Page 8 of Strict Confidence (Rochester Trilogy 2)
He’s probably friends with a nurse or a doctor here.
A black Escalade pulls up to the curb. The black-tinted window rolls down. Mateo looks at me over the top of his sunglasses. “Someone ordered an Uber?”
“Thanks, man,” I say, my voice pitched low. “I owe you one. Or two. Or three.”
He gets out and circles the vehicle.
Paige sidles close to me. She doesn’t trust Mateo, even though she met him at the dinner party. She doesn’t trust anyone since the fire. Doctors, nurses, all of them suspect. Even the balloon artist who made the rounds in the pediatric ward was subject to her glare.
“Hey, Paige,” Mateo says with a small wave.
She hides her face against my jeans.
“We appreciate your help,” I say, more for her benefit.
He gives a small smile, letting us know he doesn’t take offense to her rebuff. “The inn is all ready for you. You have rooms right next door to each other. They overlook the water.”
She ignores him.
“Wait here with Mateo,” I tell Paige, gently detaching her. “I need to get Jane.”
There’s a whoosh of air behind me. Large sliding doors open. An orderly pushes a wheelchair out. Jane blinks against the sun. She’s also wearing hospital-issued clothing, since she showed up in fire-torn nightclothes. She looks small and far too skinny sitting there. Delicate. Breakable.
Worry fights with frustration inside me. “I told you to wait for me. I was going to come get you.”
She gives me a wan smile that’s supposed to be reassuring. “This was easier.” Then she turns to Paige. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”
Paige gives a diffident shrug. Gone is the girl who grinned at Jane, who challenged her, who painted every rock and tree and surface in sight. Now there’s only a shadow.
There’s a flash of hurt across Jane’s face. Then she covers it up. She’s exactly the nanny Paige needs. The care she deserves. How could I have risked that by sleeping with Jane? How can I keep Jane in Maine, knowing I’ve put her in danger? She could have died. The best thing would be for me to send her back to Houston.
You’d never see her again. The thought whispers through my head, the faint scent of salt on an ocean breeze. It’s selfishness that keeps her here. My selfishness.
She’s so strong. It breaks my heart that I need her to be strong. Part of me wants to sweep her away to some island paradise, far away from the cold, drizzly cliffs. Far away from the fire. Paige needs me. I made a promise to her when her parents died.
And there’s an ongoing investigation into the fire.
Instead of sweeping her away to an island paradise, I help her stand.
She trembles slightly in my grasp before shooing me away. “I’m fine,” she says with only a fraction of her normal voice. It’s shaken her, that fire.
It’s shaken both her body and her spirit.
Her dark lashes lower. She sways gently. It’s Mateo who’s there to catch her, to escort her to the passenger seat. “Hey, now. Careful. Don’t worry. I’m not a superhero, but I play one on TV.”
“I thought you’re in movies,” Jane says, her voice faint with thread of humor.
He acts offended. “You thought? You thought? Does that mean you haven’t seen my movies?” He continues teasing her as he helps her into the SUV.
I have to bite back the urge to warn him away. Don’t touch her. She’s mine. There’s no room for caveman antics, not when I have responsibilities.
“Come on,” I say, leading Paige to the other side. “Hop in.”
She frowns, clearly thinking about stalling. Then she hesitantly lifts her hands. She’s been in a mood since the fire. I can’t exactly blame her. I settle her into a bucket seat and lock the seat belt into place. Then I climb into the backseat beside her, holding back my wince as my leg protests. It’s stiff and throbbing. The crutches I got after the fall, the cane I sometimes used—all of them were consumed by the fire. Which is just fine with me. I could have gotten new ones, but I don’t want them. I don’t need them. I was caught unaware once. It won’t happen again.
Mateo guides the Escalade out of the hospital parking lot and onto the road.
“I’m hungry,” Paige says when we reach the highway.
“We’ll have dinner soon,” I say, even though it’s only three p.m.
“I’m hungry now.”
I glance at her. She isn’t usually this demanding. And I happen to know she ate the entire burger we got from the cafeteria for lunch. I don’t think she’s hungry, but she needs… something. Reassurance maybe, though I don’t know how to provide that.
“Mac and cheese,” she adds in an imperious tone.
I hesitate. It’s been hard enough figuring out a place to stay, somewhere safe and secure, dealing with the officials. Hard enough without also making sure the kitchen would have her particular essentials. “Maybe they can make mac and cheese. We’ll ask.”
