Melissa McClone - Winning Back His Wife

“An independent discharge is not going to happen.” Dr. Marshall looked like a grandfather, rather than one of Seattle’s top surgeons, with his silver-wire-frame glasses and thinning gray hair, but the man was turning out to be the devil in disguise. “You are unable to care for yourself. Your discharge planner and orthopedist agree.”

She hadn’t been waiting all afternoon full of hope only to hear this. “That’s…silly.”

Cullen, who leaned against the far wall near the window, gave a blink-and-you’d-miss-it shake of his head.

Her fingers tightened on the fabric, nearly poking through the thin material. She didn’t like being so aware of Cullen’s every movement. Her senses had become heightened where he was concerned. She’d wondered if he felt the same way. Now she knew.

No!

Frustration tensed her muscles, making her abdomen hurt more. Disappointment ping-ponged through her. They’d shared lovely walks though the hospital, holding hands like high-school sweethearts. She’d assumed Cullen would support her independent-discharge request, but he hadn’t. He didn’t want her returning to her apartment in Bellingham to stay by herself.

“Nothing about this is silly,” Dr. Marshall said. “You are lucky to be alive.”

“Damn lucky,” Cullen murmured.

She didn’t feel that way. Nothing but bad luck could have put her at the crater rim when a steam blast occurred, something that hadn’t happened on Mount Baker in nearly four decades. Now she was stuck in the hospital with only her soon-to-be ex-husband for company when she needed to be at the institute figuring out if the event was a precursor to an eruption or just the volcano letting off steam as it had done in 1975. “Silly was the wrong word to use, but I’m not an invalid. I’m getting around better.”

Dr. Marshall gave her the once-over. “There’s a big difference between walking the hallways and being capable of caring for yourself.”

“You overdid it this morning,” Cullen added, as if dumping a carton of salt onto her wounds helped matters.

“I know I have a way to go in my recovery.” She would be doing fine once the pain of her incision and ribs lessened. The throbbing in her head, too. “But I don’t need a nursemaid.”

A knowing glance passed between Dr. Marshall and Cullen.

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek.

“No one is suggesting a nursemaid. But I agree with Dr. Marshall. You’re right-handed.” Cullen’s gaze dropped to her cast. “Dressing yourself, doing anything with your left hand, is going to take some adjustment. Not to mention your sutures and ribs. You’ll need assistance doing most everyday things. There will also be limitations on lifting and driving.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have expected Cullen to take her side. But even with his lack of support now, she had no regrets. Bringing up a divorce was better than waiting around for him to do it. And he would have. People always walked away. He would walk away from her once she was out of the hospital, leaving her alone. Again.

The sinking feeling in her stomach turned into a black hole, sucking her hope down into it.

No, she couldn’t give in and admit defeat. The institute relied upon her expertise. Others had been looking at the data since the steam blast, but volcanic seismology was her specialty. She couldn’t let people down. It wasn’t as if she had anything else in her life but her work. She glanced at Cullen, then looked away. “I don’t care if it hurts. I’ll figure out a way. I need to get back to the institute. I have a job to do.”

“Is your current health and your long-term health outlook worth risking for your job?” Dr. Marshall asked.

Sarah raised her chin. “If it means determining how to predict a volcanic eruption, then yes. It’s worth it.”

A muscle ticked at Cullen’s jaw. “If you return to the institute too soon, you won’t be doing them or yourself any favors.”

She saw his point, even if she didn’t like it. “I’ll be careful.”

“What does your job entail, Sarah?” Dr. Marshall asked.

“Analyzing data.”

“After she climbs Mount Baker to gather it,” Cullen added. “Or am I wrong about that, Dr. Purcell?”

Of course he wasn’t wrong. From his smug grin he knew it, too. That was why he’d used her title. “I can send a team up to download the data.”

Maybe that would appease him—rather, Dr. Marshall.

“Are you able to work remotely from home?” Dr. Marshall asked.

Sarah would rather be at the institute, but she would take what she could get. “Telecommuting is an option. I have internet access in my apartment.”

Dr. Marshall looked her straight in the eyes. “Is there someone who can stay at your apartment and care for you?”

Sarah’s heart slammed against her chest so loudly she was sure the entire floor of the hospital could hear the boom-boom-boom. Even though she knew the answer to his question, she mentally ran through the list of coworkers at the institute. Most would be happy to drop off food or pick up her mail, but asking one to stay with her would be too much. She couldn’t impose on any of them like that.

She’d never had a close friend, a bestie or BFF she could count on no matter what. Her life had been too transitory, shuttled between her parents and moving frequently, to develop that kind of bond with anyone. Not unless you counted Cullen. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either one of them.

She chewed on her lower lip. “I could hire someone.”

“Home care is a possibility,” Dr. Marshall said.

Fantastic. Except her studio apartment was tiny. The floor was the only extra place to sleep, the bathroom the only privacy. She hated to admit it, but home care wouldn’t work.

“If Sarah’s in Bellingham, nothing will keep her from going to the institute or heading up the mountain if she feels it’s necessary,” Cullen said matter-of-factly.

