Chapter Sixteen

Nate's mom—Dr. Bonnie Grace—was a goddess. It was the only explanation for what Hanna saw when she entered the Whisper Lake Clinic.

She stared up at the stunningly beautiful woman in awe. She was tall, with a build that would have been athletic a few years ago and was now softening with age. Hanna would have guessed her in her forties, but the diploma on the wall indicated she had to be at least ten years older. Silver strands danced through her warm brown hair, twinkling in the fluorescent lights like fairy dust. Her face was lovely, reminding Hanna of those old black and white movie stars with their dark lips and huge, expressive eyes.

After fifteen minutes with the woman, it became clear that Dr. Grace was smart, talented, kind and gentle. In fact, as far as Hanna could tell, there was no virtue this woman didn't possess.

Dr. Grace finished the last of the stitches and dressed the wound with expert efficiency. Hanna had hardly felt a thing after the first round of numbing medicine.

"You'll need to keep it clean and dry," Dr. Grace said. "The bandage is in a tricky spot to reach, so if you need help changing it, come by the office and the nurse will help."

"I'll take care of it," Nate said from his perch in the corner. He'd been there the whole time, despite his mother's not-so-gentle hints that he should leave.

In the end, Hanna had the final say, and it seemed mean of her to kick out Nate when he seemed so worried.

"It would be better if you came here," Dr. Grace said, pinning her son with a hard stare.

"She doesn't have a car to get here. She's staying at the Yellow Rose."

The doctor sighed. "That's a bit too far to walk, and those narrow, curvy roads aren't safe on foot, anyway. I guess you'll have to put up with my son's help until you're on your way." A brief pause. "When is that, anyway?" she asked, her grin a bit too bright and hopeful.

The good doctor apparently wanted Hanna out of town as much as she wanted to leave.

"As soon as my truck is fixed," she said, pretending the question had been innocent.

Dr. Grace scribbled on a pad and ripped off a single sheet. "Antibiotics to prevent infection. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"Three years."

"Okay, then. I think you're good to go." She rifled through a cabinet and tucked some gauze pads and tape in a sack. "This will get you started, but you'll need to change the dressing regularly, okay?"

"Will do," said Hanna, hopping down from the table.

"And you'll need to have the stitches removed in about ten days, so see a doctor wherever you are at that time."

Hanna knew that wasn't going to happen. She'd taken out stitches before, though never on her back.

"And don't do anything too strenuous. You need to give your body time to heal."

"I'll make sure of it," Nate said.

Hanna saw his mother's sharp look at him, and ducked her head so she didn't intrude on their private mother-son wordless conversation.

Not that she needed to see the exchange to know the gist.

Mom didn't approve of her son taking care of Hanna.

Then again, Hanna didn't approve, either, so at least they had that in common.

"A word, Nate?" asked Dr. Grace.

Hanna slipped down the hall, giving them their privacy. As soon as she checked out with the older lady at the front desk, she asked her to tell Nate that she was going to walk down to the pharmacy she'd spied a few blocks away.

Let mother and son take all the time they needed. Hanna had her own issues to digest.

She was so used to the men in her life being users and losers, she'd assumed Nate was the same. She was certain that a man as sexy as he was would take from her whatever he could get and then leave her when she needed him most. But now that she knew Nate, now that she'd seen him in action, and now that she'd met his family and seen what honorable, upright citizens they were, she knew the truth.

A few years ago, before Jack, things had been different. But now her future was no longer the bright, shiny place she'd dreamed of with her own business and happy clients lined up for months. She was homeless, between jobs, with no money and few possessions. It was just her, a bundle of clothes, and a beat-up truck running away from a shitty life and an even shittier family.

It was no wonder Nate's mom wanted to talk to him—warn him—because he wasn't the loser in this relationship.

Hanna was.

***

"This is a bad path you're on, son," Mom said as soon as the door to the exam room shut.

"What are you talking about?" Nate whispered.

"I know you want to help her, and I applaud that, but there are some things you just can't fix."

"Should I not have brought her here? That wound was too big to go without stitches."

"I don't mean the cut, honey. Of course, you should have brought her here. I mean the rest."

"What rest?"

