“That’s one hard head you have there,” Dr. Cervantes said with a smile. “But one completely normal brain scan. You conked your noggin and you’re bound to have a nasty headache but otherwise you’re good to go home.”
Jordana smiled with relief. She hated hospitals. Clint exhaled, looking as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. She was tired and her head was throbbing but she wanted to go home.
She didn’t want to think about anything aside from a soft pillow and falling asleep in Clint’s arms. Tomorrow would come soon enough and all the trouble that came with it. For one, she had to talk to Reese. She’d jumped on him when he’d called her out for doing things that were out of character. He was a good detective and a great partner. He didn’t deserve her guilty conscience.
She’d have to come clean and let the chips fall where they may.
Clint hadn’t left her side. Tears crowded her sinuses for no good reason. The head injury was making her loopy. Dr. Cervantes signed her discharge paperwork and she was dressed and ready to leave when Reese appeared.
Clint shared a look with Jordana and she gave him a subtle hint to give them a minute.
Once Clint left the room, Jordana was surprised when Reese folded her into a grateful hug. “Jordana, I thought you were going to die in the street. Puts things in perspective real fast.”
She felt awful for Reese. Seeing her like that must’ve triggered some really bad memories of his last partner. She pulled away to regard him with a solemn apology. “I’m sorry I was so awful to you. You were right. Your instincts were right. I am sleeping with Clint and I’ve lost some objectivity. I didn’t mean for it to happen but it did and I don’t regret it. I only regret not being honest with you.”
Reese took a minute to absorb what she’d said and then nodded, accepting her apology and her confession. “You’re a good detective, too. If you think he’s a good guy, I’m sure you’re not wrong. I just want you to be safe.”
“I know you do. I’m sorry I put you through needless worry. I appreciate that you’ve got my back. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with the truth from the start.”
“It’s okay. You’re forgiven. So what’s your next move?” he asked.
“Honestly, my bed. My head feels like it’s about to pop off. Now I know how Clint felt when we pulled him off Range Road. Head injuries are no joke.”
Reese affected a mock-serious tone as he asked, “Do you know who I am? Do you know who you are? Do you have amnesia?”
“I remember that you’re a smart-ass so I must be okay,” she said, smiling, glad that things were good between them again. She needed her partner. Fighting and keeping secrets from him hadn’t felt right.
Clint reappeared, peering around the corner to see if the coast was clear. She motioned for him to enter. “It’s okay. Reese knows,” she told Clint.
“Thank God. I’m not very good at keeping my feelings a secret apparently,” Clint admitted, assuring Reese, “I’m not a bad guy, I promise.”
“You better not be or I’ll take you down without losing a minute of sleep,” Reese said with a smile that was both good-natured and a little dangerous. Clint might not know it, but Jordana did—Reese meant every word. He took his partners very seriously. “All right, I’ll leave you two kids to it. You don’t need a ride?”
“I left and came back with my car. We’re good.”
Reese gave them a thumbs-up and then left.
“I think he likes you,” Jordana said.
“Yeah, well, what’s not to like, right? I’m practically a basket of kittens.”
She laughed and then winced. “Oh, please, don’t make me laugh. My head is killing me.”
Clint left and returned with a wheelchair, which he directed her into in spite of her protests. “I can walk perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with my legs.”
“Oh, I know that,” he said with an appreciative glance that made her blush. “But you’re getting the royal treatment. I mean, check out these wheels. Top of the line chrome and medical-grade leather. This is—” he fiddled with the brakes until they disengaged, pushing her out the door “—the only way to travel.”
Jordana waved at Dr. Cervantes as they headed out, trying not to laugh as Clint made a terrible nurse, but even as she climbed into the car and waited for Clint to return after he took the wheelchair back into the hospital, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that Ruthie Garrett’s vehicular mishap hadn’t caused the explosion.
Because cars didn’t just explode.
Someone had either tried to kill her or Clint.
The question was...who?
Clint tucked Jordana into bed, fussing over her like he would an injured bird until she glared at him with exasperation. “Okay, okay,” Clint conceded, and climbed into bed beside her. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Wrapping his arms around her, she settled into the cove of his chest. The warmth of her body against his soothed his ragged nerves. The subtle scent of her shampoo tickled his nose. When he thought of how badly things could’ve ended, fear curdled his guts. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured, brushing a kiss across her crown.
“You were knocked out, too,” she reminded him. “Maybe you should’ve had your head rechecked. You’re the one with the preexisting head injury.”
“I’m fine,” he promised her. “My concern is for you.”
“You heard Dr. Cervantes. My head is too hard to sustain any damage.”
“Yeah, well, that blast was intense.”
Jordana fell silent and he tightened his arms around her, her head lying on his chest. In such a short time this woman had become so important to him. How that’d happened, he’d never know, but he couldn’t question the way he felt because it was as real to him as the blood flowing through his veins. But with that realization, he also felt the crushing weight of guilt. If he was the cause of Jordana getting hurt, he’d never get over it.
“So, cars don’t usually blow up like that, right?” he asked, half joking even though it wasn’t funny in the least. When she affirmed what he already knew with a small shake of her head, he exhaled a long breath and said, “I didn’t think so.”
“Does that mean you’re not buying me a new car?” she teased.
He chuckled. “I probably have a fleet of them somewhere in Chicago. I’ll have one shipped to you.”
“I’m kidding and don’t you dare. I have insurance.”
“I’ve never thought to check—does your insurance policy cover explosions?”
“I guess I’ll find out tomorrow,” she murmured with a sleepy yawn. “Let’s go to sleep. Tomorrow will be here soon enough with all its problems.”
That was the truth.
Tomorrow he had to tell Jordana the news that he was going to return to Chicago but he hoped he could persuade her to come with him. It was crazy—they hadn’t known each other very long—but the idea of leaving her behind was unsettling and he knew he couldn’t stay.
He needed answers. It was selfish of him to hide out in Braxville knowing that he wouldn’t find the answers he needed here. Chicago held the key to regaining his memory and he couldn’t afford to ignore that fact any longer.
Life gets real when cars start blowing up. But even more real was the way he felt about Jordana. He knew it was fast but there was something about her that felt right. His gut said, Hold on to this one, and he knew he had to do just that. He had no idea how he was going to convince her to leave Braxville, though.
She was stubborn and attached to this place. Her roots went deep. Asking her to uproot herself to follow him to Chicago felt selfish on his part, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave without her.
Damn, maybe the old Clint was slowly rising to the surface. A certain level of ruthlessness urged him to say or do whatever possible to get her on that plane with him.
He wouldn’t manipulate the situation, he told himself. If she didn’t want to come on her own, he wouldn’t force her hand. Not even if it killed him to leave her behind.
Jordana was fast asleep in his arms, making those soft noises that he found adorable but fairly mortified her when he brought it up.
Good night for now. Tomorrow is a big day.
Clint let his eyes drift shut, joining Jordana within seconds.