Pieces in Chance

by Juli Valenti

  Instead, images of Drew kept assaulting him like an old-school movie. Drew laying in her hospital bed, eyes red, head bandaged, looking terrified as Carrigan questioned her. Change scene. Drew opening her eyes, seeing all the balloons and flowers he’d painstakingly set up for her birthday, the cautious joy on her face. Change scene. Drew eating her birthday cake as he helped feed her, her tongue being replaced by his thumb to catch errant frosting, the mutual lust as they gazed at each other.

  I wonder what she’s doing now, he thought, picturing her alone and sad once more in her hospital bed. But then, maybe her brother was there to keep her company.

  “Damn it!” Jensen exclaimed softly, rubbing at his hurting eyes. If he kept going down this route, he was going to drive himself insane. Hell, he was probably already halfway there. He couldn’t stop thinking about a girl he didn’t even know. A not-even-eighteen girl, who’d been through entirely too much. Annnnd there he was, thinking about her … not even just thinking about her, but obsessing over her.

  He’d almost kissed her at her party, in front of people. When he’d been feeding her, for those few moments, no one else had existed – it had been the two of them, lost in each other. She’d looked at him in a way that had him all but melting, like he was the only man in the world to her. Her lips had parted, her breathing had increased, her eyes begging him to kiss her. And he wanted to. Damn him, he wanted to almost more than he wanted his next breath. He could only imagine how softly he would have kissed her, so not to hurt her more than she already was. How he would have very gently caressed his lips over hers, his tongue lightly tracing her bottom lip, seeking entrance.

  If only her piss-ant brother hadn’t decided to choose that very moment to come and talk to Drew, then fantasy would have been reality. Of course, it was probably more of a blessing than anything else. Sure, legally there would have been no repercussions if he had, but still. Kissing the poor girl in front of nurses, her brother, in a hospital, would have been a bad idea. Hell, kissing her at all would have been a bad decision, really.

  Knowing that, though, didn’t make him want it any less. Shifting in his seat, Jensen glanced at his watch. Three in the morning. He’d been home for more than four hours, and hadn’t moved for the last three or so. Realistically, he knew he should go to bed, but he doubted his mind would shut up there, either. Instead he’d lie awake, thinking. Thinking about her.

  Frustrated, he stood, deciding there would only be one cure for his thought-induced lack of sleep. He’d just go to the hospital and peek in at her. Once he was content she was fine, sleeping soundly, he’d leave. That was it. Yep, that was it.

  What the hell am I doing? Jensen asked himself for the hundredth time since returning to the hospital. His plan had been to simply check on Drew, make sure she was alright. But no, of course he’d get himself into more hot water where that girl was concerned.

  None of the hospital staff had stopped him as he strode through the corridors. Visiting hours were long over but no one questioned him or even gave him a second glance. Wearing his uniform, as disheveled as it was, probably helped, not that he’d thought that far in advance. If he had, he would’ve changed. It was a rare thing for him these days, looking anything other than pristine. A quirk of his time in the Marines, he supposed.

  Still, when he’d entered Drew’s room, finding her sleeping fitfully, crying real tears and pleading to a terror in her dreams, his heart had practically exploded in his chest. It was wrong, the fear in her voice, and had eaten at a part of him he hadn’t realized existed.

  He’d dealt with a lot of unspeakable things overseas, while deployed and at war. He’d experienced firsthand when a grown men would plead for their life, beg not to be hurt, despite the crime they were or weren’t being punished for. None of that had ever phased him – he was a soldier, doing what he’d been trained to do. So how was it that the cries of the beautiful girl in front of him got to him the way they did? He’d felt cold before, absolutely numb, but not with her.

  Unable to deal with her pain, he’d woken her, being rewarded with a sucker punch to the jaw. He had to hand it to her – she packed one hell of a strength despite her slight build. Even as his face had throbbed he’d felt almost … proud of that fact. It almost surprised him she’d never decked her asshole of a father.

