Page 54 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Don’t know yet. He had on a ski mask.”

“How bad was the fire? Did it catch the hedgerow?”

“No. Holden got it under control and called the fire department.”

“Holden?”

“I’ll explain everything later. For now you need to rest.”

“When can I go home?”

“The doctor said forty-eight hours after you woke up. I’m going to get the nurse to give you something for your head.”

“No. Don’t leave me.”

Fear set in and I didn’t want him to leave my side. I felt oddly vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. I needed Jameson next to me, to protect me, keep me safe, keep me from flying apart and breaking down. As long as he was next to me, no one could hurt me.

“I’m not leavin’ your side, babe.”

He reached over me and nabbed the plastic call button. A moment later a woman’s voice came through the speaker and Jameson explained I was awake. The nurse’s relief at the news hit me as strange.

“How long was I passed out?” I asked.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?” I gasped then regretted it.

“You scared the shit out of me, Kennedy. Worst six hours of my life.”

Worst six hours of his life? Holy shit. The man had seen combat.

I didn’t have time to process his statement. The door opened and an older woman in scrubs stepped into the room and smiled.

After that, there was a flurry of commotion. While the nurse was checking my vitals and preparing my meds, the doctor came in and explained I’d had a CT scan, three staples to the back of my head, and I’d be staying for observation for at least two days. Longer if I continued to experience dizziness and headaches. Jameson had asked about an MRI and more testing. He was frantic about making sure I didn’t have a TBI or any long-term lasting effects. The doctor had spent more time explaining the CT results with Jameson than he had with me. Jameson was relentless, it wasn’t until I squeezed his hand and told him I was okay that he calmed.

He agreed to table the MRI talk for a few days but threatened to revisit the topic if my headache wasn’t gone by morning. I figured it would take more than a few hours for the pounding in my head to subside but I didn’t tell him that.

A warmth I’d never known spread over my chilled skin. No one had ever taken care of me, not like this. Not with so much vigor and protectiveness. I’d never had someone so fully care about my well-being. I knew my mom loved me and wanted what was best for me but she didn’t have the strength Jameson had. It had always been me looking after her.

Shit. My mom!

“Mom,” I croaked.

“She’s fine. Nixon took care of her.”

I wanted to ask more but sleepiness from the pain medicine the nurse had given me started to pull me under.

If Jameson said she was fine, she was fine.

I trusted him.

17

Jameson

Jameson was coming out of his skin. Kennedy was pressing to be discharged and it had been less than twenty-four hours since she woken up. She was grouchy, uncomfortable, and wanted her own bed. All of which Jameson understood. But he wanted her under the constant supervision of medical professionals. The thought of her going home made his gut clench for a variety of reasons.

There were too many what-ifs. Too many things that could go wrong. Her headache still hadn’t gone away. She couldn’t take more than a few sips of water before she felt nauseous. And every time she spoke, she winced. She wasn’t ready to leave the hospital and thankfully her doctor agreed.