Obsession: A Love on the Edge romance Read online

  “Maybe I should go with you.” Roger pushed away from the wall.

  Remembering how alone she’d felt when she talked to the ER doctor, Tess agreed. Roger wasn’t her first choice, but he was family, and right now Tess didn’t trust herself to think clearly enough to make the right decisions.

  When they were settled, Dr. Ford said, “Does Mr. Juran have any other family?”

  Cheeks burning in embarrassment, Tess shook her head. “Just me, even though he would deny that.”

  “Yes, well.” Dr. Ford looked away, then back. “He’ll need someone to care for him once he’s released. To take him to his doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. He won’t be able to get around very well for a while.”

  “There’s no one else,” she said. “I guess it will have to be me.” If Alex would even let her take care of him.

  The doctor touched her knee. “He’s been traumatized. Both his body and his mind. Sometimes that leads people to say—”

  “Thank you, Doctor, but Alex was angry with me long before this.”

  The doctor pressed her lips together and nodded. “Very well. Let’s talk about his injuries. Mr. Juran suffers from Critical Incident Amnesia. Which is a fancy way of saying he doesn’t remember what happened the night he was shot.”

  “None of it?” Roger asked.

  “Bits and pieces. This is common in victims who have suffered a stressful experience. Especially police officers. It’s worse for them because more often than not some important piece of information is locked in their minds. Something that might be critical to a case.”

  Like the identity of a killer.

  “Usually patients recover their full memory after a good night’s rest, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here,” Dr. Ford said.

  “Will he ever remember?” Roger asked.

  “The mind is a tricky thing. Only time will tell.”

  ***

  Alex was staring out the window, turning the stick of lip balm in his hand when his door opened again. He ignored whoever it was. For the past several hours he’d been reliving the night he’d been shot. Or trying to. He could get so far, to the point where Jason arrived, then his mind jumped to being shot. Everything in between was gone, no matter how hard he tried to remember. Forcing it seemed to make it worse, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “Alex?”

  A muscle in his jaw jumped and he squeezed the lip balm. “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “No.”

  “Officer Juran, we need to discuss your recuperation,” Dr. Ford said.

  “She doesn’t need to be here for that.” He still hadn’t turned to them, was still staring at the heavy gray clouds that didn’t seem to move. The lip balm had helped. His lips had been so sore and chapped. Tess always did seem to know exactly what he needed. Or at least she had at one point. And he had known what she had needed too. Until everything went to hell and somehow they’d lost the ability.

  Or stopped caring.

  He heard Tess sigh and shuffle her feet.

  “If all goes well,” the doctor said, “you’ll be released in a few days. You can’t live alone.”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “Stay with me, Alex,” Tess said. “Let me help you.”

  He jerked his head around. “No.” Hell no.

  “Alex, be reasonable.”

  His gaze swung to the doctor. “What about Drake Center? That rehab place? I’m sure I’ll need some sort of rehab.”

  Dr. Ford was shaking her head before he even finished. “Yes, you need rehab but not the inpatient kind. Mrs. Juran—”

  “I’m not staying with her!”

  Tess looked at him, her face pale, her eyes so damn sad. There’d been a point in his life, years of his life, where he would have done anything to erase such sadness inside her. To know that he still wanted to, even after she’d given up on them, made him angry.

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” Tess said. “I know this is the last thing you want, but—”

  “What about Tony? I’ll stay with Tony.”

  “Tony lives on the fourth floor, with no elevator.”

  “Stairs are out of the question,” Dr. Ford said.

  “I’ll move.”

  “Alex—”

  He pointed a finger at her. “No one asked you to be here. You’re through with me, remember?”

  She stepped forward and her pale complexion fired up to bright red. It’d been a long time since he’d seen this side of Tess. He always did like it when she got spitting mad. “I believe you were the one who asked for me—”

  “Like hell!” But he knew he had. That he remembered.

  “Like hell, nothing, Alexandre Juran.” She took another step closer. Man, she was magnificent. “You asked for me, called for me. When the ambulance took you to the helicopter, while in the emergency room, while waiting to go into surgery, you called for me. Who’s been here all these days and nights by your side? Me.” She pounded her chest with her fist.

  “That’s enough.” Dr. Ford stepped between them, her arms raised out to her sides as if separating two wrestlers. She turned to Alex. “You have to stay with Mrs. Juran. You can’t live by yourself. You can’t even drive. Who’ll take you to your doctor’s appointments and physical therapy? Mr. Juran, you have no other options.”

  ***

  Tess positioned the walker in the opened passenger van door.

  “Get that thing the hell out of my face,” Alex snarled.

  She nudged the contraption with a bump of her hip. “I may be strong, but I won’t be able to catch you if you fall on your face.”

  With a growl, he hoisted himself out and grabbed the walker. He hated it, despised it. Wanted to burn it and dance a jig while the damn thing incinerated. But he couldn’t dance and he couldn’t walk without its support.

