Lainie shoved her half-eaten sandwich into the brown bag, crumpled it and tossed it into the trash. Her lunch had tasted like dry paper. She loved egg salad, but she was too upset to eat. The confrontation with Shaw this morning had left her agitated and irritable. She’d waited years to confront him, to demand answers, to find some reason for the accident. But now that the moment had arrived, it didn’t feel the way she had thought it would. She’d expected a sense of closure. Even validation that he was at fault.
Instead, she’d been forced to look at things from a different perspective. Was it possible that Craig was more at fault than Shaw? No. Impossible. That would change everything she’d thought about her husband and everything she’d believed for the past five years.
Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.
She buried her fingers in her hair. It was time to face the truth. Her husband had never liked taking orders or following advice. He’d fallen because he wanted to do things his way, not the right or safe way. Shaw had done all he could.
Learning that her husband was going to be let go wasn’t a huge surprise, either. He’d become increasingly unhappy, directing most of his anger at Shaw. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost a job because of his attitude. She simply hadn’t wanted to believe he was that kind of man.
“Lainie, are you all right?”
She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard the car pull up or Millie enter the carriage house. “Fine.” She tried to smile but felt sure her attempt was a failure. “I have some personal things to work out, that’s all.”
Millie laid her purse on the worktable, peering at her more closely. “Something happened while I was gone. What was it?”
In the short time Lainie had worked with the former librarian, she’d learned it was impossible to hide anything from her. “Shaw and I had a talk about the past.”
“You mean the accident?”
Lainie jerked her head up. “You know about that?”
“I know enough. I’m good friends with Viola Franklin, Russ’s wife. She gave me the CliffsNotes version.” She pulled up a folding chair and sat. “Do you feel better now that you’ve both spoke your piece?”
“No. Truth is I’m not sure how I feel.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s comforting to have someone to blame. It helps us make sense of things. My husband died of an aggressive form of cancer. For years, I blamed the doctors for not doing more, for not catching the disease sooner. Then one day, I read a verse in the Bible. ‘In the world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’ I had to finally accept that illness is a fact of life. So are accidents.”
“Shaw said that day changed his life.” Lainie frowned, trying to understand. “How? He went on with his carefree bachelor life. He started his own business. I was left to raise my daughters alone.”
Millie patted Lainie’s arm. “When we’re hurting, all we can see is our side. We forget that there’s always two sides to everything. From what Viola told me, Shaw was a broken man back then. He’d lost his faith in himself and his God. One thing I’ve learned in my sixty-plus years on this old earth is that everything we do affects other people. Our choices and our decisions are like ripples on the pond. They go out and change things whether we realize it or not.”
Millie’s wisdom and Shaw’s comments churned in the back of Lainie’s mind the rest of the day. She’d never considered how the accident had affected Shaw. She hadn’t wanted to. But now she could think of nothing else. A man had died on his watch. He would have felt guilty. Horribly so. A broken man. Was that the pain she’d seen behind his eyes sometimes?
She’d started to remember things about her husband. Things she’d forgotten. He was impatient, and he liked to break the rules and challenge authority when he didn’t see a reason for something. He carried a grudge far too long.
“Mommy, what was Daddy’s superpower?”
Natalie’s question pulled her thoughts back to bedtime and getting her girls settled for the night. Lainie sat on the edge of the bed, brushing hair off her daughter’s forehead. “What do you mean?”
Chrissy’s blue eyes blinked. “You said he was a superhero, and they have cool powers. What was his?”
Powers? Did her children believe that? She’d always tried to speak about their father in positive, glowing terms. They would have no memory of him, so she wanted them to think of him as a father they could be proud of as they grew up. But maybe, in her zeal, she’d given them an unrealistic picture. Craig was a good dad and husband, and he had loved them, but he had his faults like everyone else.
She looked into Chrissy’s questioning eyes. Pulling the covers up, she stroked each soft cheek in turn. “He didn’t have powers, sweetie. But he loved us, and that’s a special kind of power. Your father loved us very much. That’s all you need to remember.”
As she prepared for bed, she realized that in accepting Craig’s part in the accident, her own burden had eased. Facing the truth, letting go of the blame, had brought an unexpected feeling of freedom and release. Blame was a heavy burden. There’d been no reason to blame Shaw. Her anger should have been directed at Craig for not being careful, for not thinking about what could happen if he refused to take safety precautions.
