Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for Ch 9, YazminXD, #HomeGirl, Awed, Shadows11. Ch 10 reviews aren't showing up, so I had to dig through my email to see who left messages - hopefully I hit everyone. Thanks for reviews, Shadows 11, Awed, HunterofLight123, #HomeGirl (description of her ring was when he originally proposed - didn't want to be redundant again :)), Diane and IluvMilarian1201.
The interview wasn't meant to be soap opera drama but a means for Jason and Emma to have a chance to turn the public's perception of Jason (and the first time we see Jason truly jealous). You'll also see the thug attack serves a purpose in this and for Jason and Emma's relationship. Everything is done with a purpose. Sometimes when it rains, it pours and it makes you sink or swim.
Jason and Emma have some underlying issues that certain circumstances are forcing them to face and resolve so they have a really strong relationship once they start a family. Er, I mean, if they start a family. ;) It didn't feel like they were ready to jump into having a baby, with all these issues being swept under the rug. One reader pointed out that he/she hopes Jason's worry about feeling like he can't protect Emma won't make him pull away - this is exactly the kind of issue they need to work through. And exactly the kind of reaction readers should be having at this stage because that's Emma's reaction too. Emma has become very secure with him but he's understandably still struggling. Research says that burn victims tend to struggle with self-confidence on and off (or constantly) for the rest of their lives and it's frustrating for the spouse sometimes. I'm trying to keep the story realistic in that aspect. Plus, the Beast is the last one to let his walls fall in the original Beauty and the Beast. :)
He stirred from slumber in the early afternoon and started to roll from his side to back.
"No!" She dove to stop him, but not before his back pressed against the pillows she'd propped to keep him from fully rolling onto his back.
A cry of pain and he flung into his stomach, burying his face in the mattress as a string of curses poured out of his mouth. His hand crushed the sheets and his back heaved from deep breaths, probably not helping his bruised ribs.
There was nowhere to really touch him that wasn't hurt.
He panted and turned his head to the side to breathe, his eye squeezed shut. The sheet under his face grew wet near his eye - like from tears of pain.
"Hold on, honey." She wrapped the bags of frozen peas in plastic so as not to get the bandage on his back wet. "Let me put this on. The doctor said to try cold packs and see if it helps with the swelling. Ready?" She stood to set the small bag on his back.
"No." He fisted handfuls of the sheets and looked up with a face afraid of more pain.
That look broke her heart. She knelt and stroked his hair, careful of the bruises underneath. "I'll hold up the peas so the weight doesn't hurt. We'll just see if the temperature of the bag feels good or not." She laid a hand on his upper arm that was wider than the span of her hand.
Tears shimmered in his eye. "I can't." His voice broke. "I can't stand any more pain." His bottom lip quivered. "Next it's going to be months in the hospital because the scar tissue is going to die. I can't do it anymore."
Those words and the begging in his voice wrenched her heart. He needed to have a rock right now, someone to pull him through it. "You can do this. We don't know that your face will deteriorate. It's one step at a time. This step right now is only trying cold packs. That's all. It'll help numb the pain. A very tiny spot at first." She slipped her hand into his. "I'm just asking you to be brave for five seconds to see if this helps. That's it. If you say to stop, I'll stop."
Closing his eye in defeat, he gave a small nod. She laid a small corner of the bag on the edge of his back, and his soft gasp of pain melted into a sigh.
"Does that feel better?"
He gave a quiet grunt of agreement and his eye remained closed. The dear man remained silent as she eased three bags of peas onto his back and then set a hand over his in comfort. One bag started to slide, so she grabbed it to reposition before it hurt him.
"Where did you get that ring?" He sounded so exhausted.
She froze while standing over his back yet. Oh great. She'd meant to take it off before he woke up. "Well, you were a bit loopy from pain meds earlier." When he didn't respond, she continued. "You insisted that I wear it."
"I told you about needing to go home tonight, didn't I?" The emotion drained from his voice like he didn't care anymore.
The poor thing didn't feel well and now was disappointed about spoiling the surprise. Kneeling at the side of the bed to look at him, she slipped her hand in his. "Jay, it was so sweet. You were worried about me having it tonight and insisting we go home for the proposal. A proposal happens once, and it was so romantic and beautiful. I don't want a new proposal. This was so innocent and sweet." She smiled and held her left hand to her heart. "I don't want you to redo this either."
His brow furrowed. "I look like hell and was drugged - "
"But that's part of what makes it so precious. When you're on pain meds, you get all sentimental and soft. You kept trying to get up to get the ring so I could have it today on the anniversary." Her heart melted at the memory. "I started crying and you thought it was because I missed my ring, so you said to wear it now so I wouldn't cry anymore and you could propose tonight."
He looked so heartbroken. "I wanted it to be romantic and perfect."
"It was perfect, Jay. And it is romantic. My husband loves me so much that he almost died protecting me, and now I'm nursing him back to health. You're so injured and yet you were so worried about me having the ring today." A watery smile took hold. "It was sweet and innocent - don't ruin it by being disappointed."
That tired blue eye glanced up at her and he simply gave her hand a soft squeeze of acceptance that she was happy.
A distraction would help. "The doctor said to have you up at least three times a day just to walk to the bathroom so you don't get blood clots. Are you up for getting one over with?" She kissed his fingers on the bed.
A tiny shake of his head.
"Do you need the bathroom?"
He barely shook his head and just stared at the bed.
Oh god, he looked...depressed. "I have some water here. Mrs. Yannatou found long straws. You don't even have to move." She grabbed the glass from the nightstand and held the end of the straw to his lips. "Even a sip, honey." He had barely taken any water since leaving the hospital and was becoming dehydrated.
But he just stared at the bed.
"Please, Jason." Her heart fell. "I need you to get better."
"You've played nurse for almost half of the time you've known me. I can't even protect you anymore," he whispered. "Maybe the baby's gone for a reason." His hand pulled away.
He was hurting and humiliated and drugged and scared. She sat back and forced the hurt aside - he didn't realize what he was saying. He couldn't or he wouldn't have said it. "You would divorce me, knowing how much I love you? You would see me endure a loveless marriage because that would be easier for me than loving a man with scars? To have a man climb on me in bed while I pretend he's you so I'm not terrified?"
Horror filled his eye. "I would never want you to marry someone you didn't love."