  He eyed the distance between the van and the house and began his awkward shuffle to the front porch, Tess beside him every painful step of the way. It’d been four days since they’d told him he had to live with Tess during his recovery. As if he were some damn invalid who couldn’t make a decision on his own. Of course as soon as he was given his walker and had attempted to walk, he’d known what a fool he’d been. Not that he’d admitted it and not that he would anytime soon either.

  This wasn’t at all the way he envisioned his homecoming.

  Yeah. That was him all right. Home for the holidays.

  Shit.

  The door swung open before Tess could put her key in the lock, and Roger stepped out.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Alex all but growled.

  Roger looked him over with a critical eye. Tess’s sister rushed forward, opening the door wider. “Roger thought you might need some help.” She took hold of his arm in an attempt to help him.

  Alex glanced over her pregnant belly then back to Roger before he pulled away and gripped the walker. “I’m fine.”

  The three stood back as he placed the walker in the entryway then heaved himself up the small step. He shoved away the image of the thousands of times he’d bounded into this house, never giving that small raised piece of concrete a second thought.

  Roger watched him in silence and Alex scowled. “This isn’t a damn freak show.”

  Shannon touched his arm. “I’m sorry this happened.”

  Alex shoved down the urge to shake her hand away, realizing he was being an ass to Tess’s family. Although they weren’t his favorite people, he usually tolerated Shannon’s theatrics because she was Tess’s sister, but the two of them were grating on his last nerve.

  “We should go,” Roger said quietly. “Tess, let us know if you need anything.”

  A stiff wind blew in from the open door and Alex shivered as he made his way into the living room. It felt good to be home.

  Home.

  The house he and Tess had picked out together and decorated together. His apartment had never been home to him. Just a place to
park his ass between shifts.

  It looked the same. Except the photos of the two of them were gone. His anger multiplied at the thought that she’d shoved their pictures in a drawer somewhere because she was so damn eager to be rid of him. And now here he was, back at the house. An invalid.

  “I’m sorry.” Tess closed the door. “I didn’t ask them here.”

  He didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what the hell to say to her anymore. Before she’d asked him to leave there had been nothing but stony silence between them. It’d been a long time since they’d had a decent conversation.

  She sighed, apparently frustrated as always with his lack of communication, and went down the hall to free Othello.

  His dog ran toward him and for the first time since waking in the hospital, Alex smiled. “The Big O! How ya doin’, boy?” He scratched behind the dog’s ear. Othello squirmed in ecstasy and pressed his large body into Alex’s good leg.

  “You should rest.” Tess stared at the dog and crossed her arms.

  “Don’t baby me.” He straightened. Othello butted his hand and licked his fingers.

  “Well,” Tess said. “Okay. Are you hungry, then?”

  “I could eat.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen and Othello followed, looking back at Alex with hopeful brown eyes.

  “I’m coming,” he muttered, grabbing the handles of the walker.

  He whistled when he entered the kitchen. For as long as he could remember, Tess had wanted a new oven and refrigerator for her small catering business. Now a stainless steel gas oven stood in place of the old one. The refrigerator had been swapped for a restaurant-sized double-door job. Canister lights lit an island work area as big as the bathroom in his apartment. Cherry cabinets, granite counters and a terra cotta floor completed the rehab.

  He lowered himself into a kitchen chair. Same table and chairs. The set they’d picked out together shortly after they got married. He ran his hand over the scarred surface. At least she’d kept the table and chairs.

  “Business must be good,” he said.

  “Pretty good.” She opened a cabinet and took out some plates.

  “I like what you’ve done.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a long silence as Othello settled his head in Alex’s lap and Alex stroked his ears. “So, Shannon’s pregnant again.”

  “Yes.” Tess pulled bread out of a built-in breadbox that hadn’t been there before.

  “How many does this make?”

  “Four.” She reached for the peanut butter then opened the fridge for the jelly. She slathered several pieces of bread with the peanut butter and jelly, and placed two sandwiches on a plate. She’d always loved to bake but cooking hadn’t been her favorite.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “I’m fine with it.” Grabbing the plate and a bag of chips in one hand, she opened the fridge again, took out two cans, and kicked the door closed. She placed everything but her root beer in front of him.

  Alex took hold of her hand before she had a chance to escape to the other side of the kitchen. A panicked look crossed her face but she didn’t pull away. “Are you really fine with it?”

  “I’ve accepted it.”

  He dropped her hand and turned to his food, disappointed that it had come to this. If he’d had any illusions of fixing their marriage, they were gone now. She’d made sure of that while he lay in a hospital bed with a shattered knee and an equally shattered career.

  Tess leaned against the island and sipped her root beer while Alex ate his sandwiches.

  “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “Are you?” He ate a chip and watched her, missing nothing. Not the fleeting look of pain. Not the tense way she held her shoulders or the nervous habit she had of playing with the tab on her can.

  “That’s not fair, Alex. Of course I’m glad you’re okay.”

