Chapter Twelve
Midnight had slidpast by the time Jazz arrived. Visiting hours were long gone as well, but Ryan had taken care of that minor detail.
She’d left Eli monitoring the team in California for her, which didn’t feel right, but Dan had asked for her. She’d had no choice but to come. She’d had to see for herself that he was okay, because Ryan’s reassurances hadn’t been nearly enough.
Their last conversation replayed in her head, stuck on repeat. She’d walked out without so much as saying goodbye. What if that turned out to be her last memory of him?
Could she have lived with it?
She didn’t plan to disturb him if he was asleep. Ryan had said the pain medication had left him “pretty loopy.” When she pushed open the door to his hospital room, however, she found him wide awake and counting the tiles on the ceiling.
The dimmed lights left much of the small private room soaked in shadow. Dan, however, propped up on pillows, was plain to see. Her heart gripped her lungs. His ruffled blond hair spiked in the front. He had the white cotton blanket pulled up to his waist, so she couldn’t see any bandages, but the hospital gown drawn tight across his broad chest drummed home to her how lucky he was to be alive.
“Hey,” she said softly. There was something about a hospital at night that made anything above a whisper sound sacrilegious. “Did someone in here place a booty call?”
Dan’s low, heated chuckle seared straight through her. “I did promise you that we’d try this in a bed, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble on my account.”
She tiptoed across the room to a beige, vinyl armchair that had already been drawn up beside him. She reached for his hand. It was warm and strong, and he laced his fingers through hers. The backs of her eyes prickled. He could have been killed and his final memory of her would have been that she’d picked a fight.
She squeezed his hand tight. “I’m really angry with you.”
Dan squeezed back. Blue eyes met hers. “I don’t know how to make it any plainer to you that what I once had with Andy has nothing to do with what’s happening between you and me now.”
“That’s not why I’m angry.” She warmed to her topic, allowing all of the fear from the moment Ryan had arrived at the base with the news that he’d been shot to spill over. “How dare you complain about my motorcycle, then turn around and approach a drunk armed with a rifle when you aren’t wearing body armor?”
“I didn’t think he’d actually shoot me,” he said.
“What did you think an armed man might do? Didn’t you learn anything about risk management in sheriff school?”
His lips twitched at that. “Sheriff school, huh? Mostly, they teach us how to manage budgets and eat donuts. But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll wear my body armor from now on if you’ll wear your helmet, even if it’s only to the end of the driveway.”
“Deal.”
“Still angry with me?”
“Not quite as much.” She’d never been angry.
She’d been afraid. And while that did make her angry, it wasn’t with him. It was because she disliked feeling so helpless. She was used to being in the thick of the action, not sitting things out on the sidelines.
“Good. Then I want to talk about what happened this afternoon,” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. This isn’t really a booty call, Dan. What is it with men? Besides, Ryan already warned me it will be a few weeks before you’re fully”—she ran her gaze to his hips, then back to his eyes, raising her brows—“functional again.”
“You might want to consider the source of that bit of information. Trust me. I’m fully functional this very second.” He shifted his weight as if trying to find a more comfortable position, although the slight grimace suggested he wasn’t having much luck. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”
“If it’s about McCall,” she said warily, knowing it probably wasn’t, “I really want that job.” Because he deserved so much better than the trouble she’d bring if she stayed in Grand too much longer.
The hint of a smile flickered on his face. “I know you do. And I get it. It’s a great career opportunity. But let’s set that aside for later, too. Tell me about your mother. While she seems very eager for grandchildren, I’m sensing you don’t have a warm and loving relationship with her.”
Jazz tried to picture her mother with grandchildren and failed. Talking about her always left her on edge, but he might as well know what he was up against. He’d already figured most of it out. She rubbed her thumb against the side of his palm while she collected her thoughts and her courage, then took a deep breath and let it all out.
“That’s quite the understatement, Sheriff. My mother is an alcoholic with substance abuse and gambling issues. She’s been in and out of rehab for as long as I can remember. I have two half brothers. I was eight when the oldest was born. I doubt if she has the slightest idea of who our fathers might be. I certainly don’t. I raised both boys from babies because she was never around. I haven’t seen them since I left home twelve years ago, which makes me no better than her as far as abandonment goes. Leo is now twenty. He seems to be doing okay for himself. The twenty-two-year-old, Todd, takes after our mother. He’s good-looking and he uses that to his advantage. He has a massive sense of entitlement and zero respect for women or the law. I don’t hear from any of them unless they want money. I call them on birthdays and holidays. Other than that, they don’t hear from me at all.”
And yet she couldn’t escape them. She was their bankroll. She shuddered to think of the demands they’d make on Dan if they believed they could use her relationship with him to their advantage.
Rubber-soled footsteps squeaked outside the door, paused for a moment, then moved on. Dan’s attention remained focused on her.