earlier to try to
get back into the real world but his mind still lingered in that small bed in
Brooklyn where he’d held Willow.
He got dressed and made a reservation at one of the most
exclusive restaurants in town. One of the many perks to his lifestyle was the
fact that he could get a table anywhere when he needed one. And like his little
hissy fit about the exotic fruit basket, he tried to keep those instances to a
minimum but at times it was very convenient.
Then he tried to forced himself to get back into work mode.
Sleeping with Willow hadn’t eased the ache in his soul. He didn’t suddenly know
her any better; in fact, she was more of a mystery now than she had been before.
He wondered if he hadn’t screwed himself by getting involved with her.
Willow had him tied in knots. No matter what he did he felt
like he still couldn’t figure her out. What was it about her that made her so
different from other women?
Everything.
Everything, from her tough-as-nails exterior to that gooey soft
inner woman that she was desperate to keep hidden from the world, pushed his
buttons. Why?
His phone pinged and he glanced down to see a text message from
Rhia Montaine. PJ was coming out of his coma. She didn’t have a good cell phone
signal in the hospital but would welcome a call from Jack on the hospital
phone.
He took a deep breath, as the text was just the reminder he
needed to rein things in with Willow. Earlier he’d been desperate to hold on to
her but this forced him to remember the reality of his life.
Nothing lasted. Not even the good times. Everything ended, no
matter what he did to protect it.
He dialed the hospital and waited a few minutes for the call to
be connected. With cell phones it was odd to have to use a traditional operator
to get in touch with someone. He had a flashback to high school when that was
the only way he’d been able to communicate with his single mom when she was at
work.
“Hello,” Rhia answered, sounding tired and a little bit
stressed-out. He wondered how many calls she’d had to deal with today. The
production company had hired a bodyguard to keep the paparazzi away from the
hospital room. Though PJ was well known in the surfing world, Rhia was an
internationally famous actress and the cameras followed her wherever she
went.
“It’s Jack. How’s our guy?” Jack asked, keeping his voice
gentle, trying to be soothing when he was anything but calm inside.
“Awake, but he’s still weak,” Rhia said.
It was good to hear that PJ had come out of the coma. He was
afraid to ask anything else, though. Did PJ blame Jack for the lost leg?
“How are you?” he asked instead.
“Exhausted, but also very happy. Oh, Jack, I am so relieved
that he’s awake and cracking wise. He asked if you were okay.”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jack asked.
“You were shaken, too,” Rhia said. “I saw you before you got on
that plane, remember?”
“Well, I’m good. Can I talk to him?”
“Let me check.”
He heard Rhia’s muted voice but not her words as she talked to
PJ and a moment later there was some rustling on the other end of the phone and
then a very weak and gruff voice said, “I hope that was exciting enough for your
TV viewers.”
Jack shook his head and laughed, as he knew PJ was hoping he
would, but his heart ached at his physically virile friend sounding so damned
weak. “Showboater. Always trying to outdo everyone else.”
“Gotta keep my rep as a badass,” PJ said, but he didn’t sound
tough.
“You’ve earned it now.”
There was a prolonged silence leaving Jack to wonder if PJ had
fallen asleep. That was probably a blessing—it would let Jack end one of the
hardest conversations he’d ever had. Usually he was the one in a hospital bed.
Usually? He guessed he was getting melodramatic. One time he’d been the guy in
the hospital bed and it was so much easier than being this guy. The one who
escaped the incident scott-free.
He finally
get back into the real world but his mind still lingered in that small bed in
Brooklyn where he’d held Willow.
He got dressed and made a reservation at one of the most
exclusive restaurants in town. One of the many perks to his lifestyle was the
fact that he could get a table anywhere when he needed one. And like his little
hissy fit about the exotic fruit basket, he tried to keep those instances to a
minimum but at times it was very convenient.
Then he tried to forced himself to get back into work mode.
Sleeping with Willow hadn’t eased the ache in his soul. He didn’t suddenly know
her any better; in fact, she was more of a mystery now than she had been before.
He wondered if he hadn’t screwed himself by getting involved with her.
Willow had him tied in knots. No matter what he did he felt
like he still couldn’t figure her out. What was it about her that made her so
different from other women?
Everything.
Everything, from her tough-as-nails exterior to that gooey soft
inner woman that she was desperate to keep hidden from the world, pushed his
buttons. Why?
His phone pinged and he glanced down to see a text message from
Rhia Montaine. PJ was coming out of his coma. She didn’t have a good cell phone
signal in the hospital but would welcome a call from Jack on the hospital
phone.
He took a deep breath, as the text was just the reminder he
needed to rein things in with Willow. Earlier he’d been desperate to hold on to
her but this forced him to remember the reality of his life.
Nothing lasted. Not even the good times. Everything ended, no
matter what he did to protect it.
He dialed the hospital and waited a few minutes for the call to
be connected. With cell phones it was odd to have to use a traditional operator
to get in touch with someone. He had a flashback to high school when that was
the only way he’d been able to communicate with his single mom when she was at
work.
“Hello,” Rhia answered, sounding tired and a little bit
stressed-out. He wondered how many calls she’d had to deal with today. The
production company had hired a bodyguard to keep the paparazzi away from the
hospital room. Though PJ was well known in the surfing world, Rhia was an
internationally famous actress and the cameras followed her wherever she
went.
“It’s Jack. How’s our guy?” Jack asked, keeping his voice
gentle, trying to be soothing when he was anything but calm inside.
“Awake, but he’s still weak,” Rhia said.
It was good to hear that PJ had come out of the coma. He was
afraid to ask anything else, though. Did PJ blame Jack for the lost leg?
“How are you?” he asked instead.
“Exhausted, but also very happy. Oh, Jack, I am so relieved
that he’s awake and cracking wise. He asked if you were okay.”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jack asked.
“You were shaken, too,” Rhia said. “I saw you before you got on
that plane, remember?”
“Well, I’m good. Can I talk to him?”
“Let me check.”
He heard Rhia’s muted voice but not her words as she talked to
PJ and a moment later there was some rustling on the other end of the phone and
then a very weak and gruff voice said, “I hope that was exciting enough for your
TV viewers.”
Jack shook his head and laughed, as he knew PJ was hoping he
would, but his heart ached at his physically virile friend sounding so damned
weak. “Showboater. Always trying to outdo everyone else.”
“Gotta keep my rep as a badass,” PJ said, but he didn’t sound
tough.
“You’ve earned it now.”
There was a prolonged silence leaving Jack to wonder if PJ had
fallen asleep. That was probably a blessing—it would let Jack end one of the
hardest conversations he’d ever had. Usually he was the one in a hospital bed.
Usually? He guessed he was getting melodramatic. One time he’d been the guy in
the hospital bed and it was so much easier than being this guy. The one who
escaped the incident scott-free.
He finally
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