A broken man. She’d wondered why the Lord had brought Shaw back into her life. Maybe it was so she could finally face the truth and be freed from the past.
Tugging up the covers, she closed her eyes and set the day’s events aside. But one image refused to fade—the look of pain and guilt in Shaw’s eyes when she had told him Craig had never learned about her pregnancy. He’d looked wounded to his soul, as if she’d sliced his heart in two.
Shaw was a man who took his responsibilities to heart. But he wasn’t responsible for this, and it was time she told him so, and let him know she no longer blamed him.
As she drifted off to sleep, another thought floated in her mind. In accepting that Craig had been at fault for the fall, she’d closed the door on her past, but opened a door to the future—one she’d been afraid to face.
She was falling in love with Shaw McKinney. What kind of woman did that make her? Guilty or not, Shaw was at the heart of her loss. Shouldn’t she be more respectful of her husband’s memory? When was it okay to let go and move on?
That question floated through her dreams all night.
* * *
The clank and grind of the outdated air-conditioning system kicked on, sending welcome cool air into the old kitchen. The pleasant temperatures of the past few days had been replaced by highs in the upper nineties. Even now in the late evening, the humidity still thickened the air.
The distinctive rumble of Shaw’s truck drew Lainie’s glance to the wall clock. Nine-fifteen. He’d worked late again. If this library ever opened, they’d both have to take a long vacation to recuperate. Not together, of course. Laying aside the dish towel, she went to the back door. She needed to talk to him as soon as possible to let him know she no longer blamed him. She’d gone over her speech a dozen times, but it always came out sounding insincere, or worse yet, condescending. She’d finally decided to take the first opportunity that came her way and asked the Lord to provide the words.
She heard the gate snap shut, and his tall frame walked toward the house. She stepped quietly onto the porch, never taking her eyes from him. His broad shoulders were sloped downward, and his stride lacked its usual confident lift. A wave of sympathy touched her. He was working hard to make the deadline. Just as she was. It meant so much to both of them. Shaw was a man of determination and commitment. He never backed down once he made up his mind. If he ever gave his heart to someone, it would be with the same devotion.
He glanced up, one corner of his mouth lifting when he saw her.
“Tough day?”
He stopped on the step below her, putting their faces on the same level and sending her heart bouncing. She was beginning to care a great deal for this man. It was foolish, but her heart refused to pull away. She’d been caught in his web of attraction like all the others before. Where was her pride?
“Tough, but productive. If we keep this up, we’ll be finished ahead of time. I never thought I’d be able to say that.” He stepped up beside her, now looking down at her with midnight-blue eyes.
Even in the faint glow of the porch light, she could see the tenderness in his gaze. She also saw something else. “Your arm. What happened?” She took his wrist in her hand, staring at the ugly five-inch scratch along his forearm. The blood had dried to a dark brown. Her stomach tightened at the thought of his being injured.
He shrugged. “Hard telling. Probably caught it on a nail or a piece of lumber. It’s nothing. It happens all the time.”
Lainie glared and tugged him into her kitchen. “It needs to be taken care of before it gets infected.” She turned on the hot water, then pulled his forearm forward bringing his chest against her back. The contact momentarily rattled her. His nearness weakened her knees and wrapped her in his unique scent—sawdust and spice. It was like being held in his arms again, safe and sheltered.
She swallowed and heard Shaw inhale slowly.
“It’s really not a big deal, Lainie. I’m fine.”
He was so close his breath tickled her neck. “Stop being such a man.”
“I am a man.”
Oh, she was very aware of that. Too aware. Mentally, she bulldozed her thoughts back into line. Placing her hand under the faucet, she tested the water’s temperature, then pulled a clean cloth from the drawer and dampened it. When she touched it to his arm, he sucked in a sharp breath. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m sorry.” The dark blue eyes softened and he leaned his head closer.
“I’ll live. Thanks to you.”
Lainie forced her attention back to the injury, trying not to get distracted by his firm, tanned skin and corded muscles. The scratch was deep. She dabbed at the skin, trying to be gentle, but the blood had tangled in the dark hairs on his arm. She tugged his arm under the faucet to loosen the blood. The motion pressed them both against the counter. It would be so easy to turn and slip into his warm embrace.
