Evan tried to focus while he read the next chapter of the new book to the twins. Henry lay beside him on the floor, with Annabelle on the top bunk behind them, hanging over the edge like a limp noodle.
Evan’s pulse pounded as if he’d touched a live wire. Embracing Kylee had been unplanned. The sensation of being so close to her in that way made him want to hold her again. Kiss her.
Be cool, he thought to himself. He had the twins to consider. Besides helping them get packed and to the airport in a week, he had no real reason to spend any extra time with their aunt. Yet whenever he lingered and they talked, laughed or even cried together, everything else in his life seemed to take a back seat.
The beckoning smell of dinner broke his concentration. When had he ever enjoyed soup so much? He put down the book.
“Aw,” complained Henry, still riveted by Stuart’s adventures.
“It’ll be time to eat soon. Do you want to play outside?”
“We already did,” said Henry. “It was too cold.”
“Let’s play dinosaurs,” shouted Annabelle from overhead.
Evan grinned up at her. “You get started. Find us some good leaves on the tallest tree to eat,” he suggested.
His phone buzzed, and he saw a message from James about this morning’s interview for the lieutenant position. Smile fading, he slid the phone back into his pocket.
Henry opened the toy box and began to dig around.
“Don’t pull out too many,” Evan admonished him before stepping into the hall. He heard the television; Kylee must be watching the news as she folded laundry, blissfully unaware that he would trade the promotion for a chance to talk her into staying in Lagrasse.
He went to the back door and looked out the window. It was nearly dark, the winter sky highlighting a waning moon over the bare trees. He studied the hammocks in the backyard, realizing he should have brought them in by now. There were no toys left outside except a half-inflated basketball still too big for Henry’s and Annabelle’s little hands. Maybe they’d play someday. Chip would have loved that.
Evan checked his watch. He shouldn’t stay long tonight if Kylee stayed in. And he hoped she did...
Thump.
The crash from the twins’ bedroom rattled the house.
“What in the world?” exclaimed Kylee, darting in from the family room. She had a jacket on, which meant she hadn’t planned to eat with them after all. Evan rushed with her to the bedroom, brushing past her when she froze at the door.
Annabelle was lying spread-eagled on the floor, looking at the ceiling, her lips slack. Henry stared at her from where he sat cross-legged on the floor. He looked surprised, eyes wide, mouth trying to say something.
“Henry, what happened?” Evan dropped to his knees.
Annabelle suddenly curled into a ball and clutched her head.
“Annabelle!” cried Kylee.
Evan felt her rush up behind him to scoop up the little girl, but he barred her with an arm. “Wait.” Evan laid a gentle hand on the child’s cheek. “Annabelle?” he whispered.
She rolled to her side and released a strangled sob.
“What happened, Henry?” Kylee repeated, but Evan said, “Let’s stay calm. It’s not Henry’s fault, clearly.”
“She was on the top bunk,” cried the little boy, eyes tearing up. “She growled at me and then she fell down.”
“From the top?” Kylee gasped.
The fear in her tone made Evan want to embrace her again. “It’s going to be fine.”
“She doesn’t look fine!”
“If she’s crying, she’s breathing,” Evan reminded her.
Henry began to cry, too, and Kylee hurried over and picked him up and held him. “It’s okay, baby,” she said, rocking him back and forth, but her eyes were on his sister.
Evan glanced at the top bunk. It was high, but the floor was carpeted with a thick shag rug.
Annabelle continued to sob.
“Are you okay?” he whispered. He slid his hands down her arms and then her legs. Leaking giant tears, she crooked her head up at him. “Does it hurt to look at me?” he asked.
“N-no.”
Evan gently examined her neck, and she didn’t flinch. “Where does it hurt?”
Annabelle pointed at the crown of her head, and he touched it lightly. She didn’t respond. He picked her up carefully and held her. “You’re going to be okay. You just took a spill.” He rubbed her head, and she swatted at him.
“Ow!”
Kylee chuckled from behind him. “There she is. I’d say she’s okay.”
Evan tried not to laugh and further irritate the little girl. “Let’s go sit on the couch and rest awhile.”
“Why?” grumbled Annabelle, still cross.
“Because you have a very high threshold of pain, and I want to make sure you’re okay. You could have broken your arm.”
“It’s not broken,” Annabelle grunted.
“Well, dinner’s ready if you’re hungry,” suggested Kylee.
“Okay.” Annabelle sighed as Evan wiped her tears.
Henry said, “I’m hungry.”
“Come on then,” Kylee insisted. “Let’s go get you some dinner.”
“Didn’t you have your errands?” Evan asked. “Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll make their dinner?”
“No, I can’t. I should stay.”
“I’m sure she’s okay, and I’ll call you if anything changes. Promise.”
