Chapter 33

Delia laughedwhen the first thought that came to her head was that she ached like she"d been hit by a truck.

"You just woke up, and you"re giggling?" Mary stood from her chair and approached the hospital bed. Her hair was a mess, and she had raccoon eyes from smeared mascara.

Delia groaned when she tried to turn her neck, and pain shot up her spine. "I wasn"t giggling."

Mary rolled her eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit."

"Excellent. That means you"re lucid." Mary pulled up the sleeve of her hospital gown. "Doesn"t look like it"s bleeding anymore."

Delia tried to see the gauze but couldn"t make her head move far enough. She glanced up at the clock. Quarter to nine. Before she could announce her current state of starvation, Mary turned and lifted a bag from the chair next to hers. "Tony couldn"t come since he"s not family, but he had Kels drop off a breakfast bagel." She winked.

Delia sighed and sank back into her pillows. She doubted Tony would've made the effort to come by even if he could've visited, but the thought definitely counted for something. "I"ve always loved Kels." Mary handed her the bag, and she pulled out the sandwich. She"d almost fully unwrapped it when she paused, her eyes widening.

"Yes, they have toothbrushes here," Mary said dramatically.

Delia grinned and tore off the rest of the paper. Her senses lit up like a Christmas tree as she bit into the just slightly soggy bagel, her teeth sinking into herby cream cheese, crispy bacon, and scrambled egg. She wanted to groan with pleasure, and that immediately made her think of Jack drooling over his steak in his hotel room. She shot up in bed and winced. "Jack?" His name came out a garbled mess, but somehow Mary still understood.

"I phoned him last night. He"s?—"

Delia"s door swung open, revealing her morning nurse with an annoyed expression. "Your boyfriend won"t take no for an answer." She moved to the side and Jack stalked into the room with energy like a caged mountain cat. Wild and desperate. "For the record, visiting hours start at nine, not eight fifty." She gave him one last disapproving look, then closed the door and left.

Delia could barely breathe through the frantic beat of her heart. When she tried to say something, she realized she"d stopped chewing and her mouth was still full of bagel. She hurriedly finished her bite and wiped the cream cheese from the side of her mouth. After she swallowed, she met his eyes. He was still standing there at the foot of the bed. Staring at her. "You"re here?"

It didn"t seem possible. He must"ve gotten on a plane the second she crashed.

Jack let the backpack slide off his shoulder. He looked over at the chair next to Mary, but Delia held out a hand. "No. Sit here. Please." She patted the side of the bed Mary had just vacated.

He dropped the bag and rounded the bed, then sat so close she could smell his deodorant. His real kind that time, not the Edmonton travel version. The clean scent made her skin buzz.

Jack ran his hands over her, gentle and probing, like he was searching for anything the doctors missed. "That"s the cut?" He fingered the edges of the gauze.

Delia nodded as much as she could without inciting another pain spike. "All stitched up."

"Where"s Bryce?" he asked.

Mary pointed to the door. "He"s down the hall. Just got the X-rays back. He has a broken wrist." Jack blew out a breath.

"I think I owe him an apology." Delia laced her fingers in his, remembering the conversation she and Bryce had on the way to the car.

"Why?"

"I might have been giving him crap about being too uptight."

Mary folded her arms over her chest. "I told you it meant he was good at his job."

Delia had gotten the rundown after the stitches when she was too full of adrenaline and nerves to fall to sleep immediately. From the sounds of it, she owed Bryce more than an apology. Probably a steak. And her firstborn child.

Jack reached out with his free hand and tapped her sandwich. "You should finish eating."

Delia snapped her mouth closed. She"d been talking that whole time with chive breath.

When she didn"t move, Jack pushed it closer. "Don"t make me chew it for you and feed you like a baby bird." He looked just serious enough, Delia relented. She took another bite and offered it to him. He shook his head. "I already stopped for food. Had to kill some time." He ground his teeth, and Delia fought back a smile.

Mary started asking him about the flight over, and soon they were chatting about how much they hated drink services on overnight flights. By the time they"d agreed that no lights or announcements should be made between the hours of midnight and five, Delia"s stomach was full. She handed Jack the trash, then nudged him. "I need to go to the washroom."

Jack moved out of the way and held onto her waist as she padded in her hospital socks to the toilet. "Do you need me to stay?"

