The Masked Truth(62)

The nurse had then ascertained that Max was comfortable being left alone in the waiting room, and she’d returned to her duties, simply telling him to page her if he needed anything. Treating him like a normal person, despite knowing his condition. He appreciated that more than he’d have imagined possible.

Yet another reason for serenity … A few minutes ago, he overheard someone talking about “another girl” brought in from “that kidnapping.” He’d inquired—politely—and been told it was Brienne. She’s alive. That’s all the nurses know, but it’s enough for Max.

Riley will be fine. No one has locked him up in the psych ward. Brienne has survived. And so, yes, a few moments of serenity.

“Do you know when I might be able to see Riley Vasquez?” he asks, oh so politely, when a nurse pops his head into the room.

“That will be up to her family. They’re with her now.”

“Good. Thank you.”

As the nurse withdraws, he catches sight of a young woman, and he jumps up with Riley’s name on his lips. It isn’t her, of course, but the young woman has stopped, as if overhearing his exchange with the nurse. She sees him. She tilts her head and then turns away, and he hurries out the door and says, “Sloane!”

She stops. She turns. She doesn’t smile or acknowledge him or even step his way. She simply gives him a look, as if considering whether this is really worth her time.

Her resemblance to Riley is not as strong as he thought at first. She’s smaller, a bit older. Prettier too, in a way he fully admits while feeling no disloyalty to Riley, because it is merely a factual assessment. Sloane is, as Americans would say, a knockout, and she knows it, her chin rising as if to say, I am beautiful and you will admire me. He tries not to laugh, because that look erases any resemblance to her sister, and makes him decide that even wan and pale on her deathbed, Riley is the more attractive one.

He jogs to Sloane, and she gives him a once-over. Assessing, considering, and then dismissing. Worth two seconds of contemplation and no more—which is, he guesses, more than most blokes get from Sloane Vasquez.

“Max,” he says, extending a hand, which she gives even less contemplation and certainly doesn’t shake. Nor does she give any sign that the name means anything. In other words, Riley has never mentioned him from group therapy. Shocking, really.

“You’re the guy who rescued my sister,” she says.

“We rescued each other.”

“The Brit,” she says as he speaks a full sentence. “From her group.”

“She mentioned me?”

“She said you were a jerk.”

He laughs. Sloane does not. She isn’t teasing—she’s just telling him what her sister said. Blunt honesty.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Or perhaps she just needed to get to know me better.”

She rolls her eyes and turns away. Dismissed, old chap. Don’t joke with this one. She’s not Riley. She’ll think you’re an idiot, or worse, flirting with her.

Max jogs in front of Sloane. “How is Riley? Is she awake yet? You’ve been to see her, haven’t you?”

Sloane stops. Another cool assessment, this one for her sister. Are you worth her time? Her attention? When she finishes considering, she seems to decide that the answer is probably no but given that he helped Riley, he might deserve a little of Sloane’s time. Just a little.

“She’s still out cold. They have her on a lot of painkillers. The doctor says she’ll be fine. Mom’s freaking out, of course, but …” She trails off and shrugs. “That’s what moms do. I don’t think the doctor would say she will be fine if she won’t.”

“They wouldn’t. It’s a liability issue.”

He smiles again—can’t help it. This is Riley’s sister, and he wants to coax some positive reaction from her, get her on his side, as ridiculous as that might be. Of course she doesn’t smile. She nods, as if accepting what he says at face value. Then she looks up at him.

“It’s true what they say happened?” she asks. “Kidnappers? And the others? Dead?”

Max’s smile evaporates as he nods.

Sloane closes her eyes, and she goes still for a moment before she shakes her head, and when her voice comes, it cracks a little. “Poor kid. She just can’t catch a break, can she?”

Max says nothing to that. What can he say? He knows that when the doctor insists Riley will be all right, she means physically. The rest …? He’s trying not to think about the rest.

“How was she?” Sloane asks, her voice lowered. “In there? I can’t imagine …” She swallows.

“Riley held up fine.” Max pauses and then he shakes his head. “No, she didn’t just hold up. She held us together. She kept us going. As horrible as it got, she never stopped trying, never stopped thinking and planning and pushing us.”

Sloane’s poise falters then as her eyes tear up. “Of course she did. Of course she would. She saved that little girl, you know. No matter what she might say during that therapy crap—no matter what she might think or feel—she saved her.”

“She saved me too.”

Sloane nods and turns to go, but only stands there, gazing around as if forgetting what she’s supposed to be doing. Then she looks back at Max.