Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for the last few chapters. They were kinda draining to write, so I just posted and didn't put author's notes. I'm hoping we'll hit 100 reviews by the end of this story. :D
Oh no! One of the readers pointed out Jason's last name presented as Paxton in the last chapter. Sorry, that was an autocorrect error. Jason's name should always be assumed to be Port.
She sat at the desk with papers scattered all around two days later. Numbers were such a relief and served as an escape from the funeral. It was good to be back. Odd how Jason's house felt more like home now than the one she'd grown up in. Probably because she'd been on edge worried he'd have to leave her mom's house at any moment. Tapping her phone, she changed the music before resuming trying to figure out the puzzle of Jason's embezzler.
Trudy came bustling in, her bubbly personality more refreshing than ever. "Pete made some chocolate chip cookies, as fresh as the petunias in the sun."
She frowned. "Trudy, that metaphore doesn't even work in January."
Trudy set down a plate on the desk and smiled. "It does in Dr. Port's arboretum, don'tcha know." Then she set down a bowl. "I made ya some of my tapioca too. Dr. Port said I'm to keep records of what you eat." Trudy frowned like she was a naughty child. "He's climbing the walls like a lion with worry." She whispered behind her hand, "Probably shouldn't say, don'tcha know, but I heard him and your mama debating calling in a doctor for ya."
"Ms. Van Hoodie," a stern voice said from the doorway.
Trudy paled and turned to face Jason.
He folded his hands behind back with his feet braced apart, reminding her so much of the man of the shadows she'd met weeks ago. "You will do well to remember gossip is not welcomed in this house."
"Yes, sir. I just thought she might be less stubborn about eating if she knew you might sic a doctor on her." Trudy wrung her hands, her worry so endearing.
Jason cocked an eyebrow, not seeming pleased with that response. "Not that it's your business unless Ms. Hoplin makes it so, but this has nothing to do with stubbornness."
"Oh dearie me." She turned around. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said such a mean thing."
She stepped around the desk to set a hand on Trudy's arm. "I think he's just worried. You didn't say anything mean, Trudy." She gave Jason a look to say he was being too harsh.
"Please go check on Mrs. Hoplin, Ms. Van Hoodie. Stevens took up another suitcase to her room."
"Yes, sir." Trudy walked out.
She leaned back against the desk. "You are far too formal with her and Pete. They wouldn't dream of working anywhere else, and it would mean so much to them if you opened up a little more."
He strode over. "Business is business with all my employees."
Tilting her head to look up at him, she cocked an eyebrow. "Are you going to order me about too, Dr. Port?"
"I might swat your perfect little bottom for getting sassy," he smiled and lifted her shirt to reveal her ribs.
His words brought a smile to her lips that died just as fast when he lifted her shirt. "What are you doing?"
Running his hands down her sides, he bent down to look. "Since you refuse to get on a scale, I have to watch your weight other ways. I don't recall seeing every rib when I stripped you from your car accident." Then he spun her around and the tips of his fingers slid down her jeans waistband to rub over her hip bones. Then his hands skimmed around her hips, as if measuring how many of his hands it took to wrap around.
"Oh, I highly doubt this is legitimate. Good excuse to get your hands down my pants."
"If you won't get on a scale or let me use a tape measure, I'm left with this." He sounded serious. Then his hands gently wrapped around her neck.
"What-" She pulled away and sat down at the desk again.
"Height, hip, and neck measurements are used for women's BMI in the Army." He leaned his hands down on the desk, looking like the formidable master of the house.
"I'm keeping down small meals now. It's fine." She resumed work.
He sighed. "You're pale, Emma, and sleeping like the dead."
Her head whipped to him. "Are you coming in my room at night?"
His eye didn't waiver. "You refuse to see a doctor-"
"Apparently I have one checking on me." She gave him a dry look.
With a clenched jaw, he obviously tried to keep his temper in check. "It's so awful having someone care if you get sick." Then he stormed out and slammed the door.
She almost got up and went after him. But she wasn't ready to tell him that she'd been on edge since receiving notice that she had to testify at Gaston's trial for his release. Somehow he'd gotten charges for the recent assault decreased to just another three months in jail. If she told Jason about the trial, he'd want to come. And then he'd hear the medical reports and her description of the rape. She still felt drained from the funeral; she couldn't take him finding out all the gory, humiliating details of this.
