She hated hospitals. They reminded her of the worst day of her life—the day her sister had died…?.
“Ms. Brooks,” said a Hispanic man with kind brown eyes and a light dusting of gray in his hair. “We’d like to take your nephew down for a CAT scan.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“So far, from what we can tell, he suffered a grand mal seizure. He’s autistic, isn’t he?”
The name tag pinned to his white coat said Dr. Salazar. “He is,” she said. She seemed to have lost the ability to project.
“Then I’m sure you know these kinds of seizures aren’t unusual for a child with autism.”
“He’s never had one before.”
“I know, and that’s reason to be optimistic. This could be something simple. A deficiency in salt, perhaps. Then again, it might be something more serious. It’s too early to tell.”
She nodded.
He patted her on the back. “There’s a waiting room down the hall. Why don’t you and your husband stay there? I’ll have someone come get you just as soon as we know anything more.”
He’s not my husband.
“Thanks,” was all she managed to say.
Colt guided her to the waiting room then, his big hands so warm. He was such a comfort to her. She didn’t know what she would have done without him. She’d never felt such a keen sense of loneliness.
“It’ll be okay,” he said softly.
“Will it?”
Nothing in her life was okay. She’d lost her parents when she was five. Her sister had died fifteen years later. She’d had to bury everyone who ever meant anything to her, except Dee. And now Dee was in the hospital…?.
“I promise you. It’ll all be fine.”
He’d sat next to her, tipped his hat back, then pulled her into his arms. How long he held her in silence, she didn’t know. She sank against him willingly, and slowly allowed her stress to bleed into him.
“My parents and my sister died in a car accident,” he said at last.
She gasped, leaning back. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
All she could do was shake her head. “I hardly knew mine,” she whispered. “They died when my sister and I were really young.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t think you’d killed them.”
She lifted her head. “What?”
She heard him swallow, watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “I’d told my dad I could handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“Changing the brakes. I’d been in auto shop since my freshman year. Rotors were simple. But…” His eyes had gone as dark as obsidian. “I blew it.”
She clutched his arm.
“They never officially blamed me.” He swallowed again. “But I knew.”
“Oh, Colt. You don’t really think—”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do. I went to the accident scene. Saw the scars on the pavement. One of the tires came off. I must not have tightened the lug nuts all the way. And my family…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“But the police. They never said…”
“I was seventeen. About to graduate high school. I suspect they knew, too. They just didn’t tell anyone. And why would they? From where they stood it was an accident. I’ve mulled this over long and hard. In the end I think they figured, why ruin my life? So they never said anything.”
She couldn’t imagine… No, that wasn’t true. Actually, she could put herself in his shoes. She’d heard about her sister’s accident from a cop at the door. She wondered what she would have done if they’d told her she’d been responsible for her death.
Like Logan.
She straightened suddenly, struck by how all this must have affected Dee’s dad. Had she thought to ask him? Had she even cared?
She felt ashamed.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Graduated high school. Managed to qualify for the high school rodeo finals, don’t ask me how. One of my teachers took pity on me, encouraged me to go to college.”
“Did you go?”
“I didn’t want to, but, hell, it was a free ride, so I went.”
A cowboy with a college degree. Who would have figured? “How old are you?”
“Thirty. You?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“We’re almost twins,” he said with a small smile.
“You compete in rodeos,” she said slowly.
He smirked. “You make it sound like I sell drugs.”
With Logan as her single example of a rodeo performer was it any wonder? “I just wouldn’t have figured a rodeo cowboy as the college type.”
“I did what I had to do.”
So he could make it through. She read the unspoken truth in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently.
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?”
But he never had time to answer. “Ms. Brooks?”
“Yes?” She looked up.
Dr. Salazar smiled from the doorway. “CAT scan looks good. Potassium levels were so low we’re treating him for dehydration. He’s awake now if you want to see him.”
“Yes, of course.” She dived out of Colt’s arms. “But, wait, you’re telling me he’s okay,” she said as she and Colt followed him out of the room.
“I think so,” the doctor said. “We’ll need to keep him overnight to get him rehydrated. There’s a facility across the way. Rainbow House. It’s a place for families to stay during times like these. You’d be right across the street.”
Good Lord, she hadn’t even thought that far ahead.
“All right.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Dr. Salazar offered.
And then they were in Dee’s room, and Amber spotted him in the bed, awake and staring into his corner of the room. He seemed bewildered.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“We’re going to continue running tests,” the doctor murmured. “But I’m leaning toward dehydration. Kids like these…”
He didn’t finish. She knew the difficulty of caring for an autistic child.
“Is it possible to bring a dog in here?” Colt asked the doctor.
“No,” Dr. Salazar said. “No dogs. I’m sorry.”
Colt bent toward her and whispered in her ear, “Maybe we can sneak Mac in here by putting him in a bag.”
Dee turned his head, looked up at Colt. “Dog.”
What weight remained on her shoulders melted away. “Yes, dog.” Amber took a seat next to the bed.
“That’s a good sign,” Dr. Salazar said. “He’s remembering words.”
Two weeks ago he’d never even used the word, and yet here he was, associating Colt with Mac. With time, perhaps Mac could help Dee’s ability to focus. Perhaps Dee might learn even more words.
She reached out and blindly grabbed Colt’s hand. Yes, Dee was in the hospital, but she had someone by her side to help her through it, and that meant so much to her. So very, very much.
“I’ll go get the paperwork for the Rainbow House.”
They stayed until midnight, when the nurse kicked them out and told them to get some rest. Dr. Salazar had given them everything they needed to use one of the rooms across the street. Amber didn’t think anybody would be there to greet them, but she was wrong. The place was like a hotel, one staffed by volunteers. They were shown to a space that was more like an apartment.
“If you or your husband need anything, just let me know,” said a perky brunette with thick, straight hair. “You can come and go as you like for as long as you need.”
She started to correct her, but she was already gone.
“So, if I decide not to stay here with you, does that mean we’re getting a divorce?” Colt asked.
Amber smiled, even laughed a little. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But when she met his gaze, she saw something in them that made her catch her breath.
“I don’t think I should stay, Amber. I really don’t.”
He was afraid…afraid of what might happen between them. But she wasn’t. Not in the least. And even though ten minutes ago she would have sworn all she wanted was a pillow and a bed, now she found herself taking Colt’s hand.
“Don’t leave,” she said, closing the distance between them. “Not yet.”
“Amber—”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. He was so much taller, making her feel feminine and small. She just loved that.
“I need you, Colt Sheridan.”
She kissed him. He didn’t move. She nuzzled his lips. He still didn’t move. She ran her tongue across his mouth slowly.
“Damn you,” he muttered, and pulled her to him.
Yes.
His lips had softened, but his body had done the opposite. She could feel the hard length of him nestled against her belly. Every sinewy ridge of his body was pressed up against her. And his mouth…his mouth was so very soft.
“I want to taste you,” she said, not caring that she sounded brazen. She licked him again.
He jerked her against him even harder and gasped, “Amber. Jeez. You’re killing me.”
“I want you,” she moaned.
And he wanted her, too, she could tell. His eyes were no longer obsidian, but more like warm amber…?.
She ran her hand up the front of his pants. He gasped again.
“I don’t have any protection,” he muttered between clenched teeth.
Well, she supposed that was better than him carrying around something 24/7. “That’s okay,” she said. “We can make it work.”
When he scooped her up in his arms, she knew how this would end, and that was fine with her.
He found the bed, set her on a thick, brown comforter. But he didn’t follow her down. She had to grab his hand, had to tug him toward her.
“Come here, cowboy.”