Page 81 of Drifter’s Heart

“I’m not sleeping. Tell me what you need.”

I nibble my lip. “Can I AirDrop that to you too?”

West’s hands close hard on my waist. “When Lanie leaves, we’re having a talk, Rand. Just you and me. Clear?”

“Yes.” I nod, knowing he’s about to leave and I am, indeed, in the clear. “Sir.”

He growls and crushes my mouth beneath his. “Get inside. I’ll leave once that door is locked.”

Dammit. My happy bubble pops. “Fuck. I forgot.” My dozy eyes fly open.

“It’s okay to forget. That’s part of healing, Winnie.” His hold loosened, one hand rising to skate along my ribs and over my collarbone. “Lock the door. I’ll be back soon.”

“’Kay,” I murmur.

His grin is so swift that it’s gone before I truly register it. And as I pull the door to my townhouse shut a second time, it hits me that West used to smile a whole lot more. Even when my brother was hurting. So when did he stop?

TWENTY-SIX

WINNIE

All the Things I Never Saw

My sponge-washed uniform is still damp but a whole lot less smelly by the time I’m an hour into my shift. I feel semi-unhygienic, but I’m present. Sally has a babysitter, or Lanie does, depending on how I look at the home situation, and I’m fairly sure West never slept last night, either sitting outside my townhouse, working, or playing The Sims all night. One of those happened, even if I have no proof.

My driver for today is Keith, and my roster shows no other regular driver for a while. This one has been sitting in the overstuffed ER with our first patient of the day, Leon.

“Do either of you want a snack?” I cover a yawn poorly. “Or a coffee?”

Leon nurses a still-full cup and shifts with a wince. “I’m good. Thanks, Winnie.”

“Ouch,” I sympathize with him. “No more diving off roof lines okay? Next time, stay up there and finish the job.” He would have been here a whole lot faster, but he lives a bit out of town, and his phone was still on the roof when he fell. It took a small miracle and a handful of messages for the thing to fall off the guttering and land near enough for him to call his own ambulance almost a dozen hours later. Apparently the dog, along with its bed and covers, kept him company for the night.

We are all lucky he hadn’t gone into shock overnight. Leon might not smell good, but he’s alive, if in a whole lot of pain. And his dog deserves a medal, in my opinion.

“Worst thing?” He grimaces. “The roof still needs cleaning.”

I look pointedly at his leg that I’m fairly certain is broken, though we don’t have a piece of bone protruding anywhere. Which would get him seen faster, but that’s another reason not to need to see bone bits today. “It might. But pay someone. You’re not going back up there for a while, right? Want anything, Keith?”

“Egg-and-bacon roll?” he asks, offering a watery, if hopeful, smile.

That’s a hangover cure right there. But I’m no stranger to those, not after Brad left. Plenty of sleepless nights are marked in my calendar. I’m not about to pry into what’s on Keith’s mind when I have enough of my own issues hanging off me right now.

“I’m on it. Don’t go anywhere.” I flutter my fingers at them to a chorus of groans. The coffee shop is on the same level as the ER, but it’s a decent hike. So while Leon gets company, I get some exercise to wake myself up as well as a coffee reward at the other end of my trip.

West came through with a top-up of groceries last night, even though I didn’t ask him for any, as well as a double order of spring rolls, soup, and noodles.

My funds were deposited right back where they came from, and he delivered with a kiss after unpacking everything and letting my houseguest and my offspring sleep through the whole thing.

I couldn’t really object to that or to making out afterward until my body thrummed with need. And when he stepped back, that almost-smile hovered at the corners of his lips like the asshole knew exactly what he’d just done and enjoyed leaving me in exactly that state.

“Call me when you need me” was all he said as he walked away.

Having a cowboy on call was… new to me, but also not new to me. West has always been there, sure. But he’s been there as my brother’s keeper, not as mine. And he’s certainly not my keeper. He’s just… mine.

“Ugh.” I want to bang my head against the wall as I walk. Coffee calls, and that quickens my steps. “A bacon-and-egg roll and a hammerhead, please,” I order as soon as I walk into the hospital café, which miraculously has no line. Welp, maybe that’s because it’s not quite five a.m., and they’re open a little earlier than they should be.

“Toasted?” Stevie, my favorite barista ever, grabs two of her largest takeout cups and slots them into each other for thermal protection for my hands.