by Laura Scott
Maybe that was why she’d had such an overwhelming reaction to his kiss.
Nah. She stared at their clasped hands. She’d been asked out several times by co-workers and friends, but she hadn’t been remotely interested.
Not until Jonas.
They stopped for lunch on the way, and she noticed that people stared at Jonas, some with pity, others with curiosity. A few pulled their gaze away as if they were repulsed. She began to get annoyed on his behalf.
“How do you stand it?” she asked as they slid into a booth.
He shrugged. “Not much I can do about it.”
“Stupid people,” she muttered.
That made the corner of his mouth quirk, hinting at a smile. “Not everyone is like you, Bella.”
“Me?” Her brows levered up and then drew together in a frown. “I don’t follow.”
“The first day we met, you didn’t once look at my deformed leg. No matter how much I goaded you, you didn’t look.”
“First of all, your leg isn’t deformed. It was amputated because of an injury. Secondly, I see people on crutches or in wheelchairs every day, it’s not that unusual.” It was her turn to smile. “I will admit that the way you demanded I look at it was a unique approach. I can be just as stubborn as you.”
“I figured that out,” he replied dryly. “Anyway, it was the first time someone looked at me, as a person, not my injury. It was different from what I’d ever experienced before.”
“Oh, Jonas.” Hearing him say things like that made her heart ache. “It will be better once you get your prosthesis.”
“Hope so.”
They finished their meal and went back out to Jazz’s truck. They were only thirty miles outside of Battle Creek, and the closer they got to the VA hospital, the more her stomach knotted with anxiety.
Her boss told her to stay away from the facility while she was on administrative leave, so being here with Jonas wasn’t a smart move on her part. But his appointment was with rehab services, which was located on the other side of the building from the operating rooms. So what if someone saw her on the campus? She was accompanying a friend to an appointment, nothing more.
Still, as the stately brown brick building loomed before them, she swallowed a wave of nausea. In that moment it was clear she’d never be able to return to work. The patient’s tragic death wasn’t her fault, but even knowing the staff would speculate that she was guilty if she didn’t return, she just couldn’t do it. The only person who’d supported her after that day was Chrissy, and still, she hadn’t heard from her friend in days.
She’d have to find somewhere else to live and work. Good thing her lease was almost up on her apartment. At least she wouldn’t have to try to sell a house before moving on.
But she would need a new car. Or rather, a replacement one, since her old car hadn’t been worth very much according to her insurance agent.
“You okay?”
She glanced at Jonas and forced a smile. “Sure.”
He cocked a brow indicating he didn’t believe her but dropped the subject. He parked the truck, and they made their way inside the building.
A petite blonde wearing scrubs was walking toward them. When she saw Bella, she stopped abruptly, her mouth dropping open, gaping like a fish, her eyes wide with surprise.
“You—what are you doing here?” Emily Archer’s voice was an octave higher than normal, and the pure shock on her face was almost comical.
“None of your business.” Bella tipped her chin, meeting Dr. Hackbarth’s physician assistant’s stare head-on. “A better question would be what are you doing here? This is the rehab clinic area and nowhere near the OR.”
“I—” Emily abruptly spun on her heel and hurried away in the opposite direction.
“What a flake.” Bella watched the young woman’s retreating figure. “How can anyone get lost where they work?”
Jonas leaned on his crutches, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. “I don’t think she got lost. She acted more like she saw a ghost.”
“What do you mean?” It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. “Me? I’m the ghost?”
“If she was the one responsible for cutting your brake line, then yeah. Exactly.” Jonas pinned her with his dark gaze. “She was surprised to see you alive and well.”
A chill rippled down her arms, and she crossed them over her chest. No way. She couldn’t believe it.
But as they made their way to the clinic, she couldn’t shake the image of Emily’s shocked expression from her mind.
8
Jonas couldn’t erase the stunned expression on Emily Archer’s face when she saw Bella. He wasn’t a cop, but he wanted desperately to run a background check on the woman. Logically, he knew she must not have a criminal record or she wouldn’t be working at a VA hospital, but she’d still looked guilty.
Of having an affair with a married man?
Of sabotaging Bella’s brakes?
Or both?
He was glad to leave Bella in the clinic waiting room as he went to talk to the rehab doc. When the physician came in accompanied by a therapist holding his prosthesis, the fake leg that had the potential to provide a new level of freedom, his heart began to thud in alarm. He’d been told it would take time for him to learn how to walk with the new leg.
What if he couldn’t do this?
Dr. Harris examined him, pronounced him fit enough to use the prosthesis, and left him alone with Allan the physical therapist.
“This is called a transtibial prosthesis. It’s been custom fit for you and should fit like a glove. Ready to give it a try?” Allan asked with a grin. “I’m going to wrap your limb with an ACE wrap so we can check the fit here. After that, we’ll head over to the therapy gym to try standing and maybe taking a step or two.”
His gut knotted with tension, but he nodded. Allan went through the mechanics of how the prosthesis worked and how to attach it to his left leg. He went on to explain that the footwear could be exchanged for a sneaker, dress shoe, etc. for whatever occasion he needed.