"It's spending my life alone or marrying someone I don't love because you won't have me."
"Emma." He said her name with the most fervor he'd spoken anything in days.
She held back tears. "Don't say the baby is gone for a reason."
"Emma, I didn't mean - "
The hurt swelled. "Maybe you should think about what you mean next time before you speak. I know you're in pain and upset and not thinking straight from pain pills, but it doesn't mean you can say something like that." She stood. "Mrs. Yannatou will come sit with you." Staying would just result in tears and a fight when he already felt miserable enough. She swept out before he could say anything. The only consolation was he couldn't have fully comprehended what he'd said because Jason wouldn't ever say things were better off with the baby dead.
Something could be said for hard work and heartache. The housekeeper had been about to hand scrub the kitchen floor. Rolling up her sleeves, she grabbed the rag and should've - by all intents and purposes - scrubbed right through the shine of the stone floor with her efforts.
She scrubbed floors for not even five minutes when a slim hand touched her shoulder. When she looked up, Mrs. Yannatou shook her head and held out her hand for the rag. Then the woman pointed upstairs and said something in urgency. Jason must've requested her to come back. Heaving a sigh, she handed over the rag. "Oh, so now he's sorry that he doesn't have the nursemaid of his choosing," she muttered. Of course that wasn't true, but being angry helped squash the hurt from his words.
When she washed her hands and went into the bedroom, her heart stopped. He sat on the edge of the bed with his cane and was trying to get up by himself. Between his back and severely swollen knee yet, he'd hurt himself. "Jason, sit down!" She darted over and caught his arm to stop him.
His brow glistened and he panted in pain. "I thought...you wouldn't come."
"Shhh. I'm here. Lie down." She set aside his cane and helped him lie on his stomach. Grabbing a tissue from the nightstand, she mopped his brow. Then she pulled up the sheet to his waist to keep him modest. "You were going to come find me while completely naked?"
"I can't get myself...dressed, and I needed to...talk to you."
Grabbing the bags of peas that were still quite cold yet, she eased them onto his back. "For heaven's sake, you could've hurt yourself. What's so important that you needed me right now?"
"I needed to tell...you I'm an idiot."
A little of the hurt evaporated.
His arm slid across the bed and he opened his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean I'm glad the baby is gone." He held tight when she took his hand, and his voice grew thick. "I don't want you to marry anyone else, but sometimes I think it would be better for you. And better for you if I'm not a father. Every time I have medical problems like this, I'm worried that you'll resent having a sickly husband. I have so much baggage - "
"I do too - everyone has baggage. You're not sickly, you just have complications from the fire, which I was fully aware of when we wed. This doesn't count - you were attacked. You have a choice, Jason: we work through these things together as a team and come out stronger, or you push me away and we gradually fall apart. It's really that simple."
"It's not. Emma, we just keep circling back to the hospital. It's just going to happen more and more with age." His voice grew thicker with unshed tears.
"Jason," she laid down on the bed to face him and held his hand. "You don't know that. In all other ways, you're healthy. It's been a bumpy year, that's all. You could never step foot in a hospital again for thirty years. Even if there are routine visits to the hospital, we'll get through them. Maybe I'll be the one who gets sick and is in the hospital all the time. We just take what comes and do it together, alright?"
He squeezed her hand. "Sometimes I feel guilty that I've mostly made your life worse. I didn't think before I spoke. I'm sorry. And for what I said about the baby."
"You have in no way made my life worse. I think you're in pain and stressed and feeling blue. I need you to stop worrying I'm Carolyn. I won't abandon you."
Guilt clouded his eye. "I didn't realize..." A soft sigh filled the silence. "That's what I'm doing, isn't it?"
She gave a soft smile of forgiveness, the weight lifting off. He hadn't meant any of his earlier words. "You were doing good for awhile letting me make my own mistakes. Don't fall back into blaming me for hers."
A slight nod. "Forgive me for being an idiot today?" He seemed so worried that he'd done permanent damage.
She nodded and kissed his hand. "On one condition - you must drink some water."
The poor thing could barely keep his eye open from exhaustion as he drank half the glass when she set the straw to his mouth. "Enough?" His eye drifted closed.
"It's enough for now. Go to sleep, honey." She whispered the words and kissed his hand still locked around hers.
"Love you." The words dragged out in sleepiness. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
Setting the glass down, she stroked his hair. "I know you didn't, Jay. I love you. Go to sleep. I'll be right here."
His stomach, however, had other ideas. It growled louder and longer until he finally woke up a half hour later.
"Hun, you haven't eaten since Saturday morning...no, Friday night because we didn't eat before our jog. The doctor let you off with not eating in the hospital, but you need to now. Why won't you eat?"
He laid on his side with humiliation clouding his eye. "You know why."
Her heart twisted. The drugs left him groggy, and the pain from his back and the mild infection left him unable to lift him arms much to feed himself.
"Jason, I will do it and not think a thing less of you. We can prop you up on your left side and use the angle to our advantage." It would help keep food from coming out of the right side of his lip too. "You can see this as humiliating, or you can see it as a way for us to be partners. I'm worried that I'm going to do a bad job and irritate you, but I'm willing to try."
A dry look crossed his face. "It's feeding someone, not rocket science."
She shrugged. "It's eating, not rocket science." He didn't seem to appreciate his own words thrown back at him. "I've never fed anyone before."
"You won't be drooling and practically spitting up like a baby."
"And neither will you."
"Emma, it's disgusting."
"And throwing up on you wasn't?" She cocked an eyebrow. When that didn't work, she laid her cheek on her hand on the bed to be eye level with him. "Please, Jay. I know you don't want to, but I need you to try." She searched his eye. He needed to hear the truth. "The antibiotics are barely keeping up with the infection. Your back is cut up so bad that I'm scared what'll happen if the infection takes hold." Her hand tightened around his and the words poured out faster and faster in distress. "I couldn't care less how you eat, I'm just getting to the point of being in a panic to get something in you so you don't get weak."
"Emma, Emma." He rubbed her hand with his thumb. "It's alright. I'll try."
A huge sigh of relief escaped.
He sat propped up on his left side with pillows and blankets to keep him high enough. The poor thing broke out in a sweat from pain of moving so much. "How bad is it?"
