with her arm.
His head rested against the bottom of the bed. He fixed his weary gaze on her, pain dominating it. “I guess I’m not all right.”
“Let’s get you back in bed. The doctor will be here soon.”
“Yeah, sure.” His eyes fluttered and closed.
With her attention fastened on his face, Kathleen settled him on the floor and pressed the emergency call button.
“I thought you left here a couple of hours ago,” Mildred Wyman, the floor supervisor, said as Kathleen exited the elevator and walked toward the nurses’ station.
“I did, but there was a fire at the Magnolia Street Apartments where my cousin lives.” She filled her in on the details. “When I came back to the hospital, Ashley recruited me to help until another nurse was able to come in. She just arrived so I wanted to see if Gideon O’Brien was settled into his room before I go home for sure this time.”
“He’s in room 345. He was asleep a little while ago.”
“I’ll peek in. See if he’s up. If he needs anything.”
Kathleen strolled toward the last room on the west wing’s third floor. The memory of the look on Gideon O’Brien’s face wouldn’t leave her thoughts. Clearly he’d been in pain but he tried to deny the seriousness of his injuries. If only she had known that Sally had taken the boys to the park, Gideon O’Brien wouldn’t be hurt.
She rapped on the door. When she didn’t hear anything, she inched it open to see if he was still asleep. The dimly lit room beckoned her. She stepped inside and found him, lying on his bed, his head lolled to the side, his eyes closed.
With the black smudges cleaned from his face, his features fit together into a pleasing picture. High cheekbones, the beginnings of a dark stubble, strong jaw. His features drew her forward until she stood by his side, watching him sleep. She could remember seeing him a couple of times jogging past her mother’s house when she had visited. When she’d told her mother who the injured firefighter was, her mom had said Gideon O’Brien had moved in down the street several years before.
“He sure is a handsome lad. Single, too.” Her mother’s words came back to taunt Kathleen. Before she’d had time to say goodbye to her sons so she could return to the hospital, her mother had ushered her out the door without further questions—which was unusual for her mom. Kathleen knew what was going through her mother’s mind. A nice young man would solve all of Kathleen’s problems. She would discourage her mother of that thought when she went back to pick up her sons.
Her glance ran down Gideon’s length, categorizing his injuries. Two cracked ribs, wrapped but very painful, a broken arm above his left wrist, which would be set tomorrow, and an assortment of bruises. The doctor was still concerned about internal bleeding and wanted to keep a close eye on him overnight.
When her survey returned to his face, it connected with his gaze. Molten silver, framed by long, thick black eyelashes. Captivating. Powerful. Those thoughts sent warmth to her cheeks that she was sure rivaled the fire he’d fought.
Kathleen looked away. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t,” Gideon said in a scratchy voice. “You were at the fire. In the E.R. Ruth’s daughter.”
She nodded. “I’m so sorry you and Pete went into the building after my children.” She reconnected with him visually. “They were supposed to be there. I had come to pick them up. I didn’t know Sally had taken them to the park and was running late getting them back to her apartment.”
He shifted, gritting his teeth. “I’m glad they’re safe.”
“But—”
“So why are you up here?”
She wanted to say so much more to him, but a closed expression descended over his pain-filled features. “I wanted to make sure you were all right before I left.”
“Define all right.” One corner of his mouth lifted for a second then fell back into a neutral line. He tried to reach for the plastic cup of water on his nightstand and winced.
“Let me get it for you.” Kathleen picked up the cup and held it to his lips so he could take a few sips. The scent of smoke clung to his dark hair. “Is your pain manageable?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“You have?” She’d heard from other patients in the past how much broken or cracked ribs could hurt.
“Afraid so.” Creases in his forehead deepened. Gideon gulped in a breath of air and started coughing. Agony contorted his features, his eyes shiny. “That hurt.”
“Let me see if you can have more pain meds.” Anything to help make him feel better. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so guilty.
He coughed again. His pale face urged her to hurry. She left his room and hastened to the nurses’ station. “Mildred, can Gideon O’Brien have any more of his pain medication?”
“I’ll check and take care of it. I was just coming to get you. Your mother called and said you need to get home right away. Something about Jared falling off the side of the house.”
“Is he okay?”
“She didn’t say. But she sounded shook up.”
Kathleen rushed to the elevator, punching the down button. Seconds ticked by so slowly she started for the stairs when the doors swished open. This day was quickly going from bad to worse.
Two minutes later, after retrieving her purse in the E.R., she hastened out to the parking lot while digging for her cell. She slipped behind the steering wheel of her eight-year-old Dodge and punched in her mom’s number.
“How’s Jared?” In the background Kathleen heard her son crying, and her grip tightened on the phone.
“I don’t know. He’s holding his arm. He might have broken it.”
“I’ll be there soon.” She flipped her cell closed and pulled out of the parking space.
Ten minutes later Kathleen turned onto Oceanview Drive. Her seven-year-old son was too adventurous for his own good. She guessed he was going from climbing trees to houses now. Next he’d want to try flying off the roof. The thought sent panic through her as she drove into the driveway and parked.
The front door banged open, and Kip came racing out of the two-story stone house. “Mom, Jared climbed up there.” He pointed toward the second floor. “You should have seen him. I can’t believe he did it.”
“Did you dare him?” Kathleen charged up the steps to the porch. At the door Kip’s silence prompted her to glance back at him. “You did.”
“Aw, Mom. I didn’t think he would really do it.”
“We’ll talk later.” Kathleen entered her childhood home and headed toward the kitchen where the crying was coming from.
Kathleen’s mother stood over her son, her face leached of color. “I’m so glad you’re
