Susan Mallery: Only Yours

SIMON WALKED AROUND Fool’s Gold until his body ached. It was late—after midnight, at least—although he didn’t bother glancing at his watch to find out the exact time. It didn’t matter.

Restlessness drove him to keep moving, even without a destination. He’d received several calls updating him on Kalinda’s condition. The fever was gone and she was stable. She would make it.

Good news, he told himself. The best news.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet of the night. He hadn’t seen another person in a long time. He knew he should return to his hotel and try to get some sleep, but he couldn’t imagine relaxing enough to lie down.

Instead he turned at the next intersection and walked down dark residential streets until he reached a familiar one. He stood by a tree, watching the house.

The lights were still on, but he couldn’t be sure she was awake. Finally he saw the shadow of someone crossing in front of the window.

His heart quickened as he recognized Montana. He knew in his gut she was waiting for him. She already knew he would need her, would seek her out. Because she wanted to be there for him.

He distinctly remembered his mother telling him she loved him. Sure, she was usually drunk when she said it, but it was only when she drank that he got any affection from her at all. She would hug him and tell him he was everything to her. That they were going to go away forever. She swore she was giving up men, that it would be the two of them and that she would be the best mother ever.

For years he’d believed her, had waited for her to start packing. He’d looked at maps and thought about all the places they could go. He’d imagined a perfect life.

By the time he’d turned ten, he’d stopped waiting. When she hugged him and told him she loved him, he didn’t believe her. When her boyfriends had started hitting him, he instead pictured himself in another place. A better place. He vowed he would figure out how to survive on his own and simply disappear.

Then she’d pushed him into the fire.

There were no words to describe the excruciating pain, the primal response as he struggled to escape the agony, only to have her push him back again. The screams he’d heard, his own screams, hadn’t even been human. He hadn’t known such torture existed.

Once he’d escaped and run outside, he’d been unable to stop vomiting and shaking.

He’d learned later that though she’d claimed it was an accident, she’d been overheard privately telling her court appointed attorney that she’d done it on purpose. Years later, he’d read the transcripts of her interview with the police. She hadn’t said she was sorry. She’d said he’d always been a burden and she’d always regretted having him.

She’d never loved him. It had all been a lie.

Since then, he’d never bothered to see if love could exist for him. He’d gone to high school from a hospital bed and had been a scarred freak in college, too young and too smart. The same in medical school. By the time his age matched that of the people around him, it was too late. He was never in one place long enough to make connections, and he preferred it that way.

Then there was Montana. A woman who had grown up in an idyllic setting, with a loving family. She’d never known suffering or pain, beyond the usual bumps and bruises, either emotional or physical. She couldn’t begin to understand what he’d experienced.

But she didn’t let that stop her. She accepted his scars. She believed in the best of him. She loved him.

He’d seen love before, in the parents who begged God to save their child or offered to die in their child’s place. He’d seen a wife or a husband never leave a bedside. He’d been caught up in the vortex of grief when a patient was lost. But he’d never truly felt it himself.

During his years in the hospital as a teenage patient, he’d spoken with several psychologists and psychiatrists. They had explained his mother’s inability to emotionally bond and talked about how he had to heal mentally as well as physically.

He’d heard the words and pretended to agree with them. Inside, he’d shut down and known it would always be like that.

He crossed the street and walked toward Montana’s front door. When he reached it, he knocked softly.

She opened it at once.

“I’ve been worried about you,” she said, pulling him into the house. “You heard about Kalinda, right? Isn’t it wonderful?” She smiled. “Her parents are so happy. I left Cece with her for the night. I’ll pick her up in the morning. I can’t imagine how you go through this with all your patients. But this time it all worked out.”

She was so beautiful, he thought, touching her face. She would do anything for him, including pretending the void that was his heart wouldn’t hurt her. But she would be wrong. Eventually she would feel as if he were some kind of emotional vampire—sucking out her lifeblood and giving nothing in return. Eventually she would see that, and when she changed her mind about him, the devastation would be worse than anything he’d ever known.

He dropped his hand to his side.

“I don’t want to see you anymore.”

He spoke the words flatly, without emotion, his voice cold.

She stared at him, confused. “I don’t—”

“I’ll be leaving town in a few weeks so there’s no point in us continuing to be together.”

She surprised him by standing straight and tall, her chin raised.

“All right,” she murmured.

He wanted to call the words back, to tell her he was wrong. She was so much more than he’d ever expected. So much more than he deserved. But he couldn’t say anything. It was as if everything inside that had ever been good or kind or decent was frozen.

She walked to the door and held it open.

“I won’t keep you,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “Goodbye, Simon.”

He walked past her and out into the night. For a second, he drew in the scent of her perfume. Then it was gone, the door closed, and he was alone.

Exactly how he’d wanted it, he told himself as he walked away. Exactly what was best for both of them.

MONTANA HELD THE TINY BABY in her arms and felt the warmth of her body, wrapped so tightly in a soft blanket.

“Such a good girl,” she cooed softly to Rosabel. “So precious and beautiful.”

Nevada bounced Hannah on her lap, while Dakota held Pia’s other daughter, Adelina.

“This is great,” Pia said, stretching out in a lounge chair, her feet up on a pillow, an herbal iced tea in her hand. “Seriously, I thought the baby thing would be tough, but so far, I’m loving it.”

“Have you even had one second with just you and them?” Nevada asked.

“I think there were at least fifteen minutes last week.” She sighed. “Someone is always dropping by to help. I know eventually everyone will return to their own lives, but I’m enjoying the help while it’s available. The pediatrician says as long as everyone is healthy, it’s good for the babies to be exposed to a lot of people. Socializing and all that.”

Montana rocked Rosabel gently. “Are you adjusting to being a mom?”

Pia had worried she wasn’t maternal enough and that she would mess up everything.

“It’s kind of what they say,” Pia admitted. “The second you hold them, you feel the connection. I’ve explained I’m going to do my best and they’re pretty patient with me.”

Nevada grinned. “Wish I’d been here for that conversation.”

“I did most of the talking,” Pia told her.

Montana was aware of Dakota and Nevada exchanging glances. Although she hadn’t said anything, she knew her sisters were worried about her. The downside of being a triplet, she thought. It was tough to keep a secret.