No. She needed to concentrate on his wound. The scratch was clean, but still red and ugly. How could he not have known he’d hurt himself? “You should be more careful.”
She dried his arm, taking more time than necessary before releasing him. He stepped back, creating space between them. She opened a drawer and removed a tube of antibacterial ointment. She handed it to him. It was not a good idea to keep holding his arm. Not with her emotions swirling like a category two hurricane.
Shaw held her gaze a moment before holding up the tube. “You always have first-aid equipment around the kitchen?”
“I have two little girls. One of them always has a cut or a scrape of some kind.”
Shaw applied the cream then took her hand in his and laid the tube in her palm. He didn’t let go. “Thank you for caring about me.”
The intensity of his dark gaze rattled her already-shaky emotions. She glanced away, focusing instead on opening a large bandage and placing it over the cut. “Shaw, please be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll be extra careful.” He touched a finger to her forehead, trailing it down her temple and cupping the side of her face in his palm. “I don’t want to see a frown on your lovely face.” He tilted her face upward and kissed her cheek lightly.
Lainie fought to keep her senses about her. Now was the time. She had to say it before she lost her nerve. The longer she waited, the harder it would be. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Of course. What’s on your mind?”
He’d leaned against the counter, thumbs latched into his belt. “It’s about our discussion the other day, about the accident.” She dared a look and saw his eyes had turn troubled. She plunged ahead before he could speak. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching since then. Remembering things that I guess I buried or chose to forget. My husband didn’t like following orders or rules, and sometimes that got him into trouble. I know you did all you could to keep him safe. I don’t blame you for what happened.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because it’s time for me to let go of the past. I’ve spent too much time there. I want to look forward to getting the library done and starting a new life and a new future.”
“Is that the only reason?”
What would he say if she told him she was starting to care for him? “And because we’re friends now, and I don’t want you to carry a burden you don’t deserve.” She waited for him to say something. But he remained silent, staring at her with an odd expression she couldn’t interpret. The warmth in his eyes faded and became distant. He stepped away, rolling down his shirtsleeve before looking at her again.
“Thank you. And for what it’s worth, I’ve finally been able to forgive myself, too.”
He walked out without another word, leaving her puzzled and feeling slightly foolish. She’d expected him to be pleased, even relieved. She’d thought it would bring them closer, but she’d seen the walls go up behind his eyes. He was shutting her out. If he had forgiven himself, did that mean he no longer felt responsible for her? Was he letting her know he was moving on or reminding her he was a bachelor and not to get any ideas?
Had he somehow guessed her feelings? Or had he simply seen her affection in her eyes. How stupid could she get?
* * *
Shaw placed the hinge in the face frame of the cabinet, making sure it matched up with the positioning marks he’d made, then screwed it in with his cordless drill. He’d managed to coordinate the painters and floor refinishers so that one crew would work on the second floor of the library while the other worked on the main floor. Once their work was done, they would switch out and complete the job. It had saved him nearly three days. Breathing space before the deadline.
Today, he’d chosen to work in his shop helping Jeb finish the cabinetry. It had been a while since he’d worked on furniture. A good diversion from putting down baseboards and keeping half a dozen subcontractors in line. A good diversion from Lainie, too.
Thoughts of her had kept him up late. Not that unusual, but last night, he’d had to come to grips with the fact she’d forgiven him. He was relieved, but on the heels of that came the realization there was nothing holding him back from loving her. The accident was no longer a dark cloud looming between them.
Things had changed. Or at least, they had the potential to change. She’d come to like him, and maybe even respect him, to a point. He suspected she was attracted to him. The air crackled when they were close, and sometimes he saw emotions in her eyes that led him to believe she cared. But maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. There’d been no indication she wanted anything more than a friendship. Until last night.
Something had changed. He’d sensed a shift in her attitude.
So what happened now? He attached the top and bottom hinges to the cabinet door, then slid them into the brackets and locked them down.
His primary role was protector. They might have set the past aside, but until the library was finished, and Lainie officially installed as librarian, he was responsible for her and the girls. Any kind of romantic notions, real or imagined, were off-limits. It was a matter of honor.
