the librarian was pretty, a detail Aiden hadn’t noticed during their first encounter. Acute humiliation could have that effect on a guy. A month ago, he’d beaten his older brothers to the top of Eagle Rock without breaking a sweat, and now a rug, one in the shape of a ladybug, no less, had had the power to throw him off balance.
Aiden gave Maddie Montgomery another covert glance as she picked up the phone.
Champagne-blond hair was bundled into a tidy little knot at the base of Maddie’s neck, but the oversize, rectangular glasses perched on her nose didn’t detract from a heart-shaped face and porcelain skin. Coupled with a slender frame and diminutive height, the overall effect made her look like a studious woodland pixie.
A studious woodland pixie whom Aiden had been rude to.
The lack of physical activity was making him cranky, and it hadn’t helped knowing Maddie must have seen him conk himself in the head with his cast.
Aiden was used to being in control, but now he felt like a marionette with a couple of broken strings. And the fact that a woman whose head barely reached the top of his shoulder had felt the need to come to his rescue when he’d tripped on the rug...well, that made Aiden cranky, too.
“Aiden!”
Aiden stifled a groan as a woman with a helmet of iron-gray curls marched up to him. When he’d chosen the library as a hiding place, he hadn’t considered it might be the stomping grounds for retired elementary school teachers.
“Mrs. Hammond.” Aiden pushed himself up in the chair and tried not to wince when pain rocketed down his leg and funneled into all five toes. “How are you?”
Mrs. Hammond peered down at him, eyes narrowed. Aiden’s former teacher might have lost an inch or two in height over the years, but her power to intimidate hadn’t diminished at all.
“It’s sweet of you to ask, but I’m not the one with the broken bones, now, am I?” she countered. “How are you?”
“Great.” A noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort came from the direction of the circulation desk.
Aiden glanced at Maddie, but she had her back to him as she tapped away on her keyboard. It must have been his imagination. Aiden didn’t know much about librarians, but he figured she wouldn’t deliberately break the number one rule—Quiet, Please—printed on the poster above her desk.
Mrs. Hammond clucked her tongue. “That bump on your head looks bigger than the one you got when you fell off the top of the slide at recess.”
He’d jumped, actually, but Aiden decided not to mention that. Half the population of Castle Falls already thought he was reckless. “It looks worse than it feels.”
Way worse. Every time Aiden looked in the mirror, the bruises seemed to have shifted in position and color. There was no getting around it. He was a walking, talking human kaleidoscope.
“I’ve been out of town, visiting my grandchildren for a few weeks,” Mrs. Hammond went on. “I just heard about your accident at choir practice last night.”
Accident.
The word boiled inside Aiden. He struggled to clamp down the lid on his emotions, but it didn’t stop the memories from rushing back.
He’d been on his way home just after dusk. Window rolled down. Radio cranked up. Tired but exhilarated from a day spent clearing brush for River Quest, an event that Castle Falls Outfitters would be hosting for the first time during the Fall Festival in October.
Aiden’s event. His baby.
He’d spent hours plotting the course and planning a variety of land and water challenges guaranteed to stir up some friendly competition. Brendan and Liam, who’d been cautious when Aiden had approached them with the idea, were surprised at the number of teams that had already registered after Lily posted the information to their website.
That was another reason he wanted the event to succeed. The money from the entry fees would bump up the numbers in Castle Falls Outfitters’ bank account, proving he was a valuable asset to the family business.
The chance to say “I told you so” was always a bonus, too.
The thought had made Aiden grin. And he’d been grinning when a set of headlights rounded the corner up ahead. In his lane...
Aiden had regained consciousness in a sterile hospital room connected to more wires and plastic tubing than a car battery, fire streaking through his veins instead of blood. And his head. It had taken every ounce of Aiden’s energy to focus on the shadowy silhouettes of the people in the room.
His mother, Sunni, had been sitting in the chair closest to Aiden, head bowed, lips moving in silent prayer. She’d been praying for him for sixteen years, and Aiden doubted that would ever change. His brother Brendan and his wife, Lily, were engaged in quiet conversation at the foot of the bed, and his brother Liam stood near the window, his hands knotted at his sides. The only ones unaccounted for were Anna Leighton, Liam’s fiancée, and her eight-year-old daughters, Cassie and Chloe.
An image of the twins’ bright smiles had dredged up a wave of fresh pain. What if he wasn’t the only one who’d been injured that night?
“Is everybody...okay?”
Aiden’s voice—barely more than a croak—had brought everyone to his side in an instant.
“We will be, bro, now that you’re awake.” Brendan had changed since he’d met the former Lily Michaels, but he still wasn’t what you’d call a touchy-feely kind of guy. So the husky rattle in his oldest brother’s voice was as unexpected—and unsettling—as the tears glistening in his eyes.
“I meant the people—” Aiden had swallowed and tried again “—in the other car.”
Brendan and Liam had exchanged a look.
“Aiden...according to the county deputy, your vehicle was the only one involved,” Liam had finally said. “A trucker spotted your pickup in the ditch and called 911. You were unconscious, so he sat with you until the ambulance arrived.”
“The deputy thought the load of lumber in the bed of the truck must have shifted when you rounded the corner,” Brendan added. “You tried to overcorrect and ended up in the ditch.”
“That’s not what happened.” Aiden’s vehicle had ended up in the ditch because he’d swerved to avoid a head-on collision with the one barreling toward him. “I saw...lights.”
Sunni had leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “You have a mild concussion, sweetheart. The doctor warned us that things might be a little fuzzy for a few weeks.”
“No—” Aiden had struggled to sit up, but Liam’s palm, rimmed with calluses from the hours he spent in the shop, had gently pressed him into the mattress again.
“We can talk about it later. Right now you need to rest.”
As if on cue, a nurse had slipped into the room and put something in Aiden’s IV that made sure he took his brother’s advice.
Over the next forty-eight hours, the fuzziness subsided, but Aiden could still see those lights