She peeled off the damp silicone bandage. The few spots where intact skin remained burned an angry red and puffed a bit with infection. "Maybe a little better?" He didn't need to know that it looked worse than yesterday. A call to the doctor and maybe putting him on different antibiotics would help.
"Liar - I was able to shuffle to the bathroom last night, but this afternoon I can barely move."
"It's still very raw." He didn't need to know right now how much it would probably scar. "Let's check your temp."
The thermometer read just under one hundred one degrees. "Let me call the doctor and see if you should switch antibiotics." She grabbed her phone.
"Let me see."
Her eyes bugged. "I'm not showing you what it looks like!"
"A second opinion doesn't hurt. Show me. It hurts like a..." He cleared his throat. "I expect it looks terrible."
That was an understatement. Walking around the bed, she bent down and zoomed in on the worst spot rather than his full back. "It's still fresh." She returned to him and held out the phone.
His brow furrowed. "Send that to him." He sighed. "That's cellulitis and needs IV antibiotics to jump start before it spreads."
Her eyes widened in dread. "Jay, that can be serious. Should we go to the hospital?"
He snorted. "Have a nice drive - I'm not going."
"Jason, I'm serious."
"I'm serious. I'm not going. It can be treated here. And probably pick up less germs," he muttered.
"Do you have supplies in your bag?" She walked over and looked inside it.
"No. If he calls it in to the hospital pharmacy, they'll dispense everything."
She hung up the phone a minute later. "Alright, he's calling it in and said to leave in about thirty minutes to pick it up. Let's feed you while we wait."
Mrs. Yannatou had his favorite foods in the fridge that she cooked last night. The woman said something and then motioned for her to add more green beans to the plate.
"We'll see how hungry he is first."
The woman looked frustrated and grabbed the spoon herself, dropping on another helping. Then she flexed her bicep and tapped it.
She laughed. "Yes, I'll get him strong. He hasn't eaten in days, so we need to just try a little bit first." This was like a bad game of charades trying to use gestures to communicate.
Finally returning to his room with a heaping plate, she sat in the chair facing him and met his hesitant gaze. "I think she fears I don't feed you enough. This might be enough for two meals."
His eyebrow cocked. "Or three."
She peeled the lip bandage off that stretched from the corner to the middle of his mouth. "I'll never understand how you can speak with your lips practically taped together on one side." He needed a fresh lip bandage three times a day, which she'd learned exactly how to do this weekend. It should've been a familiar sight after all these weeks, but it still hurt to see straight in to his tongue. "Does it ever hurt?"
"My ph-ride every time."
Giving him a look that said to stop berating himself, she picked up the plate. "Alright, we have beans, mashed potatoes, and ham." Then she looked at him. "Tell me how you want me to do this."
"Ph-late on the nightstand - you'll need two hands." His cheeks grew pink. "Take the naph-kin."
She did and scooted closer to hold it to his mouth.
"Lay it down." His eye pointed downward.
"Oh." She flushed with embarrassment at getting it wrong already. Spreading it under him to catch any runaway food, she sat back for more instructions.
He swallowed several times but seemed to try holding out to not ask for his mouth to be wiped.
Taking another napkin from the stack, she leaned forward and held it to his lip for a moment, letting the saliva soak up on its own.
When he tried to slide his arm up to pull away the napkin, he only managed to pant in pain without his arm making it very far.
"You are supposed to rest." She frowned and lowered the napkin. "Just tell me what to do."
"Ham ph-irst. Aim for left side."
She cut a smallish piece of ham and scooped it on the fork before holding it to the left side of his mouth...a little too far left because when he opened, his cheek bumped it. It tumbled onto the napkin on the bed. His face grew red in embarrassment.
Her cheeks burned and she snatched it to set it on the side of the plate. "Sorry, that was my fault. Too far left. Okay, let's try again." This time it made it in. She held the napkin to his lip to help while he chewed. When his throat convulsed in a swallow, she eased the napkin away and then smiled. "Ha! One down. That wasn't so hard. By the time we're done, we should enter a feeding contest at a fair - we'd win."
His forehead knit. "They ha-ph those?"
"I doubt they have those." She scooped up another piece. "They should 'cause we'd win, though."
That won a small smile from him and he took another bite. And then his head jerked as he winced.
"Are you alright?"
"Bit my tongue."
"Ohh." She frowned and held the napkin tighter to his mouth so he wouldn't try to use his tongue as a wall to keep in food. "Let me worry about keeping you clean - you just eat, honey."
The green beans proved trickier. After going through an entire napkin within two bites of the mashed potatoes, he said, "That's enough."
She frowned down at the pile of creamy yumminess. "You love mashed potatoes." Then she looked at him. "I promise I'll get the hang of it in a few more bites. Fill your belly, Jay." The dear man needed another wipe from salivating. Dabbing at his mouth, she met his eye.
"You're doing ph-ine. I'm done." His eye drooped with exhaustion.
With a sigh, she gave a final wipe. "Are you ready for the bandage?"
He gave a nod and his eye followed as she got a fresh lip bandage ready. "Thank you." The words came quiet and humble.
Glancing up from her work, she smiled. "I love you, Jay." Butterflies tickled inside her belly.
He cracked a smile. "You look happy."
An embarrassed smile crept up and she looked down at her hands busy opening a bandage. "I am. I never thought you'd let me help you eat." Then she eased her weight onto the bed to sit for a better angle to apply the bandage. "Will you eat meals with me? I've seen all there is to see now."
"In the dark. I may, on occasion, join you for breakfast or lunch."
It was more than currently. She smiled and put on his lip bandage before helping him lie in his stomach. "I'll send Mrs. Yannatou up to sit with you while I run out for your medicine."
The poor man was already asleep.
Mrs. Yannatou's irritated tone traveled through the house when she returned home less than an hour later. She hurried upstairs without even kicking off her shoes.
Jason laid on his side with the woman apparently scolding him. He answered in a sharp tone.
"What is going on?"
Mrs. Yannatou looked up with relief and dragged her around the bed to him, speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue. She pointed to where Jason clutched the sheet to his waist.
His eye squeezed shut like he was in pain. "Get her out," he ordered.
She frowned. "What are you two arguing about?"
"Dear god, Emma, get her out or you'll be changing the sheets in a second." He panted.
