“Thank God! Cathy!”
“What happened?” she croaked. They told her hesitantly, fumblingly, pityingly. Cathy absorbed it all without speaking. Her eyes flickered only when they told her about Michael’s role. “Chloe?”
It was John who answered. “We haven’t told her. We didn’t want to worry her. I went upstairs to check on her a little while ago. She’s okay.”
When the news was relayed to Michael that she had wakened and recognized her sister and brother-in-law, he felt a huge surge of relief. He was physically recovered from the bloodletting, but it still took all he had to go into the hospital room to face her.
He paused just inside the door. The Thompsons turned unfriendly, wary gazes on him. As one, they looked back at Cathy in a way that spoke volumes. She shook her head. Her voice was a mere whisper. “It’s okay.”
John scowled in disapproval. “We’ll leave you alone for a few minutes then.”
He and his wife got up with obvious reluctance to exit the private room. Michael stood aside for them to walk past. John threw a glance of warning at him before the door closed.
Michael thrust his hands into his pants pockets and walked forward. His gaze never left her face. “I don’t blame them for not trusting me with you.”
Cathy watched his slow approach toward the bed. She felt at a distinct disadvantage lying there under the bedclothes. The tension ratcheted up, almost palpable. She plucked nervously at the bedcovers. She made an effort to strengthen her voice, but it still came out sounding like a thin reed. “Why did you–you ask to see me?”
He did not immediately answer. He took his hands out of his pockets but then didn’t seem to know what to do with them. He moved restlessly from the foot of the hospital bed to the sun-streaked window and back again. Finally, he said, “I—wanted to see how you were.”
“The doctor said I am doing fine.” Though she didn’t want to owe him anything, Cathy reluctantly acknowledged her debt. “They told me—you saved my life. It was good of you to—”
His ice-blue eyes blazed. He bit off a savage laugh. “Yeah, I’m a great bastard.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. Guilt, anger, and something else flickered across his face. He turned his eyes to the window for a long, tense moment. Then Michael looked back at her, deep regret in his gaze. “I’m sorry about the baby, Catherine. I would have liked—wanted—” He broke off, making a strange gesture of helplessness.
Cathy dropped her gaze, unable to stand the odd vulnerability in his expression. The stress of his presence grew on her. She cast up a fleeting glance. He was staring down at her with such a strange look on his face. The tiredness suddenly swamped her. She was so not up to this. She sighed. “Michael, I want you to go. But first, explain it to me. All of it.”
He narrowed his eyes, the cold gunslinger look intimidating. “I don’t see any reason to discuss the past right now.’
Cathy didn’t back off. “You owe me, you bastard!” She met him stare for stare. She could afford to wait. She had nothing left to lose. The silence was deafening.
Michael was the first to break away. He swung round to the window, turned so that his profile was to her. His voice rough, he said, “You’re right. I do owe you.” He drew an audible breath, as though he braced himself. “When Morgan and I married, I thought we had one of the lucky marriages that would beat all of the odds. We had a good life with the house and all the perks. Morgan didn’t want a family. I did. I thought we would work it out. Both of us were ambitious and driven. We spent long hours at our jobs, but when we were together, we were compatible in every way.”