Her fingers thread through her hair, stopping to feel the spot where her head hit the bedside table. “I feel a bit nauseous.”
Fuck.
“Ava.” I step closer to her. “Please let me take you to the hospital. Your head smashed into that table. You could have a concussion. I know that may seem minor, but I’ve had a couple. It’s not something you can mess around with.”
Her hand drops. “It’s just a bump, Harry. I’d rather stay here with you for a little while before I go home.”
I’d rather she stay here with me forever because I want to protect her, but that’s not possible.
“I have a friend,” I say, offering a compromise that will satisfy both of us. “He’s a doctor. If he has time to swing by, will you let him check you out?”
Her gaze catches mine. “It’s important to you, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Very.”
“Okay,” she acquiesces. “I’ll let him look at my head.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her forehead, grateful that she lets out a small sigh when I do. “Until he gets here, I’ll grab you a glass of water and some fruit in case you feel like eating something.”
When I pull back, I see the hint of a smile on her lips. “He’ll say I’m fine.”
He likely will, but after what I witnessed tonight, she’s not fine. She’s strong, and resilient, but she’s been through something that forever changed her, and right now, more than anything, I want her to trust me enough to share that with me.
“I came as soon as I could.” Dr. Ben Foster steps into the foyer of my home carrying a leather doctor’s bag in his hand.
He’s several years older than me. We met at the hospital when I was there being checked out after a nasty fall while I was showing off on a skateboard a few years ago. It was an immature thing to do, but I had challenged Sean to a duel since we did that back at boarding school.
I may have lost the challenge, but I gained a friend and a remarkable medical mind in the process. Ben has helped me through some of the most difficult days of my life with his sage advice and compassionate beside manner.
“I’ll make a donation to the foundation,” I say. “As a thank you for this.”
Ben is the brainchild of The Foster Foundation. He and his twin brother, Noah, founded it several years ago in honor of their late mother. Their mission is straightforward. They help fund medical care for those who can’t afford it.
“Thank you, Harrison.” He pats my shoulder as his brown eyes search my face. “What’s happening? I take it you’re experiencing symptoms.”
“Not really, no.” I lower my voice because Ava is in the kitchen. “I had a muscle spasm in my leg the other day. Other than that, I’ve been great. I’m feeling well.”
“Well enough to still be headed to Hawaii next month on that solo surfing trip?”
I glance over my shoulder. “I postponed that. I met someone. She’s in New York temporarily, and I don’t want to…well, I’d rather not leave the city while she’s here. She’s actually the reason I called. She fell and hit her head about an hour ago.”
His gaze trails over my face. “She’s obviously conscious, or you would have called 9-1-1.”
“Conscious and responsive,” I begin on a deep breath. “She mentioned feeling nauseous. She also seems tired, but that could be attributed to what we were doing before she fell off the bed.”
He scratches his chin. “Understood. She’s special, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “Ava is very special. She’s in the kitchen waiting for us.”
“Let’s go make sure Ava is all right.” He moves to skirt around me.
I stop him by grabbing hold of his shoulder. “She doesn’t know, Ben. She has no idea about me.”
He glances to his left until our eyes lock. “I won’t say a word, Harrison. I can’t say a word, but for what it’s worth, even if she is skipping town soon, if there’s a will, there is always a way for a future with someone you love.”
I don’t argue his point even though there is not always a way. I may be feeling more for Ava than like and lust, but there is no future for us. There will never be.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Ava
“I won’t say I told you so, but I told you so,” I whisper, feeling buoyed by the fact that Dr. Foster told me I was fine.
Harry laughs. “You just said you won’t say it, London, and then you said it.”
My gaze drops to the bracelet on my wrist. “I won’t say it again then.”
“You can remind me over and over that I was wrong,” Harry says as he clears my plate. “I don’t care about that. I care about you, and I’m grateful that your head checked out.”
I lift a hand to glide it over the sizable lump on my head. “Your bedside table is hard as a rock.”
He places both of our plates in the sink. “Yet, you still won in the battle against it. That only proves how strong you are.”
I feel anything but at the moment.
I’m embarrassed and mortified that I accused Harry of something he would never do.
Logically, I know that, but at that moment, in my sleepy state, I jumped to the wrong conclusion and accused this wonderful man of something horrific.
“Dinner was delicious. What type of fish was that again?”
He spins to face me. “Maybe I should get Ben back here. Short-term memory loss isn’t a good sign, Ava.”
I smile. “Salmon. You told me that. Twice.”
“Yes.” He scratches his eyebrow. “If you’d rather we don’t talk, we can watch a movie or play a game of cards. Strip poker works for me.”
I point at the robe I’m still wearing. “I only have three pieces of clothing on.”
He jerks a thumb toward his T-shirt. “As do I, so it would be a fair fight. Should I get the cards?”
It would be a fun escape from the heaviness sitting in the air between us since I toppled off his bed. It’s not fair to him, though. I noticed the concern in his expression when I fell. I saw the horror in his eyes when I accused him of something unthinkable.
“Can we talk?” I push against the edge of the kitchen island to slide to my feet from the stool I’ve been sitting on. “Is there a place where we can sit and talk?”
He smiles. “It’s a big house. There are a lot of places, but there’s one special spot I’d like to take you to.”
I run a fingertip along the dark wood, marveling at the craftsmanship. “Harry, this is beautiful.”
“It is,” he says in a low tone. “The piano is all right, but you, Ava, are breathtaking.”
“I saw what I look like in your bathroom mirror after I got dressed. Clearly, you need to put your glasses on.”
A deep-seated laugh falls from his lips. “I can see just fine from this distance.”
He’s standing a few feet away from me in the middle of a room that is tucked away in a corner of the main floor of his home. When he opened the door and flicked on the light switch, I knew immediately what was sitting beneath a large white drop cloth.