Tangled Up in You Read online

  The last thing he wanted—ever—was to have to rely on anyone to help him. He enjoyed being the type of man who could take care of himself. Granted, he’d lived close to his family up until a couple of years ago, but ever since moving away, Bobby found he enjoyed being on his own. Not that he didn’t love his family, but he had an independence now that he’d never had before. And on top of that, he didn’t like asking for help. He wanted to be the one helping others.

  Still, these were extenuating circumstances, right?

  Clearing his throat and wincing at how sore it was, he said, “Um… Is there anything to drink? Some water or something?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Quinn was instantly on his feet and pouring him some water from the small pitcher on the table. Bobby thanked him and slowly sipped from the cup. His hand was shaking and he felt weaker than he would have thought possible. Quinn helped him, and neither said a word about how awkward it was.

  When he was done, Quinn put the cup back on the table and sat down again. Several minutes passed until he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

  “You know, in that moment, when I knew what was coming, it felt like everything moved in slow motion.”

  Quinn listened but said nothing.

  “I remember thinking there had to be something I could do, something I could say, that would change the outcome. I wanted to stop anyone else from getting hurt.” He paused. “But then someone made a break for the door and the guy—the gunman—he just…he freaked.”

  And just like that, Bobby could hear the shots, the screams. He could hear the glass breaking, the crying…and then the searing pain. Reaching up with his good hand, he carefully touched the bandage and immediately winced.

  Not a good sign.

  “I’ve been a cop for almost fifteen years,” he went on. “I’ve been punched, I’ve been kicked…” He stopped and let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve even been spat on, but I never thought I’d be here.” Then he looked at Quinn and let out another laugh. “Or that you’d be the one with me.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “I appreciate the fact that you are,” he said solemnly. “For real. I think if I had woken up and it had been my folks standing there, they would have freaked me out. My mom would be crying and my dad would be trying to keep her calm.”

  Quinn stood and came back to the side of the bed.

  “And if it were Anna, she would probably punch me in my good shoulder and yell at me for scaring her.”

  Quinn smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m…thankful. For you, you know, being here.”

  Quinn looked as uncomfortable as Bobby felt at the admission. Luckily, they were saved from having to say anything else when a nurse walked in to get his vitals. Window blinds were opened and he had a feeling quiet time was officially over.

  After that, everything seemed to move at warp speed. People kept coming into the room to check on him, examine him, change out his IV, replace bandages—there was a steady stream of them until he thought his head would spin. The only problem was that none of them were his doctor. Every time he asked a question, he was told a doctor would be in to see him shortly.

  It was maddening.

  By the time a doctor came in, all Bobby wanted to do was take a nap.

  “Officer Hannigan, I’m Dr. McIntyre,” the sixtysomething man said as he walked into the room. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been shot,” Bobby said flatly.

  “That’s because you were,” the doctor replied levelly, studying Bobby’s chart. He was quiet for a few moments before he put the chart down and faced Bobby, his expression serious. For the next five minutes he explained in very dry, medical terms all that had happened to Bobby’s shoulder and what had been done to repair the damage. He talked in a way that Bobby had a hard time following. Why didn’t doctors learn to speak in layman’s terms?

  “So?” he asked after he took a minute to let it all sink in. “What am I looking at here?”

  “A long recovery.”

  * * *

  Later that night, even once Bobby was alone in his room, sleep seemed impossible.

  Nerve damage…

  Loss of motor function…

  Three months of rehabilitation…

  None of it sat well with him. According to the doctor and just about everyone else who had come to see him today, it was still too early to tell what the final outcome would look like. Only one thing stood out to him—he wasn’t going to be returning to active duty anytime soon.

  If ever.

  Don’t go there, he warned himself. But it was hard not to.

  This was the first time today he’d had the chance to really think about the future. After Dr. McIntyre had left, the room had filled with people—friends, family, coworkers. Half of the police department had come to see him, his parents had sat by his side all day, and his phone had rung constantly with well wishes from just about everyone he knew. It had been a great distraction, but now he was left with a whole lot of silence and his own wild imagination.

  What if he couldn’t use his left arm again? What if he only got partial range back? He wouldn’t be able to return to the force. He’d have to retire, and he was too damn young for that. What the hell was he supposed to do if that happened? Being a cop was all he’d ever wanted. He’d worked for that to the exclusion of all else—even avoiding long-term relationships because he didn’t want the distraction. So where did it leave him?

  Alone.

  Completely alone.

  He looked up at the bundle of balloons tied to the corner of his bed. His mother had brought them with her this morning as a way of cheering him up. Right. Because a dozen mylar balloons fixed things when you’d been shot and were facing the possibility of your career being over.

  Not her fault, he reminded himself. She was doing what she always did—her best to make her family feel better. It wasn’t her fault that there wasn’t anything she could do. No number of balloons or flowers or freshly baked cookies were going to help.

