Author's Note: YazminXD, you did accurately read between the lines in noticing he called her "sweetheart" for the first time in the previous chapter. I was hoping if I did it as the last line of the chapter, some readers would catch it. :) I like "writing" between the lines, so keep reading between them. :) Pichon has some good reviews of things he/she noticed reading between the lines too. :)
Trudy dashed over with the gooey brownies fresh out of the oven. "Are you sure about this? I think he'll like this about as much as a fish in a desert sun," she fretted and set the pan on the table.
"If he gets upset, blame me. Everyone deserves a coming home from the hospital celebration." She cut up the brownies into very small, bite-sized pieces so maybe he could snitch some without being behind closed doors.
Prince tore out to the front door, barking like the end of the world had come.
"They're here! Where's the balloon?!" Trudy threw her arms up, running around the kitchen like a chicken.
"It's on the table. Here, cut these." She set down the knife and dashed upstairs to her bedroom. Snatching up the red rose, with a white ribbon tied around it, and the parchment paper note, she darted down the hall. Voices echoed from the foyer.
"You should have reminded Ms. Hoplin that it's Saturday, and she doesn't need to be working," Jason scolded. That air of formality had leaked back into his voice.
"Yes, sir," Pete answered.
She darted to his room and laid the rose on his pillow and propped up the handwritten note.
Welcome home, Jason
XO
Then she raced down the hall and peeked downstairs. It shouldn't have been a surprise to see him come home from the hospital in a white dress shirt, slacks, and shiny black dress shoes. The bandage still covered half his face. He headed for her office off the left side of the foyer. When he disappeared inside, she darted down the stairs and stepped in behind him.
He turned, not looking pleased. "Why are you working today?"
Catching her lip between her teeth to keep from smiling, she shrugged.
"You didn't come to the hospital." He maintained a distance, his posture rigid.
She tilted her head. He seemed hurt but reluctant to show it. "You said I shouldn't be coming alone." Pete obviously would have been there too to help carry out the luggage being Jason couldn't lift much for a few weeks, but maybe he wouldn't think about that.
He gave a single nod. "I have quite a bit to catch up on, so excuse me."
"Welcome home. I had to stay behind to do something," she smiled, unable to keep the surprise any longer and let him go on with hurt feelings. She held out her hand. He seemed reluctant to take it, but she led him to the kitchen anyways. He was going to be so surprised.
Trudy and Pete stood beside the table with the tiny brownies and a big Get Well balloon. "Welcome home!" Trudy grinned.
She looked up at him. He blinked, as if surprised, and looked at her. Standing on her toes, she set a hand on his shoulder to pull him down. He smelled heavenly. She whispered in his ear, "Trudy says you love brownies. I thought if we cut them small, maybe you could have one with us?" She kissed his cheek, and he straightened and looked at her for a moment. Her smile died when he slowly shook his head.
"Last night was an exception," he said tightly, his eye hard.
"And it was wonderful," she beamed and slipped her hand into his. "Would you like some in your office instead?" If he insisted on working, he could enjoy them in private at his desk.
He turned without a word and walked out.
She stared at the empty doorway. Maybe cutting up the brownies had embarrassed him.
"Cheese puddin', I knew this was a bad idea, don'tcha know," Trudy sighed and plopped into a chair.
Pete walked over. "Perhaps you should see if he'll talk. Something happened at the hospital that I think upset him." He looked deeply worried.
She nodded and went after him. A nurse must have made some comment. Or maybe the doctor said there'd be worse deformity than originally thought.
He sat at a desk in a room beside her office. It was the first time seeing the locked office, and she stopped in her tracks. Hundreds of books lined the deep wood shelves on three sides of the room, stretching from the floor to the twenty-foot ceiling. Her mouth slowly fell open. The far wall behind the desk was a massive stained glass window of roses. Her eyes slipped to him firing up a laptop at the far end of the room. "Jason, this room is beautiful. You shouldn't keep it locked up." Some of the books on the wall looked very old. And very expensive.
He didn't reply.
Walking around to his side of the desk, she leaned against it. "What happened?"
"I need to work." He didn't even look at her but typed the password into the computer.
"Are you that hurt that I didn't come? I stayed to help Trudy make the brownies because she said she usually burns them." She frowned, trying to avoid ratting out Pete.
His jaw muscle clenched, and he kept his eye focused on the screen as his email opened up. "No. I need to work, Ms. Hoplin," he growled.
The harshness in his voice cut, even more than the use of her formal name. "You let me get so close last night. I didn't realize you resented it," she said quietly with a broken heart. "I'll leave you to your work, Dr. Port," she said softly and headed for the door. If anything, the last few days had taught her to stop pushing him. He'd come on his own if he knew her door was open.
She went into his bedroom and took back the rose and note. These wouldn't be the joyous, romantic surprise she'd envisioned.
Burying herself in work in the study, she heard his muffled voice through the wall making phone calls. The day ticked by.
In the middle of scratching down notes, a large hand covered hers to stop her pencil. She looked up to see Jason frowning.
"You aren't supposed to work weekends."
With a shrug, she eased her hand away. "I didn't have anything else to do. Plus, I lost a few days this week and need to catch up."
His eye searched hers. "There's no deadline to meet. If you go beyond three months, you'll continue to be paid for all of your services rendered here."
There were no other 'services' but doing the finances. Unless if the incredibly high salary was meant to include other things... She pulled her hand away and sat back in the chair.
He sighed. "That came out wrong. You're paid strictly for doing the accounting."
"And then everything ends when the job does," she retorted and closed the books. He had this worked out well.
