Chapter Twelve
"Well, I guess it was a good thing you were in the emergency room, huh?"
Andie could hear Conner's voice and she struggled to open her eyes. She was lying on a hospital bed, staring up at a drop-tile ceiling. It took her a moment to remember where she was, why she was there. And then she turned her head to look at Conner in the bed next to her.
He tried to grin, but it was a little lopsided. He winced as it pulled at the mess of his face. "Man, a guy tries to help someone out and look where it lands him."
"Oh, Conner," Andie whispered. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then sat there a minute as the room took a slow, sickening swing around her.
"Easy there," Conner said. He looked around like he was trying to find a nurse to keep her where she was.
Andie put her feet on the floor, then slowly stood up. When she managed that fine, she walked over to the bed, gently gathered Conner's fingers in her own. "What happened?"
He shrugged one shoulder then let out a little gasp as his free hand pressed against his ribs. "Logan's ankle twisted and he stumbled. The edge of the cliff started to crumble and I pulled him back. I got caught in it. It was a freak thing."
"It wasn't his fault, Andie. It was mine," Logan said from the next bed, his voice loud in the hushed room. "He told me I was walking too close to the cliff and I didn't listen. The only reason he was close enough to get to me was because he was coming over to haul me back. It was my fault. I should have listened."
Conner gave him a look. "Yeah, you should have listened, but a cliff edge crumbling isn't anyone's fault. I'll be fine, and next time, you'll know better. That's what a guide's job is; to tell you when something isn't safe. We're not there to blow smoke up your ass."
"Yeah. I'm sorry."
Andie could see the edge of Logan's face as the shimmer of tears slid down one cheek. She sighed. Yeah, everyone was fine. This time. But what about the next time? And for Conner, there would always be a next time. Like he'd said, it was his job. How long would it take before he was seriously hurt? Before he was killed? How long before she had to bear another unthinkable loss?
She looked down, at Conner's bruised and broken body against the hospital pillow and thought of her father, how he had laid in a bed like this, how he had broken and slipped away. Something flared and burned in her heart so suddenly and so fiercely that for several long moments she couldn't even manage to drag a breath in past the pain of it.
When she managed to tamp it down, when she managed to focus on Conner again, he was watching her. And she could see the pain and the fear in his eyes as his fingers tightened around hers. He knew.
"Don't, Andie. Don't do it. It was an accident."
She laughed, the rough edges of it tearing at her throat. "An accident. It's always an accident, isn't it? Do you know what the definition of an accident is, Conner? I do," she said, not giving him the chance to answer. "I do because I memorized it after my parents died. An accident is 'an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury.' Unexpected and unintentional, Conner. So how can you tell me you'll be safe, that nothing will happen to you? How can you tell me it's okay to take a risk on you? Because the way I see it, the odds aren't in your favor. You're a bush pilot for God's sake! You put yourself in survival situations for fun! It's only a matter of time, Conner, and you know it. Are you going to give it up for me? Are you going to put aside the one thing in the world that makes you the happiest? And even if you would, do you think I would let you?" She stared at him, feeling the pressure in her chest squeeze tighter and tighter, until every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire. But it was nothing compared to the despair she could see starting to smolder behind his eyes.
"Andie, no. Please. Don't do this." His hand held hers tighter until she could feel the bones in her hand grinding against each other under the pressure.
"I thought I could do this, be with you, but I can't. I can't do this, Conner. I can't do this with you."
"I love you," Conner said. The words were low and rough, but sharp enough that they still drove straight to her heart, piercing it with the weight behind them.
Suddenly the room was spinning around her again and the pain was so strong she felt like she physically couldn't bear it, couldn't stand there a minute longer.
"I can't," she managed to gasp out, and then she was running, ignoring Conner's yells for her to stop. She didn't stop until Shawn caught up with her and physically stopped her, pulling her into his arms.
And then she crumpled, her sobs coming so fast and hard that she felt like she couldn't breathe. She cried out the fear she'd held for Logan, the pain of losing her parents, the pressure of being the frame that held their whole family up for the last six years.
