by Liz Isaacson
“She’s havin’ a bad day,” Erik, the youngest at only ten, said. “Something broke in her room, but she won’t let nobody in there.”
Norah didn’t have to look very hard to see what her brothers had been doing all day: video games. The pot that held the remains of their lunch—macaroni and cheese—waited for her on the stove.
“Homework?”
“Already done,” Javier said. “No school today either, so we’re all caught up.”
Norah nodded and cast her eyes down the hall that led to their mama’s room. The door sat shut. She didn’t want to break the seal protecting her from her mother right now. Just being in the run-down house with walls that needed fresh paint, carpet that had long lost its ability to come clean, a tiny kitchen in need of new countertops and cupboards, reminded her of what different worlds she and Sterling came from.
Not to mention his comment about not being into addicts.
You’re not an addict, a voice whispered in her head. She’d been clean for eleven years, even if the painkillers called to her from time to time. Still, she didn’t want Sterling to know her first experience with Silver Creek had been as one of its patients.
He’d stood and thanked her when she’d prepared to leave. His awkward hug still lingered on her shoulders, the masculine scent of him still stuck to her skin. That magnetic force had sparked between them again, but it was easy to dismiss when confronted with her real life.
And she would never show Sterling her real life.
Taking a deep breath, which she immediately regretted due to the musty smell that came with the air, she stepped down the hall. She knocked on Mama’s bedroom door as she opened it, and found a broken picture frame on the floor two steps inside the room.
Norah bent to pick it up, sliding the picture out from under the broken glass. It was her father, the only man Mama had actually married. He’d died when Norah was a toddler, and that had started her mother down a path of endless boyfriends. Norah had determined by age ten—when Javier came along—that she wouldn’t fall victim to a man’s charms, ever. And marriage? Wasn’t in the cards for Norah.
“Mama?” Norah collected the bigger pieces of glass and balanced them on the photograph.
Mama slept slightly reclined against the headboard, her tiny TV flickering in the darkness. She didn’t answer, so Norah quietly cleaned up the broken picture frame and took the glass out to the garage trashcan.
When she returned to Mama’s room, she checked the pill bottle on the nightstand. The appropriate number of anti-depressants had been taken. No more, no less. A breath of relief released from her lungs, and she smoothed Mama’s dark, silky hair off her forehead.
She stepped out of the room, wondering what had prompted Mama to get out her only husband’s picture and shatter it against the door.
She’d stopped trying to figure out her mother by age fifteen—about the same time Erik’s dad introduced her to hydrocodone for her frequent migraines. She liked the way the pills made it so she didn’t worry about Mama, didn’t think about what Mama would say or do, didn’t make her wonder if she’d ever be free. She started taking them when she didn’t have a headache, simply to escape her own mind.
The pull to find a bottle of painkillers and swallow a handful yanked at her resolve, and Norah joined her brothers in the living room to remind herself of what she’d worked so hard to overcome. Besides the twelve weeks at Silver Creek, she’d spent months trying to figure out how to deal with her life in appropriate ways.
Ways that included school, and work, and raising Javier, Alex, and Erik. She couldn’t let them down. She wouldn’t.
Her eleven-year-long clean streak still intact, Norah sat next to Javier and watched her brothers play video games. Her mind wandered to Sterling, and what he was doing tonight, if he might be sitting on his couch, thinking about her.
Sterling hadn’t gotten Norah’s phone number before she left on Monday afternoon, a fact he cursed himself for until Thursday morning. Then he stopped brooding and looked up the number for the Silver Creek Rehabilitation Center.
He dialed, his heart ba-booming in his chest. He wasn’t used to asking for help, and certainly not from a pretty woman who’d curled into his side to keep warm during a snowstorm. He’d been thinking for three straight days about the scent of her skin, the softness of her breath against his arm, the way her body tremored next to his until she warmed up.
“Silver Creek.”
“Hey, is Norah Watson there?” Sterling’s throat stuck on her name, and he swallowed.
“She’s in crafts with the girls. Can I take a message?”
Sterling pressed his eyes closed. “Yeah, this is Sterling Maughan. She gave me an application for a job there, and I need to get in touch with her. Can you have her call me?” He gave the receptionist his cell number, and hung up with the assurance that Norah would call when she got a chance.
He’d barely touched the door to the game room when his phone chimed, and he spun, dozens of feet between him and Norah’s call. At least he hoped it was her. No one besides Rex had called, and he usually didn’t phone until evening.
He’d kept up with his physical therapy, and he’d noticed a vast improvement in his leg, but it didn’t make the distance seem any less intimidating. Sterling half hopped, half jogged into the living room, swiping open the call a heartbeat before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”
“Sterling, it’s Norah.”