She balked and shooed him out of the room, then regretted it as she swayed a bit trying to pull up her gown. She made it onto the toilet safely, then cleaned up and opened the door. Jack was there waiting to walk her back. As soon as she was settled, he spread out her blankets and sat back at her side. His hand rested over her leg just under her knee, and suddenly she wasn"t thinking about Bryce or the accident or the fact that she'd been in such a rush, she'd forgotten to brush her teeth in the washroom.

She was wholly focused on the man sitting next to her. The man who"d flown across the country overnight to make sure she was okay. The man who offered to stand next to her while she peed.

"What happened to the cow knuckles?" he asked, his voice low.

Delia"s lips twitched. "My mom probably lost it when she woke up this morning and saw a pot of raw bones on the stove."

"She hasn"t seen you yet?"

"No. She"s still sick. I told her to hang tight since I was being discharged in a bit." Delia thought back to the conversation she had with Jack before the onion debacle. "You have practice. Right now." She looked too fast at the clock and sucked in a breath at the sharp pain in her shoulders.

"I texted my coaches. They"re aware of the situation."

"But you need that practice. You have a game?—"

"Delia, it"s fine." He squeezed her hand.

But it wasn"t fine. From the second she"d been staring into the headlights of that truck, all she"d seen in her head was Jack. When she was in the ambulance and realized her phone was back on the floor of the crushed car, all she"d wanted to do was hear his voice. When she was sitting in triage, the only person she"d wanted sitting next to her was Jack Harrison.

Now, here he was, sharing her hospital bed, and everything he was doing told her he had the same feelings she did. But?—

Delia"s thoughts vanished like smoke. Jack"s hand wasn"t on her leg anymore. He was . . . wiggling her toe? She blinked and watched his hand move from her toe to her knee, then back to her foot. "What are?—?"

Jack looked up and the question withered on her lips. His eyes were dark. Glassy. He pressed her toe a third time, then tapped her knee and somehow with her crash addled brain, the pieces tumbled into place.

Delia lifted her hand and touched her chest, then her forehead. A smile spread across Jack"s face, so slow it was like watching a flower bloom. She watched as Jack touched the corner of his eye, then put a hand over his heart, and finally pointed straight at her.

"Peerrrfect." Mary leaned past Jack with her phone. "Tony made me promise I"d get some good pub shots of the two of you." She straightened and looked at the screen. "Delia, why are you—?" Her head snapped up, confusion written all over her face.

Delia reached up and swiped the tears from her cheeks. "I love you, Jack. I love you so much?—"

Jack leaned forward and gingerly pressed her into his chest. Delia barely heard Mary mumble something about ruining their moment. She didn"t register the click of the door as it closed.

Jack"s voice as he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you," filled every nook and cranny of her being. Her world narrowed to the rumble of his throat against her shoulder. The pressure of his broad hands against her back. She kissed his neck, tasting the salt of her tears and the warmth of his skin.

Not once did she think about the faint hint of cream cheese, bacon, and chive.

_____

Delia winced as she got out of the car. "You don't have to do this."

Jack gave her a look. "I'm not going to let you unload the groceries."

"But your flight leaves at six?—"

"Which is still four hours from now." Jack went straight to the trunk. He and her new security guard took over, so she acquiesced and walked to the front door, slipped in her key, and opened it.

Delia barely took a step inside before her mother was there, wrapping her in her arms. "Oh, mon chou." Her mother stroked her hair, then pulled back and inspected her. She clucked when she saw the gauze poking out from under her T-shirt.

"It's fine, Mom. I'm okay. How are you?"

Her mother dropped her arms. "Better. Those vitamins are working wonders."

Delia bit back a smile and turned as Jack appeared in the doorway, his arms laden with paper grocery sacks.

Her mother looked up and her eyes widened. "Jack Harrison."

Delia exhaled. The sky behind him was grey, bringing out the warmth of his skin "Jack, this is my mom, Camille."

Jack set the bags on the ground, then strode forward and wrapped his arms around her. Her mother let out a small gasp, then her face split into the first real smile Delia had seen since coming home.

Jack pulled back. "It's wonderful to meet you." Delia's ovaries twitched as he turned and bundled the groceries back in his arms, then scanned the living room. "Your house is beautiful."

Her mother's cheeks flushed. "Don't you have a game tomorrow?"

He grinned and took his shoes off. "You follow hockey?"

Her mother nodded, and Delia scoffed. "Since when?"

She shrugged, and Delia knew what that meant. She didn't follow hockey so much as one player in particular.

