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 this.”

And as much as the word we made something inside her tingle to life, it was that other statement that reached out and grabbed her. The one that said the old Clint was still crouched inside that standard issue haircut and neat-as-a-pin desk. It was there in his eyes. The glowing intensity that said, despite outward appearances, he hadn’t turned into a heartless bureaucrat after years of going through proper channels.

He was a rule-breaker. He always had been. And just like his bursting into the ladies’ restroom unannounced, it gave her hope, along with a sliver of fear.

She knew from experience he wasn’t afraid to break anything that got in the way of what he wanted. She just had to make sure one of those “things” wasn’t her heart.

CHAPTER THREE

JESSI HAD JUST finished suturing an elbow laceration and was headed in to pick up her next chart when a cry of pain came from the double bay doors of the emergency entrance.

“Ow! It hurts!”

A man holding a little girl in his arms lurched into the waiting area, his face as white as the linoleum flooring beneath his feet. The child’s frilly pink party dress had a smear of dirt along one side of it, as did her arm and one side of her face. That had Jessi moving toward the pair. The other cases in the waiting room at the moment were minor illnesses and injuries.

The man’s wild eyes latched on to her, taking in the stethoscope around her neck. “Are you a doctor?”

“Yes. How can I help?”

“We were at a … She fell …” The words tumbled out of his mouth, nothing making sense. Especially since the girl’s pained cries were making the already stricken expression on his face even worse.

She tried to steer him in the right direction. “She fell. Is this your daughter?”

“Yes. She fell off a trampoline at a friend’s house. It’s her leg.”

Like with many fun things about childhood—climbing trees, swimming in the lake, riding a bike—danger lurked around every corner, ready to strike.

Jessi brushed a mass of blond curls off the girl’s damp face and spoke to her. “What’s your name?”

“Tammy,” she said between sobs.

She maintained eye contact with her little charge. “Tammy, I know your leg must hurt terribly. We’re going to take you back and help fix it.” She motioned to one of the nurses behind the admission’s desk. Gina immediately came toward them with a clipboard.

The girl nodded, the volume of her cries going down a notch.

“Let’s take her into one of the exam rooms, while Nurse Stanley gets some information.”

It wasn’t standard protocol—they were supposed to register all admissions unless there was a life-threatening injury—but right now Jessi wanted to take away not only the child’s pain but the father’s, as well.

Maybe Clint wasn’t the only one who knew how to break a few rules.

But she had to. She recognized that look of utter terror and helplessness on the dad’s face. She’d felt the same paralyzing fear as she’d crouched in the bathtub with her daughter, blood pouring out of Chelsea’s veins. She’d sent out that same cry for help. To God. To the universe. To anyone who would listen.

And like the distraught father following her to a treatment room, she’d been forced to place her child in the hands of a trained professional and pray they could fix whatever was wrong. Because it was something beyond her own capabilities.