week ahead loomed like a dark specter. “I’m going to have to go through her things.”
“Yes, you are. It might be easier to pack them up and put them in storage, then wait a few months till you actually sort them. When my mom died, my dad left her things alone for months. Then slowly, my brothers and I would see a carton go to Goodwill…a few weeks later, another one. Everyone deals with grief in his or her own way.”
Dylan remembered the nights he’d spent in foster care after their parents had died, when he’d been separated from Julia. He hadn’t been able to cry. His eyes had stung, his body had felt heavy with a monumental weight. After a few zombie-like days, he’d begun planning how he would see his sister again, how he would make a life for the two of them. He’d always been a man of action and that was the hardest part of watching Timmy in the NICU. There was absolutely nothing Dylan could do.
Shaye shifted, her hip brushing his leg. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry about it,” he returned automatically, then finally closed his eyes. If he slept, he could escape everything for a few hours.
When he awakened, he’d know what to do.
Six hours later Dylan knew he’d slept in the deep, dreamless world he needed. Glancing at the window, he saw the barest hint of light in the gray sky.
Unable to help himself, his gaze fell on Shaye. She hadn’t moved much, either. Her face was turned toward the back of the sofa, her hair spreading out over the pillow. His fingers suddenly itched to touch it.
Not wanting those yearnings to start all over again, he lowered his feet to the floor.
Coming awake, Shaye hiked herself up on her elbows until she was sitting against the arm of the sofa.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He studied his watch, the hands visible under the light of the lamp that had burned all night.
“I should find one of the nurses and see how Timmy’s doing.”
“They would have come for us if there had been a change.”
Running a hand through her hair, Shaye swung her legs to the floor. She was close enough that their knees brushed, close enough that his shoulder would graze hers if he leaned a little toward her.
Quickly she ran her fingers through her hair again. “I must look a sight.”
“You look fine.” Very fine. His body was humming a song he didn’t know. He’d wanted to kiss women before but not in this same high-potency, high-need kind of way.
So he didn’t touch her. Instead he rubbed his hand over his beard stubble. “I need a shave.”
“You shaved last night.” Her cheeks reddened because her comment told him she’d noticed.
“If I grew a beard, life would be a lot simpler.”
“Do you ever grow a beard?” she asked.
“Sometimes when I’m on a shoot.”
Sitting like this, he thought he felt the desire in her to touch him, just as he had a desire to touch her. Should he find out? Maybe if he quelled his curiosity, he wouldn’t have such a strong reaction to her. Maybe he wouldn’t get aroused every time he breathed her in.
“Do you wear perfume?” he murmured.
Her eyes still on his, she shook her head. “Lotion and powder.”
“What’s it called?”
“Rose Glory.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what happened then—if he reached out to touch her hair or if she leaned into him. The shadowy haze of night, the hush of early morning wrapped around them, creating a world apart. Dylan’s hand clasped her shoulder and when he bent his head, she turned her face up to his. There was a bond between them that had to do with Julia and Timmy and everything they’d both lost. But there was something else, too…electricity that only had to do with the two of them. It zipped and sizzled now as his lips neared hers, as he noticed her wide-eyed look of longing, as he thought about what kissing a woman like Shaye would mean.
Kissing a woman like Shaye. He must be out of his mind!
Dropping his hand away from her and raising his head, he knew he had to give an explanation. “We don’t want to start something we can’t finish.”
Looking startled, it took her a moment to grasp the meaning of his words. Then she blinked and rose to her feet. “There’s nothing to start. There’s nothing to finish. I’m going to see if Timmy’s doctor came into the hospital yet.”
Before Dylan could agree that that was a good idea, she hurried out the door and down the hall.
Standing, Dylan decided not to go after her. He’d get them some black coffee instead so they’d be ready for whatever came next.
Chapter Three
When Dylan came into the NICU Saturday morning, Shaye’s pulse raced.
He was later than usual this morning. Most days he arrived about 8:00 a.m. Already it was midmorning.
“How is he?” Dylan asked. Those were usually his first words to her, sometimes his only words.
“Dr. Carrera seems pleased with the lab results.”
Dylan’s appearance was stark against all the white of the hospital. He wore a black turtleneck today with black jeans and boots. Although she was trying not to react to his presence, her heart sped faster and a cogent excitement she’d never experienced before seemed to fill her body…especially when he came closer and stood at the foot of Timmy’s bed.
This week had taken its toll on Dylan. There were more lines etched beside his eyes and his mouth, a weariness that had more to do with grief than with fatigue. They’d been avoiding each other ever since he’d almost kissed her, wandering to other parts of the hospital rather than being in the waiting room together. Most of all, they definitely hadn’t spent another night in the same vicinity.
Yesterday at Julia and Will’s memorial, Shaye’s heart had broken for Dylan as he’d endured the service. She’d watched as he’d said goodbye to Will’s mother who was returning to Nebraska that evening. He’d been stoic but she’d known how he hurt inside because she hurt, too.
Shaye rose to her feet.
Before she turned away, Dylan caught her arm. “You don’t have to go.”
His fingers seemed to scorch through her blouse. The sensation shook her. She knew better than to get involved with a man like him, a man who was here one day and gone the next.
After he dropped his hand, however, she didn’t move. Something about Dylan today was pulling her toward him rather than urging her to run away.
“I scattered Julia’s ashes this morning.” His anguish was mirrored in his eyes.
“Where?” she asked gently.
“She