After lunch, he came down the stairs. She waited for him at the bottom. "Jason, I'm sorry. You were trying to help, and I shouldn't be difficult."
He shook his head. "Forgive me. I have an appointment today that I'm dreading, and I took my temper out on you."
Her eyes narrowed. He carried the stress around his eye and the tightness of his mouth. "Is it medical? I can come."
With a shake of his head, he looked away. "It's not medical."
"Oh."
He kept his eyes diverted in dismissal.
"I'll see you when you get back."
His mouth opened. And then closed. His forehead wrinkled, and his heart visibly thundered in his chest. But he didn't look at her, although he looked incredibly upset. "Um..." His eye searched the floor.
She stepped closer. He never said 'um' or the like. If he was uncertain what to say, he remained silent. "Jason?" She set a hand on his chest. "What's wrong?"
His chest rose and fell with stress-filled breaths. "I'll be around if you need anything, but I won't see you for a week or two. I'll be available by text or Ms. Van Hoodie or Stevens."
"What? Will you be traveling?" This made no sense that he'd be around but not around.
He shook his head and swallowed hard, still not looking at her. "I'm late. I have to go." Then he walked away, detouring into the kitchen for a moment.
Pete stood at the door looking a little worried. She hurried to him. "Open the car. And don't tell him I'm inside."
"But-"
She shook her head and grabbed her coat. "He wants me to come for whatever it is but won't say it." Then she slipped out the door and slid into the far side of the backseat.
He opened the door a minute later and got in. Then he startled when he saw her. Pete got in and started driving.
"You don't have to tell me. I'll just wait in the car." She reached over and slipped her bare hand into his gloved one. "You wanted me to come but didn't want to give the details, so there won't be details."
He pulled off his gloves and took the liberty of putting them on her himself, even though they were far too big. Then he held her hand tight and looked out his window for a moment.
It had something to do with the scars. He seemed to be building up the nerve to discuss it. She unbuckled and rebuckled in the middle seat to be beside him. "Whatever it is, I'll be here, Jason." Despite the nerves over what had him so frightened, her voice remained calm and even.
He heaved a shakey breath and kept his gaze out his window. "Rather than dental visits twice a year like a normal person, I have to go four times due to...well, my altered anatomy." She frowned. He must be referring to his mouth turning down from the scarring. "Teeth aren't meant to have constant air exposure, and it damages enamel. I've seen different specialists over the years for problems it's caused." He hesitated. She frowned, not quite following what was going on. "If some of the issues haven't improved, he's pulling five teeth in my lower jaw today." She stared at the back of his head in horror. "I'm just stressed." He shrugged.
"He's WHAT?!" she practically screeched.
His head whipped around to her in surprise.
"No. Absolutely not." She shook her head.
He blinked. "Emma, four other oral surgeons agreed."
Her eyebrows shot up. She held up a hand. "There's no time for embarrassment or me using sensitive language here. We're going to be blunt. Your bottom lip is below your teeth is my understanding, right?" He nodded, despite his face reddening with embarrassment. "And your teeth also act as your lip when you eat, keeping food in, correct?" Again, he nodded but glanced away when he did so. "So, how the hell are you supposed to eat?"
The dear man swallowed his pride and answered. "A soft food diet for a year. Then dental implants are a possibility."
She shook her head. "If you were a ninety pound old lady, you could get in enough food to survive. A man your size would have to eat practically all day."
He slowly nodded. "A gastroenterologist said a feeding tube might need to be placed," he said quietly.
She openly cursed, her blood boiling. These asinine doctors had no idea what they were doing. "Why in God's name five at once? Does anybody remember getting wisdom teeth out? Those were four spread throughout the mouth. My dentist only did two at a time, and that was a bitch. What idiot came up with this idea of five at once?"
He choked back a smile. "Sorry. I've never heard you curse so much."
"Well, come on! This is stupidity at it's finest. Why are you agreeing to this?"
"I've already had root canals on a couple of the molars. He said they looked like they didn't take. Another probably needs a root canal, but it likely won't work either. I keep getting...this is a bit gross but since we're being frank...an abscess between my incisor and front tooth three or four times a year because of the anatomy issue. The surgeons said it's more of extensive surgery to pull teeth on an adult, so it requires general anesthesia. He said to just do it all at once."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. This couldn't be a good idea. There had to be another option. "And they can't do plastic surgery to fix your lip?"
