Lindsay McKenna - Shadows And Light

“You asked her to make the call,” he growled, willing his body to not respond to her touch.

Craig was so close, so powerful. Susan tried to hurry her IV check, but to her disappointment, she saw that it needed to be reinserted and bandaged. “You’ve been moving around too much,” she said, trying to protect herself from his aura of fury. If only he wouldn’t lash out at her again….

Craig looked down at the dark bruises on his left arm. He scowled, barely able to will himself not to touch Susan in return. Her fingers were cool against his heated flesh. “So what?”

His gray eyes seemed to bore into hers. Her mouth flattening, Susan said in a clipped voice, “I’m going to have to shift the IV to your other arm.” She drew in a shaky breath. The IV apparatus was on wheels. As gently as she could, she removed the needle and pressed a bandage onto his arm so it wouldn’t bleed. Craig lay stock-still, and she could feel his gaze following her every move.

He turned over his right arm so she could look for a vein. Each of her feathery touches only magnified his agony for her. He tried not to look at her soft lips, tried not to think of that sole kiss they’d shared. Forcing himself to think coherently, Craig said, “You look like hell. Don’t they give you time off between shifts around here?”

Susan froze momentarily, pressing her lips together to hold back the anger threatening to bubble out at Craig. She sat down to insert the IV needle. “This is only my second day at Camp Reed,” she said tightly. “And there are lots of new sounds to get used to at my apartment….”

Craig saw the unmistakable mixture of hurt and anger in her blue eyes when she inadvertently looked up at him. His breathing became suspended as he met and held her luminous gaze, which was shadowed with exhaustion.

“Why did you come here to Reed?” he snarled, pushing his emotions back down deep inside, where they belonged.

Susan blinked, taken aback by the harshness of his voice, the iciness in his eyes. Her hands stilled over his arm. “Why?” she repeated numbly.

“Coming here was stupid, Susan. You haven’t changed at all since I knew you at Annapolis. For once in your life, why don’t you stop helping others so much and learn to help yourself? You look like hell warmed over. You obviously haven’t gotten any sleep. If you think you can keep this up, you’re mistaken. Get a transfer back to wherever you came from,” he snapped. “You aren’t cut out for this kind of stress.”

Anger bled through Susan’s shock at his attack. Grimly, she focused on getting the IV back into his arm and taping it up properly. The silence grew between them as she finished the job and stood up. She took the clipboard from the end of his cot and studied it. His eyes never left hers.

“Well?” Craig goaded as she came back to his bedside. “Why did you come here?”

Susan saw the tears glittering in her patient’s eyes. Intuitively, she realized he was grieving over Hayes’s death. Sitting down, keeping her voice low, she said, “You’re raw over your man’s death, Craig. That’s what’s really bothering you. It isn’t me!” She stabbed at his chest with her finger. “Don’t forget, I know how guilty you’ve felt over David’s death. Ever since he drowned, you’ve been scrambling to atone for some crazy guilt. Well, it wasn’t your fault!” Her voice cracked. “I know you, remember? I saw for a year how much you cared for the men under your command at Annapolis. I saw how you cared for me. Why don’t you just keep crying until you get your grief out for Hayes? There’s nothing wrong with that!”

Craig watched her start to rise again. His hand shot out. “Hold it,” he ordered, his fingers closing tightly over her wrist. “Just where do you get off accusing me of guilt? There’s no such thing as an officer caring too much for the men of his command. And who do you think you are, bringing up David’s death? How the hell do you know how I feel?” He saw her eyes go wide, but he was unable to stop the hurt from spilling out. “You talk about martyrs—well, you’re one of the best, Susan! You bleed yourself dry helping others, but when it comes to helping yourself, you can’t do it.”

“Let me go,” she rattled.

Craig held her shaken gaze. “Not until I’m done,” he snarled. “What’s the matter? Wasn’t marriage to Steve exciting enough for you? Didn’t it fulfill you, Susan? Is that why you came here? The martyr in you just had to keep giving herself away to those in need. I guess Steve’s needs weren’t enough. What did you do, volunteer to come here? More than likely.” He released her wrist.

Susan jerked her hand back against her. Stunned, her emotions reeling under his attack, she whispered angrily, “I may enjoy helping others, but at least I know who I am, what I’m doing here, which is more than what I can say for you! Who do you think you are, accusing me like this?” Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let Craig see her cry. She held up her left hand. “Just for your information, Craig Taggart, Steve is dead! I didn’t come to Reed because I’m a martyr, damn you! I’m here because I know I can make a difference.”

Shocked, Craig opened his mouth. Steve was dead? When? How? Oh, God…

With a small cry, Susan spun around and headed up the aisle and out of the ward, fighting back the tears, the hurt. She found Randy and asked him to finish the rounds. “If there’s a problem, come and get me,” she said, trying to control her shaking voice. “I just need some fresh air.”

Randy looked at her strangely but nodded his agreement and said nothing.

Outside, beneath the stars, Susan walked away from the hospital. She was gasping for breath, her hands pressed to her heart. All her emotions overwhelmed her, and tears squeezed out from beneath her lashes. In that moment, she realized so much. Worst of all, she realized Craig’s attack had ripped away the last of the pretense about her marriage. Steve had been so open and happy-go-lucky—a generous extrovert. He’d fallen in love with her the moment he’d seen her that evening at the dispensary. He’d been her opposite—filled with life, with dreams of greatness. And he’d wanted her at his side to watch him fulfill all of them.

Moving into the shadows, feeling more alone, more filled with guilt than she ever had in her whole life, Susan cried.

Chapter Four

Craig sat tensely, his hands knotted in his lap, trying to assimilate his shock over Steve’s death. The horrified look on Susan’s face struck savagely at him, making him feel small and guilty as never before. Steve had been his best friend for three years, even after they’d met Susan—up until that fateful day when Susan had tearfully told Craig she’d decided to break up with Steve.

Burying his face in his hands, Craig couldn’t seem to think clearly. He could only feel the raging emotions battering him, tearing away at his anger toward Susan and leaving a surge of guilt and grief in its wake. Even though Steve had allowed their friendship to lapse as Susan became an integral part of his life, Craig had never hated his old friend. No, never. But he was dead. What had happened?

Bitterly, he raised his face and allowed his hands to fall back into his lap. From the moment Susan had stood him up at the restaurant, his life had taken a powerful turn away from his past, which had included Steve and Susan. He’d left abruptly, hurt and angry at Susan’s treatment of him. Every day after that had been a reminder that he hadn’t been aggressive enough in going after Susan—that he’d believed in some romantic notion about friendship and trust winning out in the end. Well, he’d ended up with nothing but a broken heart to show for it.