Snowfall on Haven Point(2)

“Do you need help?” Chloe asked tentatively.

“No. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She was sure the sound had come from the room where Wyn had spent most of her time when she lived here, a space that served as den, family room and TV viewing room in one. Her gaze immediately went to Marshall Bailey, trying to heft himself back up to the sofa from the floor.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” he growled. “You knocked on the door so I tried to get up to answer and the damn crutches slipped out from under me.”

“I’m so sorry. I only knocked to give you a little warning before we barged in. I didn’t mean for you to get up.”

He glowered. “Then you shouldn’t have come over and knocked on the door.”

She hated any conversation that came across as a confrontation. They always made her want to hide away in her room like she was a teenager again in her grandfather’s house. It was completely immature of her, she knew. Grown-ups couldn’t always walk away.

“Wyn asked me to check on you. Didn’t she tell you?”

“I haven’t talked to her since yesterday. My phone ran out of juice and I haven’t had a chance to charge it.”

By now, the county sheriff had pulled himself back onto the sofa and was trying to position pillows for his leg that sported a black orthopedic boot from his toes to just below his knee. His features contorted as he tried to reach the pillows, but he quickly smoothed them out again. The man was obviously in pain and doing his best to conceal it.

She couldn’t leave him to suffer, no matter how nervous his gruff demeanor made her.

She hurried forward and pulled the second pillow into place. “Is that how you wanted it?” she asked.

“For now.”

She had a sudden memory of seeing the sheriff the night Rob Warren had broken into her home, assaulted her, held her at gunpoint and ended up in a shoot-out with the Haven Point police chief, Cade Emmett. He had burst into her home after the situation had been largely defused, to find Cade on the ground trying to revive a bleeding Wynona.

The stark fear on Marshall’s face had haunted her, knowing that she might have unwittingly contributed to him losing another sibling after he had already lost his father and a younger brother in the line of duty.

Now Marshall’s features were a shade or two paler and his eyes had the glassy, distant look of someone in a great deal of pain.

“How long have you been out of the hospital?”

He shrugged. “A couple hours. Give or take.”

“And you’re here by yourself?” she exclaimed. “I thought you were supposed to be home earlier this morning and someone was going to stay with you for the first few hours. Wynona told me that was the plan.”

“One of my deputies drove me home from the hospital, but I told him Chief Emmett would probably keep an eye on me.”

The police chief lived across the street from Andie and just down the street from Marshall, which boded well for crime prevention in the neighborhood. Having the sheriff and the police chief on the same street should be any sane burglar’s worst nightmare—especially this particular sheriff and police chief.

“And has he been by?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t ask him to.” Marshall’s eyes looked unnaturally blue in his pain-tight features. “Did my sister send you to babysit me?”

“Babysit, no. She only asked me to periodically check on you. I also brought dinner for the next few nights.”

“Also unnecessary. If I get hungry, I’ll call Serrano’s for a pizza later.”

She gave him a bland look. “Would a pizza delivery driver know to come pick you up off the floor?”

“You didn’t pick me up,” he muttered. “You just moved a pillow around.”

He must find this completely intolerable, being dependent on others for the smallest thing. In her limited experience, most men made difficult patients. Tough, take-charge guys like Marshall Bailey probably hated every minute of it.

Sympathy and compassion had begun to replace some of her nervousness. She would probably never truly like the man—he was so big, so masculine, a cop through and through—but she could certainly empathize with what he was going through. For now, he was a victim and she certainly knew what that felt like.

“I brought dinner, so you might as well eat it,” she said. “You can order pizza tomorrow if you want. It’s not much, just beef stew and homemade rolls, with caramel apple pie for dessert.”

“Not much?” he said, eyebrow raised. A low rumble sounded in the room just then and it took her a moment to realize it was coming from his stomach.