Delia motioned for Jack to walk with her to the kitchen. There was so much she hadn't told her mom yet. Their phone calls had been sporadic at best while she was in Calgary, and when they had talked, there hadn't been anything new to share.

Now, there was everything.

"Mom, what did you do with the beef bones?" Delia turned in a circle looking for the stock pot.

"When Mary phoned, I couldn't get back to sleep. They were still frozen, so I put them back in the freezer."

Delia reached excitedly into one of the shopping bags and pulled out a sack of onions. "I know what we're doing tonight."

Jack pulled out the apples and cucumbers. "I'm devastated I won't be here for it."

Delia nudged his arm and set down the onions, then transferred the other fruits and veggies to the fridge. When she turned, her mom was watching her with a satisfied expression. "What?" she mouthed.

"I didn't sleep well, so I'm off for a nap. Lovely to meet you, Jack Harrison."

He turned, holding a head of romaine. "The pleasure was all mine."

As her mother turned down the hall, Delia exhaled. "You've gone and made her fall in love with you."

"Good." Jack grabbed onto her waist and reeled her in.

Delia grimaced as pain shot across her shoulders. "Sorry. Fast movements."

He curled his hand around her neck, as if he were cradling a Fabergé egg. "No, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." Jack smoothed his thumb over her skin and wrapped his other arm around her waist. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he kissed her.

She'd been bone weary after the accident, but breathing him in had the same effect on her as smelling salts. "What is that scent?"

Jack grinned against her lips. "It's called all night on an airplane and?—"

"No!" Delia laughed. "Your smell. It's your deodorant or cologne or something. I can't figure it out." She'd looked for his toiletries in the hotel room, but none of them had been sitting on the counter.

He kissed her again. "I don't wear cologne." Kiss. "I used to in college." Kiss. "But then I dated a girl who was allergic to synthetic fragrances." Kiss. "I never went back."

Delia grinned. "Thank you for the thorough explanation."

"I knew you'd want the details." Kiss. Kiss.

"So deodorant, then."

"Must be." Kiss. "I have it in my bag." He pulled back, but Delia gripped his waist.

"I'd rather smell it on you. Products smell different when they aren't on skin."

Kiss."True."

Delia leaned back as far as she could without her neck complaining and trailed her hands up his arms until her fingers slipped under the soft cotton of his shirt sleeves. "You said four hours till your flight leaves?"

Jack's eyes turned liquid. "Mmhmm."

"So . . . you have an hour before you need to leave for the airport."

"At least." His fingers trembled against her skin. Jack watched her for a long moment, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting for more air. "I was so relieved when I landed. When Mary told me you were okay."

Delia nodded. She reached up and pushed his dark hair off his forehead. Relief. She thought of everything Jack had told her over the past month. She remembered the first time she saw him in person. The image of him sitting at the table with his sister, Tony, and Kels at the concert flooded her mind. How the lights turned from glaring to a soft purple haze, making his face visible for a few seconds, and when she'd looked in his eyes, the only song that had filled her head was "Oubliet."

"Dans le soulagement et le regret," she whispered.

Jack lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. "De toi, je n"ai point oubliet." Delia's eyes widened, and his lips curved into a slow smile. "I know those lyrics. Because they're yours."

Delia's throat grew thick. "So. Relief." She swallowed hard. "What about regret?"

Jack shook his head, pressing his cheek against her palm, and her lips flushed with heat. "No regret. Not anymore."

She pressed up on her tiptoes and kissed Jack's cheek, then ignored the produce still sitting on the kitchen table, laced her fingers with his, and pulled him down the hall to her bedroom.

They say it"s a door only I can open, but I don"t want to let out the heat.The words of her song poured through her, line after line, and she wondered how she'd write it differently then.

All of it.

All of it would be different.

She was still terrified of flying, but had jumped on a plane without hesitation when it mattered. She was still afraid of letting people see through her doors, but with Jack, no amount of trying had kept them closed anyway.

J"aime, donc je vole. I love, so I fly.

J"aime, donc j"ouvre. I love, so I open.

Jack's hands were on her waist the second they crossed the threshold. His body close behind her. His breath on her te??mple, his lips against the shell of her ear.

Delia's hand shot back for the waistband of his jeans.

His voice was gruff. "Careful, Dels. No fast movements."

She sucked in a breath as he pressed the door closed behind them and oh so gently turned her around to face him.

She would write a new song. About feet that left the ground. About doors that opened.

When it was safe.

When it was earned.

Love.

Relief.

But no regret.

Not anymore.