Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 20

20

Ry

T here was no confusion in his mind when he woke up, no instant where he didn’t know where he was. Also, no pain whatsoever, which meant they must be pumping him full of something.

For a few minutes, he watched the liquid dripping slowly into the IV line in his arm. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just taking the pain away; it was also making him feel incredibly mellow. Eventually, though, impatience set in. He knew he’d had surgery—Val had been there to say hello and introduce him to the trauma surgeon and the anesthesiologist, just before they’d played the count back from ten game with him.

He waited for someone—anyone—to step into the room. He wanted to know how Terence, with the broken hips and balls of steel, was doing. He wanted to know how his surgery had gone. As a more immediate concern, he wanted to know when he’d be able to go home. He wasn’t spending the night in a hospital. No fucking way. And he needed his phone. He had to call Isla and explain … he vaguely recalled asking Alex to call her, but the whole helicopter ride—was fuzzy in his mind.

He shifted impatiently in bed, stiffening at the pain coming from his shoulder. The meds didn’t seem to be working as well as they had just a few minutes earlier. He debated pressing the button to get one of the nurses in here, but that felt like a shitty thing to do. That button was red for a reason, and him not feeling mellow any longer was probably not an emergency.

A sudden noise had him looking towards the door. Ry perked up, tracking the opening door like an eager puppy. When he saw Beau and Isla appear, he was this close to letting out a happy woof.

“You’ve met,” he said, unnecessarily, as Beau closed the door. Of course they’d met. They hadn’t just bumped into each other in the corridor. He hadn’t expected either of them to be here. Beau should have been home by now, with Val and Ren, and Isla—why was Isla here? Had Alex made it sound like Ry was dying, or something?

“We’ve met,” Isla confirmed, taking a few steps towards the bed. A small smile crossed her face. She seemed—different from the last time he’d seen her. Hell, at least she was talking to him. That was more than he’d hoped. “Hey,” she said, bridging the last few steps towards the bed.

“Ry,” Beau said, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“You tell me. Did Val say anything about the surgery?”

“It went well, she said, but we’re still waiting to hear from the trauma surgeon.”

Ry felt himself relaxing. He trusted Val. If things had gone wrong, if they’d found something in his shoulder that couldn’t be fixed, she would have been straight with him. Beau gave an uncharacteristic stammer. “Do you need anything? I just wanted to see that you were okay and say thank you.”

Ry groaned. “For not letting your sorry ass fall into a crevasse? You don’t have to say it again. I wouldn’t have done that to Val and Ren,” he said, trying to infuse some lightness into his words.

Beau’s rugged face split into a smile at the mention of Ren. It was getting easier and easier to make the man smile. “Right. Well, you’re going to have to bear with me if I need to tell you again. For my peace of mind.”

“Sure thing,” Ry said easily. “How’s Terence doing?”

“He’s been airlifted to Annecy. They have a team of pelvic surgery experts there.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Ry paused for a moment. “Uh, Beau? There is one thing I need. My clothes.”

Beau’s hard look told him there was no way he was getting out of here tonight, but he nodded. “I’ll get you some clothes from the office. Anything else?”

Ry shook his head, leaning back into the pillows. “Now that you’ve seen me, tell the guys I’m not at death’s door, and that they should go home?”

“I’ll tell them your sense of humor, at least, has survived the surgery intact. How’s that?”

Ry nodded, immediately regretting the movement. Who would have thought nodding would engage what seemed like a hundred muscles in his shoulder?

“I’ll be back to see you tomorrow morning. With the clothes,” Beau said, making his way to the door. With a curt nod at Isla, he was gone.

Isla stood still—almost, but not quite—within arm’s reach. “So, you saved your boss’s life?” she asked, looking impressed.

And Ry wanted her to be impressed, except there was nothing that impressive about what he’d done. “I was in the right place at the right time.”

“And Terence was the snowboarder? He’s okay as well?”

“He will be, I hope.”

Isla took a small step forward. And this time Ry couldn’t help himself. He lifted his good hand—no way was he moving the other arm, he wasn’t stupid enough to try that—and grasped her fingers. Electricity surged between them, and Ry knew, from the way Isla looked down at their connection, that he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

“What are you sorry about?” she asked, frowning.

“I’m sorry about whatever I did up on the slopes that disappointed you,” he said carefully. “I’d like to understand what it was so I can make sure not to do it again.”

Isla shook her head violently. “No. That’s what I’m sorry about. It’s nothing you did.”

“Please don’t say it’s not you, it’s me,” Ry begged, trying hard not to think of all the times he had been the one to use that line.

Isla laughed. “No. It’s nothing like that. I just … I have baggage that I haven’t told you about and I … I misunderstood a situation.”

“What situation?” Ry asked. He was feeling more confused and woozier by the second.

Isla sighed, biting her lip. “It’s embarrassing, but I know I’m going to have to tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “Isla, I like you. I like … I like everything about us , about this . And I might not be very experienced because … well, because I don’t do relationships, but up there on the slopes with you this morning, I felt …”

“What kind of painkillers are you on?” she suddenly asked, eying his IV line.

“Are you making fun of me? As I lie here, injured, with my ass hanging out of an open dress?”

Isla laughed. “I see you’re going to milk this for all it’s worth.”

“Only if I have to. Tell me what I did wrong, Isla. Please.”

Isla sighed a heavy sigh. “I saw you kiss Yvette,” she said, her voice only faintly more than a whisper.

“Yvette?” Ry asked, sure that he’d entered a parallel universe. The only Yvette he knew was Alex’s girlfriend, and he’d never kissed her. Not that there was anything wrong with Yvette—she was a beautiful woman. But she was Alex’s girlfriend, and—well, that’s just not something Ry did. “I’ve never kissed …”

And then the images of that morning replayed in his mind, like a grainy home video. Was that really only hours ago? He saw himself outside the restaurant, tray in hand, running into Yvette—saw the way she’d leaned over him in an uncharacteristic display of affection, which wasn’t affection at all, but rather her whispering in his ear about the surprise party she was planning for Alex. He could see what it might have looked like to Isla. Except … except was that the kind of man she thought he was?

“I know,” Isla said. A wave of sadness crossed her features, and Ry could see the effort she made to dispel it. “I feel stupid, believe me. But I can explain.” She straightened her shoulders, as if readying herself for battle.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I don’t?”

“Not unless you want to.” He wanted to know. Of course he did, because that was the only way of ensuring he wouldn’t end up hurting her again without meaning to. But he didn’t want to cause her pain, certainly not now, when he couldn’t even take her in his arms. Just holding her hand was taking so much of his strength.

“I’m sorry I have baggage.”

“We all have baggage.” He took a deep breath. The meds were kicking in again. He could feel he had little time left before he started snoring. “When I get out of here, we need to talk.”

“About what happened?”

He shook his head—shit, he really had to stop doing that. “About where things are going between us.”

She seemed surprised at that. “You still think … you still think they’re going somewhere?”

He found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. But he had to tell her this, at least. “Believe me, baby. We’re going somewhere.”