True Love Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  Emmy nodded.

  “Can I see?”

  Emmy reached back and pulled her shirt up a bit. He helped ease it up a little farther. The paramedic winced and turned to a cabinet, pulled out a pack, cracked it, then gently laid it on the bruises on Emmy’s lower back and disappearing into her little leggings.

  Jon met the paramedic’s questioning gaze. “I heard Trinity say that she’d seen a man at Steph’s place and he hit Emmy.”

  The paramedic nodded, then looked at the guy sitting up in the driver’s seat. He immediately exited the vehicle, presumably to tell the officer waiting outside.

  “Mommy hit me, too,” Emmy whispered. “Lots. She was very mad.”

  “That won’t ever happen again,” he vowed. He didn’t care what he had to do. Steph would never lay a hand on Emmy again. She’d be lucky if she got to see their daughter again.

  He held the ice pack to Emmy’s back while the paramedic listened to her heart and took her blood pressure. Exhausted, Emmy fell asleep in his arms. He took that as a good sign that she felt safe enough to let go.

  The driver climbed back behind the wheel. “The cops found the guy. They’ve arrested him along with the woman.”

  Jon sighed with relief, but it was short-lived. The second they drove out of the apartment complex, he took out his phone and made the call he dreaded.

  “Jon. You ready to talk horses?” Tate sounded pleased to hear from him.

  Jon hoped Trinity’s brothers didn’t kill him over this. “You need to get to the hospital. Trinity was just taken into the emergency room. I don’t know everything, but she’s got a head wound, possibly broken ribs, damage to her hands, and she suffered a very bad flashback after being locked in a closet after she was clocked with a beer bottle and beaten by my ex.” He waited for the cussing, accusations, and death threats.

  “Anyone else hurt?” Tate’s voice was calm and controlled.

  Jon choked up. “Em-Emmy. Though she’s f-far better than Tr-Trinity.”

  “Okay. Hold on. We’ll meet you there.” Which meant Tate would call the rest of Trinity’s family. They’d take care of her.

  He nuzzled Emmy closer. He’d take care of her, but he wished he could be with Trinity right now, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Trinity couldn’t put one thought together with the next to figure out what was happening. All she knew was overwhelming fear and a sense that she needed to get away. With her heart pounding and her lungs seized, she felt like she was suffocating.

  She couldn’t move her hands. They were strapped down. Why? She didn’t know.

  The people dressed in blues and whites around her kept assuring her she was okay, but she felt anything but.

  She needed to find someone but she didn’t know who. Tate? Liz? Emmy? Images came and went, and she couldn’t make out now or then or reality versus nightmare.

  Someone poked another needle in her arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It’s just a mild sedative to help you calm down. Breathe, Trinity.”

  She wished she could, but something seemed very urgent and necessary. “Where is Jon? I need to . . . tell . . . him . . . about Emmy. Did they . . . find . . . Clint? Where . . . is . . . Tate?” She couldn’t get all the words out without gasping for every breath.

  “We’ll find out. But first we need to take care of you.” The man with the white mask and plastic face shield had earnest brown eyes that made her believe he’d help.

  “You have to . . . find them.”

  “We will,” he assured her. “Let’s get a chest X-ray. Is CT ready for her?”

  “Yes,” someone answered. “We’re ready to move her.”

  Trinity’s head spun as the lights and ceiling tiles moved overhead, making her have to close her eyes to stop the queasy feeling in her stomach from getting worse.

  “Trinity!” Jon’s deep and urgent voice made her turn her head.

  “Jon.” Just his name hurt her throat to say. She didn’t know why she couldn’t make her voice louder than a whisper.

  The masked man appeared over her again. “You need to stop talking so your throat can heal.”

  Jon hovered over her, his face and eyes filled with anguish. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Trinity.”

  She tried to raise her hand, but the restraint held it down, though she spotted the bloody bandages covering her fingers. “What happened?”

