He opens the door, and I step inside to find the white beauty laying down, which is a true sign of just how drugged she is. Most people don’t know that horses do sleep laying down, at least that’s their deep REM sleep, but they rarely get caught on the ground. As animals prey upon them in the wild, they’re hypersensitive to noises. They’re up before we know they were down.
“Poor girl,” I whisper, moving toward her and kneeling.
For the next few minutes, I talk to her, and yes, I start to sing, a soft country song: “Bless the Broken Road” by Rascal Flatts. A song about choices, about a path that was broken. No. It’s really about finding your way back home, whatever home means to you. I have no idea why this song always comes to me when I’m with the animals, but it just feels like it speaks to their plight of feeling lost in the moment. It hits a little too close to home, to me and Roarke right now, though, but I’m committed. I keep singing. Soon, I’m sitting next to Snowflake, stroking her nose, and now I’ve changed songs. I’ve decided to get into the festival mood, and I launch into “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
Roarke laughs and sits down next to me. He even joins me in a few Christmas carols for Snowflake’s benefit, and I don’t know how long the two of us just sit there with Snowflake, but I never did in the past, either. “I need to check on a dog I operated on earlier,” Roarke says. “I’ll be back. Unless you want to come with me?”
“How bad is the dog?”
“Pretty bad.”
I stroke Snowflake’s nose. “I’ll be back tomorrow, girl. I promise.” I kiss her, and Roarke is already standing. He offers me his hand, and all the tension between us has faded. I slide my palm into his, and he helps me to my feet.
The heat between us is instant, the history filling all the empty spaces between us. “I know after what happened earlier this is crazy for me to say, but Roarke, it’s good to be back here. It’s good to be here with you.”
“It’s good to have you back, Hannah.”
Hannah, not Han. His guard is up, and I want to tear it down, proof that I’m a conflicted mess where Roarke is concerned, but in this moment, I don’t care. “I’m going to make my homecoming special. I’m going to make this Christmas festival special. And I’m going to be here to sing to Snowflake every day until she gives birth.”
“Snowflake and I are going to hold you to that.” He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I guess I just broke a promise. I kissed you before you asked.”
“The hand doesn’t count,” I say, my voice raspy with emotion.
“Careful now. I’ll take liberties and decide I can kiss other places, and it won’t count.”
“I’ll let you know if you cross a line.”
“Roarke!”
At the sound of a panicked male voice shouting his name, Roarke tears away from me and bursts out of the stall. I follow him, sealing up Snowflake, and when I exit the stables on his heels, it’s to a helicopter landing near the hospital. A few minutes later, I’m watching as a horse is being wheeled into the building, and the magnitude of how special this man is, of how much he does for animals overwhelms me. He was always bigger than life, and a part of me, when faced with that on a real level, when I was his partner in life, was intimidated. For just a moment, I consider his accusation that I ran. Did I run? Was I scared? Was I so intimidated that I felt I wasn’t good enough?
As I stand there with that question in the air, Roarke screams my name. “Hannah! I need you!”
Hannah! I need you! The words radiate through me, and I take off running, but this time, it’s not away from Roarke. I’m running to him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hannah…
I reach the hospital, and Roarke is waiting on me. “I’m short an assistant,” he says. “I called in staff, but I can’t wait. Are you up to scrubbing in for me?”
“Yes. Yes. Of course.” It’s something I’ve done in the past, to the point that it was once second nature. To the point that he wanted me to go to vet school, but the idea of failing an animal was just too much for me. “What’s the situation?”
“Bella’s a prize-winning racehorse who now has what is likely a career-ending fracture.” His lips thin. “But I could give a shit about her career. I care about her life and her pain.”
And he does. Like his father before him, he hates horses being used for sport, but rather than that driving him away from caring for them, it pushes him to want to be there to ensure someone takes proper care of them. “I know you do. I’m here to help. Let’s do this.”
