Pieces in Chance (10 page)

She sat, one leg pulled up, the other – her badly burned leg – splayed straight down, her attention buried in the Kindle he’d given her. Since she hadn’t seen him yet, it gave him a moment to simply take her in.

Fiery red hair fell to shield her face from view, only barely showing where the flames had singed it. The sun shone through the small window, casting her in its beam. Even wearing ugly green hospital scrubs – definitely a step up from a hospital gown – she was radiant. His Drew.

She’s not yours, creep
. Jensen ignored his prick of a subconscious and stepped farther into the room, cautious not to startle her. He’d learned in the past few months that he had to be careful when she wasn’t paying attention – her bastard father had screwed her royally in that department. Any large body appearing in her peripheral vision, without time for her to process it, sent her in auto-protect mode. It was something he’d learned to accept, even though it pissed him the fuck off to no end. No woman, whether it be the one in front of him or one elsewhere in the world, should ever have to live that way. No female, of any age, should fear the touch of another human being – fear being hit or beaten, or even berated with words until they feel they are nothing. Maybe it was his southern roots, maybe it wasn’t, but either way it grated on his nerves.

“Don’t worry – I see you,” Drew said. He’d been bending down to her level to get her attention, and stopped, smiling when she looked up at him. She was smiling as well, though it didn’t meet her eyes. Something wasn’t right in the world of Drew, and his me-man-make-you-happy instincts catapulted into high gear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, watching her eyes follow his lips. A small frown wrinkled her forehead as she turned her gaze back up to him.

It was clear she was debating whether or not to tell him the truth and he fought his knee-jerk reaction to demand she tell him. He wanted to know, but he’d never force her to open up about something if she didn’t want to. Though, he would do his best to figure it out on his own if he had to. Drew nodded once before speaking, like she’d made a silent decision.

“I…” she started, glancing down and fidgeting with an invisible string. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to wear than scrubs.”

Confusion filled Jensen. Of course he’d noticed them, especially since they’d been a swap from the colorless, bland sacks she’d been wearing before. But he couldn’t figure out why that would bother her. Suddenly, understanding filled him. The bulk of the fire damage had been in her room, since that was where it had originated. She physically didn’t have anything to go home in other than the scrubs the hospital had given her.

Always one to be prepared, to think ahead, how had he missed that detail? He’d spent the last freaking week buying new sheets for his bed, ensuring there was plenty of food variety in his pantry, and an assortment of girly products – lotions and soaps – to fill his counter. The sales lady had looked at him like he was crazy when he’d asked what to buy in the store, and eventually assumed he was purchasing a gift for either a friend or family member. It was probably way more than Drew would need, but it made him feel better to ensure she had it.

He’d also cleaned his house from top to bottom; he cleaned like he hadn’t cleaned since basic training when his only tool was a toothbrush and soapy water. Everything had to be comfortable, perfect for her when she got there. Hell, he’d even purchased an American Sign Language computer program to help him learn to speak with her, make her life easier while she spent time at his house.

Still, he’d somehow missed one of the items that would be most important to her. Clothes.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Obviously he hadn’t – it wasn’t like she could just live her future in a pair of his gym shorts and T-shirt, not that he’d even thought of that possibility.

“Well,” he started, noticing she wasn’t looking at him before stopping. He bent to his knee in front of her, his original plan when he’d come in, and brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. Drew’s gaze darted back to his and he started over. “Well, that’s an easy fix. We’ll go get you some.”

She stared at him for a long moment and it was killing him to now know what she was thinking. Jensen had always felt like he could read people, that it was what made him a good cop. But with her, it was always fifty-fifty. He either knew, without a doubt, what was going through her head, or he simply had no idea. The latter drove him nuts.

“Okay … I can wear these until I figure out how to get to my money.”

It was hard to believe Drew was still only seventeen; that only a handful of months had passed since he’d first met her, since her life had changed forever. When she spoke, something he knew she didn’t even enjoy doing anymore, she was wise beyond her years. He’d met women double her age that weren’t as logical in their rationing and their thought process. It was the many things he appreciated about her. She still had her occasional random breakdowns, though, where something reminded her of the past and she’d cry. Occasionally her emotion would get the better of her as well, spilling over at something silly, releasing in a flood from holding it all back. But, at the end of the day, she held her own in a world, in a town, that had set her up to fail.

“Until we figure that out – because I don’t know how either – I can take you to get a few things. A couple … outfits and some, um, under … things, should be okay,” he offered, stumbling over his words despite his effort to be precise. The thought of her and panties and bras did things to him, and he was actually afraid he may blush under her precision stare if he continued down that path. Luckily, if she saw any of his discomfort, she gave him a free pass.

“No. You don’t need to spend your money. You’re already doing too much.”

She was starting to get alarmed, he could tell by the distortion in her words. There were a lot of moments he forgot she couldn’t hear, that she relied on visual clues rather than sounds, but when she got upset or too excited, her words came out … off. Drew still sounded like Drew to him when they did, but the distortion was there nonetheless. Jensen liked hearing her talk, liked her voice, and even the cute sounding words she said.