He hesitated. "My cheek and lips were substantially rebuilt," he said quietly. "It would require many more surgeries to fix it better, but it's still too late for the teeth."
"And what about your speech. That many teeth must have an impact on speech."
He slowly nodded. Oh god, he looked so humiliated. "I needed speech therapy after the accident due to the amount of my face that burned off. He's going to start coming again tomorrow."
Shaking her head, she looked at him and bit her lip. "Jason, this doesn't seem like a good idea. It doesn't make sense. I can't tell you to not do it, but I wouldn't consent to anything today. I don't know the answer, but maybe a university clinic or something would have more options."
"I don't know what to do. I've seen the best."
"Are your teeth paining you now?"
"No." He sighed and looked out the window. "Sometimes I feel like I'm old already, Emma," he said softly. He gave a bitter laugh. "I probably haven't told you I'm half deaf in my right ear from the heat of the fire. I had severe enough smoke inhalation damage that I was on a respirator for a few days. Because of the damage, if I get the respiratory flu, I end up with pneumonia. Every couple years I have to have scans to make sure I don't get lung or esophageal cancer."
Her brow furrowed, and she cocked her head. It tore her heart out to hear it all, but this wasn't like him. "Are you feeling sorry for yourself?"
He looked straight at her, his blue eye icy cold. "I'm saying you should run. You've seen what your mother's going through. Odds are you'll far outlive me." His voice rang just as cold. The car pulled up.
Her jaw clenched. "Stop it."
His hand pulled away from hers. "It's reality, Emma," he growled. Then he got out and slammed the door.
She whipped off her seatbelt and hurried out to catch him at the front door. The winter wind whipped, but she only focused on him. Grabbing his sleeve, she jerked as hard as she could to turn him. He looked furious. "You don't know that's reality. And if it is, I'd rather have a few years of a life with you than a lifetime with someone else." Then she kissed him soundly. When she let go, she searched his face. "I understand that so many things people take for granted are trials for you. You did something that night that I don't understand yet, but I think you chose to go into that fire. When you were in the bathroom on my birthday, my dad said I should marry someone like you." His face started to soften. She tucked strands of hair whipping around her face behind her ear. "I've only known you a month, but it feels like my whole life, Jason. I'm not walking away. Not when I've been trying to find you for thirty years."
His lips pressed together and his brow furrowed. He looked down and tears glistened in his eye. "I'm no bargain, Emma." Then he looked at her, and the tear slid down his cheek. "I stopped looking for you three years ago the first time I saw my face. I don't want you to leave."
She flung her arms around him, and he held her tight. So much fear and pain existed under the surface. And she loved him all the more for his strength.
"Dr. Port?" A receptionist popped her head out the door. "We're ready for you."
He nodded without turning around and sniffled.
She let go and brushed his tear away and then her own. "I made you late. They're going to think we're lunatics for standing in the snow crying."
He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Thank you, Emma. I'm sorry, I have to go. Wait inside?"
She nodded but masked the surprise. Somehow she'd stumbled into greener pastures. He took her hand and led her inside.
The receptionists should have given her some laughing gas with how much she paced and flipped through each magazine fifty times trying to pass the time while waiting for a friend from grad school to return a call about a specialist oral surgeon. He came out twenty minutes later, and she shot up from the chair and met him in the deserted corner of the waiting room. He looked stressed.
"I don't know what to do. He's insistant on pulling the teeth," he said quietly. "He says the two molars with the root canals are dying and those two should be pulled at least."
She touched his arm. "Jason, I think if you felt you needed to come out and discuss it, that's your answer."
He heaved a deep sigh. "Who else do I ask? I've been to the top surgeons in the US, and they're all in agreement."
"Jason, you're an intelligent doctor. We go home and start looking online. I think you're a little panicked. Request your records today, and we go from there. I've called a classmate who went into medical writing for dental research. It's s long shot, but she might know someone good."
He heaved a sigh of relief. The calm, confident doctor returned. "Alright. I should be back out in a few minutes." He brushed a kiss over her lips and left.