  Jon turned to look at the masked man, who spoke to him. “She’s having trouble thinking clearly. The paramedic said something about a flashback from a previous event.”

  “Did they get Clint?” she asked Jon, desperate to be sure he hadn’t hurt Tate and Liz.

  Jon brushed his hand over her forehead. “Clint is dead. That was months ago, sweetheart. Steph did this. You were trying to help Emmy.”

  She tried to get up, but the masked man . . . No, a doctor. And Jon. They gently held her down. “She hit Emmy.” She tried to see past them. “Where is she? You have to help her.”

  “Emmy is safe. She’s right over there.”

  The doctor put his hand on Jon’s chest and pushed him back. “We need to get her to CT.”

  Jon elbowed his way back to her side and pressed his forehead to hers. “Let the doctor help you. I need to stay with Emmy, but I’ll come see you again as soon as they bring you back.” He kissed her head again. “Your family is on the way,” he assured her, then disappeared, making her turn to find him, but they were moving her again and the dizziness and lights made her close her eyes.

  “We need to do some imaging,” the doctor said from beside her. “Then we’ll get you back to your family. But now you know your little girl is okay.”

  Her heart calmed. Emmy. She was safe. Jon had her.

  And oh, it sounded and felt good to think of Emmy as her little girl.

  She’d like that. She’d try her very best to be a good mom to her.

  Bits and pieces came back to her about what happened, how Steph attacked her. Unprovoked. Her deadly intent clear.

  Trinity was done playing nice. She vowed Steph would pay for what she did, for hitting Emmy, and for trying to kill her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jon hated leaving Trinity’s side. Seeing the blood drenching her hair, the thick pad on the back of her head, the bandages around her hands because she’d literally tried to claw her way out of the closet, and her wide eyes filled with desperation as she struggled to understand what was happening. They’d restrained her to keep her from hurting herself more. It was all too much to bear. But she needed him to hold on, take care of Emmy, and be there for her when they brought her back.

  If he was going to do that, he needed help.

  And it arrived just in time. He glanced up when the hospital-room door opened. His father stared at him, then Emmy, and back in the dim room they’d moved them to because the noise in the ER agitated Emmy and they wanted to keep her calm.

  “Dad.” He’d never been so relieved to see his father.

  “How is she?”

  Emmy lay curled up on her side in the golden glow from the single light at the head of the bed. She twitched and made odd noises in her sleep, but she didn’t wake up. The pediatrician who examined her warned him about nightmares and Emmy being afraid and feeling unsafe for a while.

  He’d managed to change her into a tiny hospital gown and held two ice packs on the bruises on her back and bottom. He couldn’t believe Steph had spanked her hard enough to leave such bruises.

  His father stared at his hands on Emmy. “What happened?” he whispered.

  Jon kept his voice low. “I couldn’t get ahold of Emmy after school. I asked Trinity to drop by and check on her. Steph didn’t answer my calls because she was too busy getting drunk and stoned.” He glanced at Emmy, thought of all she’d been through, and tried to breathe through it and tell his father everything he knew about what happened.

  He let go of one of the ice packs and brushed his
hand over her head. “The pediatrician said physically she’s okay. Bruised, but no broken bones or anything. He’s concerned about the emotional trauma she’s suffered. We’ll know more in the morning when she’s awake and hopefully able to talk to us. He said it’s not unusual for children her age, exposed to such violence, to stop talking for a while.”

  When Jon looked back at his dad, he found Tate standing next to him. “How is Trinity?”

  Tate sighed. “Two cracked ribs, a skull fracture, she’s got a brain bleed and swelling they’re monitoring, two broken fingers, one missing fingernail, the others broken and bloody, and a very questionable mental state right now. She seems to flip between the past and present. She doesn’t know if she should try to save me and Liz or Emmy.”

  Jon wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I sent her there.”

  Tate shook his head all through that. “This is all on Steph. She did this. To Trinity. To Emmy. That’s where the blame belongs.”

  He wished he could believe that, but his gut was tied in knots with guilt.