“If you’re sure.” Kylee hesitated. “I do have some shopping to do for the trip.”
The reality that the twins were leaving in a week crashed back down on him. “Of course.” He needed to spend more time with them, and Kylee wasn’t a part of that.
“I’ll be back in a bit.” She nodded toward Annabelle. “I’ve seen her drop out of the hammock a hundred times. She’s tough.”
“Right. We’ll be okay.” Evan waited until Kylee grabbed her handbag and gave her a wave. “I’ll watch her closely,” he promised, hoping it would be the distraction he needed.
Although she enjoyed having a few hours to herself, Kylee was glad to get back home and make sure Annabelle was all right. The truth was, being on leave from work meant less stress, less hurry, less worry... No. There was worry, and stress, too, just of a different kind. These sacrifices weren’t to impress anyone or to receive a big paycheck. They were for Mia. For the twins. And, Kylee realized, for herself.
She wanted to be here. She wanted to be a mother. Even if she wasn’t as good at it as her mom or her sister. Even if she had a different way of doing things. And even if Evan teased her a little.
The thought of the twins’ godfather filled her with a happy warmth. Sometimes he looked at her like he cared about her. He’d even kissed her. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the memory of their embrace at the kitchen sink. He was too honorable to pretend he hadn’t meant it. She’d seen it in his eyes, and she’d felt it, too.
It didn’t seem like life was one endless, repetitious cycle anymore. It felt like someone had hit a reset button, and she was in a familiar but new world. A place where she was needed. A beautiful place with beautiful people she’d been so busy trying to outshine that she hadn’t taken the time to notice them. Being in the spotlight didn’t make anyone more loved and appreciated than when they were working in the wings. And that suited her for now.
So did Evan, if she was honest.
The news on the television hummed in the background, and the tree twinkled—dancing lights that reminded her of laughter and joy. She loved it. Not just the peace, but the sense of belonging, of truly being home.
Kylee smiled to herself as she studied Annabelle sitting beside her. She’d kept her up a little longer than usual, but the little girl leaning on her arm was dozing now. Kylee picked her up and carried her down the hall toward the bedroom where Henry was already asleep. Holding the little girl to her chest, Kylee smelled baby shampoo that reminded her of when Annabelle was an infant.
Just as Kylee reached the bedroom door, Annabelle raised herself off of Kylee’s shoulder with a sudden choking cough. The little girl’s face wrinkled. “I’m... I’m...”
“You’re okay,” Kylee whispered. “I’m taking you to bed.”
“I want my momma.” The little girl began to cry. “What happened?”
Something snapped in Kylee’s chest. “Annabelle, it’s okay. I’m here.” Tensing, she patted her on the back.
The little girl’s neck wobbled. “My head hurts,” she whined.
Kylee reached for the hall light switch. When it blinked on, Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut. She was pale, dazed. “It’s okay, honey,” said Kylee. “We can get you some medicine.” She’d seen a bottle of children’s acetaminophen in the medicine cabinet.
Annabelle howled, “I want my—” Then she stopped, eyes widening, and slumped back over Kylee’s shoulder only to get sick.
Kylee had a moment of shock before panic set in. She rushed the little girl to the bathroom, snatching at towels, and laid her on the bath rug. “Annabelle! Annabelle! Are you okay?”
The little girl stared woozily up at the ceiling.
“Annabelle?” Something was wrong. Kylee realized her lungs were sucking air like she was speeding down a bumpy road. She’d promised to keep these children safe and happy. They were her family. Her babies.
Tears poured from her eyes as she ran for her phone.
Evan jumped from the couch in the firehouse’s day room and cheered after the Atlanta Hawks made another basket. The lieutenant job interview earlier that morning had been brief but positive. He grinned at Chase across the room, euphoric.
“We’re going to take this one,” his partner cried.
The other paramedics and firefighters rumbled in agreement as they munched on trays of frosted sugar cookies that a family had dropped off as a gift. They were as good as The Last Re-Torte Bakery’s, and the lopsided homemade icing and strange choice of colors were adorable.
It couldn’t have been a better couple days, Evan decided. He’d seen the twins and survived the interview for the promotion that James had insisted he try for. Returning to the TV, Evan’s eyes glazed over, thinking back to earlier in the day. His good mood wasn’t all because of the children. It was Kylee. He was drawn to her like a mariner to the stars. He loved her company. He thought she was beautiful. The most casual touch filled him with happiness.
The thought startled him as the room echoed with excitement again, and he joined in but only half-heartedly. His true joy was back at the cottage.
“Hey! Hollister!” called Shawna from across the room. She picked up Evan’s phone from the end table next to her and waved it. “Your phone has rung twice.”
