.

She paled even more. The constant pressure of her hand on his increased, and her lip quivered. “Jackson, I’m here.” Her words were a whisper. Tears slid down her cheeks.