by Juli Valenti
Drew had dubbed him Doctor Brutal-Pain-I-Hate-You after he’d excised the skin, effectively peeling her flesh like a potato. The burn had felt like a constant, dull pain she’d become accustomed to, but after the procedure it felt like she was on fire. Fitting, don’t you think?
Luckily she’d become a drug connoisseur and had been given plenty of drugs. Dr. Brutal had informed her there would be scarring, it would be noticeable, and that one day she could explore other plastic surgery options – which, just as before, she declined. No one was going to be putting a knife anywhere near her body for quite a while.
Through it all, Jensen was with her in some way, shape, or form. Many nights he spent with her, the two of them laying together on her small hospital bed, watching TV. The days after her surgery, he spent time changing her bandages for her, ensuring she wasn’t in pain, and holding her hand. Even despite her objections, he’d put the burn cream the doctors had kept in her room on her feet and hands, massaging it gently into her skin to promote healing.
On a particularly rough day, Drew found herself alone in her room, crying. Nurse Jean had informed her earlier in the day that the audiologist would be coming to see her to discuss future options, and she’d been happy. She wanted her hearing back, even the limited she’d had before the fire, so she wasn’t sure what had set off the waterworks, but they’d come fast and furious. Her entire body hurt and the gravity of everything had once against collapsed around her.
Her mother and father were dead. Her father had deafened her, possibly permanently, for the rest of her life. She’d set her house on fire, tried to commit murder and suicide. Her face looked like crap, her arms and legs burned and gross, and she hadn’t brushed her hair in longer than she could remember. For some reason the latter was what kept the tears coursing down her face.
Drew, you’re ridiculous, she brain scolded as she continued crying. It’s just hair. But it wasn’t just hair – Jensen hadn’t seen her be anything other than the nasty mess she was, and she yearned to feel normal again. Even through the worst at home, she’d always been clean and presentable. Now the most she got was a light washcloth sponge bath, with the help of the ever-present Nurse Jean, and a change of gown. She yearned to have her hair washed, conditioned, and thoroughly brushed. A haircut would also be in order, since she vaguely remembered Officer Carrigan mentioning that her hair had been burned as well; she hadn’t taken the time to evaluate the damage to her bright locks when speaking with the plastic surgeon.
So, naturally, that would be the instant Jensen chose to walk through her door. When he saw her crying, he rushed to her side. He mouthed ‘what’s wrong’ several times, but she couldn’t speak. How was Drew supposed to tell him she was having an emotional breakdown over stupid stuff? That her world had randomly crashed around her ears, but that the tipping point had been something as small as her hair? Unable to answer, she shook her head. Jensen’s arms wrapped gingerly around her, holding her, cautious as ever of her injuries.
Once her sobs had subsided, she wiped her face with her bed sheet and faced the man beside her. Embarrassment flooded her that he’d seen her mid-meltdown, but she tried to swallow the emotion – there was nothing she could do about it now. He slowly raised a hand so she could see his intention and wiped stray tears from her cheek.
“Oh, Drew, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” he mouthed, his forehead wrinkled in concern.
She could have kissed him in that moment and wished she had the guts to do so. He hadn’t kissed her since the first night he’d stayed with her – and while he still called her beautiful and left sweet notes, she was still unsure of where they stood.
“I’m fine. I had a girl moment is all,” she told him awkwardly, the words feeling even more foreign to her. Her throat hurt and she could only assume she’d been making noise while crying. God, could this be any more embarrassing? Immediately she regretted the thought and prayed Murphy’s law wouldn’t come back to bite her.
Jensen stared at her for a moment, his head cocked to the side. He’d been around her enough to know when she was telling him the truth, and was obviously not believing her explanation, despite its vague truthfulness. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it, either.
“Drew … tell me.” Going by his expression, he wasn’t going to take any fluff for an answer. Drew was sure if she could hear his tone, it would mirror his face exactly. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.
“My hair,” she said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I haven’t brussed … brushed,” she corrected, stumbling on her words and focusing harder on the syllables she was speaking, “it in forever. I want to. I want it washed and soft and cut. I want to feel less … dirty.” Drew was noticing the more upset she was, the more difficult it was to remember the sounds of certain letter combinations. She’d been about to say gross, but couldn’t concentrate hard enough on the double ‘s’ sound and changed it last minute.
She’d expected him to laugh at her, for his face to light with amusement. It would’ve been the logical reaction, especially from the strong man beside her, still wearing his perfectly pressed Chance PD uniform. His hair was done in its usual precision high and tight cut and she was sure he went to great lengths to ensure it never grew to look messy. The thought depressed her even more – she wanted good hair too, as stupid as it was.
Instead he leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead before mouthing he would be back. But you just got here! Drew mentally called to him, but he’d already gone back out the door and left her alone. Great. Instead of laughing, you scare the beautiful man away, good job, Drew.
Letting herself fall back against her pillows, she sighed. Between nightmares, which had become more like daymares since they didn’t come when Jensen stayed with her, and the physical injuries she’d suffered, she was a mess. Add to the equation a schoolgirl-like crush and random emotional moments, and she was a hot mess. Honestly, Drew hated the nights that Jensen either worked graveyard patrol or stayed at his house instead of with her. It was amazing to her she’d become so attached, in such a short amount of time to the man. But he made her feel safe, cherished, and kept the things that haunted her at bay.