Her friend knew a connection to an oral surgeon who specialized in reconstruction for burn victims. He returned the call instantly when Jason left a message in the car, and Jason read him the medical records over the phone. When he hung up just a mile from home, he smiled.
"Emma, you're right. He is in California and is squeezing me in next week. The two root canal teeth might need to go, but he thinks he can save the rest."
Her eyebrows rose. "Next week? How?"
He looked uncomfortable. "Very few cases like mine exist." His eyes looked away. "It falls under some kind of disability research grant or something that he got."
"Then he must have some good ideas," she smiled. Completely overlooking 'disability' made him relax, as hoped.
The poor man seemed hesitant. "Would you come?"
"I was planning on it," she smiled.
He smiled and held her hand, raising it to his lips.
Someone was watching. She shot up in bed, her heart hammering in her throat. The fire in the fireplace had been banked to leave everything pitch black except for a candle burning near on the nightstand.
A male hand reached toward her.
She screamed and shot up in bed. Her chest heaved in fear. The fire glowed in the fireplace. A nightmare. It'd been a nightmare. A large silhouette sat to her left. She screamed.
He reached for her. "Em-"
She tore to the door like the Devil himself chased her. "Jason!" she screamed with all her terror. He said something, but the words didn't register. The door wouldn't open. Her shaking hands fumbled with the lock, unable to grasp it. A hand touched her back. She whipped around and flung out a fist. It caught him in the chest. She slammed a knee up to hit his groin.
He caught it with his hand. He snapped something, his words unintelligible in her panic. Then he backed up a step. She took the opportunity. The heel of her hand slammed up to smash his nose. But he caught it and flung a leg out, knocking her legs out from under her. His hand locked around her wrists, immobilizing them. His other hand cupped behind her head as she slammed down. He shouted something, but she bucked and fought as he climbed on top of her. His leg pinned down her thighs, and he held her hands immobile above her head. He had her utterly helpless. "Enough, Emma!" he roared so loud her ears rang.
Her chest heaved and the blood roaring in her ears faded a bit. Her eyes searched the darkness in their corner of the room.
"It's me, Emma." Jason's voice sounded shaken but gentle. "It's me."
She heard but couldn't believe. "Get off," she ordered, her voice shaking.
"I'm wearing the ski mask," he said and slowly let go.
She scrambled backwards toward the door. He moved into the firelight. She stilled as he unbuttoned his white shirt and revealed the burn on his shoulder. "Jason?" she whimpered.
When he held out a hand, she ran into his arms. "I didn't mean to scare you. I came in to check if you were alright because you looked ill today. Your heartrate was so fast that I stayed for a minute. You must've been dreaming." He held her tight against his chest.
His heart beat calm and steady under his warm skin against her cheek. She didn't want t live like this anymore, so terrified of the night. So terrify to sleep because Gaston waited in her dreams. "Can you call that therapist?" she whispered.
He sagged with relief. "Of course, sweetheart."
Her fists crushed handfuls of his shirt, and her shoulders shook as tears ran down. She buried her face against his chest, desperate to be saved from the monster who haunted each time she closed her eyes. His arms tightened around her. "He's there," she sobbed.
His heart beat faster. "You're safe, Emma-"
A man burst into the room. "Sir-" She screamed, practically clawing Jason to hide in his arms.
"Stevens, get out!" Jason barked and swung her around to put himself between her and the door. The door slammed. "He's gone. It's alright, sweetheart."
"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't testify again next month."
"What? What are you talking about, Emma?" he demanded. "Your ex? You have to testify against him?"
She nodded against his chest. "For what happened three years ago."
He shook with rage. "Like hell you do! I will get five lawyers if I have to! What dipshit decided you need to relive it again?! They have the papers and tapes!" he practically roared.
It helped, for some reason, to see the calm doctor so outraged. She laid a hand on his chest and encountered something warm and sticky. Lifting her hand into the firelight, she gasped when golden light glistened off red blood. "Jason?" She pulled back.
"How can those morons think this is possibly good for you to relive it!" He paced, his fit far from over. When he turned and paced toward the fire, four deep nailtracks ran across his chest. A couple drops of blood had begun to trail down.
She looked down at her fingernails to see red underneath. "Jason, I'm so sorry."
"What?" He stopped and looked at her in confusion.
"Your chest. I have blood all over my hand."
He looked down and blinked.