But mostly she cried for Conner. She cried because, oh, God, she did love him. She loved him so much that she could feel it in every one of her bones, every cell of her body. She was desperately and horribly in love with him.
And it didn't matter at all. She would never be with him, never have a life with him. She couldn't risk the pain and potential loss, couldn't get past the sheer terror of it. So she cried for the dream of love that had been within reach, the dream that now lay shattered and dead at the base of that cliff that had crumbled a few hours ago.
*
The following days passed in a slow, agonizing blur for Andie, one day edging into another. It was like her heart had cracked open and everything she'd managed to keep shut up, every thing she'd pushed away so that she could be a functioning adult, had come pouring out in one excruciating torrent. Once she allowed herself to feel one thing, she felt everything, whether she wanted to or not.
The first few days, Mrs. Brown looked after Andie's shop, while Andie stayed home with Logan. But his ankle injury really wasn't all that bad, and soon he was back to school.
So Andie hauled herself to her shop every day, and then lugged herself back home. Slowly, the pain eased. Well, not really, but she pretended it had. She missed Conner every second of every day.
"Andie! Andie!"
She could hear Shawn storming through the house looking for her. For a minute, she snuggled deeper under her blanket on the couch and debated whether she could get away with not answering him. But then she sighed and threw back the afghan her grandma had crocheted.
"In here!" she yelled back as she sat up and ran her fingers through the snarled mess of her curls.
Shawn stepped through the doorway, then paused, a pinched look on his face. "This has to stop," he said softly. "You can't go on like this. You're miserable. He's miserable. admit that you love him already and get back together."
"I can't do that, Shawn."
Shawn folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the door jamb. "Can't you?"
"No. I can't." Andie stood, folded the afghan neatly, and laid it on the back of the couch. "Was there something you wanted?"
Shawn stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "Yeah. My sister back. You know, Pumpkin Fest is next week. They're counting on your float for the parade. Have you even started work on it yet?"
Andie bit her lip. She hadn't started it, and he was right; she had to do it, no matter how crappy she felt. It was the last float of the parade, the one that Santa always made an early appearance on. It had always been one of her favorite things to do. Somehow, she had to move past this pain, get over Conner and find, if not joy, than at least some level of contentment in her life.
"Tomorrow's Saturday," Shawn said. "I can take the morning off from the clinic and we can get to work. I bet Logan'll help too. What do you think?"
"All right. You're right, I suppose." She kept her arms around his back, not quite ready to step out of the warmth of his hug, to move forward into her future, a new future with no Conner in it. She wasn't ready to face the bleakness of that.
"I'm your big brother. I'm always right. Now go take a shower or something." He freed one hand so he could gently pat her hair. "Is there something living in there? Is that why it looks like that?"
Andie laughed. It sounded rough and creaky, but it was a real laugh. "Yeah, yeah." She let him go and headed for the stairs.
"Andie?" Shawn called.
She paused, one hand on the railing. "Yeah?"
"Mom and Dad would hate this. Hate that you let their deaths damage you so much that you'd rather spend your life alone than take a risk on love."
His words were an arrow, tipped with a razor blade that sliced through her back and into her heart. She hunched her shoulders, absorbing as much of the pain of his words as she could take, then turned silently and trudged up the stairs.
*
Glitter was flying through the air, along with clouds of fake snow. Heavy rock music pounded against Andie's ears; she'd been overruled by Logan and Shawn for choice of radio station. The music, along with the frenzied flashes from the defective Christmas lights that lay in a big jumble in front of her, combined to give her the most massive headache ever. Then the music sliced off, dead in the center of a song.
A little ripple of awareness raced down the back of Andie's neck. She turned in time to see Conner step around a life-sized plastic reindeer. He was moving slowly, stiffly, like he was made of glass, and any sudden movement might cause him to fracture. The bruises on his face had faded to an ugly purplish yellow, and there were several long scratches down his cheek that, while scabbed over, still looked painful. But he was there. In their garage.
Shawn darted out from behind a half decorated Christmas tree, nabbed Logan by the shoulder and started to drag him away.
"Hey!" Logan shouted. "I wanted to say hi to Conner."