  Tate stepped closer, but still kept his voice to a whisper. “Do they have your ex in custody?”

  He nodded. “I expect the cops to update me soon. She should be going away for a very long time after what she’s done.” He hoped they locked her up and threw away the key. He had a lot of other dire wishes for her, but didn’t voice his anger-fueled thoughts.

  “And the guy who hurt Emmy?” his dad asked, looking like he’d like some retribution there, too.

  “Also in custody,” Jon confirmed, wishing he could get his hands on the guy and beat the shit out of him for laying a hand on his daughter.

  Tate slid his hands into his jeans pockets. “We’ve got the whole McGrath crew here. I’ve spoken to our mom and dad. They’ll be here as soon as they can. But I know Trinity would want you there with her, so whenever you can get away, you’re welcome to come to her room. Three-zero-two. She’s mostly awake because of the concussion, but not very lucid. They’ll be taking her for hourly CT scans to check the brain bleed, so if you miss her, just know she’ll be back shortly. All of us will be keeping vigil either in her room or the waiting room.”

  Jon desperately wanted to see her now.

  His dad walked to his side of the bed and put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Go check on her. I’ll sit with Emmy.”

  Jon glanced at his daughter, torn about staying or going.

  Tate read his mind. “I’ll stay here with Mr. Crawford. If Emmy wakes up, I’ll come get you right away.”

  Jon set the ice packs on the bedside table, covered Emmy with the blanket, and stood. “It’s probably enough ice for a while. The nurse will be in to check on her soon.”

  His dad touched his arm. “She’s going to be okay.”

  He knew that, but the reassurance helped.

  Jon checked Emmy one last time to be sure she was sleeping, then let his dad take his seat. He tapped Tate on the back in thanks and headed for Trinity.

  He had no trouble finding her room. He recognized two of her sisters-in-law and her brother Declan outside her room.

  They saw him coming and Declan came forward. “It’s good you’re here. Drake and Adria are in with her, but she keeps asking for you.” Declan held his hand out. “Nice to see you again by the way even under these circumstances.”

  Jon didn’t expect to be welcomed. He took Declan’s hand and shook. “You too. Um, I don’t know what to say about all this, except I’m sorry.”

  “Tate filled us in on what he knew, and Trinity’s said enough about your ex that we understand what you’ve been dealing with. None of us thought it would end like this, but . . .” Declan shrugged. “How’s your little girl?”

  “Not great, traumatized and bruised.”

  “I hope she’s better real soon.”

  “We all do,” one of women said, probably Declan’s fiancée, Skye.

  He guessed the other one was Tate’s wife, Liz, based on the baby bump. She gave him a soft smile. “She’s waiting for you.” She pushed the door open and held it for him.

  Jon stepped in and came up short against her big brother Drake, who looked fierce and concerned all at the same time.

  “Jon.”

  He nodded and heard the possible threat in Drake’s voice, but his attention was on Trinity lying with her eyes closed in bed in the dimly lit room. The second Drake said his name, her eyes fluttered open.

  “Why are you here?” She looked around the room. “Am I late for dinner?”

  He stared blankly at her. “What?”

  Drake went to Trinity and put his hand on her leg. “You’re in the hospital. Remember? You have a concussion.” Drake turned to him. “The neurologist said her brain isn’t working properly right now. Her short-term memory is short-circuited.”

  “I’m right here.” Trinity glared at her brother, then focused on him. “Where’s Emmy?” The simple question came out easy enough but a split second later, her eyes glassed over and her chin trembled. “Where is she?”

  Jon rushed to the other side of the bed, put his hand on her arm, and leaned in close. “She’s here. She’s okay. She’s sleeping.”

  Trinity’s wide eyes met his. “Something bad happened.”

  “I know. It’s all okay now. You’re going to be okay.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “Why does it hurt to breathe?”

  “You’ve got two cracked ribs, sweetheart. Your voice is raw because you were screaming.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I know this is very confusing for you right now. You have a head injury, but you’re going to be okay, too.”