He turns for the door and holds it open, and in a matter of minutes, I’m standing with Roarke and several people from the helicopter crew who’ve graciously stayed to offer us aid, watching as they further sedate the horse, a beautiful black beauty. Once the horse is stable and prepped for surgery, it’s just me and Roarke in the operating room.
For the first time in years, I stand beside him, handing him any tool he needs, when he needs it, and watching him work. I’m once again in awe of his skills, his calmness, his focus. It’s a good half hour into surgery when two of his crew, both unknowns to me, quietly join us, but I hold my position. Roarke is focused. We all work to help him, not to distract him.
This animal is his life and his world when she’s in front of him. There is nothing else, and this surgery is an example of at least part of my reasoning for staying behind in Dallas when he returned for Snowflake. I was emotional, and I would have delayed his return, distracted his attention, even, and being here for Snowflake when she needed him was what mattered.
It’s hours later when the surgery is complete and I’ve officially met the staff that helped us with surgery, while Roarke works through a care rotation for Bella and Snowflake, taking the first shift himself. While he’s talking with his team, I join Bella in the stable where she’s resting.
Easing down beside her, I sit, stroking her nose, singing to her softly. Roarke joins me and sits down next to me, and this is not an unfamiliar scene. Even in our youth, we’d nurse the animals his father cared for. We look at each other, and there is a world of history and love between us right now. All the bad is gone. Funny how animals heal us, even if it’s only for a short while. We sink lower against the wall, and somehow, at some point, my head settles on his shoulder, my lashes heavy. I don’t even remember when I fall asleep.
The next thing I know, Roarke is kneeling beside me, caressing my cheek. “Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey.” I sit up and check on Bella, who’s sedated and sound asleep. “She’s okay?”
“Yes. One of my crew is going to take over. Let’s let her rest. It’s almost four in the morning.” He stands and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s get you to a bed.”
Realization comes hard and fast. “I have no car. I have to get a rental tomorrow but right now—”
“Stay here.” His hand comes down on my hip, and he steps into me. “Stay with me, Hannah. We’re both exhausted, and I want you to stay.”
There are so many reasons to say no, but none of them seem to matter. Not tonight. Not now. “Yes, but—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” His hand settles on my face. “Ask me,” he says, and somehow it’s both an order and a question, which is so Roarke. He’s strong, demanding, even, but in the right ways, at the right times.
But I don’t ask, not with words. I push to my toes and press my lips to his. He leans into the connection, and his tongue presses past my lips. The taste of him isn’t sex or demand; it’s tenderness, it’s love. It’s friendship. It’s all the things we once were and so much of me wants us to be again.
He draws back, strokes my hair behind my ear, and then, wordlessly, laces the fingers of one hand with mine. Together, side by side, we walk toward the main house. “I heard your father had a stroke and moved away.”
“Yes to both. I took over the house about a year ago. My ol
d place is now where the interns stay.”
His place being a much smaller house on the other side of the property. “I can’t believe your father left. Why? Where is he? I’m confused. He loved this place.”
“He officially retired and moved to Georgetown with some woman he met.”
I glance up at him in disbelief. “Some woman he met? You didn’t know her?” They were close, too close for that statement to make sense.
His lips thin, and he wraps his arm around me. “As I said, he had a stroke, and therein lies the answers you’re asking for. He wasn’t the same afterward.”
“That still tells me nothing.”
“He couldn’t operate. His hand wasn’t steady, and he just got angrier and angrier. He rented a place in Dallas, and the next thing I knew, he was buying a house with some woman he met.”
Some woman he met. Those words again, and they say so much. Roarke is not pleased by this development.
We reach the giant winding porch of the blue ranch house and head up the stairs. I want to ask more about his father, about how this makes him feel, but there is a weariness about him tonight. He’s exhausted from the surgery. I know him. Now is not the time. Will there ever be a time that it’s right for me to ask? Do I want there to be? I think yes. I think it’s time I admit that this man is still important to me. He’s still so very important to me.
