His voice startled her, jerking her awake. Belatedly, she realized she'd started to doze off into his hand. Embarrassed, she tried to pull back, but her back was against the counter, and there was nowhere to go. "What?"
"You're sick. You have a fever."
A fever. Damn. That explained a lot. She was usually good at ignoring exhaustion, and the physical demands of emotional overload, but she had started feeling so horrible in the last hour. A fever made sense. "I didn't realize that." She tried to think. "I know I have ibuprofen somewhere." She closed her eyes, trying to think of where she'd seen it, but her mind felt too weary to think.
Maddox, however, didn't appear to be burdened by the same lack of mental clarity. He swore again, this time not under his breath, using choice invectives that she hadn't heard used in quite that order before. "Why aren't you in bed?"
She laughed at his outrage, a delirious, exhausted laugh. "Why am I not in bed when I'm sick? Because I'm a mom." After six months, it still felt unnatural to call herself a mom. She wasn't a mom. She was an inadequate substitute for the mother a little girl had lost, but she was all Ava had, and she was doing her best. "Who's going to take care of Ava if I sprawl out in my bed for the next week?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You still need to take care of yourself."
The burden of six months of trying to succeed in a role she had no idea how to do, in the midst of grief, fear, and stress, suddenly took over. She suddenly couldn't pretend to be okay, or polite, or nice anymore. "I do take care of myself," she snapped. "But I also take care of a little girl, and I work. I do everything I can, so don't get on my case just because I'm not lazing about in bed just because I have a slight fever." She tried to shove past him, but just as she was making her grand exit, a wave of dizziness hit her, and she stumbled.
Maddox caught her arm, steadying her with effortless strength as she fell into him. Her legs started to shake, and she started to slide to the floor. "I just need to sit down for a second, and I'll be good," she muttered, completely irritated that her body had chosen that moment to disprove her claim of awesomeness.
"Just a second, eh?" Giving her a skeptical look, Maddox helped her ease to the floor.
She sighed as she leaned back against the cabinet, pulled her knees up, and, draped her arms over her knees. "God, this feels good. Standing takes so much effort sometimes, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Maddox crouched in front of her, his green gaze intense.
"Do you? I doubt standing has ever been a supreme effort for you." She looked at him, and again, that little voice cried out, don't leave. She bunched her fists, refusing to give in to the urge to be weak. But he just looked so capable, crouching there, his forearms resting on his thighs. Did the man ever falter in his strength? God, if she could feel like that for one day, she'd take on the world. She eyed him. "How are you so capable? Do you drink some magic Wyoming potion?"
His brows shot up, and the corner of his mouth curved. "Potion?"
"Yes, like some special coffee or extract of wildflower that makes you an unstoppable physical machine of awesome? I want some."
His smile widened. "Sorry, no potion. It's just because I'm such a complete bastard that weakness and fatigue are too scared to come near me."
"Bummer. I knew it wasn't that easy. I could use easy right now." She leaned her head back against the cabinet and closed her eyes. The wind was howling more fiercely now, rattling the shutters and making hissing sounds as it whipped around the house. "You do realize that you really need to leave, right? I know you're like this glorious cauldron of capability, but at some point, nature wins, even against you."
He ignored her statement. "Want me to carry you to bed?"
She couldn't suppress the small laugh as she opened her eyes and looked at him. "What kind of question is that? Of course I do. What woman wouldn't want you to carry her to her bed? To any bed, actually. You're one of those guys, the ones that women fantasize over, aren't you?"
His brows knit. "You're delirious."
"No, I'm not. I'm just trying to summon a sense of humor. Clearly, if you think I'm delirious when I'm trying to be funny, it's one of those epic fail moments." She sighed, studying him. His face was angular and hard, and there were more than a few scars visible, little white lines that told of a dark past. She wanted to touch them, to chase away the moments that had caused them, the way she'd wanted to chase away her mother's pain, and Katie's bruises.