  Once she was calmed, given a pain killer that wouldn’t knock her out – her request, not his – he should have left. He’d done what he set out to do; he’d checked on her, she was as well as she was going to be for the night, and that should have been that. But something had stopped him.

  Jensen didn’t really want to go home to his little house, alone, with only thoughts of her playing on repeat in his head. He’d never minded being his only company before, but it held no appeal to him. So, like the jackass he was, he’d asked if she wanted to watch TV. He could have kicked himself for his stupidity there – especially since she couldn’t hear the damned thing – until she smartly reminded him of subtitle options.

  So, here he was, propped up in her small hospital bed, her resting her head on his chest and an arm wrapped gently around her shoulder. Part of him hated how right it felt, her slight frame a good fit pressed against him. For the first time in the last couple days, he breathed easier, which was just absurd.

  They’d flipped channels for a bit, his first instinct to put Law and Order: SVU on, as it was his default show, but he refrained. The last thing Drew needed was more hurt, abuse, and since that was what the show centered on, it was just a bad choice. They ended up on old reruns of MASH, something mindless they could watch and laugh at while not being a heavy drama.

  The two of them stayed that way for what seemed like forever, their breathing slowing to match each other’s. It was the most peaceful moment Jensen had in a long time and he enjoyed merely being in Drew’s presence, even with the lack of conversation.

  Moving his hand up to stroke her hair, a small smile lifted his lips as she sighed happily, the hand with her IV drawing circles on his chest. He could almost picture them in his bed like this after making love, completely content. You’re going straight to hell, Marks. Jesus H. I don’t know what you’re doing.

  His thoughts were right: he really was going to go to hell for thoughts like that. He knew he shouldn’t have them, shouldn’t think them or even entertain them. But he’d been searching his whole life for the warmth the young girl brought him.

  When she sighed again, he lifted slightly, using his free hand to pull his cell phone from his pocket. He needed to make sure she was okay, that the way they were sitting was still comfortable for her, and if she was thirsty or in any pain. He didn’t, however, want to move her so he could speak to her. Maybe I should learn sign language … I wonder how hard that would be, he thought, cringing as his subconscious when on a mental tirade about moving too fast and her age once more. Bringing up the note app on his phone, he typed slowly.

  Are you o.k. like this? Hurting? Need anything? he asked, moving the phone down so she could read the words. Drew angled her head up, flashing him a broad smile before taking the phone from him with one hand.

  She typed back, her movements painfully slow, the bandages covering her burns limiting her. Jensen wished he could tell if it pained her to communicate with him like this. Im perfect. Thank U 4 staying with me.

  You are perfect, he thought before taking the phone back from her.

  You’re welcome.

  He handed the phone back to her and she held it for a long moment without typing or moving. Jensen couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. Here she was, cuddled up to a complete stranger – she had to be thinking something. The traumatic events she’d been through should have her running from all men, not wanting to be close to one – especially one she didn’t know. But, for some strange reason, she clung to him, the same way he did her.

  Eventually she started to type. Y did U come back? Y did U stay?

  Well, there, she’d done it. She’d asked him the same
questions he’d been asking himself, questions he didn’t have any plausible answers to. What was he going to say? He didn’t want to scare her, or worse, push her away, but he didn’t want to lie either. How does one tell the truth when the truth is strange and makes no sense? In all reality, there was no reason or logic to what he was doing. He was running on some inner demand.

  Truth? he typed and she nodded against him. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have come.

  Im glad U did, she answered and he smiled. That was good – at least she wasn’t a heartbeat away from throwing his ass out of the room, which she should. In fact, he really should go. Taking the phone from her he typed just that – he needed to leave.

  Please, don’t, she asked him and sat up slightly, her face close to him and their eyes locking.

  “I like you here,” she told him softly, clearly fighting the urge to drop her gaze in embarrassment. He could tell it bothered her, not hearing herself – little did she know that her voice was music to his ears. Pathetic sap. “I feel safe with you, like I can breathe.”

