Mia had to ball her hands into fists, so strong was the urge to help him.
When he was done she helped him off the bed. He clung to her hand and she squeezed tightly, trying to convey through her fingers as well as her words that she was there for him.
Then together, they walked down the hall toward the waiting room. The first person she saw was Nate, who got to his feet. He was still here, was the first thought that sang through her.
You shouldn’t even be allowing him the tiniest space in your mind, was the one that followed on its heels.
“How is he?” Nate asked, holding her gaze for a heartbeat longer than he had to.
“The doctor said he’d be okay. We just need to come in next week for a follow-up, right, Nico?”
But Nico didn’t acknowledge either by action or by word that he had heard what she said. He pulled free from her and ran directly to Nate and clung to him, burying his head against Nate’s arm.
Nate looked from Nico to Mia and back to the little boy again, as if unsure of what to do.
“Nico, honey.” Mia tried to lift the little boy into her arms, but Nico pushed her away. His shoulders shook, like he was crying. But he didn’t make a sound.
Nico’s hands scrabbled at Nate and finally Nate shifted himself around and hauled the little boy onto his lap. He patted him on the shoulder but Mia noticed that he was genuinely uncomfortable.
“It’s okay,” he muttered to the little boy, looking from him to Mia. “It will be okay.”
Finally, after a long, uneasy moment, Nico’s shoulders stopped shaking and he lifted his head. He looked directly into Nate’s eyes, as if trying to find something there.
Mia laid her hand on Nico’s shoulder but he still ignored her.
“Hey, buddy, you should go to your mom,” Nate said with an awkward laugh.
Nico stared at him a moment longer, and this time he didn’t resist when Mia took his hand and drew him away. But then Nico tugged his hand free, walked over to Josh sleeping on the couch and dropped beside him. He drew his legs up to his chest then laid his head down. Retreating.
“I don’t know what that was about,” Nate said, slowly getting to his feet. “I’m sorry.”
Mia waved off his objections. “Nothing to be sorry about.” She was about to say more when Denny and Evangeline returned, each holding one of the twins, both of whom were fussing.
And as Mia looked at her children she felt a clutch of despair.
What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to take care of her children?
A sob clawed up her throat and she swallowed and swallowed, trying to fight it down. She couldn’t break down. She had to stay strong. There was no one else for her children but her.
She dropped her face into her free hand, her fingertips pressing against her cheeks as if to restrain the fear and sorrow.
To her surprise she felt a large, warm hand rest lightly on her shoulder. Give it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” Nate muttered. “It will be okay.”
She wanted desperately to believe him but right now life overwhelmed her. A whimper crept past her tightly clenched lips.
No. Not now. Not in front of this man.
She stopped herself, took in a long, slow breath.
But no sooner had she released it then the overwhelming feelings of grief scraped away at her again.
A sob trembled through her, then another. Then Nate’s arms were around her.
She fought his embrace but he held firm, his arms strong and unyielding. Another sob broke free, then another. Then, all she could do was lean into him, let her tears flow and cling to him as the storm of sorrow and fear washed over her.
* * *
“Sorry I’m late,” Nate said to Tango as he forked hay into the pen. “Can’t believe I slept in that long.”
He thought Denny would have woken him up when he headed out to drive his gravel truck this morning, but his brother seemed to think Nate needed the rest.
The roan stud stood in one corner, barely looking up when Nate approached.
“Hey, guy, how are you doing?” Nate asked as he opened the gate of the pen and stepped inside. He walked over to his horse, wincing at the sight of the cuts on the horse’s face. “How’s the leg?” he asked, gently running his hands down Tango’s foreleg. Still warm, and still swollen. It would be a few days before Tango could put any weight on that leg. And probably even longer before he would be competing.
Nate stifled a sigh of dismay at the thought that all the work he had done with Tango, all the time he had spent training would disappear if he couldn’t compete in the upcoming cutting horse competition in Livingston, Montana.
He gave Tango another pat on his withers then looked over the gate of the pen. His mare, Nola, stared back at him. Her large brown eyes seemed to accuse him. As it was all his fault they were in this dilemma.
“You’ll be okay, girl,” he said, his voice low and assuring. She had to be. The foal she was carrying was worth thousands. He beat down his nervousness, stacked his hands and rested his chin on top of them, watching Nola nose the hay he had forked to her earlier. He heard Bella nicker from the pen outside the barn and Jake’s low, snorting reply. It was as if his horses outside were reassuring the ones inside, that all would be well. Trouble was, Nate wasn’t so sure about that.
Nola turned around in her pen and he fought down a cough. Then another one. Socks, who had followed him into the barn, nudged his hand.
“Sorry, buddy,” he said, coughing again, dropping to the straw-covered floor beside the dog, stroking his dark head. “That’s what I get for trying to be a hero.”
He rubbed his eyes, still sore from the smoke and fought down another cough as his thoughts circled back to Mia.
Last night, after coming back from the hospital, Nate had turned down Denny and Evangeline’s offer of coffee and instead, had gone directly to the trailer he would be staying at. He needed some time alone.
It was disturbingly easy to resurrect the feeling of Mia’s delicate body in his arms that moment in the hospital. How she had leaned into him and how easily his arms went around her. It had frightened him, but what bothered him more was how good it felt.
The tantalizing glimpse of something he couldn’t—shouldn’t—have.
He wanted to blame his reaction on the isolation that had dogged him the past few months. The feeling that, in spite of doing what he loved, there was a huge hole in his life. It was that feeling that had sent him back to reading the Bible. Sent him to his knees in prayer.
And now he would be on his foster brother’s ranch for a while. But so would Mia and her kids.
What was he going to do about that?
The