The two remained locked in a stare-off, neither willing to back down. She seemed adamant he not do this for her, yet he was going to either way – regardless of any silly arguments she had against it. He was certain she wouldn’t want to simply be locked up at his place, essentially moving from one prison to another slightly larger one. She would want to get fresh air, go outside, maybe go out to eat or to a movie or something. And, he knew, she would feel like she was at a disadvantage if she couldn’t blend in. Drawing attention to the incident, the damage of her past and future, wasn’t something she liked. Wearing scrubs out and about, or worse, his gym clothes, would certainly catch peoples’ attention.

Abruptly, Drew leaned forward and kissed him, surprising him. Her lips were soft, hesitant and questionable, unsure of their welcome. Unable to stop himself, Jensen lifted his hand to cradle her cheek and returned the gesture, holding her mouth to his. Want bloomed in him, desire to take the kiss further, but he fought against it, instead allowing her small tongue tease the seam of his lips, deepening their embrace.

She tasted like strawberries as she innocently explored his mouth and he relished in it, letting her take what she wanted, giving the same, but keeping them both in check. It would be far too easy for him to let instincts take over, to steal things she wasn’t ready to give in. But, again, he didn’t. He let her make a final sweep with her tongue in his mouth before gently ending the kiss, pressing softer kisses on her lips as he pulled away.

“Come on, beautiful. Let’s spring you from this joint.”

Jensen left Drew to gather the remainder of her things and ran to the gift shop of the hospital once more. Luckily, since they were in a small town, handcrafted items were available – something you’d never find in a major city. Usually hospitals only sold the basics: bubblegum baby announcement cigars, balloons, flowers, and the occasional vending machine foods and drinks. Here, though, there was a significantly larger selection.

Items made by ladies of the church were proudly on display, everything from paperweights to baby booties. There was a wall of personal items, including shampoo and soap, razors and deodorant, even makeup. Some stuff from various local shops were present too, including a couple hand-sewn dresses, a couple pairs of shorts, and even T-shirts. It seemed the people of Chance had determined that patients and visitors alike had needs that didn’t merely include the smell of disinfectant and flowers or green Jell-O in mini to-go cups.

Coming to stand in front of the available clothing choices, Jensen tried to put himself in the shoes of a young woman. Picking something as delicate as what to wear for any woman was tough – and any man willing to put himself in that kind of position got a nod from him, as far as he was concerned. So many things could go wrong in making an incorrect purchase. If one didn’t get size, style, and colors right, things could go badly. Thing was, with Drew, he doubted it really mattered. There was something about her that just screamed appreciation, regardless of what she was given. So, after scanning a few minutes, he chose one of the longer drapey-style dresses in an emerald-green color, hoping it would be okay color-wise. It had long sleeves, which would suit for the winter.
Shit, it’s December. She needs a coat.

Scanning quickly, he found nothing. Without a jacket of some sort, surely a dress would be too cold. Except, well, they weren’t going to be going very far outside…

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he called out, grabbing the elderly cashier’s attention. She’d been the same one who’d helped him pick out the items to make her feel better the day she hadn’t felt pretty.

“Hello again, Officer Marks. What can I help you with today?”

“Um, well, I know it sounds odd but I just remembered it’s cold outside…” he admitted, feeling foolish but knowing he needed to swallow the emotion. Sometimes a man had to accede the fact he needed help. “This dress … I’m not sure how warm it will be? My only other options are shorts and T-shirts, or sweatpants. Ma’am, she’s been here a long time, and already has … insecurities … What would you suggest I do?”

He’d expected the woman to chuckle at him and raise an eyebrow, or make a comment about what a nice young man he was being like she had last time. Instead, she looked deep in thought for a moment before holding one finger up.

“Ah! I’ve got it. We have some knitted tights that came in the other day from the good ladies at Calvary Baptist. Those should help to off-set the cold on her legs. Her arms, well, she’s going to need a jacket, which we just don’t have,” she told him, leading him to the shelf and picking out a pair of tights before handing them to him.

“No, that’s okay. She can wear mine,” he said quickly. After all, he still had on his long-sleeved uniform shirt, as well as an undershirt. The walk to the car wouldn’t be too bad and if he froze, oh well. Drew being warm was more important than him being warm, as far as he was concerned. Just as he was about to say he was finished he remembered something important. Shoes. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, luckily, but that didn’t mean she could go barefoot or in ugly hospital socks. Embarrassed, he asked softly, “Shoes?”

“Do you know what size she wears? I noticed you chose a small in the dress.”

“Um … well, she’s about this high,” he demonstrated with one hand to his shoulder, “and thin. I’d guess average, if there is one?”

This time the lady
did
chuckle. “Well, son, in the future you should probably ask these questions. I’d go with a seven. If they don’t fit, bring ‘em back here and I’ll exchange ‘em before she has to go outside. I’m afraid the only thing we have that would go with that dress would be some black ballet-style flats, so I hope that’s okay?”

“Ma’am, I know virtually nothing about shoes, or women’s clothing in general. I hear the words you’re saying, but you’re pretty much speaking Greek. If you say they’ll match, I’m good with that,” he told her, handing her his credit card in exchange for the shoes she extended. Now that he was looking at them he understood the name. They kind of looked like the shoes ballerinas wore. Go figure.