The woman held up a basin.
Oh goodness, he wasn't holding the sheets but between his legs. She hurried the housekeeper out and then darted over to help as he worked to sit up. "Jason, you are far too shy. She was just trying to help." Handing him the cane, she sat beside him to offer her arm being there was no safe place to hold onto him.
"We've had this conversation before," he panted. "You're the only one who gets to touch me." He sat ramrod straight with sweat rolling down his brow. "Oh god, shoot me up." His eye closed in agony.
"What?" She blinked.
"Morphine. God, please, Emma." He dropped the cane and leaned his hand on the bed to relieve some of the strain on his back without opening his eye.
"Are you sure? That's more potent than what you had earlier, isn't it?"
"Emma," he begged.
"Okay, okay." She darted over to his medical bag. Then she gave him the injection and wiped his brow while waiting for the drug to take affect.
Within minutes, he seemed far more comfortable and quite coherent, portraying how much he needed the drug.
"Alright, here's your cane." She sat on his right and handed the cane for his left knee that was wrapped and so swollen yet. "On three." Slipping the sheet from his lap so he wouldn't get tangled as she hauled him up, she guided his arm around her shoulders in slow motion to not hurt his back too much.
He panted through it and paused a moment for a break. Then his head tilted down and he paled just a little. "I don't think we're having babies."
"The bruising and swelling will fade, honey. One, two, three." A mix of groans, gasps, and pants from her as much as him got his bulk up.
"Oh Jesus." His eye squeezed shut and his knuckles grew white around the head of the cane. "I can't walk. Oh god. I'm gonna cry."
She glanced down and her eyes widened. Oh dear. He looked far more swollen upright than lying down. "I'll get you some ice when we come back."
"This is repayment for childbirth, isn't it? I swear we'll adopt. Oh god, snip me now while I won't know the difference."
Pressing her lips together, she snorted a suppressed laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing."
"You are." His voice quivered from pain as he shuffled one foot forward. "This is sick retribution."
"No, I don't want you to hurt. But I think if men had to give birth - "
"We would kill ourselves and become extinct. Holy shit, bludgeon me. Cut it all off. I don't care. Oh my god, make it stop," he whimpered.
Grabbing a bag of frozen peas, she set it right there and held it.
His eye shot open and he gasped for a moment at the temperature change. Then his eye rolled back. "Sweet heaven, I'd ask you to marry me if we weren't already."
She giggled and shuffled with him. "Not the best proposal, Jay. I see morphine is your happy drug."
"I should be utterly humiliated, but I could kiss you right now. I will take a whipping any day but don't touch the family jewels," he chattered. This would only last a few minutes of being so pain-free, but it was good to see him more like himself.
In the bathroom, she let him stand alone see if he'd be alright, but he swayed a bit. "Alright, big guy, I'm staying."
"Oh ho, shit," he chuckled - the most that his back and bruised ribs and bruised insides would let him laugh. "I am officially mortified."
"Jay, I held a urinal for you in the hospital." She cracked a smile and set the bag of peas on the counter.
"But I was in too much pain to care. Turn on the water."
Shaking her head, she turned on the sink and then slipped an arm around his front to face backwards to give him privacy. "The doctor didn't by chance check your hormone levels, did he?"
"Oh dear god, have some mercy. That's the least of my problems. Alright."
When she helped him wash his hands, he glanced up at the mirror and startled. A curse leaked out under his breath. "I don't know how you can look at a red eye." Then his eye traveled down his black and blue body muddled with butterfly tape and stitches. "If I didn't look like some horror monster before, I do now."
She shook her head. "It's just injuries. You'll heal, Jay."
His eye met hers in the mirror. "Your photo of my back zoomed in on a small spot. Is it all cut up like that?" Then his eye slid away when she didn't answer. "It'll scar." The saddest smile touched his lips. "I suppose it might make my face look not so bad." His eye lifted to meet hers in the mirror, overflowing with heartbreak and shame.
Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, she kept her voice steady. History said he would pull away and become self-conscious all over again. Please, let this time be different. "We're doing our best to prevent scarring. It can't be as scarred as your face because it's not a burn. But I won't care what it looks like, my Jay."
A little of the shame faded.
Hope flickered. "Even if it hypertrophies, you hold your head high. Every time I see the scars, I'll be proud of you and only see a brave, handsome man who bore them to spare my life."
He seemed to weigh those words and finally gave a slight nod. "Your opinion is the one that matters. You're the one who will see it the most." That was it. He seemed at peace with whatever the outcome would be.
She held the peas on for the shuffle back to bed. "Do you want this on in bed?"
"No, it didn't hurt much until gravity." He only gasped and panted a little getting back in bed.
"Alright, hun. I'm afraid you will be my guinea pig for my first IV." She washed and then set out the supplies.
Even high on drugs, he was a good teacher.
Running her finger over his arm like he'd shown to check for rolling veins, she bit her lip to concentrate. "There's something oddly hot about the way your veins are so chiseled." She froze. Oh no, that'd been said aloud. Maybe he hadn't heard.
A soft chuckle. "I'm not convinced your calling isn't the medical field."
"Hush." How embarrassing. She followed his directions, making a successful stick on the second try. "Sorry. You're getting a bruise." She frowned at her first attempt on his left arm that sported a bruise while she taped the IV in place on his right arm.
"Most make pin cushions out of their first guinea pig. You did well." He glanced up at where she hung the bag on a coat hanger off the bed post. "That's better than some experienced nurses, Em."
She flushed at his praise and looked at her handiwork.
"I have another task, love. These stitches on my chest hurt from being too tight, and you're going to replace them with butterfly strips." His eye drooped a little from the morphine catching up to him or maybe the exhaustion from his jaunt.
"Uh, no." She folded her arms.
"Uh, yes." He closed his eye. "It's my birthday - you have to do what I say. If I wasn't broken, I'd demand a lap dance too."
She burst out laughing. "You would not."
"Wouldn't I?" A hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.
"No more morphine for you in a few days, or heaven knows what you'll do when you're more able-bodied." She walked over to his bag.
He sighed. "I'll need a naked nurse to get me back into shape."
"Hush." Her cheeks burned and she returned with his bag after washing and gloving. "Should I cut one stitch at a time and put a butterfly on?" She looked up from digging in his bag.
