by Angel Smits
Wyatt bit back the urge to demand she tell them who the father of the child was. The instinct to pound the guy into the ground, whoever he was, was strong. DJ would help, as would Jason, too, and he was pretty sure he could count on Tyler, too. But Mandy—uh, Amanda—was tough. In this mood, she could probably take them all.
From across the room, Addie shot him a look that said, “Stop—I know what you’re thinking.” He shrugged and greeted Jason with a handshake and a hug.
The small conference room was already full, and DJ hadn’t yet arrived. Wyatt doubted they’d planned for his family when they’d created it.
“What the heck?” DJ’s voice came from the now open door as his gaze took in the full room and finally landed on Tyler. The nurse held the door open as DJ wheeled himself in. “What are you all doing here?”
Wyatt saw the sheen of pain and something else, some indefinable emotion in DJ’s eyes. He knew DJ had been limiting his medications, and since this meeting was about the plans for him to go home, Wyatt understood his desire to be clearheaded. He felt for him, though, as DJ winced.
“You’re all nuts,” DJ mumbled as he wheeled himself to the table. He stopped next to Wyatt and looked at him. “You invite everyone?”
“Didn’t know we needed an official invite, brother dear.” Amanda leaned across the table and DJ’s eyes widened.
“What the... How...”
“Shut up. I’ll smack even you. This isn’t about me right now. And all of you stop looking back and forth at each other.” She sighed and leaned back without another word.
Tyler stepped into the space between Wyatt and DJ, staking his place. He didn’t say anything, but his presence shut the group up.
Wyatt knew this meeting would be quick, as DJ could only sit for a short period of time before the pain and discomfort got to him. Not that he’d admit it, but Wyatt could tell.
When an older woman came into the room, Wyatt was surprised. Her salt-and-pepper hair and business suit gave her a motherly air. Wyatt hadn’t expected the social worker to be a civilian, either. He saw warm compassion in her eyes, and a bit of surprise at the size of the group. It was only a brief flash before she smiled broadly at them all.
“I’m Anne Davidson.” She introduced herself and took the only empty seat in the room. She made a point of acknowledging Tyler, which gained her points with Wyatt, but also told Wyatt she’d temper what she said.
Everyone who entered this room seemed to get a surprise, which Wyatt found oddly amusing. Luckily, no one else was expected. When the door opened, this time Wyatt was the one in for the surprise.
Emily stepped inside, stopping right beside the door where she leaned back against the wall.
“Emily?” Wyatt stood. “What are you doing here?” Stupid question. It was probably about Tyler’s custody now that DJ was coming home.
“I called her,” Tyler said softly.
Either ignoring the underlying tension, or oblivious to it, the social worker opened a thick folder and pulled out several sheets of paper. She spread them on the table in front of DJ, talking directly to him.
Wyatt reluctantly sat, his mind on the woman at the door instead of on the meeting.
After Anne outlined the treatments and therapies that would be required over the foreseeable future, all outpatient, she leaned back and waited for DJ’s reaction. There was none.
Everyone else in the room, however, seemed to have no qualms about speaking up.
“We can make arrangements for an apartment here in San Antonio,” Jason suggested.
“Austin’s eighty miles, but we can get you back and forth,” Addie said.
Tyler’s voice joined the fray. “I thought you were coming home with us?”
After that, Wyatt struggled to distinguish the separate voices as they all blended. Or maybe it was the humming in his brain.
He couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering to Emily. She looked great. Her jacket neatly folded over her arm, she wore her dark blue suit—she’d obviously come straight from the courthouse. Her hair was pulled back, neat and tight, and she was wearing that pink blouse—the one she’d worn that first day they’d met.
DJ’s fist hit the wooden conference table hard. The soldier’s strength came through loud and clear as the myriad of voices fell silent. Tyler scooted behind Wyatt’s chair and Wyatt wondered at his brother’s actions. Scaring the boy wasn’t the way to make friends. But Wyatt understood why he’d done it. His respect for his younger brother grew.