  “We were supposed to have dinner.”

  He leaned back and stared down at her.

  She sucked in a gasp. “You’re trying to steal Almost Homemade.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t steal something you own, sweetheart. It’s yours. And Adria’s.”

  Adria stood across from him next to Drake. She touched Trinity’s leg to get her attention. “No one is stealing Almost Homemade from us. It’s safe.”

  “But she said this is what you do.” Trinity looked at him, so confused and trying to piece things together it broke his heart over and over again.

  “She wanted to make you angry with me.” He’d like to kill Steph for trying to turn Trinity against him with her lies.

  “I took you from her.”

  “No, sweetheart, you didn’t. Steph and I weren’t together. And I only want to be with you.”

  “She’s a terrible mother.” Trinity sank down into the bed and crossed her arms, tears flowing down her cheeks now. “She hurt Emmy.” She shook her head back and forth but stopped because it appeared to cause her a lot of pain. “She can’t have Emmy back.” She leaned her face close to his. “No! Emmy can’t go back there.” And then Trinity went very quiet, her face went slack, and she stared into space.

  Jon looked to Drake, hoping he had some answers.

  “It’s the head injury mixed with the trauma. Her brain is trying to sort things out but she can’t make sense of it, so her brain sort of shuts off. It should clear up as the swelling goes down.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “They’ll CT her again and see if the brain bleed is subsiding or getting worse.”

  “You’re talking about me like I’m not here again.” Trinity listened to them, but the confusion in her eyes worried him.

  “I’m so sorry, Trinity. I never thought something like this would happen.”

  “Clint is dead now. Everything is going to be okay.” She touched the scar on her temple. “I’ll be fine.”

  Drake shook his head. “She’s got sixteen stitches in the back of her head. We’ll know more in the morning.”

  Tate burst into the room. “Emmy’s awake and screaming her head off for you.”

  Jon gave Trinity a quick kiss and ran out of the room and down the hall to get to his little girl, but he left part of himself in the room with Tri
nity.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Trinity had been up most of the night. Everything ached. Her hands. Her head. Her chest. Her heart. Even her hair.

  She wanted to shut off her mind, but it kept jumping around from past to present, nightmare to nightmare, and all the while her mind kept going back to Jon and Emmy.

  She loved her family for staying with her all through the night, and the way Tate went back and forth between rooms to update Jon on her condition and to update her on Emmy’s.

  But she hated the separation, the vague answers, and her own mind not being able to hold on to a thought so that she could be sure what they told her was true and not her mind playing tricks on her.

  Drake took Adria home to rest. Declan and Skye went to pick up breakfast. Tate sent Liz home so she could get some sleep, but he stayed with her.

  “Once they get the results of your latest scan, they’ll let us know if you can go home.” Tate kept his patience with her all through the night when she asked him the same questions over and over again.

  It scared her that her mind didn’t work right. The pounding headache turned to a dull throb that wouldn’t quit. The flashing lights in her eyes came and went but now she had strange floaters that danced across her vision.

  Tate pushed her wheelchair down the hallway. The overhead lights were far too bright for her sensitive eyes, sitting hurt her ribs, her fingers were killing her, but she wanted to see Emmy.

  Tate stopped at Emmy’s door, knocked, then opened it, and pushed Trinity into the brightly lit room. She winced at the light coming in from the windows. Tate handed her the sunglasses Liz luckily had in her purse and left for her to use before she went home.

  Trinity waited to put them on because she wanted Emmy to see her whole face and know that she was okay.

  Emmy sat on the bed, her legs crossed, holding Jon’s hand as he sat in front of her in the chair, leaning in close to her.

  “Why can’t I see her?”

  Jon smiled, though it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “Turn around, Emmy. She’s here.”

  Emmy turned, dropped her dad’s hand, and scrambled off the bed and ran to her. She threw her arms around Trinity and hugged her tight.