She brushed away her tears with the back of her other hand and turned to go into the bathroom. "Come here."
Stripping off his shirt, he continued cursing but followed. She washed her hands and then dug out some bandages and other items. A smile touched her lips when he still growled about the hearing.
He sat on the counter and finally looked at her. "When did you find out?" Compassion filled his eye.
"This morning when we arrived. I had all my mail forwarded from my apartment." Her voice sounded as small as she felt when he frowned. "I don't want you to come, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings." She bit her lip and stepped over. Then she glanced up at him. He seemed to be lost in thought. "This might sting," she warned and dabbed at the wounds across his muscular chest with antiseptic.
He hissed in a breath, and she gave him a moment to adjust before continuing.
"Are you afraid I'll lose my temper and hurt you?" He sounded so sad that it tugged her heartstrings.
She looked up into his eye. "No. I know you'd want to help and come to be supportive. They'll probably read the medical report from last time and play the 911 call...it wasn't the neighbors who called the police. It was me." Tears gathered in her eyes. "The raping is on the tape, but I had to repeat every detail..." Her lip quivered. When tears glistened in his eye, it didn't help keep up her walls. "It was so degrading. I feel like I have dignity with you. I can't lose that," she sniffled.
He cupped her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. "You will never lose that. No one can ever take that. No matter what happens to you, I will always love you."
Her eyebrows slowly rose and folded together. Tears welled in her eyes for a different reason this time. "What?" she whispered. Her heart beat faster with hope that he'd said what she thought.
"I love you, Emma." His words whispered soft and pure. He leaned closer, their lips a hairs breath apart. The slit in the mask, however, wasn't large enough to permit a kiss. "Close your eyes," he breathed and held the edge of the mask under his neck.
Her eyes fluttered shut, the butterflies in her stomach flapping wildly. He loved her. He trusted her enough to have faith she wouldn't look if he removed the mask.
His warm lips touched hers, soft and gentle. She deepened the slow, patient kiss. Even though he kept his head tilted so the bad side was up, he didn't seem tense this time with trying to limit how far her mouth touched. Her tongue stroked his. The left side of her lips felt the tightness and slight bumpiness of his scars. The lower quarter portion of his lip almost seemed to be missing entirely because it left his lower teeth exposed. But it was a beautiful kiss. She needed more. This unguarded tenderness was a balm on the wounds in her heart. His trust that she'd catch him made her not afraid to jump into his arms. He slowly pulled away.
"No," she whispered in a soft plea with her head still upturned to him. "Kiss me again. Just you. Like that." Her heart stumbled with sadness for him when she heard a tissue pull out of the box. He must need to wipe the corner of his mouth. Her hope fell flat when he didn't say anything. Obviously he'd been pushed past his limit. She stepped back and lowered her head. He'd given enough; she shouldn't ask for more.
His hand cupped her cheek, and she nuzzled into his loving touch. "You prefer to be kissed like that?" He sounded surprised.
"It's just you. No hiding or tension or fear; no masks. There are no scars. It's just us, Jason," she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I-"
He cut off her words with another kiss. This time, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with hunger, the love and passion overwhelming. He slid down to his feet. Her hands held his upper arms as she raised onto her toes, needing to be as close to him as possible. The scars prevented him from opening as wide as normal, so she tilted her head more and captured his lips.
Her tongue swept through his mouth, learning the smoothness of his teeth and the warping on the inside of his cheek. He let her explore. Her tongue grazed the corner of his lips where taught skin forced a permanent frown. Then she softly caught what was left of his bumpy bottom lip on that side between her teeth and gave a soft tug. Even though he wouldn't feel it, he'd sense the tug. He moaned deep in his chest. Then she moved to the other side of his mouth, and he responded much better with sighs and moans of pleasure. But he held back a little.
"Kiss me," she whispered against his lips. Her heart needed more. "You're so beautiful. Bare yourself to me again. Show me how much you love me."
He kissed her deeply, his mouth crushed against hers in its entirety. Her nose brushed hardened, warped skin, but he seemed too lost in the kiss to notice. He finally broke the kiss, a tissue scraping as it was pulled out of the box.
"Say it again," she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.
"I love you." His breath stirred over her lips. "I love you, Emma. I love you with all my heart," he whispered.
A smile caressed her lips. "I love you, Jason."