Wyatt looked over at Emily. She’d scooted to the door’s edge. Her skin had paled and her fingers gripped her purse strap until her knuckles were white.
She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze latched on to DJ and the storm in her eyes worried Wyatt.
What was she thinking? She might talk a good game, saying she’d closed the case, but Wyatt knew she’d do whatever was necessary if she didn’t think DJ was fit to be Tyler’s guardian.
No one spoke. All eyes were on DJ.
“This is my life I’m losing here,” he said softly, belying the slamming fist. “I’ll decide where I go, and I’ll let you all know when I make up my mind.”
With his muscular arms, DJ spun the wheelchair around and rolled to the door. He pulled it open, glaring at Emily when she tried to hold it open for him. He used the foot of the wheelchair to do it instead. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “I appreciate all of your concern,” he said to the hall, then with a brief glance over his shoulder he met Wyatt’s gaze. “But you can’t fix everything. You can’t fix this.”
For an instant, the soldier vanished, and Wyatt saw the little boy DJ had once been. It was but a flash of memory between them, but it was enough to make DJ’s point. Wyatt nodded. Message received. Don’t interfere.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WYATT WAS EXHAUSTED. The past two weeks had taken their toll. Driving here to the hospital nearly every day, going back to the ranch at night, keeping track of everyone, worrying about DJ and Amanda and Tyler and Emily and...the ranch. Thank God for reliable foremen.
At the other end of the waiting room couch, Tyler drove his toy cars, accenting the movements with his impression of an engine.
“Hey, buddy, keep it down, okay?” Wyatt’s head pounded. Even though the room was done up in a neutral black-and-tan combination, he was sick of looking at it. He leaned back on the stiff couch and closed his eyes. There in the shadows of his mind he saw her face.
Emily.
She’d slipped out of the conference room right behind DJ today, and Wyatt hadn’t seen her since. Had she left? What was she doing? His siblings had scattered, too, and he wasn’t in the mood to hunt for them, either.
He just wanted to go home. And sleep for about a month.
“Mr. Hawkins?”
Wyatt opened his eyes to find the social worker, Anne, standing beside him. She smiled. He felt himself smile in response. “Call me Wyatt. There’re too many Hawkinses around here today.”
“Can we talk for a minute?” At his nod, she took a seat across from him.
“I just met with your brother and the doctor,” she said. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. Dr. Simpson is recommending discharge at the end of next week.”
“That’s great.” DJ still hadn’t told Wyatt if he was coming to the ranch, though Wyatt was sure that was what he’d decide. He glanced over at Tyler.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat things. Your brother’s made wonderful progress, but he’s been through a lot, and he still has a long road ahead. Even after he goes home, he’ll be here several times a week for therapy.”
“How long does it really take for injuries, burns like that, to heal?”
“Quite a while, months, if not longer, and even once he’s healed on the surface, the damaged muscles and bone are still rebuilding. But
it’s not the physical healing I’m concerned about.” She pulled several pages from the clipboard and handed them to him.
Wyatt took them and glanced down. He recognized them as part of the packet she’d put out in front of DJ.
“Post-traumatic stress disorder?” He met the woman’s stare with a frown.
“I’m not saying Captain Hawkins has been diagnosed. Please hear me out. With so many of our military experiencing such horrific events, we know it’s an issue.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t let any of my guys go home without someone being informed of what symptoms to watch for.”
“Like what?” The words blurred in front of Wyatt’s tired eyes, and he blinked to focus.
“Here’s a checklist. I want you to take it with you.” She pointed to specific items. “For example, not sleeping well. Being easily startled. High anxiety or depression. Withdrawal. Those are some of the more obvious symptoms.”
Nodding, Wyatt cataloged the words, making a note to keep an eye on his brother.
