Page 26 of Drifter’s Heart

I stifle a laugh. “There’s no way you’re reaching that. What’s it doing up there?”

Winnie shrugs. “I have a kid. She’s older now, but she wasn’t always. Who kicked you off your own project? He sounds like an asshole.”

The repeated sentiment hits me at gut level. I pause but then pass her the bottle. “Your brother—ow. Fuck, woman.” The fluid is doused over me undiluted. I hiss as the antiseptic hits nerve-deep.

“Hush. You’re fine.” Winnie pats at me with a handful of fresh dressings, cleaning and humming happily.

“Is this how you speak to all your patients?”

“You’re a special case.”

“I’ll bet.” After the first pinch of pain, I let her go, relaxing as she darts about me.

“My brother is the asshole? No wonder you’re not talking.”

I shrug. “The job got done in the end. I only left when I realized I could do it on my own, anyway. Lanie’s pregnancy was the trigger I needed to walk. Cord didn’t want or need me there anymore.”

Winnie stills over my hand. Her head never rises, but her fingers on mine are like ice, as though all the warmth is withdrawn from her. “Lanie’s… what?”

I stare down at the top of her head. “Fuck. Winnie. I figured she would have…” Or that her brother would have called. Shit. Apparently I’m not the only one left out of the newly-formed-family loop.

Lanie has been Winnie’s best friend for an age. I know the nomadic scientist flitted in and out of her life, and only reappeared recently. That’s when I met her, last year when she fell in love with my best friend and threw the whole Coyote Falls dynamic into the sort of utter chaos that all Rands seem to thrive on.

“I thought you knew.” My attempt to rectify the mess I’ve made is clumsy at best. I wince as I pull my hand back. This time, my grimace isn’t from pain.

Winnie slaps my arm, hard. “Stay still,” she berates me. “I’m not finished.”

I close my mouth and let her continue to minister to my hand well after the work is done. She rewraps and tucks the ends in several times, her hands strong and steady on mine. Apart from that one slap to make sure I didn’t leave, she’s a complete sweetheart and, beyond that, utterly competent.

Her breath brushes my skin as I wait until she’s done, and the first tear splatters my skin. It hits me that, through everything last night, not once did I see a tear from her. Sure, I probably missed a flood of the damn things after the asshole of an ex was towed away—I’m still foggy on the circumstances—but this is the first time I think I’ve ever seen her cry.

And that includes all the times I’ve sat in a hospital, waiting on the news that we’d lost a man we both love.

I catch her chin between my fingers and tip her face up to mine. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She sniffles as she stares at me. “I thought we were still close. I thought…” She shook her head and closed her eyes, shutting the world out. “I thought that even though she’s not here and I’m never there, that I was still included.”

I cup her face in both hands. “You are included, Winnie. Rand and Lanie are—” Words fail me. I try again. “They’re just…”

Occupied.

I cough to cover my derision at the thought. It’s the same reason I left. Why I’m here instead of there right now. Not just my itchy damn feet that couldn’t stay still in Coyote dirt a moment longer. Was I jealous that Cord found something I didn’t have? No. Suffocating sharing air that no longer held the same level of oxygen to breathe when they were together—maybe.

Looking at Winnie now, I’m damn well glad I did leave. Because here she is, hurting alone, and neither of them have any fucking idea, lost in their romance as they should be, but unaware of the casualty left by the wayside.

The thought blindsides me as brain space frees up. “Does Rand know about your shitty ex?” That Brad was here?

Winnie bites her lip like she’s trying to keep a confession inside and shakes her head.

I don’t make her say the words, breathing out slowly. “Okay. Thank you for doing my hands. They’re… a whole lot safer.”

“Where did you go?” Winnie doesn’t move from my hold.

I don’t drop my freshly bandaged hands. “Haiti.”

“What did you do?” Her gaze stays on my face.

I swallow hard. It’s been a long time since anyone put trust in me like she does now, and the last person who did had eyes just like hers.