Robyn Carr - Never Too Late

The cool liquid was welcome but swallowing was very hard. “What? What?” she asked.

“A car accident, Clare. Do you remember anything?”

She shook her head.

“You got broadsided in an intersection. Your injuries were the worst—you lost your spleen and your pelvis is cracked. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

“You’re going to make a full recovery, but it’s not going to be an easy road.”

“Who hit me?” she was able to ask. “Drunk driver?”

Maggie shook her head. “Nothing as cut-and-dried as that. A young woman in an SUV was fussing with her baby in the car seat while her light was green. When she looked back at the road, it was red and you were in the intersection.”

“Oh, God,” she said, closing her eyes. “The baby?”

“They’re both okay—baby’s fine, Mama had a few bruises. She had the SUV. Your Toyota is toast. They had to use the Jaws of Life to get you out. You don’t remember anything?” Clare shook her head. “Well, your head is all right, so I guess it’s just a stroke of luck that you can’t remember.”

Clare nodded off again and when she woke Maggie was still there, holding her hand. She stood from the chair she’d been using and leaned over the bed. Seeing her there made Clare feel so cherished. Maggie, a lawyer, wife and mother kept a killer schedule. She couldn’t imagine that she’d just drop everything. “Have you been here long?”

“Just a few hours. Today.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Clare whispered.

“I’m going to leave soon,” Maggie said. “I just wanted to be sure you’re back.”

“Did I almost die?” she asked.

“I don’t know about that, but your injuries were definitely life threatening. Is the pain terrible?”

It was, but she shook her head. “Roger?” she asked.

Maggie got a look on her face as if she wanted to spit something out. “He’s been here. Do you want me to leave word that you want to see him?”

She shook her head. “I want him to stay away.”

Maggie obviously couldn’t resist a satisfied smile, but all she said was, “Sure.”

As time passed, so slowly, Clare saw the faces of all her loved ones leaning over the bed at one time or another, but they were careful not to tire her. Jason was very emotional. He cried and laid his head on her hand and said, “God, Ma, I was so scared. If you died, what would I do?”

She said, “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.” And she had it on firm authority from the other side. She had things to do. Things to do?

Her younger sister, Sarah, was holding up, but she looked a little wild-eyed behind those thick glasses, as though this close call had terrified her. She had been twenty-one when their mother died and definitely took it the hardest. Clare touched her hand and said, “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s going to be okay.”

Sarah gave a wan smile. “That’s so you,” she said. “You’re in the hospital, but you’re comforting me.”

Looking at Sarah now, dishwater blond hair pulled severely back, black-rimmed, old-fashioned glasses, no makeup—it was hard to imagine the younger wild child. Maggie and Clare used to call her slut-in-training. Their mother’s death had changed all that; had changed Sarah completely.

But another trauma had changed Clare. It was no coincidence that she’d be thinking about that quite a lot while in the hospital. After all—she’d just seen Mike in that ghostlike, after-life appearance he’d made. It caused her life to literally flash before her eyes, sending her back in time over and over.

Right until she was twenty-one Clare had lived a charmed life. She’d been a happy kid from a happy marriage, even as the middle child. Maggie was bossy and Sarah had that sense of entitlement that comes from being youngest, but Clare had good looks, humor, intelligence and luck. She’d done well in school, been popular and was never afraid. She’d hung out with a great group of friends who had all grown up together and at the age of fifteen she fell in love with the star quarterback and homecoming king, Mike Rayburn. He was two years older than she and went to college in Reno, just a short drive from their hometown of Breckenridge, Nevada, a beautiful little town nestled at the base of the majestic Sierras below Lake Tahoe. With the green, plentiful valley filled with crops and grazing animals under snowy peaks, it could pass for Switzerland. It was a sweet life in a magical place where they had played at the lake all summer, skied the mountains all winter.

There was no question but that Clare would go to school in Reno, too, and their romance was hot and steady right through college. After Mike graduated he went into the Air Force, separating them for Clare’s last two years, but he gave her a shiny big diamond and told her to spend her last year of college planning their wedding.

Then there had been a hiccup. Er, earthquake.

Mike’s younger brother, Pete, who was Clare’s age, had been one of her best pals and buddies all through high school. They had graduated together. Pete had never been much on school while Mike had been an honor student. Pete concentrated on having fun. He and Clare would get laughing so hard and so long that Mike, annoyed, would threaten to pound them both. And like big brother, he was a gifted athlete. But because he was more of a fixture in detention than the honor roll, after graduation he had taken a full-time job and some classes at a community college in Breckenridge. Then at the age of twenty-one, ready to finish a degree, he was university shopping. He went to Clare’s campus and she was more than thrilled to be his hostess while he looked around.

In the way young men are a bit slower to mature than young ladies, she always thought of him as a kid—skinny, lanky, goofy. She’d been busy doing other things while Pete was maturing and she was a bit shaken to find this kid came to her a grown man, just as handsome and sexy as his older brother. Maybe, just maybe a little more so.

Pete stayed with her and her two roommates while he toured the school, met some of the teachers and coaches, talked to counselors and in general had a look-see. She introduced him to her friends and took him out to the local pub when it was crowded with people and he had a wonderful time…and all her girlfriends went gaga. Then her roommates left for the weekend. Clare fixed Pete a nice big spaghetti dinner and he bought a jug of Chianti as big as a horse’s leg. They ate, drank, laughed and told stories late into the night.

Then something happened. She began remembering how much she liked him; realizing how much she’d missed him. They were a little bit drunk when she felt the vibrating tension of his muscular thigh against hers. He touched her hand, he looked into her eyes, he kissed her. He kissed her again. To this day she wasn’t sure what happened. It wasn’t exactly the first time she’d had a little too much wine, nor the first time a guy had come on to her. She had never cheated on Mike, had never even been tempted. But she was suddenly swept up in some kind of crazy passion right there on the couch with Pete, who was no longer a little brother but a very strong, able and experienced man. Every kiss sent her soaring; his touch thrilled her and she responded with need of her own. Her brain and her judgment took a hike.

Before she knew it she was beneath him, opening herself to him, begging him to come inside, to finish, to give her everything he had. He told her he wanted her, that he couldn’t stop, and the fact that he seemed slightly out of control only made her want him more. He thrust and she answered each one with wild craving. He nibbled, caressed, teased and brought her to a shattering climax right in time with his own.