“Mom’s like that. She’s kinda like Ms. Ivers,” Tyler piped up from the other side of the room. At first Wyatt thought Tyler was making up dialogue for his imaginary race-car drivers, but he wasn’t moving the cars. He stood a few feet away, watching him and the social worker with wide eyes.
“What?” Wyatt looked closer at the pages. Then he went back to the top of the list and read it again, mentally checking off nearly each one as he compared it to Emily.
What the— “It says women are at higher risk than men.” Wyatt looked over at Anne.
She nodded slowly, a confused frown on her brow. “Women are more likely to be in traumatic situations that trigger PTSD. Domestic violence, rape, abuse...” The last was spoken softly, but thankfully Tyler was focused on his cars again. “Do you know someone else who—?”
“Maybe.” Wyatt mentally cursed. Emily’s stories about her stepfather, and her mother’s situation, leaped into his mind. Watching her stepfather abuse those she loved had definitely left a lasting mark. Several pieces fell into place, including her jumpy reaction to DJ’s outburst back in the conference room.
The nurse who’d escorted DJ earlier stuck her head around the corner. “We’re done with his treatments, Anne. Captain Hawkins is pretty tired, so if you want to chat, now might be a good time, before he falls asleep.”
“Thanks, Liz.” Anne stood.
“Before you go.” Wyatt stood as well, towering over the smaller woman. “How do you cure it?”
Anne hesitated. “Cure isn’t the right word. Treat would be better.” She paused to look at him, considering him for a long minute. “Early detection is key. If you’re asking what kind of treatment is effective, it’s different for each person. Group therapy. Drug treatments. Even immersion therapy can work.”
“What if the events were years ago?”
“Your friend?”
“Yeah.” Wyatt nodded. There was so much information to take in. “What can I do?”
“Be supportive. Be there for them. They’ll both need that.” Several long minutes passed as Wyatt let the information sink in. “If you do notice anything, let me or the doctor know.”
She was referring to DJ, but who did he contact regarding Emily? He’d have to think about this when he was more awake.
“Can we go see my dad now?” Tyler interrupted.
“Yeah, let’s go.” He turned back to Anne. “Thank you.”
As they headed to the hall, she reached out a hand and touched his arm. “Keep an eye out. If you have questions regarding your friend or your brother, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.” She extended a utilitarian white business card. The look of sadness in her eyes jolted him.
Wyatt took the card and slipped it into his shirt pocket. He took two steps, then turned back. “I get the impression this is personal.”
She nodded one simple time. “My son. We missed the signs. He committed suicide two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. So please don’t ignore the signs. Not with your brother. Not with your friend.”
“I won’t,” he assured her.
“Come on.” Tyler bounced from foot to foot at Wyatt’s side.
Anne laughed. “You’re just like my grandson. So impatient.” She patted his shoulder, then escorted them back to the ward, leaving them when she got to the nurses’ station. She settled at a computer, probably to add notes to DJ’s file.
Wyatt liked her, but the information she’d given him left him feeling unsettled.
His thoughts kept flipping back and forth between DJ and then Emily. What the hell was he supposed to do? They stopped at the open door of DJ’s room.
For now, he shelved the images and concerns. He had to focus on DJ and Tyler and plan for the future at home. But once that was done? All bets were off. He and Emily needed to talk.
* * *
THE HOSPITAL DOORS behind Emily swished open and she hurried to move out of the way. The last thing she needed was for someone to mow her over. Then she’d be the one in the E.R. Several wooden benches lined the walk and she scooted over and sat down on one with a thud. Her legs shook and she tried to catch her breath.
What was she supposed to do now? DJ’s anger worried her, but she couldn’t tell if it was because of her concern for Tyler or her own discomfort.
She pulled out her phone...and stared at it. She should call Warren. She’d told him she was coming down here today just to visit. He’d glared at her over his glasses in a silent warning.
He knew she was too invested in this case.