  Although right about now he’d kill for a batch of something sweet.

  Grimacing, he did his best to get comfortable. He was a stomach sleeper and having to sleep sitting up wasn’t helping at all. That and the pain.

  Earlier, a nurse had come in and offered him something to help him sleep. He’d turned that down. She’d offered him a lot of things, all of which he’d declined.

  It wasn’t anything new. Bobby wasn’t arrogant, but he knew women found him attractive. And for some reason, a man in uniform was like catnip to some of them. And now it looked like he could add “injured cop out of uniform” to the list.

  Great.

  He sighed and shifted a little in the confines of the hospital bed, wishing like hell he could be at home recovering in his own space. It didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon. He’d be here getting poked and prodded for at least another couple of days, and then what? He wouldn’t have to live at a rehab facility, but he was going to need some help since he wouldn’t be able to drive or do a whole lot for himself.

  Earlier, his folks had offered to come and stay with him until he got settled. He’d turned them down. His condo was a small two-bedroom and he knew it wouldn’t take long before the walls started to close in on him. Then they’d offered to have him come and stay with them while they looked into rehab places back home. That one held a little more merit. Not that he was looking to move back in with his parents, but they had a lot more space and a lot more distractions. He wouldn’t feel like he was under the microscope all the time.

  It was a lot to think about. Maybe he was getting too far ahead of himself.

  Or not. After all, what if Dr. McIntyre came in tomorrow and said he could be released to go home? Maybe he’d only need to come in once a week until he was hea
led and then he’d get a recommendation for rehab. Hell, if that happened, he’d jump at it and pay for his parents to stay at the hotel for a couple more days until he got settled. His mom would protest, but Dad would side with him.

  Feeling a little more relaxed, Bobby let out a slow breath and allowed himself to close his eyes. He’d give anything to go back in time and stop all of the things that had happened—not just to him, but to the other victims. Knowing that he couldn’t didn’t make him feel any better.

  Maybe he should have accepted that pill to help him sleep.

  Muttering a curse, he reached for the call button and loathed himself for it. He didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t want to ask for help.

  But more than that, he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts anymore.

  * * *

  “This is great, isn’t it?”

  A shrug was the only response.

  “C’mon, admit it. This place is really cool. We’re going to have so much fun! We can go to the park, and to the beach, and we have all summer to check everything out!”

  Another shrug.

  Teagan Shaughnessy looked at her five-year-old son standing in their new front yard and held in a sigh. Lucas was not thrilled with their cross-country move. He’d made that point abundantly clear all through the long drive. Luckily, her parents had joined them, and the whole group had caravanned from Colorado to the Carolina coast, doing their best to make an adventure of it.

  Unfortunately, Lucas wasn’t feeling very adventurous.

  She knew it was temporary. His moods often were. But just this once, she wished his mood would lighten up sooner rather than later. This move was a big deal for her too. She’d done her fair share of moving all over the country thanks to growing up as an Army brat, and once she’d left home, all she’d wanted was a place to call her own for good. Somewhere she could settle in and call it a day.

  But life had made other plans.

  “It’s hot here,” Lucas stated, interrupting her thoughts.

  True enough. It was a definite change in climate from Colorado, but she was determined to make him believe it was all for the best.

  Even as she felt herself sweating more than she had in a long time.

  “Let’s go inside where there’s air-conditioning and unpack some of your toys. What do you say?”

  “I want to go home,” he pouted, his little arms crossing over his chest.

  As much as she wanted to be angry and demand that he stop being difficult, Teagan did her best to stay calm. It would be great if she had some help—someone other than her parents—but that wasn’t going to happen. Lucas’s father had been killed in combat before Lucas was born, and it had always been just the two of them. Sometimes—like now—she really resented it.

  “Lucas, we promised Meema and Pops we’d meet them for dinner. And that’s not going to happen if we don’t get some work done around here,” she said, calmly but firmly.

  “Fine,” he said with a loud, dramatic sigh before dragging himself into the house.

  They worked together—she used that phrase loosely—for two hours. Lucas had to be coached and directed every step of the way. Teagan knew she’d get much more done alone, but her parents were doing their own share of unpacking and couldn’t babysit. For now, she had to do her best to make this a game and try not to cringe at how long it was taking to get even simple things done.

  “Can I play one of my games now?” Lucas asked, standing beside her. They finally had his room almost completely set up and normally she wouldn’t want him playing video games on a weekday, but these were extenuating circumstances.

  “Sure,” she said with a smile. “You worked really hard and I’m very proud of you!”

  He beamed at her praise. “Does that mean I can have a snack too?”

  There wasn’t much to choose from, and she glanced toward the kitchen. “Um… I think we have some cookies somewhere…”

  “I know where!” he yelled as he took off toward the kitchen.