That blue eye amid the sea of red didn't quite focus, but a soft look touched it. "You're so beautiful."
Her heart skipped a beat. "Jay, we need to do your stitches."
The man didn't seem to hear a word. "I was certain the police weren't going to make it in time. I'd die for you, Emma." He reached out with his right hand, despite the pain from his fracture and the tug on his back that it caused.
Everything blurred behind the tears. "And you almost proved it. I'd die for you too, Jay." She sank to the floor at the side of the bed and leaned into his hand that cupped her cheek.
His thumb stroked her cheek. "You fought like a tiger. You don't need to rely on me to protect you anymore - you took out three of them yourself."
She shook her head. "I do need you. And they would've killed me if you hadn't protected me." She searched his eye. "There's a part of me that will always be a little frightened of men. Even with Mr. Henry, I wandered the beach with him in the dark only because you said to stay within sight - I knew you'd be watching over me."
"I'm not going to stop protecting you, but it's good for you to have more confidence that you can protect yourself."
Touching her forehead to his, she closed her eyes. "It feels safer having my knight near," she whispered.
His lips brushed against hers and he smiled when she opened her eyes. The beating had given his self-confidence a hard hit too, and it was important for him to know he was still needed.
Something scratched her forehead. She pulled back a little and looked at the butterfly tape angling out from his eyebrow. Buried in the black of his eyebrow was a little knot. "Ohhh, you even have a stitch in your eyebrow. Poor baby. You're stitched everywhere." She stroked his stubbly cheek that couldn't be shaved yet because of all the knicks and butterfly tape here and there.
"A bad spot for a scar?" His eye locked on her face like her opinion of even a tiny scar cutting through his eyebrow was so important.
Pulling back a bit to study his face and see beyond the red eye and bruises and cuts, she smiled. "I think your eyebrow is the only one that will scar on your face. A bit badass." She held back a smile.
His smile grew as much as his injuries would allow. "Sometimes I think you wouldn't have minded me so much as a teenager. I think you have a secret penchant for badass boys."
She giggled and got to her feet. "You distracted me and now my gloves are dirty. Behave." Exchanging the gloves for fresh ones, she dug out butterfly tape and suture scissors.
A smile still lingered. "You know I wouldn't let any other nurse poke at me as much."
That elicited a belly laugh. "I know! You have forced me to learn nursing skills because you're such a bad patient."
He frowned. "I'm one hundred percent compliant if you're my nurse." When she cocked an eyebrow, he looked sheepish. "Ninety percent."
"Mm. Your fingers aren't swollen anymore. After this, the arm brace is going on for your fracture. The doctor said. No arguing."
"Give me a kiss and I'll wear it."
She leaned down and pecked a kiss on his lips with a smile.
The flirtation faded and he soon grew quiet as she switched out the stitches for butterfly tape. By the last stitch swap out, he was asleep.
The poor thing only roused enough the rest of the day to take water that she pushed at him. A call to the doctor assured that it was alright if he wouldn't take food again for another day or two. The fever gradually came down, but all he did was sleep.
"It's so good to be out of bed," he sighed in pleasure three days later as he straddled a chair shirtless in the bedroom to take the strain off his back.
"You look so much better. I think the different antibiotic and sleeping so much did you a world of good." She finished taking out the IV. Then she sat in a chair and peeled off the lip bandage before lathering his face, working around the butterfly strips on his chin and cheek. "I'm glad you don't have a beard."
He cracked a smile. "Not a good look for me?"
"You don't look bad, I'm just not a beard girl." When he smiled, she picked up her razor. "Don't move." The blade glided down his throat.
He chuckled.
"Don't move!"
"Sto-ph making faces." He used a tissue to dab at the corner of his mouth that didn't sport a lip bandage at the moment.
"I'm not making faces!" She bit her lip and maneuvered around a knick on his cheek. Her eyebrows rose and she squinted. Oh goodness, she was making faces. "It helps me work. Close your eye if you're going to laugh."
"I feel well enough I can probably shave myself." A smile lightened his voice.
"I'm capable and you shouldn't strain your back muscles yet." The man liked the babying - if his lack of arguing and complacency the next couple minutes meant anything.
"Alright," she sighed in relief. "Your throat is still intact. Ready for your bath?"
That blue eye, surrounded by soft pink instead of red now, smiled. It wasn't lust or desire...it was a tender and intimate gaze. He seemed to be more comfortable with his body and less hesitant to let her see it today.
Her phone rang. "It's Mom." She picked it up. "Hi."
"Hi, baby. How are you holding up? How's he doing?"
She smiled at him and set a hand over his on his knee. "I'm fine. He looks much better today. Do you want to talk to him?" When she raised her eyebrows in question if he was up for it, he gave a nod.
"If he's not too tired."
Hitting the speaker button so he wouldn't need to lift his arm, she set it on her leg while she used a towel to wipe the stray spots of shaving cream from his face.
He smiled, eating up every minute of the coddling. "Hello, Becky."
A soft sniffle came through the line. "Emma called on the weekend and said what happened. You saved my baby. Thank you. Thank you." Mom burst into tears.
He looked uncomfortable from the praise and glanced at her like he didn't know what to say.
Her heart melted. A true hero who didn't know how to accept a thank you for saving a life. "Mom, don't cry."
"Stop blubbering and making JJ embarrassed," Nana's voice cut through the line. "You holding in there, JJ?"
Relief swept through his face at the escape from the thank yous. "Emma's doing a good job of taking care of me. Each day is better."
"Do you two need us to come out?"
He looked to her to answer that question.
"We're doing alright." And he would be alright. The relief swept up anew and her lip quivered.
"Can we call back later? Emma was in the middle of helping me shave."
"Sure. Love you both."
"Love you," he said absently and hit the disconnect button. Then he pushed himself up with a soft gasp of pain and limped a step closer on his bad knee.
When he tugged her hand, she stood and stepped into his arms, burying her face against his chest as the tears poured out.
"It's alright, princess. Everything's alright now."
His arms couldn't raise above her waist, but it was enough to just touch him and hear the beating of his heart.
"We haven't enjoyed the beach one bit this weekend. Let's go outside before the sun gets too bright. Come, sweetheart. You're too stressed from all this nursing." The man grabbed his cane and her hand and limped toward the door. "Grab a blanket, love."