  He concentrated on his chips, ashamed of his childish behavior and the need to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough. They both had.

  Othello stood and sniffed under the table.

  “He’s missed you,” she said.

  “Have you missed me?”

  For a moment she didn’t say anything, then she put her pop can down and turned away. “You can take my bedr—um, the master bedroom. The mattress is more comfortable in there. I’ll take the guest room.”

  Alex braced his hands on the walker and stood. He followed her through the short hall to the two bedrooms in the back, the thump-shuffle of his slow gait echoing off the walls. Once again she’d made him feel ashamed. Embarrassed he’d asked if she’d missed him. Humiliated she hadn’t answered.

  She stepped into their—her—room and headed for the closet.

  For the past five years, their wedding picture had sat on the nightstand. Now a popular paperback and a glass of water sat there.

  He shuffled to the bed and lowered himself onto it. Hearing the bedsprings squeak, Othello raced in and took a flying leap onto the mattress where he rolled to his side.

  Alex laughed and rubbed the dog’s tummy. Othello opened one eye, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

  Tess walked across the hall into the bathroom and Alex stood. Leaving the stupid walker behind, he followed Tess using a combination of hobbling and hopping. It was only a dozen or so steps but when he grabbed hold of the bathroom doorframe, sweat was beading on his upper lip and he felt both hot and cold. Blood rushed from his head and he swayed.

  Damn. Fainting is not an option, Juran.

  Everything went dark and his hands lost their grip on the doorframe.

  “Alex!”

  He tumbled, his knee screaming in pain and his body hitting something hard.

  When he opened his eyes, his head was cradled in Tess’s lap and her fingers were running through his hair. The scene would have been cozy if he wasn’t lying half under the pedestal sink.

  “You passed out.”

  “I don’t pass out.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You just wanted to check the floor to see if I’d mopped lately, right?”

  “Right.” He traced her jaw with his finger.

  She looked at him with the shadows of six months of separation between them. “Alex…”

  “Not now, Tessie.”

  His hand cupped the back of her head. She came willingly, easily, her breath fanning his face, her heat warming him.

  “Tess, I—”

  A wet nose shoved its way between them. Othello whined and licked Alex’s face.

  Chapter Five

  “You should have died, Juran.”

  Alex moaned and tried to roll over, but pain shot from his knee straight to his brain.

  “You’re just delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”

  Alex’s eyes flew open. He’d been home from the hospital for four days but it still took a moment to realize the white walls weren’t hospital walls and the window looked out over his backyard instead of a parking garage. He pushed the covers aside, dislodging Othello. The dog whined and jumped off the bed with a huff. He shook his head, clutched his knee and swung his legs off the bed to sit on the edge. He ran a hand down his beard-stubbled face and stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

  What had that dream been about? And why was this the third night in a row he’d had it? Othello nudged his elbow with his cold wet nose and Alex patted him absently, thinking of Tess fast asleep in the next room and how much he hated that each night they’d awkwardly say goodnight and then part. They were strangers living together. Saying the right things, avoiding any unpleasantness.

  He hated it.

  Now that he was back, he missed even more the way it used to be. The laughter and the fun. The closeness.

  He leaned forward to grab his walker, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. It took a few moments to position it.

  “Damn glad no one’s here to see thi
s,” he said to the dog.

  Eventually, he reached the living room and stopped in front of the bay window that overlooked the backyard. Moonlight reflected off the falling snow, making the room glow. Tess had put up a Christmas tree and he looked for the ornaments they’d purchased together. Before they were even married they’d had a tradition of buying an ornament in each city they visited. Sort of a holiday scrapbook that hung on the tree. He’d always loved decorating the tree with her. They would laugh and remember their vacations together.

  This year Tess had decorated with glass balls found in any discount store. Just another reminder that their memories meant so little to her. He turned back to the window only to encounter Tess’s reflection in the glass.

  Face scrubbed, her hair brushed and falling almost to her waist, wearing flannel pajamas that were two sizes too big, she looked sixteen. Too young to have been married and divorced. Too young for the sadness in her eyes. He wondered if he looked older to her. Had the divorce aged him as well?

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked her reflection.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He touched the needles of the tree. “Where are our ornaments?”

  “In the basement.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it hurts too much to look at them.”

  Adopting a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he said, “So, get rid of them.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You got rid of me. What’s a box of ornaments?”

  She sighed, pulled her hands up into her sleeves and stepped closer to the tree. “Getting rid of the ornaments would have hurt more than putting them on the tree.”

  “So you want the memories, just not the person attached to them.”

  She spun away. Instead of mere inches separating them, a couch, a dog, five years of marriage and six months of separation lay between them.

  “I need to go to bed. You need to sleep too. Tomorrow’s your first physical therapy session and I need to get up early to start baking. Barbara’s been handling my business for the time being, but she can’t do it forever.”

  “Tess?”

  A heartbeat of time passed. “Yes?”