by Gemma Hart
“Have you ever seen that scar on Al’s forehead? Near his temple?” Jason asked suddenly. Kat gave a look of confusion as she nodded. “Or how about that dent in Dave’s forearm? Ever seen that?”
Again, she nodded.
“Al’s forehead was thanks to my fists,” Jason said grimly. “Dave’s arm was thanks to a Ka-Bar I was holding during a nightmare. Took out a good chunk of his flesh, which is why there’s that big dent.”
Kat quietly drew in a breath as she listened to his confessions.
Jason gave an empty smile almost out of reflex. “And those are only from the men that stuck around, that you’ve met. There are countless more walking around with scars and stitches from something I did when I wasn’t completely in control of myself.” He took in a ragged breath. “Even after all this time, I’m not always fully able to control my memories. They sneak up on me and take over….And at that point, I’m not safe.”
He looked at her.
“You’re not safe,” he said.
Kat looked down at the steaming cups in her hands. Tears had stung her eyes when he had admitted to his intent to leave but she had forced them to stay still, to dry.
She looked up now, with clear and certain eyes. “Jason,” she said steadily, “do you think Dillon will ever live a life where he won’t absolutely hate the mention of a hospital? Do you think he won’t always have some shadows of regret for the life he never got to live, the childhood he never got to have?”
She paused but Jason was quiet, his eyes seemingly affixed on his boots. His tall frame was frozen like a statue.
“Or how about Malcolm? Smart enough to probably earn himself a scholarship to any college but choosing to stay near his family because he knows how much we need his help? Won’t he have some lingering regret and maybe even anger over that later?” Kat could feel tears coming back again, threating to fall against her will.
“Or what about me?” she asked, her voice breaking a little towards the end. “Never knowing my dad and watching my mother suffer to raise us and then watching her die so young. Being a caretaker to my entire family while also working to provide for them. And then watching my last and final guardian die so suddenly. Don’t you think I’m a little broken inside as well?”
Jason looked at her then. His expression a mixture of pain and surprise and longing and sympathy, with no emotion winning over the other.
“Jason, we’re all leaving this world damaged,” she said. “But we can ease our pain a little if we can be near those that we love.”
A silence filled with anger and tension and love and tears fell between them.
Jason gave a jerky shake of his head. “I don’t diminish yours, or Malcolm’s, or Dillon’s pain,” he finally said, his voice stiff and tight as if he was forcing himself to say the words. “But regardless, none of you will ever lash out against someone with a knife or your fists because of your pain. None of you will have the capability of unknowingly killing someone because of your hurt.”
He grimaced as he looked down. He seemed disgusted with himself. “But I do.”
Kat wanted to throw the cups of coffee onto the clean hospital floor. “But you can’t make up your mind for me,” she argued. “I am an adult and I make my own choices. I love you and I want to be with you.” A flush suffused her cheeks. It was the first time either of them had uttered those fateful words. “It’s my heart, my life, and I get to choose.”
An expression of stunned silence crossed Jason’s face at her admission of love. Neither of them had said the words to each other, at least not out loud.
She could see his shoulders shake with his crumbling resolve. For a moment, she was sure she had won. She had gotten him to see reason.
But then Jason closed his eyes and pressed his lips. “I won’t leave for Kansas any time soon. I still have time to be here for Dillon. And you.”
Tears finally fell. “Then why did you come back to Peytonville, Jason?” she demanded. “If you think yourself so damn dangerous, why did you come back!”
Jason’s eyes spoke of his own heartbreak and his own pain in that moment but Kat was too angry and frustrated to give him any slack. “Why did you come?” she demanded.
“Two years ago,” he said in a tight voice that was clearly filled with suppressed emotions, “you gave me something very precious. You gave me kindness, you gave me your heart when I was about to go to a place that would be very cold and very dark. It was something I carried with me for a long time.”
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to show you how much it meant to me. I wanted to….” He shook his head as if trying to find the right words but falling just short of them. “I wanted to thank you.”
“So it was about evening the score then,” Kat said quietly.
“No!” Jason protested. “It wasn’t anything like that.”
Kat closed her eyes, willing her tears to stop. When she opened her eyes, she looked at Jason with the heart of someone who could no longer hear the words spoken to her. She saw pain flicker across his green eyes at her expression but she could hardly feel it anymore.
“Just go,” she said quietly. “You owe me nothing. And if you did, you’ve paid it all back tenfold.” She turned around, heading back towards the ICU.
“Just go.”
Chapter Twenty Four
The next forty eight hours were the most crucial for Dillon’s recovery. After assessing the severity of his illness, the staff transferred Dillon into a special room, sterilized so that his already weak immunity would not be compromised any further.