Mom's mouth went flat. "I saw the way you looked at her. I saw the way you hovered over her and refused to leave her side. She's your latest project—a very pretty one—but it won't end well."

"First, she's a person, not a project. Second, how do you know how it will end? You spent all of fifteen minutes with her. You don't know a thing about her."

"I keep my ear to the ground."

"You mean you've been listening to gossip," he said, his tone sharp. The world would be a better place without the Tattletale Telegraph.

Mom straightened to her full height, and while it was impressive, she was still several inches shorter than her son. "Declan said she was sleeping in her car when you found her and probably can't pay for repairs on her truck. Flora said she wasn't able to afford food. Fern Simmons said that she lost her job in Cincinnati over some man. Those are things I would think a man as smart as you would want to consider before crossing a line."

"What line? It's not like I asked her to marry me. Hell, we haven't even slept together."

"But not because you weren't interested. Like I said, I saw the way you look at her."

"So what? I think she's hot. Does that mean I shouldn't lend her a hand while she's down on her luck?"

"No, but I know you. You have a pattern. You find some poor, wounded bird of a girl, then patch her up. And that's great. But when you're attracted to one, as you are to Hanna, your heart gets involved. Once she's back on her feet, she'll discard you and you'll get hurt. Again. A mother can only see her son repeat the same destructive behavior so many times before she does something to stop it."

Nate ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He wanted to yell, but couldn't bring himself to disrespect her like that. She was a great mom. She was only looking out for him. She didn't deserve his anger.

But she did deserve some boundaries.

"I'm a grown man. I'll help who I want, when I want. I'll hire who I want. And—not that it's any of your business—I'll sleep with who I want."

Mom pressed a hand over his heart. "I'm really proud of you for having such a big heart and helping people, but that's not all this is. She's going to hurt you, Nate."

He covered her cool hand, willing himself to stay patient. "You don't know that. Even if I do get romantically involved with her—which I haven't…" at least not as much as I'd like, he silently amended, "…you have no way of knowing what the future holds."

"Maybe not, but I do know the past. Hanna is a lovely girl, but she's just like the others—a victim of her own bad choices. Saving her will make you feel good. It will make her feel good. You'll be her hero for about ten minutes, and then when the crisis has passed, she'll no longer need you. Until the next crisis, that is. Or worse, she'll be the kind of girl who's always in need—a victim. You deserve to share your life with a heroine, Nate, not a victim."

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of idiot, falling for the wrong women over and over."

"Do you remember Pamela, Rebecca, Carly?"

A sick, hot acid filled his gut. Those women had used him. He liked to pretend that it hadn't hurt—that he was tougher than that—but even hearing those names gave him a little jolt of regret. They'd all sucked him in with their sob stories, and he'd been certain each time that he could save them.

He'd been wrong. They'd all gone back to the making the same bad choices that had landed them in trouble to begin with.

"Hanna isn't like them," he said, though he wasn't as sure now as he had been five minutes ago.

"Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't. Either way, she's not staying in Whisper Lake. Why tie yourself in knots over her when there's no future in it?"

"Would it help if I told you I just wanted to screw her?"

Mom gave him a sad, knowing smile. "You're not Declan. Your feelings have always run deeper than most. It's one of the things that I love about you."

Nate shook his head. "I'm done talking about this with you, Mom. I've told you before that meddling in my romantic life is not okay."

"I'm your mother and a doctor. I have no choice but to fix damage when I see it and try to stop it from happening again."

"Then don't try to stop me from doing the same. Hanna needs my help. I'm going to give it to her. Rest assured that she's not interested in anything more from me than a job and a way back on the road to her new life."

"She may not be the mother of my future grandbabies, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have the power to hurt you."

"So what if she does? You'll be able to tell me you told me so, which I know is one of your favorite phrases to utter." He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm a big boy. I'm doing the right thing by helping a stranger in need—what you taught me to do. Try to be proud you raised me right, rather than worrying about my feelings. I'm not delicate."

Mom sighed. "You really are a great man. Just do me a favor and work on protecting yourself before you save the rest of the world, okay?"

He kissed her cheek and gave her a wink. "Stop worrying. I've got this."

"For your sake, I hope so."