We enter the house that was remodeled not long before I left for college, and it’s as beautiful and modern as I remember, with hardwood floors and leather furniture and towering ceilings. We walk the stairs toward the upper level and then down a long walkway toward the master bedroom that had once been his father’s.
Entering the large room with a steepled ceiling, it’s odd for me to be in Roarke’s space. He sits down on the end of a massive oak bed with huge posts, which wasn’t here before, that exhaustion I’d sensed downstairs now radiating off him. I sit next to him, and he falls back on the mattress. “We both need showers, but holy hell, I need to just lay here a moment.”
I lie back with him, and we both stare up at the ceiling for several long minutes before, in unison, we look at each other. His fingers brush my cheek. “It was good having you here tonight and not hating me.”
I catch his hand, emotion welling in my chest. “I don’t hate you.”
“No, tonight you didn’t, but tomorrow’s a new day.”
I curl up next to him, on his shoulder, and he folds me close. “I don’t hate you, Roarke,” I whisper. I can’t hate you, I add silently. I love him too damn much.
He doesn’t reply. We just lay there, and I know we have to get up and clean up, but right now, it’s us, it’s right. He’s warm and wonderful and holding me when I thought he’d never hold me again. For now, I just want to live right here in his arms, and I silently will him to wait a little longer to get up. He gives me that wish, and I snuggle in closer to him, my hand on his chest, his heart steady beneath my palm, my eyes heavy, my lashes lowering. And for the time being, I block out the bad, and all is perfect in my world; having Roarke in my life again is perfect.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hannah…
My eyes pop open as a voice calls out, “Roarke! Roarke!”
“Ruth,” I whisper and sit up straight, as does Roarke, sunlight trying to burn my eyeballs from my head through the parted curtain.
Ruth’s voice lifts in the air again. “Roarke!”
“My grandmother,” he says, as if the voice has just started to process in his mind.
“Obviously we fell asleep and never showered.”
“Are you up there, Roarke? Don’t make my old ankles walk the stairs.”
“Oh God, she’s coming up here.”
“Easy, Han,” Roarke says, his hands coming down on my shoulders. “We’re dressed. It’s not like we’re naked and rolling around in the sheets, though I wouldn’t complain if we were.”
“We’re in your bedroom. She’s going to think that we were.”
“And that matters why?”
“Because everyone is trying to make us a couple again.”
“Right,” he says, releasing me. “We wouldn’t want that. I’ll catch her before she gets up here.”
I grab his arm. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“There you are!” Ruth exclaims, entering the room, and while perhaps I shouldn’t feel a burning need to make what just went wrong with Roarke right, I do. God, I really do.
“Roarke,” I whisper, my hand still holding onto his arm.
“Oh, Hannah, we’ve been worried sick.”
At this announcement from Ruth, I release Roarke and turn around to face her. “Worried?” My brows furrow. “I don’t understand.”
“Jessica went to pick you up, and you weren’t at your hotel, and you’re not answering your phone.”
I blink. “Right. I have no idea where my purse and phone are right now.”
“You must have left them at the stable,” Roarke suggests.
“What’s going on, you two?” Ruth asks, looking between us. “Because you’re both a mess. You sure don’t look like it’s been a night of hot loving.”
“Grandma,” Roarke chides, while I urgently cross my legs with the need to pee like a Russian racehorse, and having actually met a Russian racehorse, thanks to Roarke, I’m one of the few people who understands that statement. When a horse pees, get out of the way.
“I’m just keeping it real, honey,” Ruth replies, plucking her tongue at Roarke and looking between us. “You two are a mess.” She waggles a finger at me. “And you, missy. We weren’t sure if you were in danger or Roarke ran you off.”