"You only live two hours away. It's less than an hour helicopter ride. Nothing here terminates with the job, but the job, unless you decide otherwise." That tone of formality still tinted his voice.
"That sounds like a business deal," she accused. She sat back in the chair and looked at him expectantly. He acted so cool and aloof. Her blood started to boil.
"You're angry with me about this morning." The man sounded like an adult placating a difficult child. He sat his hip on the corner of the desk, calm and composed.
She bit her lip to keep from snapping. "No, I really enjoyed having my head bit off, as well as not knowing what I did that was so offensive."
He sighed.
"Things are going to be like they were before the hospital, aren't they? You were nervous and stressed, so you let your guard down there. Now it's back to suits and business. Since my 'services' aren't needed for the day, excuse me, Dr. Port." She got up and took the long way around the desk to avoid him.
"Emma."
She turned, ready to explode, and slashed her hand through the air. "Don't 'Emma' me. You pull me close and push me away when it suits you. You can't do that to people!"
"Just listen-"
"No! I'm sick of excuses! You act like you want a relationship, so I pour out my heart. Then you shove me away like I'm some kind of pest! Then you want me, then you don't."
"Emma, I was upset-" He stood.
"You don't have to always take it out on me!" She jammed a finger at her chest.
He looked so full of anger and hurt. "Goddammit, it's not about being mad at you!" he roared. "My ex was coming out of the hospital with a new baby! A baby that should've been mine!"
She froze. That's why he didn't love her-he was still in love with his ex. She stared in stunned shock as the knife protruded from her heart. Her chest heaved.
He closed his eye with regret, as if realizing what he'd said. "Shit, I didn't mean it like that."
Tears blurred her vision, yet everything felt numb. She quietly left and went up the stairs. Footsteps clicked on the hard foyer floor.
"Emma!"
She didn't stop and went into her room, swinging the door shut behind her.
"Emma!" He whipped open the door and stormed into the room, slamming the door against the wall.
She spun to face him, standing right beside the bed.
He strode across the room with a determined look in his eye. A look like Gaston once had.
Something clicked in her memory. The memory of Gaston flickered faster, of him storming in behind her into the bedroom when she'd been standing by the bed. It flashed faster, Jason morphing into Gaston, Gaston into Jason. Gaston walked toward her. Blood roared in her ears. "No!" She took a step back, slamming into the nightstand. Her body trembled with the furious flight of her heart.
He stopped dead in his tracks four feet away, his expression startled. Jason slowly reappeared.
"Get out." Her voice shook.
His eye widened. "Emma, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Go." Inexplicable fear clawed in her chest. It was Jason, not Gaston. Gaston was in jail.
He didn't come closer but reached a hand out toward her.
She startled violently, nearly toppling the nightstand. The panic choked; her chest heaved, fighting for air.
In a split moment, he took several steps backwards and held up his hands. "It's alright, Emma. I won't touched you." When he crossed the threshold, he knelt on one knee in the doorway. "I won't come in. Slow breaths," he urged calmly, his voice soothing and even.
She gasped in air that was too thick to breathe and sank to the floor against the bed. Air. She couldn't get air. A tear ran down her cheek as she clutched a fistful of the bedsheet. The room started tilting. Bells started ringing.
"You're having a panic attack. Your safe. No one's going to hurt you, Emma," he said softly, his voice like a warm security blanket. "Deep breaths, or you're going to faint." He breathed loudly, slow and deep. She copied him. When the tears and panic began to subside, he said, "I'm going to come closer and sit, but I won't touch you."
When she didn't react, his measured footsteps tapped the hardwood floor, and he sat a couple feet away.
"What happened?"
She shook her head. It was humiliating enough that he'd witnessed her lose it. There was no point in telling him why.
"I'm not him. No matter how angry I get, I won't hurt you."
Her eyes flew to him. How did he know?
"I can't make you, but I really wish you'd talk to someone. These fears will only grow, Emma. Pick whomever you want, and I'll fly the therapist to you or you to her. You might feel safer with a female. There nothing wrong with you for seeing her. I saw a handful of rape victims during med rounds, and they all said it helps to talk. Just think about it," he pleaded.
She slowly nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. He seemed so worried. Too worried for being in love with someone else.
He softly brushed her tears away. "Emma, I'm sorry. Downstairs I meant that I should be a father by now. It hurt to see that she's moved on and started a family, but know I won't have children. If I ever marry, my wife will accidentally see my face at some point. She needs to not want children because I won't subject them to fearing me or being picked on at school for having me as their father. If my wife somehow can tolerate me being in the same house and wants children, I hope she'd consider IVF. It'd be too much of a nightmare for her to endure conceiving naturally. I'd figure out how to work night hours to spare them having to be around me."
The lonliness of what he proposed. The heartache. She searched his solemn face. "You've given this a lot of thought."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "There was a lot of time to think in the hospital." His eye landed on the rose on the bed. "Did someone send you that?"
He sounded irritated...or perhaps jealous.
"I took it off your bed. It probably isn't exactly welcomed right now." She shrugged, trying to hide the hurt.
He reached up on the bed and fingered the rose petals and read the note. Then he rubbed his forehead, as if so emotionally exhausted. "Why do you stay?" he whispered.
Those words tugged at her heart. One of them needed to be the one to jump. She looked into the glint of his eye in the shadows. "Because you're kind and generous and have so much love to give. I think you put other people above you far more than I realize yet. Because you're compassionate and forgiving and intelligent. Because you teach me how to be a better person."
He pulled her into his arms and held tight. "You have such a big heart," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I took my anger out on you. I fear you sometimes and push you away," he whispered and rested his cheek atop her head. "You don't even realize you bring me to my knees, Emma. How easily you could crush my heart."