She opened her mouth to contradict him, but stopped herself. What he said was true.

“You know I’m right,” he said.

It annoyed her that he knew her so well.

“Is that true?” Dr. Marshall asked her.

She tried to shrug, but a pain shot through her. “Possibly.”

Cullen laughed. The rich sound pierced her heart. One of Cupid’s arrows had turned traitorous. “A one-hundred-percent possibility.”

No sense denying it. He’d had her number a long time ago.

Dr. Marshall gave her a patronizing smile, as if she were a five-year-old patient who would appreciate princess stickers rather than a grown adult who wanted him to work out her discharge. “My first choice in cases involving a head injury, however minor, is home care by family members, but Dr. Gray has explained your situation.”

Sarah assumed Dr. Marshall meant their marriage, since Cullen was the closest thing to family she had. She wasn’t an orphan. Her parents were alive, but they’d chosen their spouses over her years ago. “I’m on my own.”

“That leaves a sniff. A skilled nursing facility,” Dr. Marshall explained. “We call them SNFs. There are several in the Seattle area.”

Cullen’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, making her heart dance a jig. So not the reaction she wanted to have when she was fighting for her freedom. Independence. Work.

“That sounds like a perfect solution,” Cullen said.

Maybe for him. In Bellingham she had access to the institute and her own place to live. Down here in Seattle, she had…nothing. But what choice did she have? Sarah swallowed her disappointment. “I suppose. As long as I have my laptop and access to data.”

Dr. Marshall adjusted his wire-framed glasses. “Many SNFs have Wi-Fi.”

Might as well look on the bright side. “That’s better than dial-up.”

“Your concussion will make it difficult for you to concentrate for any length of time.” Cullen sounded so doctorlike. Totally different from the man who had helped her back to her room this morning. “If you push too hard, you may experience vision problems and headaches.”

“I’ll use a timer to limit my computer usage,” she offered.

“No symptom is a one-hundred-percent certainty, but Dr. Gray is correct. You don’t want to do too much too soon,” Dr. Marshall said.

Something about his tone and eye movement raised the hair on her arms. “What exactly am I going to be allowed to do?”

“Rest and recuperate,” Dr. Marshall said, as if those two things would appeal to her.

R & R was something a person did when they were old. Not when the second-most-active volcano in the Cascades might erupt. “The SNF sounds like my only option, but you might as well put me out of my misery now, because—”

“You’ll die of boredom,” Cullen finished for her.

In their one-plus year of marriage—over two if you counted the time they’d been separated—he’d figured her out better than anyone else in her life. That unnerved Sarah.

Dr. Marshall adjusted his glasses. “A few weeks of boredom is a small price to pay.”

Small price? The SNF sounded like an institutional cage. She’d be locked away and forced to sleep or “rest.” She stared at the cast on her arm.

Lucky to be alive . Maybe if she kept repeating the words she would believe them. Because right now life pretty much sucked.

“There is another option,” Cullen said.

Her gaze jerked to his. The room tilted to her left as if she were standing in a mirrored fun house. She closed her eyes. She must have walked too far earlier. When she opened them everything was back where it belonged, and Cullen was staring at her with his intense gaze.

She swallowed the lump of desperation lodged in her throat. Anything would be better than a nursing facility. “What other option?”

“Come home with me to Hood Hamlet.”

Her mouth gaped. The air rushed from her lungs.

“I have Wi-Fi,” Cullen continued, as if that made all the difference in the world. “I promise you won’t be bored.”

No, she wouldn’t be bored. She would be struggling to survive and keep her heart safe.

Here at the hospital, people came in and out of her room. She and Cullen were never alone for long. He left each night to go to his hotel. What would it be like if it were only the two of them?

Dangerous.

Sarah tried to speak, but her tongue felt ten sizes too big for her mouth, as if she’d been given a shot of Novocain at the dentist’s office. But she knew one thing… .

Going home with Cullen was a bad idea. So bad she would rather move into the SNF and die of boredom or stay in the hospital and die of starvation or go live in a cave somewhere with nothing but spiders and other creepy-crawly things for company.

Having him here made her feel warm and fuzzy. Taking walks reminded her of how comfortable they’d once been together. But she couldn’t rely on him to be her caretaker. She’d been vulnerable before they’d separated. She would be totally at his mercy in his care. If she found herself getting attached to him, or worse, falling in love with him all over again…

He would have the power not only to break her heart, but shatter it. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

Cullen wore a digital watch, but he swore he heard the seconds ticking by. He braced himself for Sarah’s rejection. He’d offered her a place to recover, but she’d reacted with wide-eyed panic, as if she was about to be sentenced to life in prison.

Stupid. Cullen balled his hands with a mix of frustration and resentment. He should never have made the suggestion. But she’d looked so damn miserable over the idea of the SNF, he’d had to do something. A good attitude was important in a patient’s recovery. He didn’t want her to experience any setbacks. Skilled nursing facilities had their role in patient recovery, but Sarah was better off elsewhere. He knew that as a trained physician. He knew that in his gut.