Her Mistletoe Protector

She didn’t want to think that Nick preferred to be alone through this difficult time, but really, how much did she truly know about him? Maybe he only wanted his family here. Like his parents or his sisters.

She was just a woman he’d gone out of his way to help. Obviously, there was nothing more for her to do here.

She took a deep breath, trying to ease her heartache. This was why she’d avoided becoming emotionally involved. Only this time, she wasn’t the only one who would be hurt.

Joey’s heart would be broken, as well.

SIXTEEN

Nick fought the rising sense of despair. The doctor had told him that they’d saved his arm, but what was the point if he couldn’t use it? His entire career would be over.

He shifted and groaned, and pain slashed through his left arm, robbing him of his breath. Was it a good thing to know he could feel pain? He forced his eyes open and stared at the heavily bandaged limb. His fingers were hugely swollen and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t move them. He concentrated on feeling them move, but no luck.

Nothing. He felt nothing.

With a disgusted sigh, he closed his eyes again, feeling guilty for the way he’d treated Rachel and Joey. They hadn’t deserved his anger. He should be thanking God for saving his life, but instead he was focusing on the fact that his arm might never work right again.

Shame burned the back of his throat. He’d taught Rachel and Joey about having faith but couldn’t manage to keep his own. Obviously, he owed them an apology.

But where had they gone? Now that he was awake, the pain in his arm throbbed in conjunction with the beat of his heart. His throat was still sore, no doubt from the smoke he’d inhaled out in the woods.

Abruptly, he wondered how Rachel and Joey were doing. After all, they’d inhaled a fair amount of smoke, too. Had they been checked out by a doctor? He shifted in the bed again, and a loud series of beeping noises brought a nurse running into his room.

“Relax, Mr. Butler, you need to calm down.”

He almost corrected her—he was a detective, not a mister—but didn’t want to waste his energy. “I need to know if Rachel and Joey Simon are both patients here, too,” he croaked.

The nurse frowned down at him, as if she were worried about him. “They were here visiting you about twenty minutes ago, don’t you remember?”

Twenty minutes? For some reason he thought it had been just a few minutes ago. “Are they still here?”

“I’ll check for you, but you have to stay calm,” the nurse said firmly. “The doctors spent a lot of time reconstructing the brachial artery in your arm. I can guarantee they won’t appreciate having you damage their hard work by trying to get out of bed.”

“Just find Rachel and Joey for me,” he managed, not bothering to explain that he couldn’t move his left arm if he tried.

The nurse left the room and it seemed like a long time before she came back carrying a small IV bag. “I have your antibiotic here,” she said as she logged into the computer. “Just give me a few minutes here, okay?”

He did his best to give her the time she needed to scan his wristband and the medication, before she hung it on the IV pump. Only when she finished did he ask. “Rachel and Joey?”

“I’m sorry, but apparently they went home,” she said, her tone full of sympathy.

Home? How? As far as he knew Rachel didn’t have any money or a vehicle. Had she hitched a ride with someone? Borrowed money? What?

He stared at the four walls surrounding him, feeling totally helpless. He was in no condition to follow Rachel, to make sure she and Joey were still safe. Had the police arrested Errol? He certainly hoped so. No doubt they’d be here soon to get his statement about the events that had transpired outside of Uncle Wally’s cabin.

Still, he couldn’t believe Rachel and Joey had left without saying goodbye.

* * *

Exhaustion weighed heavily on Rachel’s shoulders as she and her son made their way back down to the hospital waiting room. She needed to figure out a way to get home, no easy feat since Chicago was about three hours from Madison. A taxi was probably out of the question, which left a bus or a train.

When she asked the woman at the front desk about a train, she shook her head. “Sorry, there’s bus service to Chicago, but no train.”

Of course there wasn’t a train. Why would anything be easy? She was about to ask about borrowing a phone, when the police officer who’d brought her and Joey to the hospital arrived. “Ms. Simon? Could we talk for a few minutes?”