Falling Hard (Colorado High Country #3)

by Pamela Clare

  After he’d eaten, he left the dishes in the sink, dressed, and brushed his teeth. Then he grabbed his cell phone and gym bag and headed out the door. He needed to get vertical, work off this sexual frustration, clear his head.

  He drove to the climbing gym, where he found Sasha already on the wall, her trainer on belay and shouting encouragement as she worked her way through a route with a steep overhang, her body almost parallel to the ground.

  “Let your bones do the work. Your skeleton doesn’t get tired. When you’re not moving, let your muscles rest.”

  Jesse checked in with the front desk, then walked to one of the benches to put on his climbing shoes and harness. The rock gym, like The Cave, was a second home for him, the anticipation of challenging moves and burning muscles already clearing his thoughts. He’d just clipped into his harness when Herrera walked in, bag slung over his shoulder, mirrored sunglasses on his face, dark hair rumpled from the wind.

  “Hey, man,” he called when he saw Jesse. “You ready to kick your own ass?”

  Jesse was more than ready.

  They picked a 5-11c route next to Sasha.

  “Mind if I go first?” Jesse asked.

  Herrera’s brown eyes narrowed. “Something eating you?”

  “Don’t ask.” Jesse reached for the rope, looped it through his harness, and started tying his figure-eight retrace.

  “It’s too late for that.”

  “I didn’t sleep last night.” Jesse thought Herrera would let it drop.

  He didn’t. “You need a woman. Nothing makes for a good night’s sleep like sex. You should get together with Rain.”

  “Rain?” Jesse drew the knot tight, double-checked his harness. “Why Rain?”

  “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She likes you, man.”

  “Rain is just being friendly. Besides, Joe will kick the ass of any guy who hits on her in his pub. You know that.”

  “So hit on her when she’s not at work.”

  Chaska Belcourt walked by with his sister, Winona, both of them wearing harnesses. “How’s eighth grade treating you boys?”

  Jesse glared at Herrera. “Are you on belay or what?”

  “On belay.”

  “Climbing.”

  “Climb on.”

  Jesse threw himself into the route, the toes of his left foot on a chip, his right hand on a small edge. He reached with his left hand, caught a crimper, and drew himself to the left, shifting his left foot onto a small edge and the toes of his right foot onto the chip. He stretched his right arm, caught an edge, and pushed upward with his left foot. Then he lunged upward toward a fat jug—and caught it.

  As he climbed, his mind began to empty. He was barely aware of Herrera and Sasha’s shouts of encouragement from below. By the time he’d climbed to the top of the wall, he was focused, in control of his emotions again.

  Herrera lowered him to the mat. “Way to crush it.”

  Jesse was about to say that his practice on power moves was paying off when the sound of sirens came from nearby. One siren. Then another. And another.

  He walked to the windows to see a fire rescue vehicle and two ambulances headed down the canyon. Hawke must be having a busy day.

  “I wonder what happened.” Jesse felt for his pager in his pocket, made sure it was on. “Did you get a page?”

  Herrera shook his head. “Nothing.

  Sasha held up her silent pager. “Me neither.”

  They walked back to the wall. It was Herrera’s turn now. But no sooner had Herrera gotten tied into the rope than Jesse’s cell phone rang.

  He pulled it out of his pocket.

  Ellie.

  He was about to let the call go to voicemail—now was not the time to talk about last night—but something had him answering instead. “Moretti.”

  “Hi, Jesse. I’m really sorry to bother you, but there’s been a multiple-casualty incident involving a school bus full of kids in the canyon.”

  Jesus. So that’s what that was.

  Ellie went on. “I’ve been called in to the ER to help, but my parents are in Denver with my sister seeing a surgeon about her knee. Most of my friends are nurses, and they’ve been called in too. I have no one to watch the kids.”

  Wait. What?

  “You want me to watch your kids?” Even as he said the words, he knew she couldn’t possibly have meant she wanted him to babysit.