“I don’t run off that easily,” I assure her. “But I’m so very sorry for scaring everyone and letting Jessica run around looking for me. Roarke had an emergency case last night, and I stayed and helped. I came up here to shower, and we sat down to talk, and that was it. We were asleep.”
I can almost feel Roarke’s anger at my explanation. I came up here to shower. No. No. I came up here to be with him. God. Can I make this any worse with him? I’m confused. I don’t know what I want or what I feel.
Ruth’s cellphone rings, and she grabs it from the side of the big bag at her hip, answering and then quickly saying, “I’ve got her. She helped Roarke with surgery and fell asleep. All is well.” She glances at me but keeps talking to the caller. “Yes. Yes. I’ll bring her for gingerbread cookie tasting, but she needs a shower and some sleep first. Let’s make it after lunch. Yes. Right. We’ll handle it.” She disconnects. “I told Jessica I’d take you to get a car.”
Not Roarke, I think. Of course not Roarke. Roarke has things to do, like sleep and be pissed at me.
“How did the emergency turn out?” Ruth asks.
“Racehorse with a broken leg,” Roarke says. “She’ll recover, but she won’t race again.”
“It was tough surgery,” I add quickly. “Roarke was incredible.”
“He always is, honey,” Ruth agrees. “You of all people know that. I always thought you’d end up a vet yourself.”
“I’m better behind the scenes and behind the camera.” I glance at Roarke, but he doesn’t look at me. “I don’t have Roarke’s calm confidence.”
He doesn’t comment. He glances at his watch. “I need to get down there and check on Bella.”
“I’ll come, too,” I offer. “But I have to pee first. I’ll meet you down there.” He nods and heads for the door. “Don’t you need to pee, too?”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “I don’t do such things. You know that.” He pauses beside his grandmother, kisses her, and heads out into the hallway.
I’d laugh at his joke, but it was dry and stiff when he’s never dry and stiff. “I’ll be right back, Ruth,” I say, heading to the bathroom.
“I’ll make coffee,” she offers.
>
“Fabulous. Thank you.” I hurry into the bathroom, wasting no time doing my business and cleaning up. One look in the mirror and I decide I pretty much look like raccoons have settled under my eyes and then played with my lipstick. I quickly scrub off the mess and open a drawer to find the toothpaste. There’s a new toothbrush, too, and I put it to use. A dash of Roarke’s cologne and all is well. At least for now. I grab the sink. I don’t know what I’m doing with Roarke. He has a good reason to be pissed. I let him feel like I’d opened the door to more, then I’d shut it in the bedroom, but really I didn’t. I just need time. I need time that’s about me and him, not me, him, and this town, and I don’t know if that is even possible.
I push off the vanity and head downstairs, following the scent of coffee to the giant kitchen, with a giant wooden island framed in navy-blue wood. Ruth pours me a cup of coffee, and I join her at the pot, gratefully accepting the brew. I begin to mix it the way I like, adding creamer and Splenda, while Ruth just stands there, watching me, studying me. “Your eyes light when you look at him.”
Of course they do, I think. I love the man. “I had to pee.”
“Your eyes didn’t light because you had to pee. That’s a silly explanation.”
She’s right, of course. How did that even come out of my mouth? “I love him. That hasn’t changed.”
“Then why aren’t you together?”
“What did he tell you?” I counter.
“He won’t talk about it,” she says.
“It’s his story to tell you, Ruth. You have to know that.”
“He loves you.”
“I know that,” I say. “I do. I just—I don’t know that we love the same way.”
Her brows dip. “That’s nonsense. You two are amazing together.”
“Hi.”
We look up to find Allison holding my purse. “Roarke thought you might need this.”
And he sent her. Of course he did. She’s so pretty. She must be the first person he thinks of for everything. “Thank you,” I say, somehow managing a cordial reply when my emotions officially want to explode right here in this kitchen. No, they want to explode outside, standing in front of Roarke. I cross the room and accept the purse. “How are Bella and Snowflake?”
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