From the minute Dillon was situated in his new room, Kat lived and breathed in a paper mask. Every time she went into his room, she had to don a disposable paper gown and mask.
Nurses and doctors were constantly filtering in and out. The new medication they were giving Dillon was a very strong strain that would hopefully eradicate the infection in one good blow. But that also meant it would lower his already weakened immunity and health.
Dr. Greene did warn her that it was a gamble because if one stray germ or wrong cough infected Dillon, worsening his already terrible infection, it could leave to something terminal with no return.
But it was also his best chance.
With her heart in her throat, Kat had watched as the doctors and nurses of the Roseton hospital fought to save Dillon’s life. She had always had a grateful heart when she had watched hospital staffs take care of Dillon throughout his many treatments. But she felt particular gratitude for the tireless staff at Roseton Medical.
The kind nurses understood Kat’s vehement insistence at being near Dillon’s side. With him being in a special sterile room, he was the only patient in the whole room. The nurses brought in a small cot, setting it up for Kat so she could at least have a place to rest her head for a few hours at a time.
And through it all, Dillon breathed in and out in a slow steady rise and fall of his chest. It pained her to know the only way she was able to be completely sure her brother was alive was by the cold clinical sounds of his heart monitor. She watched as he was constantly jabbed and poked and medicated and checked.
Kat threaded her fingers through Dillon’s hand. “My poor Dill,” she whispered. Her poor baby brother had practically grown up inside a hospital. Would it never end for him?
She suddenly felt a gripping sense of panic. She tightened her hold on his hand. She couldn’t lose Dillon. She couldn’t lose her brothers. They were her only family. They were all she had.
She pressed her forehead against their pressed hands. “Come on, Dill,” she whispered fiercely. She felt their knuckles pressing into her forehead.
“Come on,” she urged. “Squeeze back for me, Dilly.” She squeezed the bony hand, wanting to feel his long fingers wrap around hers. “Squeeze back.” She pressed their hands, as if willing her strength to flow through him. “Squeeze back! Please!”
But in the quiet room, only the sounds of machines filled the air. And Dillon’s hand rested limply again
st her own. Kat sighed. She sighed a deep, deep sigh meant to take the place of all her tears and frustration.
An irrational part of her wanted to bust Dillon out of the hospital. She knew how much he had grown to hate being in a hospital bed. She knew he would enjoy being in such a sterile and removed room even less.
Her mind wandered as she tried to get control over her emotions.
The only time in recent memory she had ever seen Dillon smile was the last time Jason had visited before Dillon had fallen into his coma.
Dillon, who had never before in his life been interested in sports and always a little envious of athletes and their healthy bodies, had suddenly taken a deep and rapid interest in baseball after meeting Jason.
Every time Jason walked through the door, Dillon peppered him with questions about each team, the star players, their stats, or their likelihood of maintaining a good season. And with calm patience, Jason answered every question and commented on every theory Dillon came up with.
Then one day, Jason had come in with a small plastic baggy.
“What’s that?” Dillon had asked, immediately able to spot anything that looks remotely like a gift.
Jason lifted up the baggy teasingly before tossing it onto Dillon’s bed. Dillon eagerly turned over the bag’s contents.
In it were three DVDs. A baseball highlights DVD of the past year, Bull Durham, and a documentary following behind the scenes for a major league team’s whole season.
Dillon’s eyes widened as he look at each DVD as if he were admiring the discovery of a lost treasure.
He then looked up at Jason with a slow grin. “Which one should we watch first?” he asked, clearly expecting everyone to stay for at least one movie.
Jason pulled up a chair. “Let’s put on Bull Durham. It’ll get nice and awkward between you and your sis and I want to be here to see that.” He grinned, crossing his arms.
Kat, never having seen the movie, had no idea what she was talking about. But she soon found out when she blushed furiously at have to watch the few lines of sexy banter and sex scenes with her little brother.
She wanted to kick Jason’s chair out from under him and he seemed to see her intention on her face. He scooted his chair a few inches forward while laughing.
Jason.
Of course she had been thinking about him. With every spare moment between waking and sleeping, she thought about him. And she replayed their last conversation over and over again in her head.
She had at first been mad at what looked like Jason’s cowardice. She had been panicked over Dillon and running on pure adrenaline. Her emotions had flown higher and faster than she had ever experienced. And that had caused her to feel anger first and foremost at Jason.
But as the hours passed by Dillon’s bedside, Kat recalled their conversation.
“Have you ever seen that scar on Al’s forehead? Near his temple? Or how about that dent in Dave’s forearm? Ever seen that?”
Of course she had noticed those scars. Al’s scar was long and faded but she could still see the whitened scar tissue as it ran down his temple. And it was hard not to notice Dave’s arm. He worked in short sleeve shirts and his right forearm had a huge dent where a chunk of flesh was missing.
