Healing Hope (Helping Hands, Healing Hearts Book 3)

by J. M. Madden

  “Yeah, but he was really tall like Viktor was.”

  That was a bit of a leap to make, but it probably made sense to the girl. “Okay.”

  She looked at the officer and shrugged helplessly.

  “Well, maybe we can talk to your mother,” the officer said, and Hope went still in Jess’s arms. Jess opened her mouth, but Hope beat her to it.

  “My mom is dead.”

  The officer looked shocked, and she met Jess’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right,” she told her. “Hope, why don’t you go over and sit in the chair with Sophie, and I’ll be over in a minute. We need to find her a veterinarian.”

  Hope didn’t say anything as she trudged across the room, Sophie held securely in her arms. Jess turned back to the officer. “Her mother died just a few months ago, and she’s still recovering from that. I seriously doubt it was the dead woman’s boyfriend.” Although she needed to say something to Paul, just in case. “Are there prints or anything near her window? When he bailed out the window, it sounded like he crashed hard.”

  “My partner is checking the scene outside.”

  Jess wanted to go over to Paul and see how he was doing, but it took several more long minutes to finish with the interview. Jess told them everything she could remember, then repeated the story when a tall, bearded detective arrived on scene. When she glanced over and saw Hope cradling Sophie, she stole a minute to dig out her phone. There were several emergency vets listed, and even mobile vets, but no emergency mobile vet. That would be a fantastic job around here. But it wasn’t to be. She was going to have to take Sophie to a twenty-four-hour office. Luckily, there was one just a few miles down the road.

  Paul’s head had been wrapped and when she crossed to the little group around him, it was to hear them telling him he needed to go to the hospital for stitches. Paul growled he could get himself there and that he didn’t need to go in the ambulance.

  “Yes, you do,” Jess corrected him, “because I can’t drive you. I have to take Sophie to the twenty-four-hour clinic down the road. I’ll come get you when we’re done.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw working, then down at his wrapped hand. He looked back up at her and his eyes were fierce. “I need to go to the bedroom. Can you help me for a minute?”

  Jess blinked, then nodded. She had a feeling she knew what he wanted.

  Paul glanced at the men grouped around him. “If you’ll give me a minute, guys.”

  They nodded and agreed, and he pushed to his feet. “Hope,” he said, “I’ll be back in a minute. Can you stay with the police officers and firefighters?”

  Hope nodded her dark head, her eyes shadowed with worry and fear. Jess could see the question in her eyes, and she crossed over to her, kneeling down in front of the chair. “This is what’s going to happen, okay? Your dad has to go to the hospital and get his hand checked out and some stitches for the cut in his head. While he’s going there, you and I are going to take Sophie to the vet down the road, okay? And get her hand- paw- checked out. Because the way she’s holding it, she might need to have it wrapped or something, too.”

  Hope nodded, looking down at her little protector. “She tried to save me.”

  “I know she did. So she deserves a hero’s care. Let me help your dad for a minute, then we’ll get going. Okay?”

  Hope nodded, and Jess leaned forward to wrap her arms around the girl and dog. Hope held onto her when she tried to pull away, and Jess paused, letting the girl take the comfort she needed. Eventually, she drew back, wiping her cheeks free of tears. “We’ll be okay, Hope.”

  Jess looked her in the eye when she said it, and Hope nodded, looking down at Sophie.

  Jess scratched the little dog on the head, and her tail wagged. Jess could see that she was still nursing that paw, though, and it worried her. She stroked a finger down Hope’s cheek, then turned to go help her father.

  9

  Paul watched Jess deal with his daughter, and his throat tightened with emotion. No, Jess wasn’t her mother, but he had a feeling Hope had gotten more care from this young woman than anyone else, ever.

  And he’d almost refused her entry into his home. What had he been thinking? Since when had he become so closed-minded?

  Tightening his jaw, he watched as Jess walked toward him, strong and whole and unharmed. That was what had been going through his mind when he’d been fighting that damned scarecrow in Hope’s room. Protect his daughter at all costs and don’t let beautiful Jess get hurt.

