Savior (The Kingwood Duet #2)

Leaning over me, he kisses my forehead, and then looks at the doctor. “She’s impossible. She’ll put everyone else’s needs before hers, even at a detriment to herself.”

“She’s a strong woman.” Turning to me, the doctor says, “He’s right, Sara Jane. Please preserve your energy for healing.” He grabs a tablet from the counter behind him and scrolls on the screen. “From the form you filled out, things sound like you’re exactly where we want to see you. There is little to no swelling. And if you’re generally experiencing little to no pain, we should be able to reduce the pain medication, but let’s do that slowly. Reduce it by fifty milligrams every third day. We should have you off them after another week.”

“Okay.” I hold Alexander’s hand.

“I’m going to take a look at the stitches,” Dr. Whitley says.

I lie back and stare at Alexander as the doctor lifts the gown and lowers the bandage. “It’s looking good. You can stop bandaging the area and let it breathe a bit. The skin might pucker a little when it dries up, but that’s to be expected. Just keep an eye on it, and use vitamin E cream twice daily. If the pink area of the incision turns darker red or redness spreads wider, call us.” Nodding, I exhale when the gown is lowered. He adds, “The only reason to find blood at this point is if there’s a tear. You can add some tape to the area if it’s very minor. Other than that, call us.”

He offers me a hand up so I’m sitting. “Are we done?” I ask.

“Yes,” he replies with a smile. “Keep up the healing. You’re doing well.” Turning to Alexander, he shakes his hand. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything too strenuous.”

A flash of surprise hits Alexander’s eyes, but before he confesses his guilt over our sexual activity, I say, “Got it. Thanks.” As soon as he leaves, I add, “He wasn’t questioning that.”

He laughs. “Sorry. I felt like he could see my thoughts and knew.”

“He can’t. He’s a doctor not a psychic.”

The playfulness is so welcome in my heart right now and feels like it’s healing me in ways untouchable before. Hope returns as I open the window of my soul and let the sunlight pour in.

Hand in hand, we walk out of the doctor’s office. My heart feels lighter. Who would have guessed the appointment would provide more than just a follow-up for my physical wound, but give us the opportunity to release our emotional pain? Finally.





22





Sara Jane



The penthouse is quiet but I’m wide-awake. The curse of sleeping too much during the day strikes again. Alexander wanted to stop by and we stayed. I’m with him, so I don’t have any complaints other than insomnia right now.

Making my way into the kitchen, I start the single-serve coffeemaker and sit at the bar waiting for it to brew. The sound of coffee percolating is soothing in the dark. With just enough light from the night flooding the open living area, I look around. Really look around while sitting on a barstool waiting. I think about today and how releasing our innermost fears and feelings feels like we’ve freed our biggest burden into the wild.

Although I wish it didn’t have to play out in a doctor’s office, I’m glad it’s happened, that we could be that deeply honest with each other. Maybe we really can move forward like we both want.

He still wants answers regarding his mother though. Who wouldn’t? I would never deny him the basic ability to mourn, knowing what happened the night his world changed forever, the course of his life altered. But where does it end? His death? Mine? How can we move forward if he insists on repeating the past?

“One sugar or two?”

Alarmed, I turn around, putting gentle pressure on my side protectively. Jason. He stands in the kitchen with a smile that reminds me of simpler times—him behind the counter of the town’s convenience mart. He’s not in that black and white trucker hat, or even a shirt right now, but the smile on his face is easy and welcoming, the way his shoulders are strong but relaxed—so damn comfortable in his own body. I ask, “What are you doing up?”

“I don’t sleep a lot.” Moving my mug from the machine, he asks, “One lump or two?”

“Two with a little cream.”

“If I remember correctly, it was a lot of cream.” He adds the sugar and then pours the cream in, care taken in each step. He’s easy on the eyes and so damn charming. A welcome distraction from my thoughts before they get too carried away with worry.

Wonder why he doesn’t have a girl, or maybe he’s one of those men who have one in every city. “How many hearts have you broken?”

Milk-chocolate eyes shine in amusement even in the low light. “Who says I’m a heartbreaker?”

“Oh, I know you are. I’m just trying to figure out how many innocent hearts you’ve stolen.”

He laughs, carrying my coffee over. “I’ll make a coffee for myself. This list may take a while.”

I laugh this time, but keep it down. It’s still the middle of the night. “Want to join me on the balcony?”

“Be right out.”

When I walk outside, I find the quiet peace I need. The balcony high above the street gives a false sense of privacy and the stars feel so close I reach up just to see if I can touch them. Smiling, I laugh at myself before sitting and taking a long sip of my coffee. When the door opens, Jason comes out, leaving it ajar.

He stands, keeping space between us. Probably wise. Alexander would not be happy if he found us out here alone. Guilt starts to work its way into my psyche, but I inwardly protest. I’m not doing anything wrong. I wouldn’t, so I take another sip and look at the stars.

His deep voice, a slight accent detected, fills the silence. “How’d you get here, Sara Jane?”

My name still sounds so foreign coming from him, almost wrong in some aspects. Those aren’t the aspects I need to forget about though. It’s our past that needs to go. What happened back there, the lives we were once leading are gone to cover up reality. This is our life, the one I was meant to live. I need to stay in the present. “Alexander drove me.”

On the tail of a deep chuckle, he says, “Nice try.”

Hiding the truth will be hard, and is it so wrong of me to not want to lie to him? “I once fell in love with a damaged boy.”

“What became of him?”

“He became a hopeless man.”

“I never thought of him as hopeless.”

“Maybe that’s me sometimes.”

“Why would you give up hope? It’s one of the easiest things to hold on to.”

Reading the sensitivity in his eyes, I know I can trust him. “I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought, but I’m starting to worry that the answers he’s searching for won’t cure him.”

“Then why do you stay?”

Staring at him, I give him my full truth. “You ask that as if I have a choice.”

“You’re different here.” He leans on the rail but glances my way. “You were always a bit reserved, but you had spirit, a fight in your eyes.”

“A lot has happened since then. One of my best friends was murdered in front of me, and I barely survived. I might be out of fight these days, Jason.”

“No, you still have it in you. You just need to find it again.”

“Where do you suggest I look?”

S.L. Scott's books