Thinking of Jazz’s wedding made him realize he needed to get his dress shoes out of his storage locker. He supposed he’d also have to get a suit. He couldn’t wear his dress blues now that he’d been given a medical discharge from the Army.
“How does this feel?” Allan asked, looking up at him expectantly.
Truthfully, it felt awkward and strange, but he forced a smile. “Great.”
“Okay, I’m going to take it off now, and we’ll head over to the therapy gym. We like to start you off between the parallel bars.”
He hadn’t realized this appointment would take this long and wondered if he should tell Bella to leave for a while. The thought of her going off alone bothered him, so he held off.
For all he knew this could be a colossal failure.
The therapy gym was conveniently located around the corner from the clinic. When they were situated right in front of the parallel bars, Allan instructed him to put the prosthesis on.
Fumbling with the straps, Jonas realized he should have paid closer attention to what the therapist had done. He finally had it situated and blew out a breath. “I’m ready.”
“Good. Hold on to the parallel bars and stand up on your two feet. A big part of this is learning to balance on your new leg. Remember your knee works fine, you’ll just have to get used to how to walk using the new foot.”
He stood, savoring the moment. To test himself, he let go of the parallel bars and instantly felt himself losing his balance. He grabbed them again, mentally kicking himself for being an idiot.
“Slow and steady,” Allan advised. “Once you get the hang of it, you’ll be great. It takes a while to get the hang of keeping your balance. Let’s try taking two steps while holding on to the bars. Lead with your prosthesis.”
It galled him to have to use the parallel bars to stand and walk but did as Allan requested. The first step didn’t seem too bad, but the second one, shifting his weight to t
he fake leg while moving his good foot forward was much harder.
Yep. A colossal failure.
“Not bad,” Allan said as if reading his mind. “Do it again.”
Jonas took another two steps, trying to find the rhythm. It wasn’t as difficult to take the steps while supporting the bulk of his weight on the parallel bars, but he yearned to walk independently.
By the time he reached the other side of the parallel bars, beads of sweat dotted his brow.
It shouldn’t be this difficult to walk a straight line. How would he manage going up the stairs to the B&B? Or the stairs to the second-floor apartment?
“Do it again,” Allan said. “And this time, try not to lean on your arms so much.”
A wave of despair washed over him. With an effort, he shoved it aside. He’d survived basic training and almost eighteen months of Afghanistan.
He could do this.
He would do this.
Failure was not an option.
Jonas awkwardly turned, almost falling flat on his face, then walked the length of the parallel bars again. And again. After the fourth time, he thought it might be getting easier.
Or maybe he was delusional.
“That’s all for today,” Allan said when he’d finished yet a fifth stretch of the bars. “You don’t want to overdo it on your first day.”
“I’m going again. I don’t plan on leaving here in a wheelchair or with crutches,” Jonas said between clenched teeth. “I’m walking out of here under my own power.”
Allan lifted a brow. “So you’re one of those, huh?”
He scowled. “One of what?”
“Macho guys who think they can leap tall buildings with a single bound.”
“I just want to walk, not leap tall buildings.” He didn’t find humor in Allan’s assessment.
The therapist sighed. “Listen to me. If you try to walk out of here without any assistive devices, you’ll set your recovery back several weeks. Your lower leg will blister under the constant pressure, and you’ll end up having more surgery. You can’t go from using crutches to walking on your new leg twelve hours a day. You gotta trust me on this.”
He stared down at his fake leg for a long moment, doing his best to regain his composure. Allan was probably right. He’d been told the recovery process would be slow. He just hadn’t figured it would be quite this bad.
Finally, he lifted his gaze to Allan’s. “Fine. What are my options?”
“Since you have an aversion to wheelchairs, you can take the crutches or a set of canes. I would suggest you practice walking with the crutches or canes twice a day, morning and evening. Use the crutches for the time in between. Don’t overdo it. I’ll need you to come to therapy three times a week, starting Monday.”
Jonas winced, three times a week with a total of six hours of travel time would be difficult. But not impossible. After Jazz’s wedding, he could find a place to live in Battle Creek, just until he could walk independently.
“Okay.” He straightened and began to walk the length of the parallel bars for the last time. He moved slowly, trying to use the bars for balance more than for holding his weight. When he reached the other end, he caught a glimpse of Bella hovering in the doorway of the gym.
She was watching him with bright eyes and a broad smile.
A feeling of accomplishment welled in his chest, and he smiled back at her. He couldn’t be angry that she’d come to find him after waiting over an hour. The joyous expression on her face was exactly what he’d needed.
If Jemma had been here, he knew she’d be crying all over him. But not Bella. From the very first time they’d met she’d acted different toward him. No sympathy. No pity. In fact, she flat out told him to get over himself.
Bella saw his efforts as a sign of progress. Maybe it was her nursing background combined with her recent losses that made her act differently toward him.
Whatever it was, he liked it. Liked her.
And was forced to secretly acknowledge how much he’d miss her when their time together at the B&B was over.
Jonas was walking!