  “Yes—if you can. I’m really sorry to ask this of you, but I have no one else I can call who lives nearby.”

  “I don’t know anything about kids.” It was the truth.

  “No, maybe not, but you have EMT training, and you were an NCO, right? How much harder could it be to watch over two toddlers compared to a camp full of soldiers?”

  Okay, she had a point. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He ended the call. “Sorry. There’s been an accident with a school bus—multiple casualties. My neighbor is a nurse and needs me to watch her kids while she goes to help in the ER.”

  Herrera stared at him. “You—babysit?”

  Yeah, he’d had that same thought. “I’m good with kids.”

  He hoped for everyone’s sake that was true.

  Ellie raced around trying to get herself ready for work and make sure Jesse would have everything he needed. There was a box of Kraft Dinner and a can of peaches on the counter top. The kids had already had their midday dose of amoxicillin. The diapers and wipes were sitting on the coffee table, next to a stack of DVDs that the kids liked—Sesame Street, Thomas the Tank Engine, Little Einsteins.

  “Daisy, do you have to go potty before I go?”

  Daisy shook her head.

  She checked Daniel’s training pants one last time and was relieved to find them poopy. That was one thing Jesse wouldn’t have to deal with. She quickly changed Daniel, took the dirty training pants out with the trash, and washed her hands.

  Her stethoscope. Where had she put it?

  She found it on the kitchen counter and had just draped it around her neck when she saw Jesse pull up in front of the house. She met him at the door.

  God, she felt guilty for asking him to do this.

  “Hey, Daniel and Daisy, look who’s here. It’s Jesse. Do you remember Jesse? He’s the nice man who helped us when we were sick and our car wouldn’t start.”

  “Hey, guys.” Jesse waved to the kids.

  “Thanks so much, Jesse. I’m so sorry. I know this is your day off—”

  “Hey, I’m doing my part. Those kids need your help, right?” His gaze moved over her. “You look good in scrubs.”

  She looked down at herself. “You must be nuts.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, give me my mission parameters here.”

  “Just keep my kids safe and alive until I get home or until my parents get here.” She walked over to the table. “I’ve written everything down here—when they need their next dose of medicine, the number for the hospital switchboard, my parents’ cell phone numbers, though they’re not here and can’t really help. There’s a box of Kraft Dinner on the counter if I’m not home by suppertime. Daniel’s wipes and training pants are on the coffee table. He just had a BM, so I hope you won’t have to deal with that. Daisy is potty trained, but she needs a little help wiping and such.”

  She saw the surprise on his face at this. “I’m so sorry. You’ve never changed a diaper, have you?”

  He rested a big hand on her arm. “I’ve dealt with worse things than poop.”

  She supposed that was true.

  “Thank you for doing this. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth, the contact like a jolt of caffeine.

  Damn.

  She popped a DVD into the player and turned on Sesame Street. “It’s best if we don’t make a big deal about my leaving.”

  But when she tried to sneak out, they saw her, and Daisy started to cry.

  “It’s okay, baby girl.” Jesse scooped Daisy up. “Let’s wave goodby
e to your pretty mommy through the window.”

  “Thank you!” Ellie shut the door behind her and waved to Daisy as she climbed into her car.

  She arrived at the hospital a few minutes later, clocked in, and went straight to the ER, where resources were stretched to their limit, a half dozen ambulances from three different organizations parked outside the emergency room and more coming up the street. Reporters roamed around the hallway, some with cameras, while parents and family members—people she knew—clustered together, waiting to hear if their sons and daughters were here.

  “I need an MRI!” someone shouted.

  “Get those fluids going. His blood pressure is dropping.”

  Ellie scrubbed up, put on a gown, grabbed a handful of gloves, and found Pauline. “Where?”

  Pauline pointed toward the procedure room at the end of the hall. “Head injury. Life Flight is on its way. We need to stabilize him for transport.”

