Evidently he had.
That was one thing Clint wouldn’t do. For anyone.
If he could just keep that in mind for the next couple of months, he’d be home free. And if he was able to help Chelsea get the help she needed while he was at it, that was icing on the cake.
He corrected himself. No, not just the icing. It was the whole damn cake. And that was what he needed to focus on.
Anything else would be a big mistake.
“And how long will that be?” Jessi’s mouth opened, then snapped back shut, before trying again. “I don’t want Chelsea’s next doctor to give up on her like …”
Her voice faded away as the reality of what she’d been about to say swept through her: Like Dr. Cordoba did. Like Chelsea’s father did when he took off into the night.
“Are you talking about Dr. Cordoba?”
She blinked. Had he read her mind? “Yes.”
“He didn’t give up on her.” His voice softened. “His wife is very ill. He had to take a job that allows him to be home with her as much as possible. He couldn’t do that and continue working long hours here. He knew his patients deserved more than that.”
Oh, God. Her ire at the other doctor dissolved in a heartbeat. She’d been so caught up in her own problems that she hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe he had been dealing with things that were every bit as bad as hers were. Maybe even worse. “I …” She swallowed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
The events of the past months were suddenly too much for her, and her heart pounded, her stomach churned.
Please, no. Not now.
She’d had two panic attacks since Chelsea’s hospitalization, so she recognized the signs.
Pressing a hand to her middle, she tried to force back the nausea and took a few careful breaths.
“I thought you should know.” Clint leaned forward. “If you’re worried about me suddenly taking off, don’t be. I’ll give you plenty of notice.”
This time.
The words hung in the air between them, and for a horrible, soul-stealing second she thought he was hinting for her not to get her hopes up.
“I’m not expecting you to stay forever.” The sensation in her chest and stomach grew, heat crawling up her neck and making her ears ring. Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint. And then it was too late to stop it. “I think I’m going …”
She lurched to her feet and somehow made it through the door and to the first stall in the restroom before her gut revolted in a violent spasm, and she threw up. She’d been running on coffee and pure adrenaline for the past several weeks, and she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning. The perfect set-up for an attack.
That had to be the reason. Not finding Clint sitting behind that desk.
Again and again, her stomach heaved, mingling with tears of frustration.
When she finally regained control over herself, she flushed the toilet with shaking hands before going to the sink, bending down to rinse her mouth and splash water over her face. She blindly reached for the paper-towel dispenser, only to have some kind of cloth pressed into her hand.
Holding the fabric tightly to her face and wishing she could blot away the past two months as easily as the moisture, she sucked down a couple more slow breaths, her heart rate finally slowing to some semblance of normality.
“Thank you.” She lifted her head, already knowing who she’d find when she opened her eyes. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Why? Because it’s against the rules? I thought we’d already sorted all that out.” He added a smile. “Besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The words swirled with bitter familiarity through her head. They were the same ones he’d said the night of their high-school graduation ceremony when she’d suddenly veered away from the rows of chairs and rushed out into the parking lot and then down to a nearby creek. Thankfully neither her dad nor mom had seen her. And an hour and a half later, when the ceremony had been over and the reception had been in full swing, she’d returned. With the lie that Clint had told her to use trembling on her tongue … that she’d been sick with nerves.
Her dad had bought it, just like Clint had said he would.
Only when she’d said it, it had no longer been a lie, because she had felt sick. Not because of nerves, but because the boy she’d always wanted—the boy she’d lost her virginity to—would soon be on his way to the airport, headed for boot camp. Leaving her behind forever.
“It’s just the shock of everything.”
“I know.”
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Clint made no effort to take off his jacket and drape it around her. It was a good thing, because she’d probably dissolve into a puddle all over again if he did.
“Have you eaten recently?”
“What?”
“I get the feeling you’re running on fumes along with a heaped dose of stress. Which is probably why—” he nodded at the closed stall “—that just happened.”
Leave it to him to point out the obvious. “I can eat later.”
He nodded. “Yes. Or you could eat while we go over some treatment options. I skipped breakfast this morning and could use something, as well. Besides, some carbs will help settle your stomach.”
Before she knew it, she found herself in the hospital cafeteria with a toasted bagel and a cup of juice sitting in front of her.
A hint of compassion in his voice as he detailed the treatments he’d like to try told her this wasn’t going to be an easy fix. It was something Chelsea would be dealing with for the rest of her life. He just wanted to give her the tools she needed to do that successfully.
It was what Jessie wanted, as well. More than anything. As a mom, she wanted to be able to make things better, to take away her daughter’s pain. But she couldn’t. She had to trust that Clint knew what he was doing.
He certainly sounded capable.
“And what if she tries to do something to herself?” She set the bagel back down on the plate, unable to leave the subject alone.
“I’ll take steps to avoid the possibility.” He steepled his fingers and met her gaze with a steadiness that unnerved her. The man was intimidating, even though she knew he wasn’t trying to be. Despite his reassurances, she still wasn’t convinced Clint was the man for the job. Especially considering their history—which, granted, wasn’t much of one. On his side, anyway.
What other option did she have, though? An institution? Bring her home and hope Chelsea didn’t try to take her life again?
No. She couldn’t risk there being a next time.
She’d do anything it took to help bring her daughter back from wherever she was. That included seeing Clint every day for the rest of her life and reliving what they’d done by the bank of that creek.
Decision made.
“I want you to keep me informed of every move you make.”
One brow quirked. Too late she realized he could have taken her words the wrong way. But he didn’t throw a quick comeback, like he might have done in days gone by. Instead, he simply said the words she needed to hear most: “Don’t worry, Jessi. Even if we have to break every rule in the book, we’re going to pull her through