“Thanks, I didn’t hear it.” Evan grinned. Shawna tossed it across the room, and he caught it, eyeing the time stamp in surprise. Was it so late already? It seemed like he’d just clocked in, but it was only an hour from midnight. What a blessing, he thought, to have such a quiet shift. No fires, no health scares, no family dramas. It was almost perfect and, except for the basketball game, a silent night. His smile faded. But the silent night was a week away on the holiest night of the year. And the twins wouldn’t be here. Neither would Kylee. They’d be in New York.
Evan’s cheer evaporated as he leaned back beside James, who was riveted to the game. He pulled up his missed calls. To his surprise, they were all from Kylee. Then the phone chirped, and her name popped up on the screen again. Call number three in under four minutes.
Evan jumped up from the couch and put the cell phone to his ear, striding to the kitchen so he could hear. “Hello?”
“Evan? Are you there?” Her throaty voice came out in tight gasps.
He froze at the door. “Yes. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Annabelle. She’s... She got sick. She said her head hurts, and she’s acting weird and staring into space. She even asked me what happened. She doesn’t have a fever...” Kylee’s voice pitched high. “I don’t know what to do!”
Those were words he never thought he’d hear from her, and they filled Evan with alarm. “Stay put,” he spluttered. He took a deep breath. He ordered his brain to collect itself. He was standing in the middle of a fire station. Wearing a uniform. “Stay with her. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Evan dashed out of the kitchen, hit the alarm on the wall, and everyone jumped to their feet. “My niece!” he cried as he ran for his truck.
Chase was on his heels at once. Their medic bags were already packed inside their vehicle for the shift, and Chase hit the sirens as Evan peeled out of the garage. He had to force himself not to speed recklessly through town as he raced for the cottage.
When he reached it, the front porch light flicked on, and the door slammed open. He saw the back of Kylee’s head as she dashed back into the house, and a thousand thoughts whirled in his head: symptoms, diagnoses, responses, outcomes. And then the memories intruded: Chip. Mia. The funeral.
Evan’s heart thundered in his chest so hard he had to remember to breathe with each stride into the house. The bathroom light was on, and he rounded the corner to find Kylee on her hands and knees, looking over Annabelle on the bathroom floor.
The girl was unresponsive. There were towels on the rug, and the room smelled sour and damp.
Evan struggled to push overwhelming anxiety to the back of his consciousness and let his paramedic training kick in. “Move over,” he said, forcing himself to sound confident and in control.
Kylee sat back, tears in her enormous brown eyes. Her normally olive complexion looked as white as a sheet.
Evan felt Chase come in behind him. They checked the little girl’s breathing and pulse, then Evan whipped out his penlight with the pupil gauge and studied her eyes. They were dilated. Her head, he remembered. She’d fallen from the bunk. How had he missed it? Why didn’t he think to check?
“Concussion,” he murmured to Chase. Her symptoms had been delayed.
The distant wail of an ambulance filled his ears, signaling more help had come, and Kylee jumped up and ran out of the room.
It was all Evan could do not to scoop the child into his arms and hold her as if he could heal her with his love. But he could not. It was up to God, he realized.
Another paramedic arrived with a gurney, and Annabelle was transferred onto it wearing a cervical collar to stabilize her neck. Evan grabbed one end of the gurney and guided it out into the hall, fighting the urge to order everyone to hurry.
Kylee was standing in the twins’ bedroom door holding Henry on her hip. Both of their faces were as frozen as marble.
Evan tried to give them a reassuring smile, but his face felt too heavy. “County hospital,” he rasped to Kylee, then turned his attention back to the little girl who’d been left in his care.
Kylee followed the ambulance to the hospital with her heart throbbing all the way. Annabelle had gone immediately for a CT scan, and Evan paced in the hall while Kylee sat in a hard chair in the waiting room with Henry, praying. To her relief, her mother soon arrived and took Henry home after they were assured Annabelle was stable. As soon as they left, Kylee dashed to the front desk and pleaded to be allowed back to the treatment rooms where her niece was being examined.
She took a seat in the quiet sterile room next to the little girl curled up in a warming blanket and held her hand. Where Evan had disappeared to now, she didn’t know.
The child whimpered in her half sleep. Kylee felt so nauseous she could barely sit up straight, and her throat ached from the tension. A small heart rate monitor on the tip of Annabelle’s finger made a blip on a screen, and Kylee listened to the tune of the little girl’s pulse. Guilt snowballed in her brain. What had she been thinking, allowing Annabelle to play on the top bunk? Why had she taken the chance, especially knowing how active the children were?
