Three months later
University Hospital of Pennsylvania
Julie Jenkins rose from the wheelchair on wobbly legs. She used a cane to make her way down the sidewalk where she stood awaiting the unknown.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, turning to her physical therapist. “I know I wasn’t easy.”
“You weren’t as difficult as you might like to think,” he said, shooting her a wink and a sincere smile.
She knew better. When she awoke from the drug-induced coma, she fought those around her, although she still wasn’t sure to whom she owed an apology. Maybe there was a list somewhere since she remembered being restrained by several men and women.
“Really, Miss Jenkins, it was my pleasure to work with you,” the therapist reassured her. “You weren’t a problem at all.”
“I hope not,” she said quietly, wondering why her publicist and crew chief weren’t there yet.
A maroon SUV stopped curbside. Equipped with dark-tinted windows, the vehicle possessed front plates with a stock car emblem. She might have thought her ride had arrived if the car displayed a dragster on the tag instead.
She silently hoped whoever left the car didn’t glance her way. Since her accident, her publicist told her she’d become America’s sweetheart, the woman everyone in America, and not just the sports fans, wanted to see survive a crash that should’ve claimed her life.
Then again, stock car racing and drag racing often interlocked. Fans sometimes followed both sports like a religion. And evidently, she was quite recognizable now. Her face had been on numerous magazines. Her story told countless times by reporters searching for ratings.
A pedestrian passed her then and she turned her head to the side, fearing those never-ending pitiful looks, the eyes of sorrow staring back at her. She’d seen enough of those. She hated being on the receiving end of a stranger’s curious gaze almost as much as she disliked waiting for a ride. No one could accuse her of being a patient woman.
Taking a few uneven steps, she balanced her weight as best she could. Deciding she’d sit and wait on a nearby bench, Julie made her way toward the concrete seat while doors opened and slammed behind her. She hesitated before she turned around, but when she finally managed to make the effort, she had no choice but to acknowledge the familiar eyes staring back at her.
Her fate flashed in front of her. Life as she’d known it was forever over.
* * * *
Hank was the first one to approach her. Thank God.
Duke stayed put, standing firm on the ground underneath him. Julie didn’t look like she was glad to see them but then again, why would she?
The last time they’d been together, they’d parted on bad terms. Evidently, she’d worn her resentment toward them like a badge, too. As soon as she discovered he and Hank wanted to sit by her bedside, she denied them access. Raising complete hell, Julie informed the hospital staff they were not permitted to see her nor were they allowed access to her medical information.
She apparently didn’t have any recollection of the time they’d all spent together while she was in the intensive care unit, which was just as well. Duke was confident Julie would’ve found a way to sue the hospital had she known.
“Julie,” Hank said softly. “It’s good to see you.”
“You haven’t seen enough of me on television over the last three months?” she asked, bitterness in every word.
“I don’t watch the tube,” Hank retorted.
“Duke,” she said, tilting her chin his way. “Tell your brother he’s a horrible liar. He was glued to the news when I caught a glimpse of him as the nurses moved me to a private room, which I’m sure you both arranged.”
Duke’s heart was in his throat. She was as beautiful as the day she’d left them, and just as ill as the staff relayed. She always thought she had something to prove, but now things were different. Her eyes flashed anger. Her voice was laced with fury, and her expression was one he didn’t recognize. Julie was mad at the world.
“Hi, Julie,” Duke finally managed. This was a tough day for all of them, and it was about to become more difficult and pretty damn complicated.
“Hi, Duke,” she choked out, mockery in her voice. “What brings the two of you here today? Did someone tell you the administration decided to release me? I guess you’re here to gloat, aren’t you?”
“Why on earth would you think something like that?” Hank asked.
“I don’t understand either,” Duke admitted.
She snorted at both remarks. “I imagine you drove all this way so you could say
you told me so. Women have no place in drag racing, remember?”