  He wasn’t sure when he’d started thinking of her like that, but that’s how it had popped into his head. And he’d protected her, mostly.

  Now he had to impose on her care even more, and swallow his own fear.

  Paul led Jess into his bedroom, very aware of her mere feet behind him. At the bed, he turned and bumped his chin toward the door. “Can you close that for a minute?”

  She did as he asked, then returned to stand in front of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied, even as his head swam. “Is Hope okay? She doesn’t need checked out, does she?”

  Jess shook her head, scraping a hand through her long hair and pushing it away from her face. “She’s fine. I checked her arm and there might be a bruise later, but no more. She’s more worried about Sophie. She’s holding her little paw up. Did you see her going after the guy, though? What a little badass!”

  Paul grinned slightly. “Yeah, she did well, I guess.”

  Stepping back, he sank to the edge of the mattress, hating the dull feeling in the middle of his chest. It was worse now than when he’d been fighting. Asking for help was the thing he hated most, but he had to this time. There was no way he was going into the hospital with no usable arms. “Would you mind helping me mount my prosthetic?”

  Jess blinked, her sea-glass green eyes going a little dark, then her lips quirked. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that proposition in a bedroom,” she murmured, lifting her eyebrows at him.

  Paul snorted, then regretted it as soon as his head throbbed. If he could have blushed he would have, but his system was too beat up. He appreciated her humor, though, and he grinned a little.

  “Of course I can,” she whispered, glancing around the room. “Where is it?”

  “There’s a stand in the closet.”

  Paul watched as she crossed to the room and retrieved his prosthetic. It was an awkward contraption, big with straps hanging. The form fit over his right shoulder and buckled on across his chest.

  Not something he could currently do with his good hand wrapped from his fingertips to his elbow.

  “Does this go on over your shirt?” she asked, moving the prosthetic in her hands to the correct orientation.

  “No,” he admitted, standing in front of her. “This is where your help comes in.”

  She blinked, then seemed to understand, because she smiled softly up at him. “I’m telling you, this is the craziest seduction routine I think I’ve ever heard. So, you want me to strip you down and mount your thing?”

  Paul barked out a laugh, despite the crazy situation they were in. And he hoped her humor didn’t change to horror when she took his shirt off. “This was all part of my grand plan,” he said wryly. “Have a guy break in and get into a one-armed fistfight for you to look at me like a hero and take me to bed.”

  “We could have done without the break-in and gone straight to bed,” she told him, lips quirking, her eyes lingering on his.

  Incredibly, even with the emergency people waiting and Hope and Sophie needing care, he responded to that look, and wondered if he dare acknowledge it. It was obvious what she meant- she wanted to go to bed with him. A thrill went through his gut, despite what was happening.

  Jess didn’t seem to need him to respond, or she wanted to backtrack, because she reached for the hem of his tee and lifted it over his head. Paul gasped as something in his midsection ground together. Had the guy got
ten a strike to his ribs in? Then he glanced at Jess.

  It was one thing to strip down for other medical personnel at his hospital. He had no problem with that. He went in to check the fit of his shoulder form every year, and make modifications to the prosthetic, if needed.

  Exposing yourself to civilians, as in non-medical personnel, was always a Crapshoot. Sometimes they were totally cool with everything and didn’t even give the issue a second glance. Other times, it was like he was the main character in a horror movie or something. He’d been with one woman who had literally recoiled and ran from the room when she’d walked in and seen him without his shirt and prosthetic. It had been a relief because she’d sworn up and down that it didn’t bother her, but her words had rung false to him. She’d proven him right in that moment, and it had been easy to break off the relationship.

  Something told him that Jess would not react that way. Despite her laid back, Bohemian approach to things, she was deliberate and calm in her actions. And he’d never seen her react in any way other than kind. A couple of times he’d seen her be firm with Hope, but she never talked down to her or belittled her. And she always treated him with respect. Tonight was the first time he’d seen her angry, and it had been something to remember.