"Later," Shawn said, then disappeared out the service door, before Andie even had time to scramble out of the trailer bed she'd been trying to decorate with the knotted lights.
Conner jammed his hands in his pockets. "Hey."
"Hey," Andie said back, but it came out more as a whisper.
Conner stared at her a minute, then turned to the float. "It's looking pretty good."
"Yeah." Andie wiped her glitter bedecked palms on her thighs. "It's getting there. Did you... Um. Do you want something?"
Conner whipped around, his eyes tight with anger, anger mixed with something else, something a lot more painful, something Andie couldn't bear to see. "Seriously? You're going to stand there and ask me that? Like we're strangers?"
"Um." Andie took a step back and then another, bumping up against Shawn's old mountain bike. Her heart was racing, her fingers tingling with the urge to reach out, to lace them through his silky black hair, to pull him closer, and closer still, until she could feel every inch of his body against her.
She stared at the cold cement floor and took several deep breaths, until she had everything pushed back down below the surface, until she could look at him and not be afraid that her eyes were filled with every aching need in her heart.
When she looked back up, she realized he'd taken advantage of the moment to move closer. He was only feet away from her. She pushed back against the bike, heard a sharp metallic clang as something tipped over behind her. She glanced wildly to the side, wondering if she could make it past him, but it was too late.
Conner stepped into the gap, trapping her between the bike and the wall. This close, Andie could tell something was wrong. His eyes had deep, dusty purple circles under them and his clothes hung on his body like he'd lost a few pounds. But his eyes, his eyes were on fire.
"Don't shut me out, Andie." And he eased his hand forward, until he was cupping her face.
Andie felt one hot tear slip down her cheek before she turned away. What could she say? She was shutting him out. She had too. There was no other way. No matter how much she loved him, no matter how brightly her world shone when she was with him, it couldn't happen. It was too much of a risk. He was too much of a risk.
She turned her head away from his hand. "Please, Conner. go."
His palm fell away, replaced by chilly air, but Conner didn't step back. He stood there, letting the silence stretch between them until Andie looked at him.
His eyes were bleak, his mouth pressed in one hard line, as he searched her eyes. "Fine." He took a couple steps back, one hand pressed to his ribs as he moved. "I got an offer on the building."
"That's..." Andie had meant to say that was great, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It would be the end of everything. There'd be no going back then, nothing to keep Conner here.
Conner watched her, his gaze steady on her face. "But it's an offer from the Federal Government. They want to turn it into a museum, dedicated to the shipping and logging past of Port Haven. It's the only other offer I've gotten."
Andie felt the breath whoosh out of her and managed to sit back down on the trailer before her knees gave out. "My store?"
"You'd lose it. But they did say they'd agree to a ninety day closing which would give you until the end of January to get out." Conner stood there, his hands in his pockets. Waiting.
Andie pushed up to her feet, shoved her shoulders back. "Do it."
"What?"
"Do it. Sign the deal. It's what's best for you; probably what's best for Port Haven. A museum would bring in more tourists, more revenue for the town." And she would lose her shop, lose her family's livelihood.
So she'd start over. She'd done it before, she could do it again. It would be heart-wrenchingly hard, but it wasn't the end of the world. It hurt. But it wouldn't hurt anywhere near as bad as she was hurting right now, knowing that Conner was going to walk away, that he was going to leave Port Haven and probably never come back.
Conner turned his back to her, his shoulders hunching forward. "Are you sure?" And his voice was laced with as much pain as Andie was feeling.
"Yes." Andie stepped forward, let her hand rest on the leather of his jacket sleeve for a fraction of a second. "Go. Live your dream."
Conner turned back to her, his face a mask of bewilderment, betrayal, hurt. "Andie."
She pressed a hand to the sharp ache behind her eyes. "I'm sorry, Conner. Sorry I couldn't be what I needed to be to make this work."
Conner laughed, a short, bitter sound. "I don't think you even tried, Andie." And he walked out of the garage.
"Good bye," Andie whispered the words, then slumped down into a pile of fake snow, her heart scooped empty by the pain, so empty that she couldn't even cry.