She hadn't been able to help either of them, leaving her with a sense of helplessness that had haunted her every minute of her life. And now, for some reason, Maddox was awakening that same need in her, that same longing to take away the darkness. Why? Why him? Why now, when she had nothing to offer, when she was living on fumes, pouring all she had into the little girl who wouldn't talk? Instinctively, not really making the decision to do it, she reached out and brushed her finger over a tiny white scar on his jaw, barely visible through his whiskers.
He went still, his eyes snapping to hers. Tension suddenly crackled between them, silence leaping between them as they stared at each other. The only movement was the slide of her fingers over the scar. "I want to erase whatever caused your scars," she whispered.
Maddox's hand closed around hers, and he drew her hand down, away from his face, but he didn't let go. "Nothing will ever erase that," he said, his voice rough. "It would be a mistake to try."
"Why?"
He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, one at a time. "Because sometimes it's important to remember the darkness, so that it never gets a chance to surface again."
She frowned at the remark that was so similar to the one he made before. "You're not evil, Maddox—"
"Ah, Hannah," he said gently, interrupting her. "If only I could be what you see me as, but I can't. Which means that as much as I want to stay and help you guys out, that's just not an option for me." He turned her hand over, and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I'll have one of my brothers check on you as soon as the storm is over. They all have chains for their trucks, so they'll be able to get over here as soon as the storm dies down. I'm sure Lissa will want to come, and bring you enough casseroles to last you for a month."
Something tightened in her chest at his words, at the notion that there would be somebody out there looking out for her. She'd had that once, a long time ago, after she and Katie had been orphaned. She'd taken Katie to live on the streets to avoid being split up in foster homes. She remembered so clearly the day she'd met the two boys who had become their protectors.
Brody and Keegan Hart had found her and Katie living in an alley, freezing cold. They'd brought them home to a mismatched gang of homeless kids who were living under a bridge, living together as the tight-knit family none of them had. The nine kids had all taken the last name of Hart, as if that could protect them from being torn apart.
Without the Harts, she and Katie never would have made it. But even then, with her makeshift family, there'd been that constant fear that someone would find them, drag them all back to foster homes, and tear them apart. So there had been safety, but also a terrible, constant, very real terror. But with that fear, the Harts had also made her and Katie a part of a community, the kind she had come here to find. And with Maddox's words, how his brothers would check on her, and Lissa would bring her food, it made her want to cry. It was what she wanted, to find a way to give Ava a community that would hold her up if her last remaining family member died.
Maddox's comment about his brothers made her hope that she'd found what she wanted, but at the same time, doubt crept in. With the exception of her brief time with the Harts, she didn't know how to be a part of a community, of a family, to accept help from strangers like that. It made her uncomfortable, at the same time it created a deep yearning inside her. She wanted to say no, to tell Maddox not to bother asking his brothers to check on her, but the little girl sleeping in the other room kept her from protesting. Just as how she had gone with the two Hart boys that night so long ago to protect her little sister, who wa
s shivering and hungry, she knew that she needed to accept help this time as well. She needed to create a Hart family for Ava, in case anything ever happened to Hannah.
She knew well enough by now that things happened, leaving little girls alone in life, so she had to do whatever it took to give Ava a safety net. She had to find a way to accept help, and be grateful that someone cared. "Thanks," she said. "That would relieve a lot of my worry. Just until I get a phone that works."
Maddox nodded, and her gaze fell to their hands, where he was still holding hers. Her hand looked so small in his, almost fragile, but the way he held it so gently didn't make her feel weak. It made her feel safe. "I need to go," he said.
She looked back up at him, and her heart tightened when she saw the reluctance in his gaze. "Yes, you do."
He sighed, and stood up, then held out a hand to her. She accepted his offer, sliding her hand into his. He pulled gently, drawing her to her feet. She brushed against his thigh as she stood, the brief contact sending sparks igniting through her.