  Jensen said nothing, merely got lost in her honey eyes, mesmerized by the golden flecks that flashed as she stared at him. Being this close to her, this intimate, made his heart speed up. When he looked at her, he didn’t even notice the bruising at her cheek, or the gauze wrapped around her head. When her tongue flicked out to moisten her lower lip, he broke eye contact to follow the motion.

  Not thinking, and unable to help himself, he moved one of his hands up to gently cradle her face, being mindful of her current fragility. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, before staring at him once more. Yep, I’m going to hell, he thought, throwing caution to the wind and capturing her lips with his.

  The kiss was gentle, soft, questioning. As she pressed her mouth harder to his, he reciprocated, his tongue tracing the path hers had before, seeking entrance. Despite Drew’s clear lack of experience, she explored his mouth, like a thirsty woman seeking water in the desert. Her mouth was still bruised and the corner of her lip split from her sperm donor’s abuse, and he tried to favor those areas, placing soft caresses there, but she wasn’t having any of it. Instead both of her arms circled around his neck and she shifted, all but sitting in his lap in an effort to get closer to him.

  You’re taking advantage of her, his thoughts berated him. She’s been beaten, abused, and doesn’t know what love is – what comfort and affection feel like. You’re stealing that from her, you fucked-up, piece-of-shit thief. You need to stop, and now.

  Unable to deny the truth in his mind, he broke away, quickly reaching for his phone and typing as fast as he could. He didn’t want to hurt her – it was the last thing he wanted – and he needed to talk to her, let her know why he couldn’t keep kissing her. Why he couldn’t trail his hands across the fabric of her shapeless hospital gown until he reached her skin. Why he couldn’t caress her, trace the contours of her body the way he wanted. Why he just … couldn’t.

  Fuck, Drew. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you, I just couldn’t help it, he explained, hoping she’d understand. It was his fault – he’d kissed her, she’d merely reacted. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to never kiss her again. He wanted to run as far away as possible, yet he wanted to glue himself to her, to take care of her and keep her safe forever. What the fuck is going on with me?!

  Im not sorry, she replied back, arching an eyebrow at him before huffing and laying back down, her head returning to its place on his chest. He let her get comfortable again, squeezing his eyes shut to calm the running images in his mind. Flashes of her topless, and what she’d feel like underneath him. Stop it, you dirty asshole, his thoughts screamed and he agreed, grasping for the remote and turning the volume up to drown it all out.

  Eventually he got lost in the show once more, his fingers constantly, gently, tickling the skin at her shoulder. Drew’s breathing grew even and his matched hers. It wasn’t long until they were both sleeping, her hand resting on his heart and his holding her close to him, where she belonged.

  Chapter Seven

  Drew

  Officer Marks was long gone by the time Drew awoke the next morning. Breakfast had been delivered, her tray holding a single rose and a note, along with the usual hospital meal of cardboard pancakes, something that was supposed to be eggs, and dry toast. At least this time they’d brought her some juice and coffee, the latter a luxury she’d been missing since she couldn’t sneak out to get any like she had when at home.

  Fingering the small folded sheet of notebook paper, she smiled, immediately knowing who it was from – not that there would have ever been a question in her mind before. Who else would have left it? Certainly not her brother, and she didn’t have any friends from school anymore … especially any who would’ve wanted to send her a flower to begin with.

  Her heart screamed for her to open it, but her mind steered her toward her caffeine instead. If he was going to apologize, or say something that would hurt her feelings, she wanted to be prepared. Of course, that was what the cynic in her head boasted – her heart knew otherwise, but still, she relented. After doctoring her brew with the little amount of sugar and powdered cream they’d brought her, Drew took a sip and grimaced. It was definitely not Mama’s Donuts coffee – the little mom-and-pop shop in the town center had the best donuts in town, which everyone knew. Their best-kept secret, however, was their coffee. It was better than any she’d had and Mrs. Ainsley, also known as Mama, always snuck her a cup on the house when she was able to find her way there. But, since it was the best she was going to get, she drank it anyway.