She could see why Jason would point those out to her. Because it was scary to see. It was scary to see what Jason had done when in the throes of his PTSD. She remembered that night when they had gone to pick up Al from his bender. She remembered how Jason had suddenly turned and punched the wall out of nowhere.
Yes, she understood the danger.
But Jason was overlooking something. She had spent weeks with him, watching him, observing him. She had seen him take firm leadership over his employees. She had watched him quietly charm that stubborn Malcolm by guiding him through a man’s rite of passage in manual labor. And she had witnessed him bringing in every force possible to save her town because he remembered how much it meant to her.
Yes, he had darkness. But he had so much more in goodness. He couldn’t see that side of him though because all he could focus on was the scars he had left around him.
But if he were not a man of quality, of character, would people like Al or Dave have stayed?
Kat sighed. She closed her aching eyes and prayed. She didn’t know what she prayed for specifically. All she knew was that she wanted to pray.
Pray for strength. Pray for healing.
***
“He’s a tough one,” Dr. Greene said, with a twinkle in his eye and lines of relief on his face. “He’s pulled through the worst of it. Now he just needs some rest to recover from him ordeal.”
Kat stared up at the doctor from her seat by Dillon’s bed. She had noticed that his fever had broken and that the nurses had come to check in on him less frequently but she hadn’t dared to let herself hope for too much.
“Really?” she whispered. “The infection…it’s all clear?”
Dr. Greene nodded, giving her a rare smile. “He’s beat the worst of it. He’s on the road to recovery.”
Kat bit her lip as she looked down at her brother. “When will he open his eyes?” she asked, aching to hold him in her arms. Her heart felt as light as a feather.
“That might be awhile yet,” the doctor said. “He’s extremely weak from fighting the infection. But I wanted you to know that he’s good now. We got him.”
We got him. How sweet those words sounded to her ears!
Kat smiled, her lips trembling. “Thank you, Dr. Greene,” she whispered. “I don’t know what else to say but thank you so much.”
Dr. Greene shook his head. “Your brother did all the fighting. He’s tough,” he said. The doctor paused before giving her a warm look. “Your brother is safe now. Why don’t you go out and get some fresh air? I think you’ve only seen the inside of this room for the last two days.”
Kat looked down at her brother, hesitant to leave his side even after the good news.
“I promise you, he’ll just be resting for the next few hours,” Dr. Greene assured. “You’ve done everything just right. You’ve earned a little break.”
Kat nodded slowly. Some fresh air did sound like a good idea.
Taking the doctor’s suggestion, she stepped out of the hospital and walked down its front walkway. At the end of the walkway was a row of flowers. Kat slowly breathed in and out, letting the cool air soothe her frazzled brain. She was surprised to see the dusky evening sky above her. She had completely lost track of time.
Where was Jason now? Peytonville? Or perhaps he had already packed up and left for his next job? If that had been his—
“Kat?”
Kat whirled around and saw Jason standing on the opposite end of the walkway, a dark shadow of stubble around his jaw.
“Jason!” she cried out in surprise. He was still here!
She looked around him and saw his truck parked down the street. Why was he still here? Had he been here the last two days?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathlessly.
Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “I said I wasn’t going to leave until I heard Dillon nag you about that chopper ride.” He lifted his dark green eyes to her, making her heart skip a beat. “And I meant it.”
“Oh,” Kat replied, not knowing what else to say.
“How is he? How’s Dillon?” Jason asked.
Kat sighed, feeling that same wave of relief at knowing her brother was okay now. “He’s fine. He’s going to make it.”
Jason’s shoulders slumped in release. He let out a stream of air as he closed his eyes. “Good,” he said quietly.
Kat was touched by how much he had clearly been worried. She felt her own shoulders ache from being held to tightly for the last forty eight hours.
Jason opened his eyes and looked her over. “You look exhausted,” he said. “I’m guessing you haven’t really slept at all.”
“The nurses set up a cot for me,” Kat shrugged. “I got to nap a little here and there.”
&n
bsp; Jason shook his head. “Not really sleeping then,” he said. He reached out an arm. “There’s an inn nearby. I rented a room there in case you wanted a real bed to sleep on.” He looked at her, a face totally prepared for her rejection.
“You rented a room for me?” she asked, surprised.
Jason nodded.
He really had been waiting for her. Too tired to argue, she followed him down the street to a small inn. Jason led her inside and up the stairs to a room. Opening the door, the bed was still made immaculately. Nothing in the room looked touched. So he had booked the room, but hadn’t slept in it.
He hadn’t been waiting by his truck for her this whole time…had he?