But if she called him, she knew he’d tell her to walk directly to her car and drive home. He’d handle it. The fact that he was her boss meant she should probably do exactly that. There’d be consequences if she didn’t.
Sighing, Emily shoved her phone back into her purse just as a shadow fell over her. She hastily looked up, expecting Wyatt, but was surprised when it wasn’t him. She blinked a couple times at his brother Jason, who stood there.
“You’re the judge, right?” He extended a hand. “Jason Hawkins.”
She hesitated before taking his hand, afraid he’d notice hers trembling. She nodded. “Emily Ivers.”
His hands were big, but not rough like Wyatt’s. He didn’t say anything immediately. The silent type...like Wyatt.
He had the same body build, several of the same mannerisms and the same dark hair and blue eyes as Wyatt. So why wasn’t she attracted to him the same way?
“Did you need something?” She stood. She didn’t let attorneys intimidate her in the courtroom; she wasn’t going to let this one do it here, either.
“Not really. Just a word.”
“Pleading your brother’s case?”
“Trying to. Will it do any good?”
“Maybe.” She smiled, more relaxed and comfortable now.
“I hope you can give DJ time. He’s always been a hothead, but he’s got a good heart.”
Good hearts weren’t what put food on the table or kept parents from hurting their kids, intentionally or unintentionally.
“Was that display in there his norm?”
He didn’t answer at first. She was curious if this was his courtroom style. He intrigued her as a fellow litigator. She’d like to see him in action.
“No. That’s why I’m out here now. If I thought he’d ever hurt Tyler, or wasn’t capable of being a parent, I’d be the first to call him on it.”
She nodded. “I appreciate the input.”
“I hope you realize Mr. Control in there is the one who’s going to need help.”
Mr. Control? He was talking about Wyatt, not DJ. “What do you mean?”
Jason leaned back against the brick wall and gazed out over the parking lot. “Here’s what’ll happen.
DJ will go home with Wyatt. He can say all he wants that he’s still making up his mind, but that’s what he’ll do.”
Jason laughed and shook his head. “I give ’em a couple weeks before Wyatt tries to tell DJ what to do, which won’t work, by the way. So Addie’ll jump in and try to make them see eye to eye.” His gaze was distant as if he was actually watching it happen, or had seen it before.
Emily marveled at how well these siblings knew one another. She hadn’t a clue what that felt like. She’d always lived in isolation, as a child and now as an adult.
Jason turned to head back inside, then looked back. “You’re a good match for him, you know.”
“What?”
He laughed. “You’re tough, not needy. Needy would suck him dry. He couldn’t help it. Just remember he’ll never ask for help.” The doors swished open again, and Jason walked back into the hospital.
An attorney, a cowboy and a soldier. Brothers. Nothing alike and yet so similar.
And that was only the male half of the family. Inside the shadowed interior of the hospital lobby, Emily saw the three sisters gather around Jason. They all turned in unison to look at her. Her stomach twisted and her heart sank.
She hadn’t a clue how to be part of a normal family.
With a shake of her head to dispel her thoughts, Emily headed to the parking lot. Her heels echoed hollowly in the deserted garage. What a lonely sound. She had to get out of here before that thought went any further and she did something stupid, like turn around and run to find Wyatt.
She’d parked on the top level, and from here all of San Antonio spread like glitter at her feet. She vaguely wondered why the parking garage got one of the best views. Rather than climb into the sweltering vehicle, she walked over to the railing to get a better peek.
“Were you even going to say hello?” Wyatt’s voice was hard and cold.
She shook her head. She wasn’t surprised to hear him. “No. This is an official visit.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Warren Litchfield is taking over Tyler’s case from here on out.”
“So how is this an official visit if you’re not on the case anymore?” Wyatt stopped a few feet away. She saw him from the corner of her eye. His feet wide, his arms across his chest, the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes, he looked imposing and sexy as hell.
