How in the world can I expect him to trust me if I don't trust him?
Morgan sat across from her now, the picture of calm power and confidence. Still she could remember how he had winced when she had caught his arm and how stiff he had been in the car. How could he trust her with that story if she couldn't trust him with hers?
“So I left home when I was about seventeen,” she said. “Nothing terrible, I was just ready to be on my own and my mom and I didn't get along. I told you about getting a job at the alterations shop, starting my own business, things like that. That was about five years of non-stop work, and the only reason I'm not running that hard any more is that. Well. I was stopped.”
She ruefully held up her wrist in its brace. Once she had started talking, it was easier to let him see it, to let him see her.
“Tingling that turned to burning that turned to pain and swelling so bad that I couldn't hold a needle. It seemed to come with no warning, and then just when I thought I would be stuck like that forever, it would go away.”
Morgan made a soft distressed sound, and she patted his arm gently.
“It's all right. Well, it's all right now. I finally got scared enough that I would lose everything I worked so hard for, and I went to a doctor. The results came back conclusive. It's rheumatoid arthritis, and this is me, forever. I'll always have to be careful about triggering flare-ups, and if I do trigger one, I have to take care of it.”
“You've taken it very well.”
“Well, I didn't always. There was a lot of anger when I first got the diagnosis. I'd never had anything I couldn't beat before, you know? And now there's this, and this is me. If I have the time to get mad, I have the time to reduce my stress, to take my meds, and to slow down before I have to stop entirely.”
Morgan took her hand as if it was something precious, smoothing his thumb along the sensitive cup of her palm.
“It always pains you?”
“I have good days and bad days,” she said, aware she was being at least a little evasive. “I have to be really careful not to over-strain it or I'll have bad weeks instead of bad days. It's stable at the moment, and that's about what I can ask for.”
“And there is nothing to be done?”
She shrugged, and Morgan thought a moment.
“Is there anything I can do?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him of course not, and then she hesitated.
“This helps,” Harper said, nodding around at the park and the food. “Getting regular food. Making sure I don't sit still too long. Thank you.”
“Thank you for telling me all that,” he said at last.
“And maybe someday, you'll tell me if there's anything I can do for you.”
The fact that Morgan didn't protest, didn't brush her off or get his back up, was an oddly thrilling, oddly wonderful thing. She didn't press, because after all, he hadn't pressed her, and with a sense of satisfaction that she couldn't quite name, she went back to the delicious food that he had prepared for them.
Chapter Twelve
∞∞∞
By the time the day was over, they had stopped twice more, and they pulled over long before Morgan would have stopped on his own.
I am more than capable of driving longer, Morgan told himself. Of course I am. It is only that I want to make sure that Harper is comfortable.
It both was and wasn't true. He was definitely capable of driving longer. He had driven fifteen hours straight without much pause before when there had been a need for it, but now even the idea of doing so made the bones of his right shoulder and side ache. Of course he wanted Harper, who had spent long stretches making what looked like near-microscopic stitches in his suit, to be comfortable and to have as little pain as possible. However, there was a secret shameful part of him that was relieved to stop for the night just as the sun was dipping below the horizon.
Harper's gray eyes widened as he pulled up to the lodge where he booked them for the night.
“You're kidding,” she said, and he tilted his head politely at her surprise.
“Not more than normally. Does this suit?”
She gave him an impish grin.
“You know, I feel like I should tell you that this is too much, and that we should backtrack to that budget motel that we saw a few miles back.”
“But…?”
“But look at this place. If you're footing the bill, I am more than happy to stay here.”
Morgan grinned at her enthusiasm, taking her bag and leading her in through the swinging glass doors.
If he had his way, he'd take her to one of the lavish hotels on the coast, modern palaces that were insulated from the world and supplied with every luxury imaginable. Perhaps, depending on what Harper liked, he would instead find a house that he could rent for the occasion, something small and lovely and intimate, overlooking the sea so they could watch the morning mist roll in over the water.
Of course palatial hotels and rental beach properties were in short supply when they were crossing the Midwest, so the lodge that catered to the rich hunters from the city would have to do.
It was an elegant stone building decked out in rustic charm, elegant and oddly stately. The lobby, with the fireplace that ran along one side of the room, the thick wool rugs on the flagstone floor, and the stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls, resembled a medieval castle. Morgan got them checked in, and then they made their way to to the master suite at the far end of the building.
“You're kidding,” Harper said again when
