Gratitude and joy swelled inside him, making him ache with the kind of acceptance and belonging he’d never believed possible. The kind he wanted to share with Giselle. He pulled Lexi into a hug and whispered, “Thank you. So much.”
“Don’t be stubborn or proud,” she said, scolding like the sister she’d become. “Because if I find out you needed something and didn’t ask, you’ll be sorry.”
He laughed and released her. “I do not want to suffer your wrath. Thanks for coming.”
“Always.”
She left the room with Rachel, but Zahara and Rubi lingered, and Troy knew he was in for another talking-to.
Zahara didn’t waste any time digging in. “I heard what Giselle said when we were digging you out.”
People say all kinds of things when they’re panicked.”
Z got that determined look in her eyes. “They say things that are automatic, things like ‘I’m scared,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘Don’t leave me.’ They don’t say things like, ‘Nothing’s been the same since I walked away from you, like half my soul was missing.’ That was real.”
“And in the very next breath, she said, ‘It was better for both of us.’”
“Give me a break. She meant it was better for both of you then, not now. Times like these make people reevaluate their lives. Facing death makes people realize where their priorities lie. They see holes in their lives they never noticed before.”
No fucking kidding. Troy had maintained his distance from Giselle over the last four days by clinging to the belief that she deserved better. But after watching that ceiling fly toward her, holding her while the cave wall crushed her to his body, witnessing her mind fray, cell by cell… It all brought back a reality that he lived with on a daily basis in stunts—life was short, and you never knew when it would be stolen from you.
So, yeah, he was second-guessing all his previous convictions pretty damn hard.
“Neither you nor Giselle can work right now,” Zahara said, “and sitting around will drive you both crazy. I suggest you two go away together for a few days and take some time to really talk. Really think about what you want the rest of your lives to look like. It may be the last chance you get to do it together.”
Rubi stepped forward, picked up his hand, and pressed a ring of keys into his palm. “The keys to my father’s house in Malibu. He hasn’t set foot in the place for six years, and he’s in Thailand for another month. There’s a car in the garage. I’ll have clothes and food delivered to the house. Z has clued me in on Giselle’s sizes from her costume fittings. And no one will know you’re there but me and Z.”
That overwhelming sense of gratitude tightened his throat again. He swallowed past the lump and closed his fingers around Rubi’s. “I don’t know—”
“You don’t have to know,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Just know it’s there for you. Just know I hope you use it.”
Troy exhaled heavily, swallowed his fierce independent streak, and wrapped an arm around each of the women’s shoulders, holding them tight. “I love you guys.”
“Love you too,” they said at the same time, then released him.
“You’re an amazing man,” Z said, “a man any woman would be lucky to have in her life. You do deserve more. Now go put that prick in his place.”
Troy laughed, nodded, and followed them from the room. With more doubts than he’d had in years, he watched Zahara and Rubi leave the ER. But as soon as he turned back into Giselle’s room, as soon as his gaze slid over her profile, soft cream against the crisp white pillow, the churning in his chest eased.
He scanned the busy ER and found Maggie. Once she met his gaze, he nodded. She returned the nod and started toward the waiting room. In Giselle’s room, he flipped off the overhead lights, returned to her bedside, and stroked her soft cheek with the backs of his fingers. The act lowered his blood pressure and eased his stress, but the sight of her so broken tore at him. This was the result of too much stress built up over a long period of time. It was Giselle trying to be everything to everyone—the star, the businesswoman, the mediator, the employer, the employee, the friend. And when she found herself in need of those reserves to hold herself together, she’d come up empty, with no one there to give her the kind of support he was getting from his Renegades family. Except for Brook, Giselle was essentially alone, and it broke his heart.
“What are we gonna do about this, angel?” he whispered.
Deep blue bruises were developing in various places on her cheekbone and chin. Troy wished he had a magic wand to erase them. Wished he had a magic wand to erase every mistake he’d ever made.
Movement at the door drew Troy’s gaze. Chad wore khakis and a polo shirt and carried a duffle bag. Worry creased his pale face. Beside him, Giselle’s assistant, Brook, tore a Kleenex to shreds, her eyes and nose red and swollen. Troy forcefully curbed his frustration.
“What took so damn long?” Chad demanded. “Why haven’t we been able to see her?”
“She had to be sedated. She needed tests and stitches. Her medical care co
mes first.”
Brook nodded fervently. “Of course.”
Chad pushed past Troy. At the sight of Giselle, he dropped the duffle. “Giselle? Honey?” When she didn’t answer, didn’t move, Chad swung back toward Troy. “If you had anything to do with this—”
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” Brook’s sweet whisper contrasted sharply with Chad’s anger. She’d rounded the bed and gently curved her hand over Giselle’s, stroking back Giselle’s hair with the other hand. “We both know what a miracle worker I am. I’ve got you completely covered. You don’t even look that bad. Nothing a little concealer and bronzer won’t fix.”