a sign.
Crystal smirked and busied herself with the covers. “What gave it away?”
It wasn’t the smile he’d been going for, but it was a start. He hoped.
Jenna’s breathing was raspy—not unusual after a seizure, and Crystal sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her palm over the younger woman’s forehead. “So, uh . . .” She frowned. “You were a doctor in the Army?”
Shane studied the reluctant expression she wore, the lines of worry settled into her forehead, the way the soft, red waves of her ponytail cascaded over her shoulder. “I cross-trained as a medic.”
On a long sigh, Crystal shook her head and stood. “Well, thank you for helping her. I . . . I don’t know how I would’ve gotten her inside . . .” Her gaze landed everywhere but on his.
He frowned, sensing the good-bye from a mile out. “I’m glad I was here.”
She hugged herself. “You should go.”
And there it was. “Crystal—”
She gestured to be quiet and led him out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind them. In the dimness of the hallway, she looked up at him, a war of emotions on her face. “You can’t be here.”
“Why not?” he said. Not only did he need her help, but the fact that she and her sister might need his had his feet rooted firmly in place. All of a sudden, his brain assembled the last few minutes into a puzzle picture he didn’t like. “Wait. Is she not receiving treatment for the epilepsy?”
Crystal’s eyebrows slashed downward, and outrage dropped her mouth into an oval. “Of course she’s receiving treatment.”
Shane held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It just seemed like you might want my help. For her, ” he added.
She didn’t school her expression fast enough, and Shane saw the rightness of his analysis.
“Come on, Crystal. What’s going on?”
She turned on her heel and walked the short distance to the living room. “You really need to go.”
Shane sat down on the well-worn denim couch and crossed his boot over his knee.
She gawped. It was almost comical how expressive her face could be. When she let it.
“What’s going on?” he repeated.
“I don’t even know you.”
“That’s why I was hoping we could talk.” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the large flat-screen mounted to the opposite wall. Beneath it sat a bookshelf with a variety of high-end equipment—DVD player, receiver, stereo, speakers. Sweet setup, but not a single piece of it matched the worn-out nature of the rest of the women’s belongings. Odd, since Crystal didn’t strike him as the type to splurge on luxuries, not when the woman’s truck was likely so old it was flirting with a historic vehicle designation.
She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t be here.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. Jesus, if—”
Shane was off the couch and in front of her. “If what?” He tucked a few bronze wisps off her face and behind her ear, then let his fingers graze her cheekbone. The gentleness belied the storm whipping up inside him at the near reference to her tormenter.
She stepped back. “It doesn’t matter.”
Like hell it doesn’t. Crossing his arms, Shane waited.
“God, I can’t get rid of you.” Exasperation had her throwing up her arms.
“I specialize in pain in the ass, darlin’.” He smiled, forcing himself to gear down the intensity.
“Well, congratulations, because you clearly graduated with honors.”
He grinned and watched as she twisted her lips to avoid doing the same. The problem was clearly that she didn’t think she should talk, but his gut told him she wanted to. That she was dying to. “I just want to be your friend, Crystal.”
All traces of humor disappeared from her face. “I don’t have friends.”
“You don’t have them? Or you’re not allowed to have them?” Shane worked hard to keep his voice neutral.
“The reason doesn’t matter. And it’s none of your business.”
Goddamn. Had he
Crystal smirked and busied herself with the covers. “What gave it away?”
It wasn’t the smile he’d been going for, but it was a start. He hoped.
Jenna’s breathing was raspy—not unusual after a seizure, and Crystal sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her palm over the younger woman’s forehead. “So, uh . . .” She frowned. “You were a doctor in the Army?”
Shane studied the reluctant expression she wore, the lines of worry settled into her forehead, the way the soft, red waves of her ponytail cascaded over her shoulder. “I cross-trained as a medic.”
On a long sigh, Crystal shook her head and stood. “Well, thank you for helping her. I . . . I don’t know how I would’ve gotten her inside . . .” Her gaze landed everywhere but on his.
He frowned, sensing the good-bye from a mile out. “I’m glad I was here.”
She hugged herself. “You should go.”
And there it was. “Crystal—”
She gestured to be quiet and led him out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind them. In the dimness of the hallway, she looked up at him, a war of emotions on her face. “You can’t be here.”
“Why not?” he said. Not only did he need her help, but the fact that she and her sister might need his had his feet rooted firmly in place. All of a sudden, his brain assembled the last few minutes into a puzzle picture he didn’t like. “Wait. Is she not receiving treatment for the epilepsy?”
Crystal’s eyebrows slashed downward, and outrage dropped her mouth into an oval. “Of course she’s receiving treatment.”
Shane held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It just seemed like you might want my help. For her, ” he added.
She didn’t school her expression fast enough, and Shane saw the rightness of his analysis.
“Come on, Crystal. What’s going on?”
She turned on her heel and walked the short distance to the living room. “You really need to go.”
Shane sat down on the well-worn denim couch and crossed his boot over his knee.
She gawped. It was almost comical how expressive her face could be. When she let it.
“What’s going on?” he repeated.
“I don’t even know you.”
“That’s why I was hoping we could talk.” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the large flat-screen mounted to the opposite wall. Beneath it sat a bookshelf with a variety of high-end equipment—DVD player, receiver, stereo, speakers. Sweet setup, but not a single piece of it matched the worn-out nature of the rest of the women’s belongings. Odd, since Crystal didn’t strike him as the type to splurge on luxuries, not when the woman’s truck was likely so old it was flirting with a historic vehicle designation.
She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t be here.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. Jesus, if—”
Shane was off the couch and in front of her. “If what?” He tucked a few bronze wisps off her face and behind her ear, then let his fingers graze her cheekbone. The gentleness belied the storm whipping up inside him at the near reference to her tormenter.
She stepped back. “It doesn’t matter.”
Like hell it doesn’t. Crossing his arms, Shane waited.
“God, I can’t get rid of you.” Exasperation had her throwing up her arms.
“I specialize in pain in the ass, darlin’.” He smiled, forcing himself to gear down the intensity.
“Well, congratulations, because you clearly graduated with honors.”
He grinned and watched as she twisted her lips to avoid doing the same. The problem was clearly that she didn’t think she should talk, but his gut told him she wanted to. That she was dying to. “I just want to be your friend, Crystal.”
All traces of humor disappeared from her face. “I don’t have friends.”
“You don’t have them? Or you’re not allowed to have them?” Shane worked hard to keep his voice neutral.
“The reason doesn’t matter. And it’s none of your business.”
Goddamn. Had he
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