Surge (St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders) Book 3: St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders by Gina Watson Read Free Book Online

on her notecards.
    Pulling the five-pound book toward him, he read the chapter she studied, “Anatomy of the Female Reproductive System.” His brow knit as he looked at her. “When I get my reporting done I’m going to assist you with your studies.”
    “Oh really? Are we going to play doctor?”
    “I want you to pass your exam so I’m going to conduct one of my own.”
    They laughed and he clasped her hand where it rested on top of the table. “Thank you for being here. It makes all the difference.”
    “I will always come running for a code Clara.”
    “Code Clara,” he whispered.
    ≈
    Things finally quieted around eight o’clock and Jackson was able to catch up on his reporting. Seated at the nurses station he typed away on one of the computers, fueled by what awaited him in his office—a snug Bug. The nicknames were corny, but they always made her smile and he’d make a fool of himself a million times over for a chance to witness her smile just once.
    As he finished his reports a woman brought in her eight-year-old child who had taken a nasty fall from a bicycle. The skin beneath her chin hung loose and needed to be sewn on by a steady hand. A plastic surgeon would be best but none had answered the call. Jackson knew he could do it so he took the child and her mother into one of the curtained exam rooms.
    Regarding the room with wide eyes, the child stood wearing a football jersey that functioned more as a dress than a shirt. “What’s your name little bit?” He tousled her head.
    “April Crawford.”
    He smiled at her. “I like that name. Are you a Cowboys fan?” She nodded as he injected her chin with a numbing agent. Not a tear was shed. The kid was tough, and with her short hair and denim jeans, had a boyish quality that reminded him of Clara when she was that age. While he patched her up they spoke about team stats and she named all of the players. When he finished he sat back and admired the stitching. The wound would heal without much of a scar, if any.
    As he walked toward the back corner of the floor he felt his burning need for Clara. It scared him how much he needed her. He believed if anybody knew they would tear her away from him. Without her he would not, could not, survive. He knew it was anything but healthy, but their connection ran deep.
    Clara was seven when she’d offered him comfort the first time. How can a seven-year-old comfort a seventeen-year-old? It was difficult to explain, but her determined spirit at that young age had solidified in him that no matter what had happened this tiny child with the striking blue eyes believed in his future. Even when he’d bellowed at her to leave him be, sometimes directly in her face, she’d never given up. She’d been the only one he’d confided in about the death of his parents, and though she didn’t remember their talk all these years later, it was in that moment when those seven-year-old blue eyes pleaded with him that he’d been saved from self-destruction. For her, he’d give everything.
    Walking to the linen closet he snatched an additional pillow for the cot. He hadn’t known eleven years ago they’d end up together. He just thought she’d always be special to him. How had it even happened? It was after her accident, she’d thought she was undesirable. He’d sought to reassure her any man would fall all over himself to be with her. Case in point: he had. Once their bodies connected in a kiss it had not been possible to stop. She was what had been missing from his life and she was the best thing about his existence. Since that moment, every breath he took, every muscle he flexed was for her.
    He leaned against the door jam watching her closely. She had her foot up resting on the edge of the chair. She wrote on a note card crinkling her nose up as she sat back to read what she’d written. He chuckled and she lifted her head. Her blue eyes danced as they rendered him momentarily immobile.
    As she walked toward him he