She brushed away the tears. "Jason, you've only just been out of bed this morning. Can you even do the stairs?"
"We'll find out." He grabbed his cell phone and shoved it in his shorts pocket, not waiting for her.
Swiping the extra unused towel from his shave, she trotted after him.
A slight sheen covered his brow by the time they maneuvered down the stairs.
Mrs. Yannatou hurried from the kitchen toward him, clearly scolding like he shouldn't be up and about yet. The man ignored her and limped out to the patio. Then he stopped on the deck and stared at the staircase with a long, frustrated sigh. "I forgot there are more stairs."
"Let's just sit on the patio. You don't need sand in your wounds anyways." She let go of his hand and pulled one of the patio chairs away from the table for him to straddle. Draping the towel over the back of it to pad his bruised chest, she returned to him and helped him limp to his seat.
He sighed in relief as he sank into the chair and leaned forward against the towel. "Sweet mercy, this is good."
"Should I put up the table umbrella? You probably shouldn't be in the sun without sunscreen." He might overheat from his scars too.
"Em, stop." He rested his cheek against the towel and closed his eye like he was in heaven. "A few minutes in the morning sun won't kill me." The dear man seemed to fall asleep under the warmth of the sun and the salty air blowing off the ocean.
She sat in a chair beside him, the worry and stress of the past few days floating away with the breeze.
"Would you go upstairs and fetch everything in the front pocket of my suitcase?"
"I thought you were asleep." She looked at him in surprise.
He smiled but kept his eye shut. "Just enjoying being outside again. Actually, put on the one thing and fetch the rest, please, love." A devilish smile touched his mouth.
Cocking an eyebrow in suspicion, she returned upstairs. Her sunglasses and a pair of men's mirror sunglasses oversized enough to help hide his missing eye were in the suitcase. Something else brushed her fingers. She pulled it out and her mouth fell open. A yellow bikini.
"Oh dear heaven." No, it had to be a napkin or bookmark. This couldn't possibly cover everything. The naughty brute had promised nothing sexual this weekend. She reached inside in hope that maybe the swimsuit had ripped. Pulling out a long rectangular strip of material, her nerves calmed a little. At least he had bought a skirt coverup, although it would barely cover.
She stepped out onto the deck with her hair in a ponytail and her tortoise shell sunglasses on. The halter top bikini accented her small chest in a flattering way. The bottom wasn't a thong but couldn't quite be confused for panties either. Thankfully the tiny skirt covered what short, shorts would've.
The man perked up with a grin as she handed him his sunglasses, and she reclined in the lounge chair to his left. Ignoring him would be best - that naughty smile he'd be sure to have would only start uncontrolled blushing. Of course she glanced from the corner of her eye.
He had to bow his head down to slip on the sunglasses, the tiny lump of what had been reconstructed for his ear and a bend in the glasses arm aiding in keeping the sunglasses on. Then he laid his cheek on top of the towel that he'd pillowed. The man grinned like an idiot.
Unable to resist, she bent up a leg and closed her eyes like she was going to sunbathe. "I can't see you behind your sunglasses. You should nap for a few minutes, if you're not," she drawled.
"Oh, my eye is very much open and enjoying the view, sweetheart."
Something lifted her skirt. Her eyes flew open and she swatted his hand.
He chuckled and let it drop. "You wouldn't have worn it if you objected. I was hoping that bikini would've been a little small for you. That bikini does not leave the house."
As if on cue, a speedboat raced by, accompanied by catcalls and whistles.
His head whipped up and he snatched off his sunglasses, paying for the movement with a gasp of pain. It didn't stop him from throwing a threatening look at the boat, though.
She cracked a smile. "Maybe we should go for a walk on the beach."
A dark glare was his answer as he slipped on his sunglasses. "Put some clothes on," he grumbled.
With a laugh, she went in the house and returned with a towel. She draped it over the railing to block anyone's view from the water. "I'm only wearing this because you had a terrible birthday." Then she floated into the chair again and reclined.
The grin returned. "Wear that all day, and I just might be healed by morning." That gaze burned through his sunglasses.
She sighed to feign disinterest. "Too bad you can't keep your word because taking care of you for nearly a week has left me wanting something, Jay."
"Has it now?" He sounded very intrigued.
A breathless sigh and she draped her arms overhead and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun. "Mmm. I'm in need of a repeat activity from last week." She peeked.
Even with the sunglasses on and obscuring a good portion of his face, he clearly drooled and hung on every word. "Are you in need of a companion for this activity?"
Opening her eyes, she smiled and got up. "There is this one man..." She straddled his good knee and sat, his head turning to follow her every movement.
"Mm, never a good thing." He smiled.
Her heart skipped a beat. Sweet heaven, he looked so hot shirtless and in those sunglasses like a big bad SEAL. "Don't look at me like that," she giggled and interrupted her own story.
"Like what?" His smile grew and his hand rested on her hip.
"With that devilish smile and your sunglasses like some badass military man." The butterflies didn't leave this time.
He chuckled. "If you want badass, I suggest you look for a SEAL, sweetheart." The way he said 'sweetheart' wasn't with the tender intimacy like usual but a man trying to seduce a woman.
"Oh." She pursed her lips and rested her hands on his biceps - one of the few areas where the bruises were fading. "I've heard they're dangerous." Tilting her head down a bit, she batted her eyes.
"Very." His baritone dropped to a deeper pitch as she leaned a bit closer.
"Violent?" Her breath mingled with his.
"Only to protect. They can be just as gentle," he whispered.
"Strong?" she purred.
A low rumble of agreement erupted from his throat, his lips beginning to touch hers.
Turning her head at the last moment, his lips landed on her neck. "So this man..."
He growled with need and nibbled her neck. "Your throat vibrates in the most delicious way," he mumbled, his hand locking tighter on her hip.
Her toes curled. "Um, this man...I don't remember what I was going to say." Her heart beat too fast.
"A man for your activity."
She held his biceps tighter to keep from wrapping her arms around him. "Oh god, Jay, stop," she panted. "The housekeeper might see." Heat coiled tighter and tighter.
His head lifted and he smiled. "Was I distracting you?"
The woman reflecting in his sunglasses looked star-dazed and flushed. "You're a rake." She ran a hand over her ponytail to collect herself. "I should sleep without any clothes on tonight to teach you."