For another long moment, they stood there, inches apart, tension coiling. His eyes were dark, loaded with turbulence. She wanted to touch him. To hug him. To lean into him. To use his strength, and offer him comfort.
But she didn't move, and after a moment, he stepped back. "Go to bed, Hannah. You don't do Ava any favors if you can't take care of yourself." There was an edge to his voice that caught her attention, and she studied him.
"Who do you know who didn't take care of themselves?" she asked softly.
For a long moment, he just stared at her, then he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Just promise me."
She owed him no promise. The only one she owed anything to was herself, Ava, and Katie. But for some reason, she found herself nodding. Maybe it was because he was the only rock in this quicksand trying to consume her, or maybe it was because deep down inside, she knew he was correct. She did need to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and stop trying so hard.
He nodded, and raised his hand, cupping her face with his palm. He said nothing for a moment, then he lowered his head, and she knew he was going to kiss her. Instinct told her to run, to hide, to do anything but let him get close to her. Instead, however, she felt herself wrap her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand to her cheek and lifting her face to his.
His lips brushed over hers, in a kiss so gentle and tender that her heart ached. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her cheek, and she instinctively wrapped her fingers more tightly around his wrist. Again and again, he kissed her, a dozen butterfly kisses so light they were like whispers on her skin, wisps of intimacy that made her belly flutter and her breath catch.
After a long moment, he pulled back, searching her face. "You make me want to be soft again," he said.
"Is that bad?"
"For me? Yeah." He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, then dropped his hand. "Stay safe, Hannah."
She nodded, unable to stop the tightening in her heart as he turned away and headed toward her front door. When he reached it, he looked back at her as he set his hand on the knob. She wanted to tell him to wait, but the words stuck in her throat. He nodded once, tipping his hat to her, then he pulled open the door and stepped outside into the raging storm.
The wind blistered through the house, sending snowflakes dancing like angel dust across the small living room, and the bitter air knifed through her parka and jeans. Then he shut the door behind him, and all the chaos stopped. The snowflakes settled, the books on the coffee table stopped fluttering, and the wind stopped biting at her legs.
It was peace...and loneliness. She took a deep breath and looked around the small family room, scanning the faded, worn out furnishings, until her gaze settled on the wood stacked so neatly next to the stove. The door to the wood stove was open, and she could see that he had built a fire for her, ready for lighting. On top of the stove set a large box of matches, matches that hadn't been there when they had walked in, matches that she had not brought with her.
Something about seeing those matches there, matches that Maddox had left her, made hope flutter through her. Despite his claims to the contrary, he was a good man. Maybe he was leaving town, maybe she wouldn't see him again, but in that brief moment, he had shown her a ray of hope, a glistening of possibility. Maybe there was sunlight in the darkness that seemed to follow her everywhere. At least a chance of it, maybe.
She took a deep breath, and hugged herself. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, the next year here would give her and Ava all the healing that they had come for.
She wanted to feel hope, she really did. But when she heard Maddox's truck engine roar to life, she was hit with the gut-wrenching reminder of the fact that she was alone, in a dilapidated house, with a Wyoming blizzard descending upon them, with a life unfolding that was nothing like anything she had ever dreamed of.
Chapter 9
Once he started his engine, Maddox didn't drive away. He sat in his truck, grimly studying the house that Hannah and Ava were inside. Lights were blazing through the windows, telling him that in the thirty seconds since he'd walked outside, they hadn't yet lost power.
He drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, restless, tense.
He felt uncomfortable abandoning them in that house with the storm descending upon them. But at the same time, what the hell else was he supposed to do? It wasn't as if he could walk in there and make an announcement that he was going to stay with them until the storm was over. Besides, he'd made an oath to himself a long time ago, that night when he was seventeen, to never bring anyone into the hell that was his world, especially not a woman and a child, who he could break so easily, the way his bastard father had broken his mom.