Her mouth parched, Kylee swallowed and studied a dry-erase board with the date scribbled across the top. Six more days until they were to leave for New York. But would it be safe for Annabelle to fly? How long did recovery take? What if she didn’t recover at all? Kylee’s head ached, and she massaged her temples. If she didn’t get back to work soon, she would really be out of the loop, behind, but if she did... Images of the children swirled in her mind. Evan was there, too.
A doctor with white streaks in his cropped silver hair appeared at the door to Annabelle’s room. He smiled at her, but it gave little comfort. “You look distraught.”
“I am.”
“It’s a mild concussion,” he said. “She’s going to be okay. There’s not any bleeding and very little swelling. She’s just disoriented.”
Relief washed over Kylee. “It could have been so much worse,” she began. “My sister... She’s...not here.”
The doctor smiled at her again. “I’m sorry. You’re doing a good thing for Annabelle. Count your blessings that it’s not more serious. Children this age can get into all kinds of trouble if they’re not watched closely. They don’t always think about the consequences.”
Kylee nodded. She hadn’t been watching them. She’d been in the other room thinking about Evan, her career, getting back to Manhattan. She’d been thinking about herself. As always. This was her fault.
The doctor offered her a pamphlet about head injuries, and she accepted it with shaky hands. “Did you mean you have custody?” he asked.
Kylee nodded.
“So you’re her mother now,” he assumed.
“I’m just the aunt,” she said.
He glanced at his clipboard, then turned to leave, promising to talk to her later.
Being an aunt didn’t make her a mother. She couldn’t keep a goldfish alive. She destroyed washing machines. She burned egg noodles and could only use a slow cooker. She didn’t belong in Lagrasse.
“I don’t fit in here,” she whispered. She reached out and rested a hand on Annabelle’s arm. The little girl was alert now, staring dully at the wall, unable to sleep because of what they’d given her to stay awake. “I don’t belong here,” said Kylee a little louder. “With you. With Henry.”
As if in agreement, Annabelle turned to look at her with pleading eyes. “Where’s Evan?” she sobbed. “I want to go home.”
“He’s in the hall,” said Kylee, overcome by an avalanche of relief. Annabelle wanted Evan. Needed him. Because he was best. He’d been right from the beginning. The twins belonged with him. She was the intruder. “I’ll get him,” she whispered.
Kylee eased out of her chair and, once outside the room, rushed down the hall looking wildly for him.
He appeared through a double set of doors as though he’d heard her inner cries. “Is she okay?” he called, his calm composure changing to alarm.
Kylee reached for his hands when they met, but he wrapped her in a warm, tight hug. “She’s okay.” Kylee didn’t want to break away, to lose the way they fit together, but she had to do it. She forced herself to step back out of his tenderness and beckoned him. “Come on. She wants to see you.” Kylee knew she sounded helpless, but there was nothing else she could do for Annabelle, except...home. She wanted to go home.
Evan followed Kylee to the room where the monitor was still chirping at regular intervals. He hurried to the bed. “Annabelle,” he whispered. The little girl moved slightly, and he draped an arm over her and laid his head beside hers. “You’re going to be okay. The doctors said you’re going to be just fine.”
“What happened?”
“You bumped your head.”
“Where’s Henry?”
“He’s with Nanna,” Evan replied.
“I want to go back to my house.”
“I know you do, honey. Aunt Kylee will take you home in a few hours. You rest now.”
Annabelle quieted.
Evan straightened and turned to Kylee where she was leaning against the wall. She realized she was chewing on a fingernail. Her chest hurt from fighting tears. He walked over and searched her face, eyes glossy as if he wanted to cry, too.
“It’s all my fault,” Kylee blurted.
He looked startled. “What do you mean? It’s mine.”
“No.”
“Yes, it is.” His eyes started to drip at the corners, whisking the breath out of Kylee’s lungs. “I should have known to check for a concussion. This is my fault, Kylee. I should have watched for the symptoms.” He swiped at his cheek with the back of his wrist. “I don’t belong in this uniform. I don’t deserve guardianship of the twins. Mia made the right call giving you custody.”
What? Evan Hollister was hurting and crying because of her? “I’m going back to New York,” Kylee announced.
“I know, but—”
Kylee shook her head. “You are a better guardian than I could ever be.” A tear escaped, and she smiled without feeling. “Mia wasn’t right about this.”
“But, Kylee, I...” Evan looked confused.
“It was an accident. And it was my fault, not yours,” Kylee insisted.
“Honey, you are the best thing that could have happened to them. I am not the answer here.”
“No.” Kylee shook her head. Suddenly, she felt a switch flip, and her legs started moving of their own accord. “I’m leaving. You stay with Annabelle.”
“Kylee!” exclaimed Evan.
She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t do it, Evan. You love them, and they love you. I’m the problem in this equation.” She forced herself to hurry from the room before he said anything more.