  As he looked at her now, though, all he could see in her expression was calm acceptance, and some curiosity. “So, the shoulder joint is still there…”

  “Yes,” he said. “They shot me through and through high on my arm. The doctors then took most of the bone and left me the joint.”

  He watched carefully for any hint of revulsion or fear or anything, but it didn’t happen. The area was a mess of red lines and scarred over tissue, but she didn’t hesitate. Stepping close, she lifted the prosthetic to his joint, and he instructed her on how to buckle it on. She fit it perfectly the first time, then stepped back to grab his t-shirt. She put his prosthetic arm through, then his head and his other bandaged arm, then straightened it on his waist.

  Her eyes were hooded as she stepped back, and he needed eye-contact, so he lowered his head to catch her gaze. “You okay? Did it turn your stomach? I understand and hopefully you won’t have to…”

  “No,” she interrupted, looking up at him. “Not at all. I just…” she shook her head and turned away.

  Paul reached for her, but he forgot about his hand being hurt, and he gasped. Jess spun around, her hands raising instinctively to help. “I reached for you,” he admitted. “That was my mistake.”

  She gave him this… chiding look that made his heart stutter in his chest. It was a cute look, though her eyes seemed a little glassy, and he couldn’t help but smile at her a little.

  “I didn’t want you to see my tears,” she said eventually, sighing heavily. “You deserve better than that. No, you didn’t turn my stomach. That doesn’t bother me,” she said, waving a hand at his injury. “It speaks to me that you had to ask. And it hurt my heart. Let’s get tonight straightened out and we’ll sit down to have a talk.”

  Paul blinked and nodded. Before he could move to leave the room, she stepped close and cupped his face in her hands. Then, staggering him completely, she went up on tiptoes and rested her mouth on his own, giving him the lightest of kisses. When she pulled away, she had a dazed, somewhat hungry look on her face… Then she went up on tiptoe and kissed him again, this time more firmly. Paul wanted to drag her tight against his body. His prosthetic moved behind her and he pulled her closer, returning the kiss. For a timeless moment, they breathed the same air and shared a heartbeat. Until she pulled away. Jess blinked several times, the pupils of her eyes dark with arousal.

  “Let’s get this night straightened out,” she said firmly, stepping away. Her hand drifted down his chest, like she wanted to linger, then she turned away and left the room.

  Despite everything going on, Paul grinned crookedly. The night had brightened considerably.

  10

  Dr. Butcher, his real name and a terrible irony for a vet, grinned at them as he walked into the room carrying Sophie. “Well, no broken bones, but she definitely sprained it. I’m going to send you home with some antinflammatory meds and some pain meds, but she should be fine in a week or two.”

  Tension seeped out of Jess’s spine. Thank goodness! They had bandaged the dog’s leg in pink vet wrap and it looked huge on her little frame, but when the vet put her down, she hobbled to Hope. Tears rolling down her cheeks, Hope carefully picked the dog up and buried her face in the brown and white fur, weeping quietly.

  Jess’s own eyes teared up. It had been a hell of a night, and there was a lot of emotion floating around. It was just after one a.m., and they were worn out.

  “She really will be okay,” Dr. Butcher said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  Jess shook her head, though she appreciated his care. “It’s just been a crazy night.”

  Dr. Butcher, who she guessed was in his thirties, smiled at her kindly. “I understand. We love our pets. I expect her to make a full recovery, though.”

  Jess forced a smile, resting her hand on Hope’s head. “Thank you, doctor.”

  The vet gathered up his folder. “I hope you and your daughter have a better night. If you have problems, just give me a call. Here’s my cell-phone number.” Leaning over, he scrawled his name and number on a scrap of paper. Jess took it, smiling weakly. She would keep the number for Sophie, but she wouldn’t be calling the vet for any other reason.

  Jess paid the bill with Paul’s credit card and listened to the after-care instructions, then guided Hope out to her Jeep.

  “Why didn’t you tell him I wasn’t your daughter,” Hope demanded, lifting her tear-stained face from the dog.

