“How’s the leg today?” she asked.
Jamie shrugged. “About the same. No worse, so that’s good.”
He’d been working hard to regain his lost muscle strength, and had been practicing walking without his crutches. Even with the rigid boot, his leg was still too weak to completely support his weight, although he could now get by with just one crutch. A physical therapist came to the house twice a week and put him through his paces, and he hoped he would be able to walk without the remaining crutch by the end of the month.
“Did you talk with Dylan today?” Laurel asked.
“I did, this morning.” He laughed softly. “If possible, he’s feeling even more ornery than I am. With two cranky cripples in the house, you might want to do yourself a favor and avoid coming over.”
Through the kitchen doorway, he watched Laurel set a dish of food onto the floor for Boomer, and then she came into the living room and surveyed him, surrounded as he was by Dylan’s workout equipment.
“Neither of you scare me,” she said, smiling. “Trust me when I tell you I’ve handled worse. And you’re not going to heal faster by overtaxing your leg. Just so you know.”
Jamie grunted. He didn’t want to admit Laurel was right. He just wanted to be back on his feet. He’d be better equipped to face Rachel if he wasn’t on crutches or stuck in a wheelchair. And he would face her—there had never been any doubt in his mind about that. He just needed to be able to catch her if she decided to run.
“What time did Dylan say he’d be here?” Laurel asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“About an hour.”
“Okay, that sounds perfect. I’m going to head home now, but I’ll be back when he gets here, okay? The steaks and beer are in the fridge, and I put the corn into some water to soak; I thought they’d be good roasted on the grill.”
Jamie raised a hand in farewell as she let herself out, and then rose to his feet and made his way outside to the deck. He leaned on the railing and surveyed the town of Glacier Creek, below, a hard knot of misery in his chest.
What was Rachel doing right now? Did she think of him? Did she miss him? Dylan had promised not to tell her where he was, but Jamie wondered how long it would be before she figured it out. He was actually surprised—and more than a little disappointed—she hadn’t already discovered he was staying at Dylan’s house. He’d have thought she’d be over long before now to make sure the house was ready for Dylan when he returned from Bozeman. The sun beat warm on his shoulders, reminding him there was cold beer in the fridge.
Turning, he made his way back into the house, and then stopped when he heard a key in the front lock. He paused, expecting Dylan or his parents to walk through the door.
The last person he expected to see was Rachel, and judging by the shocked look on her face when she saw him standing there, she hadn’t expected to see him, either.
Chapter Seventeen
“What are you doing here?”
They both said the words at the same time, and Rachel flushed. Jamie thought she looked pale, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well. Guilt gnawed at him, even as he devoured her with his eyes.
“I, um, promised to bring some groceries over,” she explained.
For the first time, Jamie noticed she carried two grocery totes that bulged with food.
“Here, I’ll take those,” he said, and his voice sounded gruff, even to his own ears. He stepped forward and took both totes in one hand, and then turned to limp his way into the kitchen.
After a moment, he heard Rachel follow him.
“Believe me, I didn’t plan this. I had no idea you would be here,” she finally said, as he set the bags onto the island.
“Or you wouldn’t have come?” Jamie sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help himself. When he angled his head to look at her, his chest constricted. Rachel stood uncertainly just inside the kitchen, turning her car keys over and over in her hands and not looking at him.
“I’m not the one avoiding contact,” she said quietly, and raised her gaze to his. “You haven’t returned any of my calls.”
“No.”
A sudden knock on the door startled them both, and then the front door opened and Laurel poked her head inside. “Hello! It’s just me! I saw a van pull up.”
“We’re in the kitchen,” Jamie called.
Laurel came in, a wide smile on her face, and then came to an abrupt stop when she saw Rachel.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, putting a hand to her throat. “I thought it might be Dylan. I didn’t mean to intrude.”