Despite the fact that her father was dead and gone, when she was alone in the silence, he was there. Drew could still hear the words he’d scream at her, feel the blows he delivered when he was angry. According to the shrink who occasionally tried to speak to her – who she continuously ignored and turned away – it was going to take a while to escape the demons of her past. What the woman didn’t understand was there would be no running away, no hiding out and climbing over the mountain. How could there be when she lived with daily reminders, and would for the rest of her life, of his ultimate betrayal.
Jensen storming back through the door pulled her from her thoughts. He held several black bags as well as a white laundry-style sack with the hospital logo on it. Curious, Drew sat back up, eyeing him. When she asked what he was doing, he flashed her a smile and rolled her tray to him at the foot of her bed. Setting the bags down, he began pulling items and placing them in her line of sight.
Produced first was a small bottle of Pantene shampoo, followed by conditioner. Next a brush, a comb, and a small hand mirror. Jensen then pulled a hair dryer from the cloth sack and put it beside the other items. The man became like Mary Poppins and her magic carpet bag – items just kept appearing. A tube of lip gloss, a tube of what she thought was mascara, even a headband. Lastly, he pulled a teddy bear from the bag and, instead of putting it with his treasures, he handed it to her and tipped her chin so she met his gaze.
“Drew,” he started, his thumb caressing down her skin that linked her cheek and ear, “you don’t need all of these things to be beautiful – you should know that. But, because you feel like you do, I got everything I could think of at the gift shop, with the exception of the dryer. It’s on loan from the hospital. The teddy bear is just because.”
Absurd tears filled her eyes.
It was unfair. Men like Officer Jensen Marks didn’t exist, and they sure as hell weren’t real in her life. No one had ever been this nice to her and it was overwhelming. She didn’t deserve him, didn’t know how to handle his kindness, but cherished it all the same.
Unable to bear the eye contact anymore, she dropped her attention to the bear he’d given her. It was light orange with a black ribbon, clearly Halloween themed, and she loved it. Hugging it to her, she buried her face in its softness until she was sure she wasn’t going to cry in front of the man again. When she was gathered, she glanced back at him.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Jensen nodded and came to the side of the bed, lowering the bedrail and holding out his hand. Confused, she merely looked at him for a moment, before taking it. Drew allowed him to gently help her sideways, untangling her legs from the bed as she sat, her feet dangling over the side. She hadn’t known what he was doing at first, but realized he was getting her out of bed.
Nerves charged inside her. She hadn’t actually walked in a while – occasionally Dr. Brutal would come in to have her stand and sort of hobble from one chair to the other, but she’d also been medicated. Please, please let me have the strength to go with him, she prayed silently, unsure of where he was taking her but trusting him. He grabbed the IV pole and tugged slightly at her hand, and, together, they got her standing, her free hand holding the metal like her life depended on it.
Abruptly Jensen ushered her back to a seating position, confusing Drew even more until he held up a hand, indicating to wait a second, and made his way to the bureau along the wall. He held up a second hospital gown triumphantly over his head, like a magician, smiling and forcing a laugh from her. He looked so happy and excited, it was contagious. After putting it around her back and helping her get her arms through it, taking the IV bag down and slipping it through the sleeve so it wouldn’t catch, he helped her up once more.
It meant a lot to her that he preserved her modesty without asking. While she wanted more of Jensen, more of his touches and kisses, more of his sweet words, she wasn’t quite ready to be naked around him. Sure, they slept together most nights, but she was never exposed – if she was going to be walking with him, she would have been.
As decent as she was going to get wearing two hospital gowns, Jensen walked with her to the bathroom, him matching his steps with hers. She was terrified with each movement they made, her feet wobbly and unsure under her. It felt like being a toddler all over, or at least she assumed it did – she couldn’t remember that far back, learning to walk and afraid of toppling over. Occasionally Drew would sneak a glance at his face, expecting to see frustration or impatience crossing his expression, but never seeing it. Instead he looked thoughtful and concerned, but only on her; he made sure to keep them going forward without moving too fast. And, each time she slightly stumbled, his strong arm remained around her waist, ensuring she remained upright.
The walk to the bathroom seemed to take a year and half, though, in reality, probably only took about five minutes. Jensen helped her to sit on the in-shower bench and guided her down farther, positioning her so she was lying across it the best she could fit. Gently, he pulled her hair out from under her neck so it fell to the tile floor and grasped the handheld shower head.
Damn her if that man, that strong, military-style cop, didn’t wash her hair, complete with delectable nails across her scalp and massaging fingers. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, she thought as he washed away the remaining conditioner and turned off the warm water. Jensen pulled a towel off the counter, placed it over her head, and she grasped it, holding it in place as he helped to upright her.
Drew was moved to sit on the toilet and, after brushing a soft kiss to her temple, Jensen disappeared back into the room, reappearing with the hairbrush he’d purchased and the hair dryer. Slowly, and ever so cautious, he dried her hair, small sections at a time. The whole time she watched his face, admiring the lines of concentration that appeared and at a complete loss.
