"Those bones look like eggshells."

"Let's see what I can do." Patricia used a fine, blunt-tipped silver probe to gently pry the broken bone fragments back into position.

"Pupils look like they're on the same level now. Once I put a plate on the lateral and infraorbital rims, they should be stable. She'll do fine."

She'll do fine. She'll do fine. The words reverberated in Wynter's head, and she closed her eyes to prevent the tears she felt quickly rise to the surface from spilling over. All she wanted was for Pearce to be well. Not to hurt. To be happy. And to be with her. Nothing had ever been clearer in her life. She wanted them to be together.

v It seemed to Pearce that she had only been asleep a few minutes.

Her throat was dry and it burned when she swallowed. Her face throbbed and she wondered when someone would fix it. Slowly, carefully, she explored her jaw and neck with her free hand. The collar was gone.

When she reached higher, strong cool fingers closed around her wrist.

"Don't touch your face, sweetheart."

"Wynter?"

"Hi," Wynter said, smiling just to hear Pearce's voice. "You're in the recovery room. Surgery went great."

Pearce frowned, although it didn't feel as if anything in her face was moving. "It's all done?"

"Uh-huh. About an hour and a half ago." Wynter petted Pearce's hair, her uninjured cheek, her neck and shoulders. She couldn't seem to stop touching her. "You're okay now."

"How did things look in there?"

Not how do I look, Wynter thought, aching to hold her. She put the side rail down just so she could be a few inches closer. "The floor was in a couple of big pieces. Patricia reduced them pretty easily. No floor implant. Just two plates."

Pearce closed her eye and sighed. "Should be okay, don't you think?"

The slight uncertainty in her voice ripped at Wynter's heart. She leaned over, kissed the corner of Pearce's mouth. "Yes. Don't worry."

After a moment, Pearce roused. "What time is it?"

"A little after six in the evening."

Pearce frowned, trying to sort out the day. She'd been driving.

Stopped for coffee on the turnpike. Still dark. Not much traffic. "Is it still Saturday?"

"Mmm-hmm. Saturday night."

"Have you been here all day?"

"Uh-huh."

"Thanks. I--"

"Shh. I told you I wouldn't leave."

"Told them to call you." Pearce reached for Wynter's hand and clasped her fingers tightly. "Kept trying to tell them I wanted you. They gave me something--couldn't make them listen."

Wynter swallowed the anger, understanding for the first time how invisible their love could be to others. She wouldn't let that happen again. Lightly, she said, "I'll have to sew a label in your clothes with my name and number on it."

Pearce laughed hoarsely. "Like Ronnie?"

"Mmm. My two loves." She kissed Pearce's fingers. "I love you so much."

"Love you. Sorry about this."

"No. It's not your fault."

Pearce shifted restlessly. She was waking up more each minute as the drugs wore off. Her chest screamed with every breath. Her head pounded as if there were some very angry being inside her skull trying to get out through her eye sockets. The bed was cold and stiff, the overhead lights too bright. She wanted out of there. "When can I go home?"

"Probably tomorrow."

"Why not tonight? Nothing to do for me here."

"Do you hurt, sweetheart?" Wynter asked gently.

"Some."

"Tomorrow will be soon enough."

"Someone needs to get my car."

Wynter looked at her watch. "I'll check with the police in a bit.

They probably towed it."

"Son of a bitch was trying to jimmy the door." Pearce tensed, remembering first the flash of anger, then the swift blinding pain.

Wynter stroked Pearce's neck until she felt her relax. "Not very wise of him."

"Didn't see the other one. Must have had a bat or something."

The guy had come at her in the dark, just as she'd grabbed the first jerk and tossed him on the ground. Pearce winced. "Jacket took most of the sting out when he hit my ribs. Knocked me down with the face shot, though."

If he'd hit her again he would have killed her. Wynter swayed, sick with the image of terrible loss. I've just found her. Found myself.

"Hey, babe," Pearce murmured. "You're shaking."

"Just hungry. I forgot about lunch." Wynter shrugged and smiled.

"I was a little busy."

"You sure?" Pearce squinted, trying to focus with one eye, and that one blurry from the ointment the nurses had put in it. "You look beat."