But it was also a matter of the heart. His heart wanted one thing, his head another. If something developed with Lainie, was he ready? Or even capable? Would she walk away like the others? Would she expect something from him he couldn’t provide? The way Vicki had. Things he still didn’t understand.
He moved to the next cabinet, picked up a set of hinges and screwed them in place. He was getting ahead of himself. They were friends. He might care for her, but there was little chance she’d come to care for him in the same way. Even if she no longer blamed him for the accident, she would still look at him and see the past. He would always be a reminder of what she’d lost. Nothing would change that fact. Ever.
Anxiety continued to swirl in his stomach. He hadn’t realized until now that Lainie’s animosity toward him had acted like a safety barrier. As long as she resented him, blamed him, he didn’t have to worry where his feelings would lead. Now he was exposed.
He glanced at his arm and the fresh bandage he’d applied this morning. Her tender care last night had nearly been his undoing. He liked that she worried about him, that she wanted him to be safe. He’d yearned to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. But then he’d seen the door to a future open, and it had scared him back to reality.
Shaw fastened the last cabinet door in place and reached for the next, nearly bumping into Russ. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. You hiding out?”
“Helping out. Big difference.” When his friend didn’t respond, Shaw dared a glance over his shoulder. He knew the look on the man’s face. He wouldn’t budge until Shaw talked. He put down his drill and leaned against the workbench. “Lainie told me she’s forgiven me. She doesn’t hold me responsible anymore.”
Russ nodded in approval. “That’s good. Maybe now you can stop trying to work off your guilt and let the woman know how you feel.”
Shaw straightened and turned away, picking up the drill again. “Not happening. Until the library is done, I’m responsible for her well-being.”
Russ scowled.
“I failed once. I’m not sure I want to make another mistake. Besides, I’m not ready to give up my freedom.”
Russ rolled his eyes. “You mean like drinking with your buddies on the weekends, a string of beautiful women on your arm, no one to care what you do or where you go?”
“Come on. You know that’s not me.”
“So what exactly would you be giving up?”
He had no answer.
Russ patted him on the shoulder, the gesture fatherly. “It’s time you stopped thinking of life as something to be conquered and start thinking of it as an adventure. And what good is the trip without someone to hold your hand along the way?”
Shaw picked up another set of hinges, fisting them in his palm. Everyone thought they had the answer, the simple solution to one’s problems. But his relationship with Lainie wasn’t simple. There would be no quick fix for him where she and her girls were concerned.
Lord, I know You know what You’re doing here, but I sure wish You’d let me in on it.
He wanted a happy ending, but he’d learned those were few and far between in real life.
* * *
The dust motes in the attic of Shaw’s old house floated on the late-morning sunlight, streaming through the small gable window. With her Saturday free from the library, Lainie had grabbed the opportunity to explore the attic for treasures to decorate the house, and maybe a chair for the front porch so she could enjoy her morning coffee.
Thanks to Millie’s help, they had nearly finished inputting the collection, and the first shipment of lending books had started to arrive. Worried that Lainie was working too hard, Millie had announced she would handle things and ordered Lainie to take the weekend to rest, enjoy her children and do something fun. She’d delivered her decree in a tone that dared Lainie to refuse.
She had to admit, she needed a break, and she’d made the most of the day so far. She’d slept until the girls had awakened, snuggled with them in her bed, made flower-shaped pancakes for the girls and a bone-shaped one for Beaux. After promising lunch at Angelo’s pizza, she’d convinced the girls to play in their room while she went up to the attic to explore.
She wondered how Shaw’s arm was doing today. If he was like most men, he’d forget to put on a fresh bandage. She’d have to check on him later. She’d intended to do that this morning, but he’d already left by the time she had got up. The girls were missing him. They hadn’t seen him in a few days, and they talked about him constantly.
Shaw had backed away from them. Fine with her. Her dependence on him had got out of hand. He was so quick to step in and fix things and handle problems, she’d foolishly read more into his help than was intended.
She had little experience in the romance department. She was as susceptible to the old McKinney charm as every other woman. He’d planted a road sign clearly labeled Bachelorville. Take alternate route. Too late. He’d taken over her thoughts, and her heart was teetering near the edge.
At work, she glanced out the carriage house windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of him during the day. When she did, she stared in rapt infatuation. She liked to watch him work, the way he moved, the stern look on his face as he spoke with his men, and the way he would always run his fingers through his thick wavy hair after he’d removed his hard hat. And the sound of his voice never failed to shoot through her like fireworks.
