Five

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Guilt weighed heavily on Jessica's chest as she snuck into the hospital that night, keeping her promise to Wyatt to return at the same time. However, the guilt wasn't that she was sneaking in. Instead, tonight's guilt was from the kiss Hugh had given her.

It had been so wrong, and yet... She sighed, pressing her palms against her closed eyes, wishing the twittering in her belly would disappear. Up until that kiss, all she had thought about over these past three years was the way Wyatt had kissed her. Sadly though, while Hugh's lips were moving with hers, she couldn't recall what it had felt like when Wyatt had kissed her. She couldn't even remember their last kiss before he went off to war.

Had she been that lonely? She hadn't wanted another man in her life, so then why had she fallen so quickly for Hugh's charm?

Oh, heavens... no matter what happened, she needed to put this behind her and concentrate on helping Wyatt. He needed her more than Hugh, and she was dedicated to helping those in need.

She continued moving toward the deserter's ward, holding the bag of herbs and creams to her chest in order to lessen the sound of the bottles clinking together when she walked. Thankfully, she made it into the room and to Wyatt's bed without too much noise. He must have sensed her presence, because he jumped in bed, and his hands reached out for her.

She quickly grasped one. "It's me, Jessica," she whispered.

His sigh was audible and his arms relaxed. "You came."

"I told you I would."

"I have been thinking about you all day." His voice was quiet. "Of course, I had nothing else to think about."

"Hopefully, I can change that." She knelt on the floor and gently put her cloth bag on the floor beside her. "I'm going to remove your bandages because I have some cream that will help your burns heal faster."

"That's fine."

"I'll be careful." She found the end of the dressing and began unwinding it from his head, being as gentle as she could.

"Jessica? Will you tell me about a memory we shared? Maybe I'll remember something."

Hope sprang inside her. If only that would happen. "We were thirteen-years-old, and we snuck out of our houses very late one night. You had convinced me that your father was doing something very wrong and that you needed to catch him in the act."

"What did I think he was doing?"

"You thought he was seeing another woman behind your mother's back."

He hitched a breath. "That's not good."

"No, it wasn't." She finished taking off the bandages. Thankfully, the moon shone into the room, giving her a chance to see his burns a little better. His face was still unrecognizable, but his gaze penetrated through her as if trying to read her mind. Once more, guilt filled her heart.

"You were worried sick," she continued, taking the bottle of cream out of the bag and unscrewing the lid. "I had never seen you so distraught. You idolized your father, and it hurt to see the pain in your eyes."

"Did I catch him with the other woman?"

She smiled, knowing he could see her face well enough. "No. Instead, you saw him working a second job. He didn't want his children to know that he had fallen on hard times."

Wyatt sighed and relaxed back into his pillow. "I'm glad he wasn't stepping out on my mother."

"Yes, you were relieved, but..." She carefully dabbed the cream on his burns. He flinched, but thankfully, didn't pull away.

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