  The question caught Jess off guard. “I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t mind that he thought you were my daughter.”

  Hope blinked and looked back down at Sophie, rubbing her little head. She gave a little nod but didn’t say anything else until they were back in the car. Once Hope was in her booster seat, Jess allowed her to hold Sophie. Girl and dog seemed to prefer it. Before she backed out of the car, Hope reached out a hand to touch her hair. Jess froze. Hope tolerated touch, but she didn’t reach out for touch very often.

  “I don’t mind that he thought you were my mom,” she whispered, then drew her hand back.

  Jess popped a kiss to Hope’s forehead, trying not to cry again. “Let’s go check on your dad.”

  He’d managed to send her a text message they were going to his hospital, La Jolla, and to meet him there. By the time they got there, both girls were asleep in the back seat. Jess left Sophie curled up on a fuzzy blanket on the Jeep seat. It was obvious the dog was still under the influence of medication, so she didn’t struggle. Jess knew if Sophie had been aware, she would have demanded to go with Hope. It was cool enough for her to stay in the vehicle and be comfortable.

  Once she got the dog settled, Jess lifted Hope out of her seat. The girl mumbled in her sleep, then turned and rested her head on Jess’s shoulder. The kid couldn’t weigh over thirty-five or forty pounds, but that was dead weight. Jess fumbled with her car keys and bag, then strode into the hospital, determined to get the night in order.

  Things finally started going her way when a young woman in round glasses met her just inside the waiting room. “Ms. Swan? I’m Madelyn. Administrator Jameson sent me down to guide you to him. Are Sophie and Hope doing okay? We heard about the home invasion.”

  Home invasion. Yes, she supposed that was what it had been. “They’re fine,” she whispered, trying not to wake Hope.

  Madelyn led her through several hallways and onto an elevator, which lifted them up three flights. Then it was down another hallway and into a surprisingly cushy hospital room. Paul sat on the edge of a hospital bed, half-dressed. His shirt was off, his body tense. It shouldn’t have affected her as much as it did, seeing the bruising developing along his ribs. Or the grimace of pain on his face as he cradled his splinted hand to his chest. And she shouldn’t have taken heart when he lifted
his head, saw them in the doorway and smiled.

  That smile was the most intimate thing thing they’d ever shared, because they were understanding one another now. She could see the relief and heartbreak in his expression, and she was sure he could see the relief in hers. They hadn’t been cohabitating long, but something had changed tonight. They had unified against a foe, and it had connected them.

  “Hey,” she said, moving close. “How are you doing?”

  “Not bad,” he whispered, shifting so that she could lay Hope down on his bed. The child didn’t wake, even when he stroked her hair away from her face with his prosthetic. “How’s Sophie?”

  “She’s fine. In the car sleeping off some drugs, I believe. No break, just a strain.”

  His dark brows bumped up. “Wow. I’m surprised. I thought for sure he broke her leg.”

  Jess shook her head, shifting on her feet. The adrenalin was finally wearing off, and she was realizing how tired she was.

  “Sit down, Jess,” he said, motioning her to a chair. It looked like one of those that reclined. Oh, that might be dangerous… the way her body was beginning to sag, she had no idea how long she could keep her eyes open.

  “What did they tell you?” she asked, nodding toward his hand, not caring that it probably wasn’t really her business.

  Paul sighed and went back to the bed, sitting down near Hope. He picked up what appeared to be an ice-pack. “I have severe bruising and a possible fracture, so I’m supposed to ice everything as much as possible. I also have seven stitches in my head. Two cracked ribs.”

  Jess felt like she’d been struck. “Seriously?”

  Paul scowled and she could see the pain lines in his face. “Yes. Not what I wanted to hear either, but there it is. You’re sure Hope is all right?”

  He looked down at his daughter, and his eyes roved over her, looking for anything wrong.

  “I think she’s fine. She has bruising on her right arm, but she says as soon as she screamed we were there. Sophie noticed him first and woke her.”