She needed to be sensible. Even if there was a remote chance for a relationship, how could she reconcile that with her daughters? What would she tell them? She’d set herself up for heartbreak all over again, but now it included her children, too. The girls adored him.
Picking her way carefully around the wooden floors, she kept her eyes peeled for a chair she could take downstairs. So far, she’d found old bed frames, several wooden tables, rugs, trunks and pictures, but no chairs. Turning her attention to the other side of the attic, she uttered a soft squeal of delight. There, in the corner, tucked underneath boxes were two wicker rockers. One was in pristine condition, its weave tight and firm, the rockers smooth and secure. All it needed was a good cleaning and a fresh coat of paint. The other was usable, but in need of minor repairs on the arm and a new rocker to replace the broken one. Shaw could fix it, no problem.
She grasped the arms of the good chair, dropping it back down. It was heavier than it looked. There was no way she could maneuver it down the narrow attic stairs. She’d have to ask Shaw to bring them down when he got home. Her gaze fell on a small table nearby. It looked like a match to the chairs. That she could manage on her own. The table was lightweight, with a round top and legs that angled out from the center. It was lovely, and the perfect size to hold her Bible and a cup of coffee.
Lainie started down the stairs, peering around the tabletop so she could see the steps, which made a sharp turn at the bottom. As she neared the landing, her foot slipped out from under her. She dropped the table, grabbed for the wall, but tumbled forward instead. She stretched out her arm to stop her forward motion. Her arm hit the wall. White-hot pain shot up her arm to her elbow.
She screamed.
When she opened her eyes, she lay in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, her feet in the hallway, her shoulder wedged against the last step and the little table. Pain like a hundred knives pierced her arm. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Mommy!”
Natalie’s voice pulled her from her confusion. She looked into her child’s worried face. Chrissy hunkered down, starting to cry. “Mommy?”
Forcing herself to ignore the pain, she tried to think logically. “I’m all right, but I need you to go get Miss Gwen. Can you do that?”
Natalie nodded, her blue eyes fearful.
“Tell her I fell.”
Natalie ran off. Chrissy sat beside her and patted her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Mommy. I promise. Be brave.”
If she didn’t hurt so badly, she would have laughed. Her child had said the words with the same intonation as she herself did when trying to comfort her daughters.
Lainie attempted to shift her position, but any movement sent searing pain along her elbow and forearm. Please Lord, let Gwen be home. I need help.
Natalie had barely left when pounding footsteps shook the floor. “Lainie!”
Shaw. Relief washed through her, removing much of her fear. She didn’t know why he was here in the middle of the day, but his presence gave her great comfort. Shaw could fix anything. He knelt beside her, his eyes filled with fear and concern.
“Mon cher, what happened?” His eyes raked over her with concern.
“I was trying to bring this table down and I slipped. I think I broke my arm.”
“Can you sit up if I help you?”
“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”
“I left one of my tools in the garage.” Shaw took her left arm and gently eased her around until she was sitting on the bottom step. She tried to move her arm only to cry out in pain.
“We need to get you to the clinic.”
She looked at her daughters. Natalie was staring wide-eyed with fear. Chrissy pouted and sniffled.
Shaw touched Natalie’s shoulder. “Girls, I need to take your mom to a doctor so he can fix her arm. I want you to go next door and tell Miss Gwen what happened. Tell her I’m taking your mom to the clinic, and I’ll call her later. Can you do that?”
Natalie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Take your sister’s hand and go straight to Miss Gwen’s.”
With the girls on their way, Shaw turned his attention back to her. “I’m going to stabilize your arm. Do you have a scarf?”
She nodded. “In my room, the top drawer.”
He returned and folded the scarf into a simple sling. He took hold of her wrist and carefully raised it against her chest. She tried not to cry out, but failed.
With her arm secured, Shaw scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his truck, placing her gently in the front seat. She barely remembered the ride to the clinic. The only thing that was clear in her mind was Shaw’s holding her hand, and his repeated words of comfort. He had a nice deep voice. Like a rich alto sax. Mentally, she giggled. That was silly. One thing pricked at her thoughts. “Why do you keep saying Shaw over and over?” She thought she heard him chuckle softly.