  Ellie hurried to the room, shouldered her way behind the curtain—and stopped. Lying on the gurney was Tyler Kirby, only six years old, with an open skull fracture.

  God, no.

  His face was bloody and lacerated—probably from glass. He was unconscious, and he’d been intubated, IVs in his little arms, a c-collar around his neck. His vitals did not look good, his BP and blood oxygen low, his little heart racing.

  Doctor Warren, the hospital’s trauma surgeon, looked up, her eyes telling Ellie everything she didn’t want to know. “Start antibiotics running wide open and get a stat blood panel. And where the hell is the neuro consult?”

  Ellie grabbed hold of the IV cart and went to work.

  Babysitting toddlers was not for the weak.

  Jesse discovered this during the ten minutes of constant wailing that had followed Ellie’s leaving the house. Eventually he—with a little help from Sesame Street—managed to soothe Daisy and Daniel. Four hours had gone by, and so far, no one had been killed or injured. He considered that success.

  But the evening wasn’t over yet.

  “Put on.” Daisy held up a little plastic tiara with pink sparkles.

  “You want me to put that on you? Are you a princess?” He started to put it on her little head, but she drew back.

  She pointed to him. “Put on you.”

  She wanted him to put it on himself?

  Uh. Really? Okay. He did as she asked. “Do I look pretty?”

  She giggled.

  Her laughter struck him right in the chest, melted his heart. The sound was pure, bright, innocent.

  Daniel meanwhile was busy piling blocks in the back of a plastic dump truck and dumping them out again. That looked fairly straightforward, so Jesse helped, watching Daisy while she put every single stuffed animal she and her brother owned down for a nap on Daniel’s blanket. Yeah, that wasn’t going to end well.

  Jesse’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket to find a number he didn’t recognize. “Moretti.”

  “This is Troy Rouse, Ellie’s father. She gave me your number.”

  “Hey, doc.” Jesse got to his feet.

  “I’m sure you probably heard this, but the canyon is closed.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard. It must’ve been a terrible accident.”

  “A drunk driver T-boned a bus full of school kids, causing other cars to hit the bus. They said the canyon is going to be closed for another hour or two at least while they finish the investigation and clean up. Meanwhile, we’re stuck down in Boulder. How are my grandkids?”

  “They’re doing fine, sir.”

  “Good. I wish I were up there. Those kids on the bus—a lot of them are patients of mine. I wish I were at the hospital right now, helping out the way Ellie is.”

  “Are things going well there?”

  “She says it was pretty rough going for a while. They lost one. That always shakes a person up.”

  Screams. Cold water. A pale, terrified face. Little hands reaching.

  Jesse pushed the memory aside. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  “We’ll let you know when the road opens. We’re sitting in a parking lot at Sixth and Canyon, so we’ll know as soon as traffic starts moving again.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’re good.” Jesse ended the call, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  The kids played in their playroom for a while longer. When that deteriorated into fighting—Daniel did not feel like sharing his blanket with the stuffed animals—Jesse managed to interest them in Thomas the Tank Engine. And then, like magic, they both fell asleep.

  They were still asleep when Ellie pulled into the driveway a half hour later.

  Thank God!

  A sense of relief washed through Jesse. He had fulfilled his mission. He’d kept Ellie’s kids alive until she’d returned.

  He strode to the window, put a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

  She entered quietly, her lips curving in a smile. “Are they asleep?”

  “I guess I wore them out.”

  She set her handbag down and slid out of her coat. Her stethoscope was still around her neck, and there was dried blood on her scrubs and the tops of her white shoes—proof that her afternoon had been rough. “How did it go?”

  “Fine. They weren’t happy when you left. They bickered a few times, but I broke it up.” What else should he tell her? “Daisy used her potty. I changed Daniel once.”

  Ellie was still smiling as if he’d said something funny. “You’re a pro.”

  Jesse didn’t want to brag, but he’d done pretty well. “How are things in the ER?”

