Page 105 of One Tough Love

Lou gave him a tiny smile. “I just wanted to offer.”

Auggie was the only one that left and only with assurances that they would call him with any changes with Jo. Pete and Andy settled themselves on the small couch. They discovered it was a two seater recliner and the two men high fived each other upon their discovery as they leaned back to relax.

Hours passed without Jo moving. Lou sat in the one cushioned chair at the foot of the bed, and Wes moved a chair to the spot he had occupied before near the head of Jo's bed. He slowly ran his finger tips down her cheek, shoulder and arm and then tenderly took her small hand in his. Wes rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and for the first time in years really thought about his parents. He’d been young when they were both alive.

They’d been happy and he vaguely remembered his Mom sitting on his Dad’s lap at the kitchen table laughing. His Mom's face warped into Jo’s and his replaced his Dad. He could have that happiness with Jo. He had never even imagined having that kind of permanence with someone before; he was too damaged. He never wanted to be social with other people other than Jace and Andy and now Jo.

Fingers were running through his hair and it felt so good he thought he was dreaming. Sounds of feet on linoleum, hushed voices, and a crick in his back alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t in his bed. His hair was still being played with though and that's when he became cognizant of where he was and he knew instantly who was touching him. Jo.

He picked his head up and was met with a beautiful site. Jo was smiling down at him her arm was extended and her fingers were playing with his hair. Her head was partially elevated on the hospital bed and he realized that that he must have fallen asleep, and sometime during the night he draped his arm around her middle.

“Jo.” He whispered. She was so beautiful, even with all her bruises. Wes’ heart slammed into his chest.

“Hi sleepy head.” She teased him. Wes sat up and saw that Lou, Pete and Andy were still asleep.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, rising out of the chair to sit on the edge of her bed. Jo’s hand fell to his thigh and Wes relished the contact. His arms bracketed her shoulders.

“I’m sore. I'm sure I reek horribly. Can I shower?"

"You went through a lot Honey."

Wes could see Jo was trying to remember what had happened.

"Can I have some water please?”

Wes helped her drink a few small sips before putting the plastic cup back on the stand.

“Do you remember anything?” He asked nervously. He didn’t want her to freak out again and he didn’t even really want her to remember anything but if she could talk about it, it might help.

“Yes.” She said so sadly. “Wes, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

What? Wes shook his head there was no way he had heard her correctly.

“Jo what are you talking about?” He said softly. Now he was worried that she had a head injury.

“I should have told you about Chicago. I know you saw the message on my computer. If I had told you…” Jo’s eyes welled up.

“Oh baby no, no.” His hand palmed her face lovingly.

“I’m sorry Wes. I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

“I don’t understand Honey. What do you mean?”

“I was afraid to tell you about Chicago. If I told you about the interview, that I didn’t want to go to it because of how I felt about you. I thought you might… you know… get nervous that I was assuming too much about you and me…together, the future.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Wes said sadly.

“If you were happy for me about the interview, which would mean you didn’t care if I left. That would have killed me. I decided not to even interview and just not tell you. I’m so sorry.”

Wes took a deep breath and watched as Jo eyed him nervously.

“Jo I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain when you called me. I’m so very sorry.” His voice was hushed so as to not wake the others in the room, but Jo heard the small tremors in his voice and knew he was trying to hold himself together.

“I’m even sorrier that I didn’t support you when you needed me to. That we fought. That I let you leave. I know you must hate me and it’s tearing me up. I just couldn’t leave without talking to you first.”

“Wes what are you saying?”

“I just… now that I know you’re going to be okay I’ll…”

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