Maddox took a deep breath, reminding himself that they had enough wood in the house to last for a week, even if they had to feed that woodstove twenty-four/seven. He'd seen what she'd unpacked in the kitchen, and he knew they had enough food. They would be okay. It was time for him to go.
A bad mood settled over him as he shifted his truck into gear and swung it around to drive out. There was already several inches of new snow on the driveway, and the visibility was poor. He realized he had almost left too late. If he didn't have the tire chains in the back, he would have had to weather the storm in town.
But he had a job waiting for him, another scumbag who had jumped parole needed to have his ass hauled back in. As he drove, he hit the button on his dashboard. "Call Chase," he said.
His truck obeyed him and the phone began to ring. Chase picked up immediately, as he always did whenever one of his brothers called.
"You coming by?" Chase said without preamble. "Lissa said you were in town."
"No, I'm going to try to make it south." Maddox glanced over his shoulder as he turned the bend in the driveway, catching his last glimpse of the glow coming from Hannah's windows. And then the house was out of sight. A strange sense of discomfort settled on him, a sense of wrongness that he was driving away, but he gritted his teeth and focused on the road in front of him, which he could barely even see at this point. "I've a favor to ask, though."
"Name it," Chase said without hesitation.
"So, there's a woman named Hannah Crowley who just moved into the old Anderson place with her daughter."
"Yeah, Lissa told us about them. She and Bridgett came over here for dinner since Travis is gone, and they both wanted Hannah and Ava to come over. Lissa was worried about them, and Bridgett was excited to have someone to play with during the storm. You bringing them over to the ranch?"
"No, Hannah insisted on staying. I set them up with firewood, but I have a bad feeling about the generator. Can you plow her out as soon as the storm eases, and check on them? She doesn't have a phone that works in the area, so she can't call for help if she needs anything." Again, tension rippled through him. What would she do if she needed something? He should've left her his phone.
"You bet," Chase said. "But the storm's going to hit hard. We're
all going to be grounded for probably five days at least. The storm is bringing in more snow and higher winds than they originally predicted. It's going to be whiteout conditions for the next five days, pretty much. If you weren't heading south, I'd tell you to get your ass over here, because the driving is going to be impossible here within the hour."
Even as Chase spoke, Maddox felt his truck slide as he drove up the slight incline at the end of Hannah's mile-long driveway. Swearing, he slowed down. "I'm going to put my chains on before I get on the main roads. Just get over here as soon as you can."
"Will do, bro. Drive safe. Next time you're in town, stop by. You know it pisses me off when you swing through and don't tell me."
Maddox grinned. "I have bad guys to catch. They don't wait around so I can have family dinners with my brothers and their wives."
"That's a pathetic excuse, and we both know it. Promise me that the next time you're in town, you'll sit your ass down at my dinner table for one meal, or I won't go check on your lady friend."
Maddox laughed as he stopped his truck and set it in park. "Give it up, bro. You know you're going to go check on her no matter what I do, and she's not my lady friend." But as his laughter faded, he realized that even though he could never be a part of the life that Chase and the others had set up on the ranch, he missed them. "But yeah, I promise I'll stop by and choke down some of your home cookin'."
"You love my cooking. I'm the best in five counties, so quit blowing smoke. Catch you later, bro."
"You got it." Maddox hung up and opened his truck door. The wind was brutal, slicing into him as he slogged through the snow to the back of his truck. He had just rolled down the window to grab his chains out of the back when a viciously loud crack jolted through the storm.
Maddox instinctively dove to the side, landing beside his rear tire, using his truck to protect him.
He had barely landed when the shadow of a massive tree slammed past him, hitting the ground so hard that his truck moved. Maddox swore and leapt to his feet, shocked to see the four-foot-wide tree trunk laying less than six inches behind his rear bumper. Hell. The thing would've crushed him.
A Real Cowboy Loves Forever (Wyoming Rebels Book 5) Page 6