"I was worried." Wynter said softly, resting her fingertips in the center of Pearce's chest. Her heart beat strong and steady. "Now I'm not."

"I'm sorry." Pearce covered Wynter's hand with hers, ignoring the IV tubing trailing behind. "I didn't think. I just acted. I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know. I'm okay. I just can't stand you being hurt."

"Hard head." Pearce grinned. "I'm good here. Go get something to eat."

"I will. Soon."

"Aren't you on call?"

"I traded with Dzubrow. Well, actually, your father arranged it."

"He did?" Pearce's left eyebrow twitched in surprise. "Why?"

"I was pretty surprised myself, but when the surgery was over, he said I should stay with you. I told him I intended to, although I was on call and I had some work to do." Wynter remembered the odd look that had crossed Ambrose Rifkin's face for a moment. He'd glanced at Pearce, still heavily sedated, and then back at Wynter. His eyes had been dark, impenetrable, but when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost gentle. She'd never heard him sound that way before.

"You should be here when she wakes up. I'll see that Dr. Dzubrow takes care of the vascular service until further notice." Then he'd walked away.

"I'll try to switch the next couple of days so I can stay home with you," Wynter added.

"You don't have to do that."

Wynter studied Pearce gravely. "Yes, I do."

"If you could just pick up some groceries. I don't have anything in the apartment--"

"Oh, so that's how you think this will work." Wynter laughed and shook her head. "Do you really think I'm going to let you go home to your apartment alone? You're coming to my place."

"Your place?"

"You're going to be sitting around doing nothing for the next week until the swelling goes down. If you're at my house, Mina will be nearby in case there's anything you need."

"She's got enough to handle," Pearce protested.

"She's not going to be dressing you, darling. And I suspect that you can feed yourself." Wynter gave Pearce's hand another shake.

"There's no point in arguing, because you're not going to win."

"Look, I--"

"Please," Wynter said softly. "I can't go to work and worry about you. I need to know that you're all right."

"If that's what you want," Pearce said immediately. "But I want to help with Ronnie or something. I'm not going to sit around and be a patient."

"If that's what you want, but not until some of the swelling has gone down." She laughed and brushed her fingers over Pearce's cheek.

"And you have no idea what you just let yourself in for."

"I know," Pearce muttered.

Wynter laughed and was about to lean down and kiss Pearce again when she saw Ambrose on his way toward them. She straightened, but continued to hold Pearce's hand. He walked to the opposite side of the stretcher, his eyes going first to the monitors above the bed before flickering down to Pearce.

"Did Dr. Thompson fill you in on the results of the surgery?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I've asked Larry Elliott to examine your eyes just as soon as the edema has subsided and you can open your lids. I don't expect you'll have any problems with diplopia, but we want to be sure."

"I couldn't see well enough to tell if I had double vision earlier,"

Pearce said quietly.

"Patricia did an excellent job of repairing the orbit. I don't think you'll have any long-term difficulties."

"Thanks for assisting." Pearce swallowed. Her chest hurt even more, but it wasn't her ribs. "I felt...better, knowing you were there."

Ambrose's expression remained remote, but his stiff posture relaxed slightly as he fleetingly brushed his fingers over Pearce's shoulder. "You always have underestimated your importance to me."

He glanced at Wynter, then back at Pearce. "I suspect that was my fault."

"I'm not going back to Harrisburg, Dad," Pearce said. She glanced at Wynter. "I've got too much to stay for here."

"There's time for that kind of thing in the future, when you've got your career firmly on track," Ambrose said.

"No." Pearce smiled, her gaze locked with Wynter's. "We've already lost enough time."


CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Wynter let herself in the front door and stood in her living room, listening. At two in the afternoon, the house was very still, but she knew from having stopped at Mina's just a few moments before that Pearce and Ronnie were home. Home. Where the two most important people in her life waited. After just a week with Pearce there twenty-four hours a day while she recuperated, Wynter had begun to think of her as belonging. She draped her parka over the back of the sofa, kicked off her boots, and quietly climbed the stairs. Her bedroom door was open. She tiptoed over and peeked inside.