“Oh?”

“One of the things we see a lot in head injuries is a change in temper, personality. I’ve seen extreme cases where patients become violent for no apparent reason, bouts of anger, sometimes depression. Families report a shift in behavior that wasn’t present before the head trauma.”

Melanie stopped thinking about Nathan and once again focused on her daughter. “She seems fine. The same sweet girl I had yesterday. More tired than normal, but the same girl.”

“And she may be. I just don’t want you to be shocked if she does something, or says something out of character. Try and be patient and let me know what you see. There are some great websites that talk about post–head trauma issues. I’ll have the nurses print you a list.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

He patted her shoulder and left her in the room by herself.

When Wyatt walked in a few minutes later, she let him hold her while she told him about Nathan. In the end she said the part that scared her the most. “He’s hired an attorney.”

“To force access to the hospital?”

“What if it’s more than that? What if he wants more? Custody? The things he said in the ER . . . I can’t afford a lawyer, Wyatt. His family has connections.”

“What kind of connections?”

“He is Nathan Stone the Third. Both his father and grandfather are lawyers. I remember early on him saying something about his father wanting to run for governor. Nathan would bitch about senator this and mayor that and how he had to attend all kinds of fancy parties when he was a kid.”

“Those kind of connections.” Understanding filled Wyatt’s face.

“What am I going to do?”

Wyatt placed his palms on both sides of her head and kissed her briefly. “You’re going to go back to Hope’s room. You’re going to eat whatever Zoe puts in front of you. And then you’re going to read Hope a bedtime story before curling up on that god-awful recliner chair and try and get some sleep.”

“But—”

He placed his thumb over her lips. “Melanie, you’ve been doing this by yourself for a really long time. You have a large network of friends here who aren’t going to let some daddy-come-lately take your kid away. You concentrate on Hope, and let me see what we can do about Nathan Stone the Third.” When he said Nathan’s name, he added a little aristocratic lift to his voice.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Once Hope was moved to a private room on a regular floor, her room exploded in color and scent. Balloons and flowers, stuffed animals and candy. Some of the treats were hand delivered by friends and visitors, while a local florist brought others in. Hope had never been a handheld video game kind of kid, outside of the kind she found for free on Melanie’s phone. But when Wyatt handed her one of those gaming devices Melanie could never afford, Hope’s face lit up and out came her excitement in spades.

Wyatt had accepted the one-arm hug and told her the device was to replace her climbing trees for a while.

Nathan had agreed to postpone his visit until child services could be present. As that turned out, it was going to happen just after noon.

Melanie watched the time tick down slowly until she couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer. Wyatt kept glancing at the time as if he, too, was worried about the outcome. It warmed her heart that he cared enough to be nervous.

Although she loved her friends, Melanie knew better than to have them in the room when Nathan showed up. Zoe wanted a piece of him in a big way, and Jo was armed. All things considered, she accepted Wyatt’s support when everyone left for lunch.

“Hope, sweetie. I have some news for you.” Melanie attempted a smile to put her daughter at ease.

“Yeah? What?” She reluctantly put the game down.

“You’re going to have a special visitor today.” Melanie had practiced the lines in her head the night before until after two in the morning.

“Another one?”

“Yes . . . you see . . .” Getting the words out was impossible. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Your father is coming to visit you.”

Hope’s jaw dropped.

“He heard you were hurt and was concerned.”

“The daddy that left us?”

Melanie glanced at Wyatt . . .

“Right.”

Hope moved her big blue eyes to Wyatt and blinked several times.

“Is he nice?” The question felt strange, the answer even stranger.

“If he isn’t, we can have him leave.”

“You and Uncle Wyatt are going to stay when he’s here, right?”

Melanie patted her arm. “Of course, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hope bit her lip. “M’kay.”

It wasn’t long before Melanie heard Nathan’s voice in the hall outside the room. She stiffened.

Wyatt glanced at the clock on the wall and tapped his fingers on his knee.

“Miss Bartlett?”

“Yes?” Melanie stood and acknowledged the young woman who entered the room.

“I’m Pamela, the social worker with child services.”

“Oh, hi.”

Pamela offered a genuine smile to Hope. “Did you tell Hope who is coming today?”

Melanie nodded.

“Good. Well, Hope . . . are you ready to meet your father?”

Hope just shrugged.

Pamela pushed back the curtain and waved Nathan inside.

He wore a suit, complete with a tie and polished shoes. Beside him was another man, slightly taller, just as smartly dressed.

Nathan acknowledged her with nothing more than a passing stare; his eyes found Wyatt and a tiny smirk lifted from his lips. Then he finally looked at his daughter. His face softened, and for one brief moment Melanie thought maybe, just maybe, Nathan truly gave a crap about his little girl. “Oh, darling . . . look what she let happen to you.”