Page 21 of A Ranger for Christmas
“That so?”
He leaned in a fraction, dropping his voice a notch. “There was a time when I loved her.”
Lucas didn’t comment.
“Look, I see the censure in your eyes. She makes it impossible to love her. I wanted to get closer, but work is her sole priority. The rest of the world matters when she has a spare minute or two.”
“That why you strayed?”
“Yeah. I was tired of being second fiddle. I wanted to be number one in the life of my girlfriend.”
Lucas rose from the desk. “Thanks for your time.”
“If I can help, let me know.”
“Get me a list of witnesses who can verify your alibi.”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “Am I being accused?”
“Just get me the list.”
The afternoon light shone into Marisa’s room, making her head hurt all the more. The discomfort really kicked in an hour ago when she’d stopped taking the painkillers. She’d grown tired of muddled thoughts and had decided the pain was a fair trade for a clear mind.
Her father and stepmother had left around lunchtime but had promised to return tonight. They were talking about keeping her in the hospital a few more days, but she already questioned that decision. She wanted out of here.
She sat up and winced as her head pounded. For a moment, she teetered back toward the pillow before catching herself. She could not lie here. She had a sense of urgency as if important information had been locked in her brain.
Instead of falling back to her pillows, she stayed upright and blinked until her gaze focused. She breathed deeply until her head steadied. She studied her hospital room, noting a bright bouquet of flowers. She couldn’t make out the card but suspected her stepmother had ordered them. Susan had perfect taste. If her mother had been alive, she’d have gathered wildflowers from the side of the road or drawn Marisa a picture of glyphs that communicated some kind of get-well message. Her heart ached as she thought about her mother.
Her gaze was drawn to a chair in the corner where two brightly wrapped, if not mangled presents sat. Gaze narrowing, shestudied the presents. She’d wrapped them. For her brothers. But how did they get here?
A knock on the door had her turning slowly to see Kyle carrying a big handful of flowers.
“You’re alive,” he said.
“Seems so.”
Kyle grinned and came into the room. He held up the flowers. “I got you these.”
“They’re lovely.”
“So how’re you doing?”
She sat taller, wincing as her bruised muscles screamed. “Feeling foolish.”
Kyle put the flowers in a water bucket and sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t feel foolish. You could have really been hurt.”
“What happened? The accident and the hours before it are all a blur. I’m trying to remember, but no memories are shaking loose.”
“I talked to your dad, who talked to the docs. You’ve a nasty concussion so a little memory loss isn’t unusual. It might take a few days or weeks for all the details to come back.”
“My pieces of memory feel like a dream.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember those presents. Trying to wrap them and saying a couple of bad words when the toy wheels kept poking through the paper. Did Dad bring them?”
“I don’t think so. They weren’t here this morning when I stopped by and saw your dad. They must have come this afternoon.”