  Picking up a piece of gross toast, Drew bit into it before putting it down, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. She lifted the thin paper and unfolded it, grinning as she saw messy print in blue ink.

  Dear Drew,

  Thank you for the most restful night’s sleep I’ve had in as long as I can remember. I’ll be seeing you, beautiful girl.

  Jensen.

  Butterflies exploded in her stomach as she read his words. They weren’t a declaration of love, or even things most girls would get silly happy about, but to her, they were so much more. He’d stayed with her – she’d figured he had, but wasn’t sure. Now she was desperately curious as to when he’d left. How long had he been gone?

  Her fingers traced over her name, written by the man she had no business crushing on. Such a little thing, to have someone care enough to actually put pen to paper. In a day and age where everyone had cell phones, even kids, plus e-mail and Facebook, it was a thoughtful gift. I love the way he writes my name, she thought, mentally kicking herself afterward. You’re such a little kid, her subconscious snarled, embarrassed that she could think something so childish. It didn’t take the truth away though.

  Holding the note to her chest, Drew sipped her coffee and watched TV, for once not bothered by the fact she couldn’t hear the words and had to rely on reading subtitles. The entire time Officer Marks – Jensen, he’d signed – had held her and they’d watched MASH, she’d cursed her father and the whole situation. What she wouldn’t have given to hear his voice. She’d been surprised when he’d gone along with texting back and forth on his phone. Remembering their messaging, images of his face close to hers spiraled in her mind.

  He’d kissed her. Really, truly kissed her. It had been awkward at first as she was afraid she’d do it wrong – she’d never kissed a man like him. Sure, there had been a couple when she was in grade school, and one boy from junior high, but nothing and no one like Jensen Marks. He was on a completely different planet than her – and, being five years or so older than she, it was to be expected.

  His lips had been gentle and oh so soft as they’d caressed hers, lightly tracing over the split and bruise at the corner of her mouth. At first Drew had loved his slow motions, but when his tongue traced her bottom lip, something had snapped inside her. She’d wanted more, more of his lips, more of his closeness, more of him.

  She still wanted him, in a way she never known she
could. Even thinking about that moment made her tingle. Drew could have cried when he’d pulled away, immediately filled with guilt about it. Originally she’d thought she’d failed, done something wrong and he hadn’t liked it, until he’d explained. I shouldn’t have kissed you, I just couldn’t help it.

  Clearly he was bothered, whether it was the age difference, or the fact that she was who she was. Of course, neither of that bugged her – she didn’t care. She wasn’t even sure what they would be to each other. All Drew knew was that if she wasn’t careful, she could easily lose pieces of herself to this new man in Chance.

  Weeks passed slowly, painfully. A plastic surgeon had finally come to evaluate the damage to Drew’s eye socket and cheek. He’d offered the option of having surgery, to, as he put it, ‘rebuild her previous look,’ but she declined. Having an unnecessary procedure didn’t really appeal to her – and while she was sure she’d probably be self-conscious for a long time, she was sure she’d get used to any changes in her face. Besides, it wasn’t like she looked at her face very often anyway. She hadn’t even seen the damage until the doctor had come in with a hand mirror. She’d expected the bruising, so her reflection hadn’t been a surprise. On the contrary, she was more shocked that the bruising was green and yellow, with only a couple spots of purple rather than black and blue. Score one for healing.

  Her burns were a bit of a different story. Some of the areas were worse than the others; Drew’s right wrist and forearm, her left thigh down to her ankle and foot being the major damage she sustained. Dr. Andrews, the head of the burn unit, had come in several times to change the dressings and clean her wounds before declaring she’d need a graft on her forearm and thigh – the others he wanted to wait and see how they healed first.