“I have whiplash in my neck and shoulders. The seat belt did more damage than anything.” I’m mostly worried you’ll never forgive me when you see what I let happen to your car.
“Jesus.” He traced a finger very lightly over the angry red line cutting across her clavicle. “They keeping you here?”
Clara shivered, but not from pain. Somehow his gentle handling wrought more havoc on her heart than any of their previous flagrant gyrating.
“No. They’ve run all the tests and everything came back clear.” These touches probably meant nothing to him, but Clara had once spent thirty minutes convinced that letting her thigh touch a boy’s at the movie theater equated to a steamy moment of intimacy. “Last thing I heard they were processing discharge papers. How did you even know where to find me?”
Josh stepped back and took his hands with him. “The police called me. My name is on the car’s registration. Don’t worry, I told them I’d given you the all clear to borrow the car, so you’re not in trouble.” He looked at his shoes. “I wish you had called me. Lance had too much to drink at the bar last night so I crashed on his couch to make sure he was all right. If I’d known you needed help, I would’ve come home sooner.”
Clara sank back into her pillows. “I panicked. I wanted to call you, but I thought you’d be mad.”
“Why don’t they put any chairs in here? Scoot over, would ya?” His tall frame filled the space she’d made for him and then some. “I am mad, you little jerk. You scared the crap out of me. I got home and the car was gone. No note. Nothing.” He shook his head. “I went wild. I thought someone stole it and I didn’t know if you’d been home at the time. If they’d tried to hurt you.”
Josh reached up and pushed her hair off her forehead. His eyes searched hers.
“You shouldn’t have borrowed the car without asking me. But if you thought for one second something like that would have stopped me from coming for you when you needed me . . .” He gave her a smile sexy enough to take out a whole legion of nurses. “Well, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
She brought her hand to her heart, hoping in vain to prevent it from escaping the cage of her body. “I’m still sorry. You have no idea how sorry. I took the car because I didn’t want to let Jill and Toni down.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not trying to excuse myself. There’s no excuse for what I did, but I thought you deserved to know why. I make myself really sick over not meeting other people’s expectations.” Clara released a hollow laugh. “But even when I try, I still end up hurting people. I’m really sorry that this time you were one of them.”
“Clara.” Josh tilted her chin until she met his eyes. “What you’re talking about? That kind of perfection? It’s impossible. You’re never gonna please everybody. Don’t get me wrong. You’re good, but nobody’s that good.”
Clara pressed her face into his chest, so he wouldn’t see the return of her embarrassing tears. He smelled sweet, like powdered sugar. “Did you buy donuts again?”
He rested his chin on top of her head. “What, are you a bloodhound? Yes, okay, I got you a ‘get well’ donut when I picked up the flowers, but the traffic on the way over was terrible and I had to eat it. For sustenance. It was an emergency.”
“I deserve that,” Clara said, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.
“You did crash my Corvette.”
“Very true.”
“You wanna know how I got that car?” He took her hand in his, drawing little circles over her knuckles with his thumb.
“Is this story going to make me feel better or worse?”
“Well, it belonged to my grandfather.”
“I wrecked a family heirloom? Seriously?”
“No. No, listen. I’m not done. Here. Drink this water.” Josh thrust the plastic cup from her nightstand into her hand.
“So my granddad bought the ’Vette back in 1976. Called it his midlife crisis car. Anyway, he loved it. All through my childhood, I have these memories of him waxing and buffing the thing. My grandmother said he wanted an excuse to stand next to it.”
Josh tucked the blanket carefully back around her legs from where it had slipped.
“Anyways, when I was old enough to drive there was no way in hell my parents could afford to buy me a car. Not a single fucking chance.” He accentuated the story with wild hand gestures. “But I got home one day after school and there was my grandfather with the Corvette parked in the driveway, holding out the keys.”
Clara warmed at the animation in Josh’s face.
“I couldn’t believe it. I told him I couldn’t accept it. Even though it was a total babe magnet, I knew how much he loved that car. But he looked me in the eye and said, ‘Take it. Please. Giving her to you, making you happy, feels better than the day I got her.’”
Josh took her empty water cup and returned it to the table. “For me, that car has always represented the idea that people are more important than things. Even things you love. Watching you driving this summer, conquering your fear, hell, even imagining you gathering your courage to start that engine by yourself this morning . . .” He looked up, catching her eye. “Somehow, it feels better than the day I got her.”
“That’s a really good story.”
Josh shifted so he could lean back against her pillows and gingerly put his arm around her shoulders. “Thanks, I thought so.”
“Josh, how am I ever going to make this up to you?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Wheaton,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her temple. “You look extremely goofy in that hospital gown and it’s going a long way.”
chapter twenty-four
OW . . . OWWW . . . OW . . . OW!”
Josh could hear Clara alternately yelping and whimpering through the bathroom door where she’d locked herself after insisting she could manage to shower alone despite her whiplash. The doctor had agreed to discharge her with the recommendation that she rest and take ibuprofen twice a day until the pain subsided.
Clara refused to acknowledge that maintaining her stringent daily routine now included unexpected challenges.
He leaned his face against the cheap plywood separating them. He’d been standing outside the bathroom for fifteen minutes since she’d gone in, in case she fell or something and he needed to break down the door. “For Christ’s sake, Clara, let me help you.”
So far she had spent the morning waddling around like a lost duckling. From his perch at the kitchen counter, he watched her putter into the living room, sigh dramatically, and turn around. A few minutes later she wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge before seeming to decide it was all too much effort and settling for handfuls of dry cereal out of the box. His dry cereal.