Cash and I share a look. I’m sure he’s holding his breath just like I am as she pauses, taking in the big tan beast peppered with spots that’s suddenly butting at her leg. Smiling, she leans over and strokes her hand across its head.
Time stalls.
Part of me hopes the cat triggers her memory. Another part hopes to God not. She’s in no condition to go running, especially with a lethal clean up crew after her. She needs to heal up before remembering that her own brother tried to kill her.
Bastard.
Her trim brows knit together as she looks up at me, and then down at the cat again. I can almost see the wheels in her head turning.
Cash must too, because he lurches forward. “That was my best pickup line for years. Whenever somebody asked who to make the check to, I’d answer with My best friends call me Cash.”
She grins politely his way, then frowns again as she looks back down at the cat.
The toaster pops.
My insides jump like I just heard a gunshot. I spin around, grab the toast, and butter it. Then pile a plate with bacon, eggs, and toast, and slide it across the counter to her. I open a drawer and hand her a fork and knife.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, still frowning.
I turn to Cash. “You staying for some eggs and bacon, or what?”
“No, I have to get going, but I’ll stop by this evening. Call me if you need anything.”
I nod.
Looking at Cash, she sets down her fork. “Wait. Why’s the cat limping?”
He walks over and kneels down to pet the animal’s spotted fur. “I think it’s a pulled tendon or something. Nothing broken, I checked, so I’m sure it’ll be just fine in a couple days.”
Valerie nods, but then asks, “How did it pull a muscle?”
“I don’t know.” Cash stands and pats her shoulder. “But you should eat. Rest up, and don’t pull a muscle trying to bring back memories. They’ll all come back in good time.”
She glances at me.
It’s like she wants my permission. That’s how it was in the bedroom, too. I set a glass of pineapple juice next to her plate that I’d poured while she was talking to Cash. “He’s right. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
She nods and glances at Cash again. “Thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome. It’s what I do.” He gives me a one finger salute. “See you later, pal.”
Can’t help laughing at his antics.
I fill a plate of eggs and bacon for myself and then sit down at a bar stool near the corner, leaving a couple stools between us.
“Good news: your grub lives up to its hype,” she says. “It’s really good. I didn’t know I was so hungry until I started eating.”
“Plenty more where that came from.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, this will be plenty. Shouldn’t push myself too hard, right?”
Yeah. At first, I think it’s a joke, but she’s barely in any condition to sit up chewing.
It’s like watching an hourglass as the grains of sand fall to the bottom, the way her energy wanes. By the time she’s done eating, she’s slouching a little, holding the side of her head.
I stand and walk over beside her.
“Come on. Cash said it might be like this. Just take it a few hours at a time until you can stay awake,” I say, wrapping an arm around her. “Time to get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”
She leans against me. “Already? I don’t want to go back to bed.”
“Fine. You don’t have to, as long as you’re resting up somewhere.” Doubting she can walk on her own, I lift her off the stool and carry her into the breezeway and then out to the lanai that runs along the entire back side of the house.
Once we’re there, I carry her to a cushioned lounge chair and carefully slide her down.
Sighing, she leans her head back, eyes closed. “This place is really beautiful.”
I grin. “Your eyes are closed.”
“I know. I saw it while you carried me. It looks like a spa here.”
Ma says the same thing. It’s tiled with a hot tub and planters full of different orchids. I’d done the designing myself, recreating specific things I’d liked from resorts and fine restaurants I’d visited. “Thanks.”
She smiles, then grimaces and touches the side of her head. “Who was your builder?”
“You’re looking at him.” I pat her hand. “Hold on. I’m gonna get you some pain reliever.”
The cat jumps on her lap. I reach to lift it off.
“No,” she says, petting the cat’s side as she clings to it. “Let her stay, Flint.”
“Okay. Be right back.” I jog into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water and some over the counter pain relievers, and race back outside.
After making sure she takes a couple pills, I tell her I’ll be right back after cleaning up the kitchen.
Eyes closed, and with the cat still on her lap, she nods.
I jog back into the kitchen and grab my phone. Cash answers on the first ring.
“Hey, she needs to be seen by a neurosurgeon or something. Get her an MRI, or a cat scan, or something like that.”
“Why?” he asks. “What happened?”
“She could barely hold her head up by the time she was done with breakfast.”
“What else?” he asks.
“That’s enough,” I say, frustrated. “Isn’t it?”
“That’s normal,” he says, holding in a laugh. “Her body’s simply been through the wringer. Like I told you before, let her rest as much as possible. There’s no risk to her since we ruled out a concussion.”
Concerned it’s something more, I ask, “How do you know she doesn’t have internal bleeding?”
“None of the symptoms are there.”
“How do you know?”
“Flint, trust me. The girl’s exhausted and has a bad amnesia fugue. If things aren’t better in forty-eight hours, I’ll have her seen by a specialist.”
“Twenty-four hours,” I growl. “I agreed to keep her here. You fix her head.”
“Fine,” he agrees. “Now go keep an eye on her. I’ll see you later.”
I click off and toss the phone on the counter, then go check on Valerie.
She hasn’t moved, and neither has the cat, drowsing on her lap. Despite Cash’s advice, I focus on her chest, make sure it’s rising and falling naturally.
It is. She’s breathing easy. I go back into the house, clean up the kitchen for real, and then return to the lanai where I sit down and wait.
Trouble is, that leaves me too much time to think. Those small, gnarled circles on my back burn as I remember the last time Cash and I tangled with Cornaro.
Not willing to go down that road, I get up and head into the laundry room. After cutting off all the tags, I throw the clothes in the washer and take the personal supplies, toothbrush, deodorant, some face wash and other chick stuff, into the bathroom. It’s been years since I’ve seen any of those things, and even longer since they graced my bathroom counter.
I stay busy, changing the sheets on the bed and then moving on to other miscellaneous chores in between checking on her. After hanging the few clothes that Cash brought over in the closet, I stand back and stare.