Bella could barely contain herself. She wanted to leap into the air doing a wild fist pump but thought that might be overdoing it.
Jonas would surely figure out that her feelings for him were morphing into something more than simple friendship.
Her problem, not his. Still, watching him maneuver through the parallel bars was the highlight of her day.
Stumbling across Emily Archer in the hallway an hour earlier had been the lowest point.
While she’d waited in the uncomfortable plastic chair, she’d replayed their accidental meeting over and over in her mind. She didn’t want to believe Jonas was right. That the pure shock that had flashed in her eyes hadn’t been because Bella had been alive and well.
It just didn’t make any sense. Even if Emily and Hackbarth were having a hot affair, it had nothing to do with the medication error the surgeon had made.
It seemed unlikely that Emily would do something so drastic as to tamper with her brakes in hopes of injuring her. Bella wasn’t a threat to the surgeon. The hospital was already leaning toward Eli Hackbarth’s side of the story. Especially since both Emily and Aaron Campbell had agreed with his assessment of what had taken place.
No. The more she thought about it, the more she had to assume that Emily had been surprised to see her at the hospital while being on a paid administrative leave of absence. Or maybe Emily had been on her way to some secret liaison with Hackbarth. Bella remembered there were call rooms located on the lower level of the clinic area.
Yep. That was it. A secret rendezvous had to be the source of the PA’s guilt.
After playing endless games on her phone, she’d decided to find out how much longer Jonas would be. Finding him in the therapy gym had been easy, and she’d watched him for long moments as he’d mustered his strength and determination to walk on his new leg.
“Looking good.” She approached the parallel bars, noticing how the physical therapist eyed her curiously. “How much longer will you be?”
“He’s finished for the day.” The therapist wore a name tag that identified him as Allan. “Sit down for a minute, Jonas. Remember what I said about overdoing things?”
The way Jonas glanced at her she knew he didn’t want her to watch him take the leg off, so she turned away. “I’ll be in the waiting room when you’re ready. And I found an art supply store nearby, too.”
Without waiting for a response, she returned to the uncomfortable plastic chair. She brought up her map application to verify the art supply store was only five minutes away.
Not far from her apartment. She grimaced and wondered if she should just go ahead and break her lease now. After the past few days, she’d lost her zest for returning to her job. What was the point? Even if her name was cleared, which was doubtful, people would always look at her and wonder. Hospital gossip traveled faster than the speed of light. She could already imagine the whispers and snickers that would dog her heels like a shadow.
Her reputation had already taken a hit. Her chance of recovering from that was slim.
“You ready to get out of here?” Jonas’s voice was low and strained. She glanced up at him, noticing the lines of exhaustion that bracketed his mouth. She’d heard from her patients that an hour of physical therapy could feel like running a half marathon. He had the crutches again and was wearing a backpack, which she knew held his prosthesis.
“Of course.” She slid her phone into her purse and stood. “I was thinking we could go to the art supply store, then stop at my place for a little bit. I need more old clothes that I don’t mind getting stained with paint.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Was it her imagination or was there relief in his dark eyes?
“I also have ibuprofen if you need some.” She led the way back to the parking garage where they’d left his car. “And I don’t mind driving, I know the area better than you do.”
“Okay.” J
onas must have been hurting because he didn’t utter a protest. He stored his crutches and backpack in the back, then slid into the passenger seat of Jazz’s truck.
Rush hour traffic in Battle Creek wasn’t like in Detroit, but it still took fifteen minutes to get to the art supply store. Jonas appeared eager to go inside, and she was glad they could do something to make him happy.
She followed him to the oil paints and canvas area, watching with bemusement as he filled the cart. Her eyes popped when she saw how much he spent.
“Wow. Pricey.” She carried the bag out to the car.
“It’s an initial investment. Other than the canvasses.”
She glanced at him when they were once again settled in the car. “My apartment is just a half mile away. It’s close to dinnertime, I figured we could order takeout and eat there before driving back to McNally Bay.”
“I’d like that.” The exhaustion lacing his tone was more pronounced.
She drove the short distance to her apartment building, parking in her underground spot so that it would be easier for Jonas to get to the elevator. Her apartment was on the third floor, and after a grueling PT session, she knew the elevator was their best bet.
Ten minutes later, they were walking into her apartment. Jonas looked around curiously. “Nice place.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Oddly enough it no longer felt like home. Which was strange since she’d lived there for going on four years. “I, uh, thought we’d order subs, unless you’d rather do pizza.”
“Subs are great.” Jonas made his way over to her sofa and sat down with a low groan. “I have to put my leg up for a while.”
She nodded and pulled out her phone. “What kind do you want?”
“Roast beef.”
Bella place the order, choosing turkey for herself, then rummaged in her fridge for soft drinks. “I have iced tea, lemonade, or water. Unfortunately for you, I gave up diet sodas two years ago.”
“Water is fine.” Jonas had his head tipped back on the cushion, his eyes closed. She set the water on the end table beside him, then went into her bedroom to find more old clothes that she wouldn’t mind getting ruined.