The incessant grin wouldn't leave his face. "You overestimate how much of me needs to be healed in order for you to safely make a threat like that."
Her cheeks burned, even the breeze not enough to help. "The doctor said not for another week."
"The doctor doesn't know my motivation." His forehead wrinkled like he cocked an eyebrow. Those perfect white teeth glinted in a cocky smile.
She stood and fixed her ponytail that the breeze pulled apart. "You will behave."
He couldn't lift his arm much, so he caught behind her knee and pulled her closer again. "What did this man do that was so earth-shattering?" The smile still lingered.
With a shy smile, she bit her bottom lip and straddled his large thigh again. "He growls something fierce and sends men running."
"All but you?"
"All but me."
"Brave lass. Why on earth would you want to stay with such a brute?"
The smile grew. "Because even when he snarls, he's gentle. And when he doesn't growl, he's very sweet." She trailed a finger over his bottom lip that wasn't swollen anymore from the attack. "And - "
His soft, pink tongue swept out and pulled her finger into his mouth. The evil man suckled and stroked it with his tongue. "Mmmmm," he purred deep in his throat.
Her mouth ran dry as she melted into a puddle.
Then his head slowly drew back, releasing her finger. "You taste as good as you look. Forgive me, you were speaking of some brute. And what, sweetheart?"
"And you can lick me wherever you want," she breathed. Then she blinked. "I mean, um, you should behave in case Mrs. Yannatou is watching." She cupped her burning cheeks to hide the flush from him.
He offered a gentle smile. "My apologies. I shall behave myself." No comment about her slip up came forth.
"Are you thirsty? You should sit under the umbrella. It's getting warm." She got up and stepped back, fanning herself with her hand.
"I'm perfectly fine." A grin split his face. "I will keep while you get a drink."
She hurried inside, thankfully not running into the housekeeper. The man needed to keep hydrated and cool so he wouldn't overheat from his scars being in the sun, so she filled two glasses with water. Then rummaging through the fridge, she pulled out a lemon, squeezed the juice of it into the water, and popped a straw into his glass.
Jason rested his cheek against the towel on the back of the chair when she came out. Summer songs floated from his cell phone on the table next to him.
"Here." She handed him a glass and sat back in the chair beside him.
The man took a sip and shuddered. "What on earth is this?"
With a frown, she took a sip of her own. It tasted fine. "I made lemonade. Why?"
"Oh." His eyebrow rose up from behind his sunglasses. "Thank you."
"Don't you like lemonade?"
"Oh, no, it's good. I was expecting water." He took another sip and barely suppressed another cringe.
"You don't like it." She frowned and sat up.
"It's just a tad bitter. Did you forget the sugar?"
"Sugar?" Her brow snapped together. "You don't put sugar in homemade lemonade."
The corner of his mouth curled. "The rest of us humans do, sweetheart."
"Oh." Her face flamed. She got up and took his glass.
But he didn't let go. "No, it's fine, love. It's just different than what I was expecting." As if to prove his point, he took another sip. And started coughing.
"You're choking it's so bad!"
He shook his head. "I promise I swallowed wrong." The man took another drink to calm the coughs. But he half laugh and half coughed again. "I'm sorry, it's just really strong." He handed over the glass.
With a roll of her eyes and a smile, she took it inside.
A couple teaspoons of sugar and she took a sip. It didn't taste like anything. Maybe a few more. She took a sip. Hm. That had more flavor.
He limped in on his cane and took off his sunglasses. "Are you alright? You've been gone for a bit."
"Here. I fixed it." She smiled and trotted the glass over to him.
His eyebrow rose as he looked at the cloudy glass. "Thank you." He took a sip and smiled. "Mmm. It's good." Except he looked like he wanted to grimace.
Her shoulders sagged. "It's still not good? I put in five teaspoons of sugar."
He chuckled and set a hand on her lower back. "Sweetheart, everyone likes it different. It's not that you're doing it wrong." When she sighed in defeat, he replied, "Here, I'll show you how I like it."
"Sit. You shouldn't be doing anything." She reached to stop him.
"If I sit around for one more day, I'm going to go insane. I can handle making lemonade." He limped to the sink and filled a glass with water. Then the man turned and opened the fridge. He looked at the lemons on the bottom shelf. "Alright, maybe I need a little help."
She walked over and bent down to grab a lemon. While she washed it, he scooped two teaspoons of sugar in the glass. Then she slit the lemon and squeezed it into the glass.
"Whoa, whoa!" He caught her wrist to stop her. "Not a half of the lemon, love. How much did you use when you made them?"
"A half lemon each." She frowned and looked at him.
He pressed his lips together like he held back a laugh. "So you take it straight up with a half lemon. I like just a couple tablespoons of lemon."
Her nose wrinkled. "You don't make lemonade, you make sugar water."
A laugh bubbled out of him. "See? If I would've made you a lemonade, you wouldn't have liked it. We learned something new about each other."
He was being so sweet about it that the embarrassment faded.
"Where are the straws?" He looked around.
She slid open the silverware drawer, revealing a stack of straws next to the forks. Plucking one out, she dropped it in his glass.
"There's an obvious place for them. Thank you, love." He smiled and pecked a kiss on her cheek. Then he took a sip. "Ahhh, perfect. I take that back - I do like it with a little more lemon. Good job." He patted her hip and limped toward the patio with his glass.
Out on the patio, she worked on her laptop while he tried to work on his phone while lying on his belly under the umbrella shade.
An angry sigh a few minutes later made her look up. "What's wrong?"
"There are stories all over the Internet about those thugs attacking us." He laid on his stomach in the chair and scrolled through his phone.
"For heaven's sake, why do you go on those gossip sites, Jay? They're just trash."
He didn't seem to hear. "Oh, this should be good. David Henry posted one," he growled and began to read.
"Billionaire and Wife Attacked
On Saturday morning about eight o'clock while on a jog, Dr. Jason Port and his wife -
"Like you don't have a name," he scoffed in disgust and continued.
"Were attacked along the running trail off Beach Lane. Six men in their twenties, who call themselves the Black Chain, attacked the couple, according to police reports. Police have been after the gang for months for five other serious attacks to men on bike trails.