He’s entirely too good to be true. What the hell is he doing here? she thought for the millionth time since she’d met him. None of it made any sense. Not him and Carrigan covering up the crime she’d committed, nor the birthday party he’d thrown for her only hours after meeting her. Not the nights he spent with her, holding her, caressing her hair. Not the notes he left, or the kindness he showed her. She was just a kid compared to him, and, worse, a damaged one at that. What could he possibly hope to get out of all this?
“Why are you doing all this?”
The question escaped her lips before she could stop them, her thoughts spewing from her without being filtered through her brain. Still, she needed to know. Drew had asked him the first night why he was there, but this was even more. Perhaps she could have written off the first time and the party; he felt bad for her – that would make sense, at least to her. But he’d gone way above and beyond pity or even sympathy.
Jensen finished wrapping the cord back up on the dryer before setting it on the counter and turning to face her. He seemed surprised that she’d asked; hell, she was surprised. But now that the question lingered in the air, she couldn’t help but hold her breath, terrified of the answer he’d give her. Probably should have waited to be a little more stable before asking that, Drew, her thoughts chided her. Problem was, who knew when ‘more stable’ would be for her.
“You deserve it,” he mouthed slowly, simply, as if that was explanation for everything and anything in the world. It wasn’t.
“I don’t want to be ungrateful,” she said, wishing she was having this conversation via text on his phone instead of speaking. Not only would it have been easier to hide her face, but it also would have been much less nerve wracking – texting she didn’t have to worry whether her words were right, or if her voice was loud or if she sounded funny. “But I don’t want your sympathy … or pity.”
Drew dropped her gaze, unwilling to see if any truth from her words registered on his face. It simply would have been too much to bear. Already she was wishing she had the strength to make it back to bed alone, to not rely on him, so she could hide from the question she wanted an answer to but desperately wished she hadn’t asked.
Masculine fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face back up to meet his. “Read my lips, okay?” he demanded, still holding her gaze, and she nodded. “It is not sympathy or pity. Do I feel bad for what happened to you? Of course, anyone who said they didn’t is a fucking liar. But you, Drew? YOU are the reason I am here. I like seeing you smile.”
Her head spun as she watched his mouth and the words he enunciated slowly so she could follow. He hadn’t done that since the first day or so with her, and clearly wanted to be sure she understood every word he spoke, and she did, though they still didn’t compute. Apparently he wasn’t finished either.
“I am drawn to you. It’s so wrong, but I can’t help myself. It makes me a dirty piece of shit, but it is what it is. I want to protect you and make you feel safe. I want you to be happy. In return, you give me peace and…” he stopped for a moment, lines forming in his brows as he seemed to search for the right thing to say. “You make me feel safe. Damn I sound like a stupid Hallmark card.”
Drew couldn’t help but smile at the last, obviously said more to himself than to her, his lips moving faster but still readable. Still, she read what he’d said … yet she couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop. When he’d switch from being the sweet man she was growing accustomed to an asshole who either only wanted her for one thing or, like her father, snapped and hit her.
Chapter Eight
Jensen
Officer Marks sighed, pushing his report forms aside. He’d been staring at the words for too long and still didn’t know what they said. His mind was preoccupied with Drew.
She was being released from the hospital in a few hours – something that simultaneously relieved and scared the hell out of him. He’d become at home in the small, steril
e room with her. Stopping in during the day when he could, sneaking her outside food, had become part of his daily routine. Shit, he stayed more nights there than at home anymore. Now, though, things were going to change. No longer would she be imprisoned by doctors and nurses; neither would she be returning to that terror-filled home she’d shared with Dean.
Ugh, even thinking of her piss-ant twin made Jensen see red. Sometime during his sister’s recovery, he’d … checked out. He still attended school, starred for his football team, and functioned – he knew, he’d investigated – but Drew’s brother no longer came around much.
The look of utter heartbreak on her face when she’d relayed his watery excuse made him want to break shit. Apparently, seeing her made him feel guilty, made him ‘hate himself.’ Still a fucking pussy-ass copout, he thought, his fingers balling into a fist.
Drew had been improving so much, medically and emotionally. She was smiling more, even laughing. Then Dean had destroyed yet another piece of her, one she could barely afford to lose. Jensen wasn’t going to lie, he saw red. It took every ounce of self-control he’d ever learned to contain himself. What he really wanted to do was beat the fuck out of him. He wanted to show her brother how she’d felt – hopeless, helpless, hurt. But, he didn’t. Instead he held her as silent tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks. He whispered words of encouragement in her hair, promising a brighter future and that he’d never hurt her. It hadn’t mattered to him that she couldn’t hear his words – he’d uttered them so the world, everyone from the heavens to Earth, would know.
When she’d been all cried out, she’d scooted over on the bed and looked expectantly at him. Smiling gently, he lay beside her, lifting his arm so she could burrow against him, as she seemed fond of doing. A second later, she tapped his leg to get his attention before signing ‘phone.’ Jensen knew jackshit of sign language, but Drew was patient, slowly teaching him common words.