“I’m not. I’m saying cher. It’s Cajun for dear, or darling.”
She smiled. “It sounds like Sha.”
“Yes, it does.”
“That’s nice.” Her mind was fuzzy through the first part of the examination. She tried to concentrate on what the doctor was telling her. Hyperextended elbow. Not broken. Immobilize. Pain meds. No lifting. Week to ten days.
Full realization of her predicament didn’t hit until she was back in Shaw’s truck and heading home. “Did he say I had to wear this for two weeks?” She stared at the blue brace cradling her injured elbow. She was thinking clearly now, but unfortunately that brought a mental list of the things she wouldn’t be able to do.
“He said a week to ten days if you rest and take care of your arm. That means no lifting.”
Lainie swallowed a lump of disappointment. That meant she couldn’t hold her daughters for over a week. Natalie was almost too big for her to lift, but Chrissy was still small and liked to sit on her lap and cuddle in the morning. A new and more disturbing thought sent her heart racing. “The books. Does that mean I can’t work on the books?”
“Not until the sling comes off. Even then, you might have to go easy.”
Anxiety squeezed her chest. “I have to work at the library. You know what will happen if we’re not ready by the deadline.” Heartsick, she rested her head against the back of the seat. “I can’t believe this is happening now, just when we’re getting on top of things.”
“Millie will help.”
“It takes both of us working together. She can’t do that work alone.”
“She’ll have to. You can oversee the work until your arm heals.”
“Sit back and supervise others? Not me.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Why now?”
Shaw squeezed her hand. “It’ll be all right. I can help with the girls and Gwen will be next door when I’m not home.”
As they pulled into the driveway, Gwen hurried across the front lawn.
“How bad is it?”
Lainie explained, receiving a gentle touch on her good shoulder from her friend. “You don’t worry about a thing. I’m right next door. Just call. The girls can stay with me for the next few days so you can rest.”
“Thank you, Gwen, but I need them with me. I’ll be fine, and I promise to call if I need you. Can you send them home? I know they’re worried about me.”
Gwen nodded in agreement. “They’ve asked about you every five minutes. Oh, and Millie called. She said not to worry. She’s activating the former Friends of the Library volunteers to come and help.”
Shaw lightly touched her back, urging her toward the door. “You need to lie down. The pain shot the nurse gave you will make you drowsy.”
Lainie allowed Shaw to help her upstairs and get her settled on the bed, making sure she had what she needed. He’d just placed a glass of water on the nightstand when the girls ran in, their blue eyes sparkling.
“Mommy! You’re home. We missed you.”
Chrissy stared at the sling. “Is your arm hurt?”
“Yes, but it’ll be better soon. I have to wear this so my arm won’t move. I can’t lift you up or drive my car or do a lot of the things I usually do. I’ll need you and your sister to be my helpers for the next week or so. Can you do that?”
Two little heads nodded rapidly. “I can make the bed.” Natalie smiled.
“I can fix supper.”
Chrissy’s confidence made Lainie smile. “You can? That’s a big help. What will you fix?”
“Pop-Tarts.”
“My favorite.”
Shaw smiled and bent down to the girls. “Mommy needs to sleep for a while. Let’s go downstairs and make a list of things we can do to help while her arm gets better.”
“I love you, Mommy.”
“Me, too.”
Lainie lay back against the pillows, the number of obstacles in her path growing larger every second. How would she give the girls their baths? She couldn’t wash their hair with only one arm. And what about Shaw’s bookkeeping? Could she manage his accounts with only five fingers to tap the keys? Most importantly, how would she keep things moving at the library?
She closed her eyes, feeling the tug of sleep as the pain medication took hold. There was only one answer. She’d have to learn to do everything one-handed. She’d become a lefty. A southpaw. Easy-peasy. Her eyes grew heavy and she sank into the fluffy cloud of her mind. And how was she going to kiss Shaw with one hand in a sling? Where had that thought come from?
Her eyes closed, releasing visions of Shaw scooping her up and carrying her down the stairs as if she weighed nothing. She knew better, but he’d held her close. Even in her pain she had felt secure and safe. Cherished. Cher. She liked the sound of it. She liked the way he said it. Sha.
Funny how pain meds distorted things.