  The house was a small, temporary rental, just a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath bungalow with an open floor plan. Even so, she was truly grateful. The house had been one of the signs that this move was meant to be. Two months ago, her parents had brought her out to visit her uncle and cousins, and they had all fallen in love with the town. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been here before, but it had been over a dozen years since their last visit.

  Back then, she had often asked why they couldn’t live at the beach all the time like her cousins did. But the answer she’d always gotten was that the military was her father’s life—like it or not. After a while, she’d stopped asking. So this time, when the opportunity had come to make the trip again, Teagan had been super excited. It had been great to reconnect with everyone, and it was amazing how much the family had grown. Her head was still spinning from trying to remember all the new names. That was something she was going to have to get better at now that she would be seeing them on a regular basis.

  The house had come on top of the joy of reconnection, a rental property owned by her cousin Quinn’s wife, Anna. Part of her felt a little guilty because of the great deal they’d given her, but she’d graciously accepted their offer and promised to take care of the place as if it were her own. Her parents had found something just as nice a little closer to the beach, thanks to Uncle Ian. Her mother was so excited.

  And then there was her job. Back in Colorado, she had been temping as a guidance counselor for elementary schools. There weren’t any openings for her to have a permanent position like she wanted, but she filled in where she could. Once she had mentioned what she did for a living to her cousin Aidan’s wife, Zoe, she suddenly had a list of people she could contact here in their new school district. Zoe was an interior designer who was very active in the community and seemed to know everyone. Talk about luck—within a week, she had several interviews over the phone and had secured a position!

  Everything had fallen into place.

  It had all happened so quickly, but Teagan supposed it was better than dragging it out. Her position wouldn’t start until the middle of August and it was only the first week of June now, so she had the entire summer ahead of her to settle in and prepare herself. She’d considered getting a part-time job somewhere to help recover the cost of the move but wasn’t sure if she should. Not that she wouldn’t be able to find one—not with so many Shaughnessys in town with businesses of their own—but because Lucas maybe needed her attention more than they needed the cash right now.

  The thought of her cousins made her smile. It had been so long since she’d had more than her parents around. Sure, she had friends and coworkers she adored, but there was something to be said for finally having the kind of big family she’d always longed for. Being an only child and constantly moving wherever the U.S. Army stationed them meant she hadn’t had the chance to make and keep friends for long. And while Teagan had sworn she’d never move again, this time would definitely be her last.

  Until she had to move out of the rental.

  Don’t think about that now! she admonished herself.

  Looking around, she saw Lucas had indeed found the cookies and was happily settled in front of the television playing one of his favorite games. A small sigh of relief came out before she could stop it. If nothing went wrong, she could have a solid hour to put some work into getting her own room unpacked before meeting her parents for dinner. They’d already received multiple invitations from her uncle and cousins, but until she was settled in, she needed as few distractions as possible.

  While reconnecting with her cousins was certainly a perk, she hoped she’d make some friends on her own too. No need to be the clingy relative who’d moved to town.

  Unfortunately, no distractions meant having time in her own head for worried thoughts of all that could go wrong with this move.

  “Nothing’s
gone wrong so far,” she said to herself. “Stop looking for trouble.”

  Easier said than done.

  While she was used to moving around, Lucas wasn’t. Though Teagan knew her son would adjust, there had been a certain comfort for them both in living in Colorado. Probably because it was where he’d been born and she had her own circle of friends she was going to miss.

  Ugh, that was a depressing thought for sure.

  Pushing her worries aside, she unpacked three boxes of clothes and hung them up before moving on to getting the bathroom unpacked and set up.

  “Mom!” Lucas called out. “Is it time to see Meema and Pops? I’m hungry!”

  Hungry? Already? But when she looked at the clock, she saw it was definitely close to dinner. Where had the time gone?

  “Give me fifteen minutes to freshen up and we’ll go, okay?”

  “Aww, Mom,” he whined, but that was the norm. Lucas hated waiting on anything.

  A shower would have been nice, but she’d have to get by with a quick change of clothes and running a brush through her hair.

  That was, until she looked in the mirror.

  There was no hope. She was sweaty, her makeup—the little she usually wore—was already smeared beyond repair, and her hair was…well, it wasn’t pretty.

  “No problem. Three-minute showers are fun,” she murmured as she turned the water on.

  Five minutes later, she felt marginally better.

  And clean.

  Moving as quickly as possible, she dried off and pulled on clean clothes. With her hair wrapped up turban-style in a towel, she walked out into the living room. “Almost ready!”

  Lucas looked over his shoulder at her and groaned. “We’re never going to eat dinner.”

  “Yes, we will,” she promised, grabbing her purse from the kitchen island. That was the last place she had stuffed her makeup bag. “We’ll be in the car in ten minutes!” As she ran back to the bathroom, she heard her son’s cry of disbelief.