Chapter Thirteen
Daisy was barking her fool head off.
It was driving Matthew crazy. He'd put in a long hard day at work—extra hours, actually, since the blow-up with Andie.
Trying anything to keep from thinking about her, to keep from calling her and making a complete ass of himself.
Now all he wanted to do was have a shower, sit in his underwear in front of the TV, and suck down a few root beers.
But before he did any of that, he had to quiet his own dogs because the neighbor's stupid dog wouldn't shut up.
Matt stomped into the kitchen and glared out the window.
Daisy stood on the deck, pawing at the glass door. Okay, that was kind of weird. When Mr. Benedetto let his dog out into the yard to do her business, he usually let her in as soon as she was finished. It wasn't like him to let the dog hang out in back, especially as she was not tethered and the yard had no fence.
Matt's stomach rumbled and he frowned. Had he stopped for lunch today? He was hungry, yet too listless to fix himself anything. Maybe there was something in the fridge to grab.
Angel answered Daisy bark for bark and danced nervously at the back door. Marilyn blocked his path to the refrigerator, planting her hind end on the floor and giving him a worried look. Could a dog look worried? Marilyn's wide mouth and brown eyes were so expressive that yes, Matthew read the question on her face: there's trouble—aren't you going to do anything?
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Shit, Marilyn was smarter than he was. Something was wrong.
He brushed past his two girls, murmuring "Stay" as he let himself out. Rushing across Mr. Benedetto's yard, Matthew pounded up the steps of the deck and placed his hand on Daisy's head. "What's the matter, girl?"
Daisy whimpered and barked loudly. She looked to the glass and Matthew looked too, adrenaline spiking his heartbeat. He saw an outstretched leg on the floor.
"Jesus." He slid open the door and stepped over the threshold. Paul Benedetto was sitting on the floor, his back propped against a cupboard, holding a pot-holder to a bloody gash on his head.
"Oh, shit. Mr. B., you okay?" Stupid ass question. Matt hurried to the man's side, going down on one knee. Blood trickled down the older man's cheek and soaked his collar.
"Stupid," Mr. Benedetto muttered. "I fell...it's stupid..."
Matt got to his feet, looking for something to soak up the blood and grabbed a dishtowel hanging through the handle of the refrigerator. The cloth didn't look too clean, but it was all Matt found within reach.
"Take this." He pressed the towel to Mr. Benedetto's head.
"Let me call an ambulance. You've hit your head, it could be serious."
Andie's father waved Matthew away with his free hand.
"I'm all right. No ambulance. Help me get up. I'm fine."
Blood was soaking the dishtowel and reddening Mr.
Benedetto's fingers. Matt knew head wounds bled a lot, but the amount disturbed him just the same. As he took the 149
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injured man by the elbow and helped him to his feet, he said,
"I'll take you to the emergency room. It looks pretty bad. You might need stitches."
"Nah, nah. Just a little accident. Help me get to that chair."
A hot wave of anger washed over Matthew. This was no
"accident." The smell of beer wafting off his neighbor made that clear as glass. As he gripped the man's elbow, his fingers and his voice grew tight. "I'm taking you to the hospital, Mr.
Benedetto. If you keep arguing with me, I'm going to have to call your daughter and get her over here."
The threat cut through the older man's fog, making him turn even paler than he was. "No. Don't call my daughter. I don't want to bother her."
Some of Matthew's anger faded when he heard the fear and shame in his neighbor's voice. "She'd want to know, Mr.
B." His voice was quiet. He sighed. "Let me get you to the car."
When he got Mr. Benedetto to the emergency room, he stepped into the lobby to make the call. "Andie? It's Matt Vostek. How soon can you get to St. Vincent's Hospital?"
"Andie? It's Matt Vostek. How soon can you get to St.
Vincent's Hospital? Your father's in trouble."
Andie had been staring at the tube, unaware of what she was watching, when received the call, and her heart had been racing ever since. Her dad fell and hit his head. He was conscious and coherent, but the doctors still wanted to take some tests.
When Andie arrived at the emergency room and saw Matthew waiting for her, a huge surge of gratitude 150
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overwhelmed her, and she blinked back tears, wanting more than anything to hug him. But she held back. He directed her wordlessly into the examining room where her father lay.
Andie rushed into the room, gasping at the sight of her father, who had a huge red and purple knot on his forehead.
"I'm fine, honey."
Andie's gaze fell on the blood smearing the collar of his shirt. "You don't look fine. My God, Dad." She reached out and took his hand. "You sound groggy."
"It was a stupid accident. I had a little fall, that's all."
Matthew, who'd stood on the sidelines, stepped forward.
"They want to take him in for a CT scan to make sure there's no internal bleeding. He took a pretty big thump there."
Mr. Benedetto made a rude sound. "That's foolish. I'm perfectly all right, just a bit worse for wear. Take me home, Andrea."
"You're staying," she told him, glancing at Matthew. "Until the doctors give you the okay to leave."
Matthew gestured he wanted to speak to her out in the hall.
"What happened?" she asked as soon as they were out of the room. "How did you...?"
He gave Andie a short version of the incident, then said,
"There was a lot of blood. He fell and whacked his head but good on the counter."
"Thank God you were there," Andie breathed, her heart flooding with gratitude. Matthew nodded slightly, acknowledging her appreciation, but his eyes were cool, his expression remote.
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"He kept saying it was nothing. He didn't even want me to bring him to the hospital, but no way was I going to leave him there." His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. "He was drunk, Andie."
Her heart stopped, then started palpitating erratically. "Oh, God." Then, even as she realized how foolish she sounded,
"Are you sure?"
He gave her a look that said Get real. "I could smell it on him."
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Andie had neither the heart nor the energy to defend her father. Matthew was as somber and distant as a stranger. She wanted to say more.
Before she had the chance to try, a doctor suddenly appeared explaining he wanted to keep Mr. Benedetto overnight for observation.
Andie had to get tough with her dad. He insisted he wanted to go home, but she flatly refused to drive him. By then all the resentment, fear, and anger inside her was ready to boil over. Her father took one good look at her and backed right down. She must have looked pretty damn scary.
Matthew was still waiting for her when she bid her father goodnight. Andie was moved by his kindness. He really was a good guy. If only—
No.
She couldn't let herself think about what might have been.
That was a painful dead end. And though she felt awkward with him now, Andie had to remind herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. Ending things had been the right decision.
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She turned to him resolutely. "Thank you so much. There's no telling what might have happened if you hadn't found him."
"He's lucky somebody was around. The next time there might not be."
"There won't be a next time," Andie answered quickly.
There was no anger in his gaze, just an overwhelming sadness. "How many times has he promised that?" His tone was soft but implacable.
She hated how her voice broke. "I know."
Andie didn't want to start an argument neither of them would win. All she wanted was to feel Matthew's arms around her. And somehow he knew. In spite of his anger, in spite of their differences, he was here offering her comfort. She accepted it gratefully, sinking into his embrace. If only he would never let her go. She wept on his shoulder. Your father's in trouble. Truer words were never spoken.
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