Eleanor was lying on her left side, her arm wrapped around the pillow. From this angle she looked cherubic. He shook his head. Her voluptuous body had curves he could lose himself in for days.
Even dazed by a concussion, she had more insight about his feelings for Troy than he was ready to admit. All staff involved in the case was ordered to speak with their therapists, but like he did in the Navy, Wes told them what they wanted to hear.
“Go, Lindy…You have to save...” Eleanor called out and tossed suddenly in her sleep. The movement made her gasp and cry out in pain.
“Eleanor, you’re safe. It’s a dream.” He moved quickly to her side. “Curly, it’s Wes.” He rubbed her arm.
“Save me,” she panted, reaching blindly toward him.
“Eleanor, it’s Wes Crockett. You are safe,” he repeated forcefully, taking her hands in his.
“Wes…oh God, it was a dream. I’m sorry,” she rasped.
He offered her some water. “No need to apologize. I need to take a look at you.” He opened his bag and withdrew a stethoscope and a BP cuff. “How’s the head. Face? Side? Any nausea?”
She took a greedy sip. “Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck,” she admitted.
“And how many of them have you been hit by?” he teased.
“None, silly. It’s an expression.” She dipped her chin. “You’re checking if I understand stuff.”
“Speaking of stuff, name? Place? Month?”
“March, your home and Eleanor Dra… West,” she said quickly.
Wes heard her slip with her last name, but instinctively knew it was not because she was concussed. “All good. How’s the pain?”
“It’s bearable,” she said.
“Ellie, the eye injury has to hurt. Scale of one to ten?”
Her fingers knotted the sheets. “Ten.”
“Okay, I’m gonna give you some Toradol. It will take the edge off. Then a potty break and a warm drink? Once you’re back in bed, an icepack for your cheek and eyes.”
“All of the above, please. You are so good at this.” She smiled and groaned.
“I’ve seen my share of injuries, and I’ve had a fair set of my own.” Wes drew up the clear fluid into the syringe. “Little stick on one, two, three.” He injected the medication. “It will kick in in about fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.” She elbowed up to a sitting position and swiveled her legs.
“Whoa,” he called. When Eleanor reached, he caught her. “Slow down, Curly.” His arms supported her until he felt her relax. “Let me help you stand.” Slowly, he escorted her to the bathroom.
Eleanor leaned heavily into him. “I’m mortified.”
“Would you do this for someone in need?”
“Of course,” she admitted.
“There you go.”
He walked her to the sink and settled her hands on the counter. She could hold on from the sink to the toilet and back. “Do you have it from here?”
“Yes. If I have a problem, I’ll yell.” She patted the sink.
In the light of the bathroom, he noticed a ligature scar around her wrist. Even more concerting, the scrub top had slipped off one shoulder, and scars from two X’s torn into her flesh were visible.
* * *