  She shook her head, let out a breath. “Everything is under control now. It was mayhem at first. We triaged thirty kids. We sent the most critical to Denver. Some went to Boulder. We lost one—a little boy who was only six. Open skull fracture. He had internal injuries, too. I was with him and his parents when he died. I know them.”

  God. How fucking awful.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

  “Yeah.” She looked up at him, weariness and sadness disappearing, giving way to that same amused smile. She pointed to his head. “I like the tiara. The look suits you.”

  “What?” He reached up and felt Daisy’s plastic tiara. He’d forgotten about it. He pulled it off. “Don’t judge. We all need to experiment.”

  She laughed at this, then stepped out of her shoes, frowning when she saw the blood. “Would you mind watching them while I take a quick shower?”

  He didn’t need an explanation. “Go ahead.”

  “I’d love it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

  “Kraft Dinner? I’d love to.”

  Chapter 9

  Ellie stepped under the hot spray and let the tears come. Yes, they’d saved lives today, but they’d lost one. Losing any patient hurt, but a child...

  She would never forget the agony on Carrie and Jim Kirby’s faces as they ran through the ER to be with their little boy—or Carrie’s heartbroken cry when all of their efforts to restart little Tyler’s heart had failed.

  Ellie sobbed out the despair she’d carried with her all afternoon. Then she remembered.

  Jesse.

  She couldn't leave him alone with the kids forever. He’d already gone above and beyond for her.

  She swallowed her unspent emotion, washed away the sweat and blood and grief, shaved her legs, and dried off, taking the time to brush her hair and put on a little makeup. Then she slipped into a pair of old jeans and a gray Henley shirt, skipping the bra. She needed softness and comfort tonight, not underwire.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror. She wouldn’t impress Jesse tonight. Her eyes were red from crying, and there were dark circles beneath them from her night of horny non-sleeping.

  Don’t worry about it.

  She walked out of her bedroom to find the kids sitting with Jesse on the couch watching Sesame Street. Daisy snuggled against his left side, sucking her thumb, while Daniel sat on his lap, holding his blanket.

  E
llie's heart gave a little squish.

  The twins’ faces lit up when they saw her.

  “Mama!”

  They climbed down from the sofa and scampered to her, Daniel dragging his beloved blankie behind him.

  She scooped them into her arms. God, it felt wonderful to hold them, to inhale their familiar scent, to know that they were safe. “Did you have fun with Jesse?”

  Daisy said something about a bear on Daniel’s blanket, and Daniel said something about his dump truck—or that’s what it sounded like anyway.

  She looked over at Jesse, found him watching her, his gaze warm, his lips curved in a half-smile. She put the kids down. “Is anyone hungry?”

  “I have an idea about that.” Jesse got to his feet. “Unless you really want that boxed stuff, I thought I could make my spaghetti. I know a few shortcuts. It wouldn’t take long.”

  As much as the idea of not cooking appealed to her, Ellie doubted they had the ingredients on hand. “I don’t feel up to running to the store.”

  “You don’t have to do anything.” He stepped into his boots, tied them, then grabbed his parka. “I’ll just get what we need from my place. Be back in a few.”

  “Okay.” Ellie turned off the TV and sank to the sofa, snuggling her kids close. “Can you tell me what you did today?”

  As the twins shared their day with her, very little of it making sense, she did her best to let her stress fade away. It felt strange to let Jesse take over like this. It had been a long time since a man had made a meal for her.

  He was back in a few minutes, a paper grocery bag under one arm.

  She met him at the door, took the bag from him, and glanced inside. On top was a piece of paper—a copy of his EMT certification. “Oh, thanks for this.”

  While he slipped out of his boots and parka, she set the ingredients he’d brought on the kitchen counter—pasta, a gallon freezer bag filled with homemade pasta sauce, a package of sweet Italian sausage, a block of parmesan cheese, and salad fixings. “You make your own spaghetti sauce?”