Authorities believe the gang targets only men, as Mrs. Port and other women at the attacks received no injuries other than bruises from being dragged away from their male companions.
Dr. Port's attack was the most violent - involving heavy tree branches, a steel pipe, and a one-inch wide metal chain. Authorities report internal bleeding, a fractured arm, bruised ribs, a battered knee, a multitude of abrasions requiring sutures, and severe whip wounds on the back as Dr. Port's injuries. He was rushed to the hospital in critical condition but medical staff were able to stabilize him, and he was released a few days later."
He snorted. "There's a run-on sentence."
She rolled her eyes at his criticism. He disliked Mr. Henry for no good reason.
"Permanent damages are yet unknown.
The Black Chain has been arrested and face several charges for their crimes, the most severe as attempted murder for Dr. Port.
"That's it." He frowned.
She smiled. Mr. Henry had kept it factual and accurate, neither painting Jason in good or poor light.
"He didn't include any of the slurs about my face or..." He scrolled through the page like he looked for where the barb would be hidden. Then he froze and looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. "You told him about the ransom."
"Some people can be trusted, you just need to give them a chance." She smiled and swiped his phone. Then she looked up Mr. Henry's phone number that must be in Jason's phone. There. She hit Call.
"What are you doing?" He sounded suspicious.
"It never hurts to show some appreciation. He did us a favor - "
"David Henry," the reporter answered.
"Mr. Henry, Emma Port." She smiled.
Jason did an eye roll and made a mocking face of Mr. Henry answering the phone.
She gave a light kick to his chair, just enough to let him know to knock it off. Her mouth fell open when he stuck his tongue out.
"Can I help you, Mrs. Port?"
Getting up to walk over to the other side of the patio to ignore Jason, she used her sweetest voice possible. "We saw the piece you wrote on the attack and wanted to thank you for keeping it factual."
"You're surely welcome, ma'm. How is he doing? Strictly off the record."
She turned and glanced at Jason, who slashed a hand over his throat to end the call. Then he grunted in pain from the movement. "He's was able to get out of bed today, but he's still pretty sore."
"Glad to hear it. It sounds like he was lucky."
Her stomach churned at the memory of sitting in the ER for that god-awful hour of not knowing if he'd be alright. "That's what the doctors said too. He was happy with your piece."
Jason yanked off his sunglasses and glared in warning. She held up her hands like, 'what?' in response.
"Was he? I think perhaps you're being generous, Mrs. Port. I don't think your husband would like anything in the media about you or himself." Mr. Henry's voice held a smile.
Turning away from Jason, she looked out over the beach and smiled. "Maybe there's a little truth to that." Then her smile faded. "I'm sure you heard all of the tape." Particularly the names those terrible men had called him.
Silence.
"I appreciate you omitting certain parts." She leaned her elbows on the railing.
"I thought about what you said, and certain people might take it as an invitation to target him if they found said details on the tape. He's targeted enough as is without adding more fuel to the fire. About that interview piece..."
An arm reached around and tried to snatch the phone. She spun around and threw Jason a scolding look, holding out her hand against his chest to keep him back. "Yes?"
"Would your husband be more receptive to another interview? Off the record. I heard him in the tape - that it sounds like he climbed over you to protect you right before the police came. He loves you. The public has never seen that side of him, and if I can understand that side of him better, it will help in writing the piece. I won't allude to your marriage much, but in other ways it will give me a better feel of what he's truly like."
Jason must've heard because he looked angry and reached for the phone again.
She jumped over the chair and hurried down the steps to get away from Jason's grabby fingers.
He looked over the balcony above and glared, knowing full well that he couldn't chase in his condition.
"Let me talk to him and see. I'd like to give you another chance to get to know him better, but I'm not so sure he'd be keen on another interview." She glanced up at him.
The man looked fit to be tied. "What?! He can shove it where the sun doesn't - "
She slapped a hand over the mouthpiece in mortification and hurried closer to the waves to drown him out. "Maybe give me a couple days, Mr. Henry."
"Yes, ma'm. And I've had plenty of stories shoved where the sun don't shine. I can be patient," he chuckled.
Her face burned in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. He's not usually so hostile."
"He's not used to sharing you, Mrs. Port. It's understandable. I'll look for your call by early next week."
"Thank you."
"Thank you, ma'm. Bye."
She returned to the deck.
His glare burned through behind his sunglasses from where he stood leaning his hip against the railing. "Is your date over?" He practically growled.
Her eyebrows shot up. "You could not have behaved any more like a two year old. That was embarrassing, and I'm tired of apologizing for your lack of manners with him."
He snorted. "I don't want you to apologize for it. He's a worm."
"He's helping us!" She laughed in shock. "You're being a jerk to him - "
"Because he has the hots for my wife!" he barked and pointed a finger at the ground. "He will not come in our house and flirt with my wife!"
Tossing his phone back on his chair, she folded her hands over her chest. "I have not flirted - "
"He has! He has you comfortable and eating out of his hand!"
"He's helping clear your name and putting up with your tantrums in the meantime!" Her mouth fell open. "It's like you're jealous and can't stand the thought of me trusting any man but you!"
Silence. He looked down and pulled off his sunglasses, tossing them onto the table nearby. Then he sank onto the chair, leaning forward a bit to ease the strain on his back. "I am jealous." He said it so quiet. "I trust that you wouldn't do anything to ever be disloyal, but...Em, I don't think you see it." His eye rose to meet hers. "You don't realize how beautiful and intelligent and sweet you are. I don't think he intends anything by it in earnest, but he is sniffing around you more than is appropriate."
Kneeling at his feet and taking his hands, she searched his eye. "And I think you are perhaps more sensitive than most men would be. I'm not discrediting what you're saying - I'm just saying perhaps look at it under a different lens. He's a reporter digging. You have to trust my instincts a little too. He strikes me as genuine and like a man who could be a strong ally to us. I'm not asking you to like him, just tolerate him."
A long-winded sigh escaped him. "He's so eager to help - what's in it for him?"
"An exclusive with a billionaire. He has reason to kiss our bums, Jay - this could be the start of him getting exclusive interviews with people. It could be a big career jump for him."
An evil smile tugged his mouth.
"And you aren't going to ruin it."
He rolled his eye.
Instincts said that in time, Jason and Mr. Henry may not become best friends but they would become great allies.