He tried to catch his breath, but his heart pumped out an extra beat at the sound of her voice. “Hey.” A smile crossed his face, leaked into his voice.
“You called about the application?”
“Oh, yeah, I wondered what time that meeting was on Saturday? You said you could come get me…. I checked the weather and it’s supposed to be clear skies.” He pinched his eyes closed for a moment before opening them again. He moved to the windows, where he’d opened all the blinds to let in the sunlight.
“Sure, I can come.” The shuffling of papers came through the line. “The meeting is on Saturday at three.” Norah’s exhale came through the line, a sound like a closing door, and then a sigh. “It should last about an hour. Sometimes longer.”
“Do you work on Saturday?”
“Not at Silver Creek.”
Curiosity gnawed at Sterling. “How many jobs do you have?”
“Two.” Her clipped tone suggested he stop asking questions. Now. He didn’t want to stop; he wanted to know everything about her.
“Cleaning houses?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I have a dozen clients up in the cabins.”
He wondered why she needed to work two jobs, but he managed to keep the inquiry to himself. “Will it be too hard to take me to the meeting?”
“No,” she said. “I’ll be up there anyway.”
“We can go to dinner after the meeting.” The words flew from Sterling’s mouth before he’d even thought them.
The silence coming through the line reeked of surprise. The same emotion coursed through Sterling’s body.
“I mean, if you want.” Sterling coughed and stepped onto the deck so the cold air could clear his mind. “Do you want to go to dinner with me, Norah?”
Sterling hoped with every bone in his body that she’d say yes. He’d missed her these past three days; his loneliness felt like a tangible presence in the cabin. The nurse only stayed for a few minutes, only asked questions about his leg, his medicine. And she’d said that morning that she didn’t need to come every day anymore.
“I, well—” Norah started and then stopped.
Sterling waited, the pause growing uncomfortable after only two breaths. “It’s okay,” he said at the same time she said, “Sure, let’s go to dinner.”
Relief rammed into Sterling at the brightness of her words, making his feet unsteady. He reached for the sliding glass door to balance himself. “Great,” he said, another smile infusing his voice. “Have you been to Migliano’s? They have the best crab cakes i
n town.”
“I’ve never been.” Norah sounded withdrawn now, her words barely registering in his ears.
“Do you like Italian? They have pizza and pasta and all that normal stuff too.”
“I’m sure it’s great,” she said. “And yes, I like Italian.”
“Great.” Sterling wanted to add, Because I like you, but he bit back the flirty remark. He had a feeling Norah wouldn’t respond well to it, and he didn’t want to be the same man he’d been on the snowboarding circuit.
That man had died when he’d fallen off a mountain, and Sterling had mourned him for a while. But now…. Now he was ready to be someone else. Who, he wasn’t quite sure, but when he imagined himself with Norah at his side, he wasn’t holding a snowboard.
“See you Saturday,” he said, glad when she confirmed in her normal joyful tone, and hung up. Now if only he didn’t have to suffer through fifty hours until he saw another human being again.
No, not just another human being.
Sterling didn’t want to wait another minute to see Norah.
5
“Come in!” Sterling had already made the climb up the stairs. It hadn’t taken him as long as it had that first time. He’d thought about going to the meeting without his leg brace, but he’d tried doing his walking exercises that morning without it, and he’d paid a hefty price by needing two painkillers and a long nap before his hip stopped throbbing.
Norah cracked the door leading into the house from the garage, the entrance he’d told her to use. “Hey, you’re looking good.” She grinned at him, scanning him from head to toe and back.
“You think I’m good-looking?” He kicked a smile in her direction.
“Me and all of America.” She laughed, unaware of the rush of happiness soaring through Sterling, not only from her infectious laugh, but because he felt anything but good-looking with the bulky leg brace and pronounced limp.
“You’re getting around better,” she commented as he took the three steps up to the door.
“I guess my doctor knows what he’s talking about.” He opened the door. “Shall we?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I brought something to change into for dinner.” She indicated her red sweater and skinny jeans. “Something nicer than this.”
“That would be fine,” he said, his voice rough and thick as he tried not to soak in the curves of her body. “You look great.” He ducked his head as he entered the garage. He stopped at the top of the stairs. “Hey, can you go in front of me?”
She squeezed past him, infusing his air with the sweet scent of her perfume. Something with fruit or flowers. Maybe both.
He used the rail for balance, but with Norah in front of him, he didn’t feel like he could spill forward at any moment.
“Thank you,” he said when he reached the bottom. He slid his hand down her forearm to her fingers and squeezed once before letting go. He wondered if she’d let him hold her hand for longer than a heartbeat during dinner. He swallowed just thinking about it. She stared after him as he moved the passenger seat all the way back and folded himself into the car. By the time he’d buckled, a fine bead of sweat had broken out on his hairline.
“This is harder than I thought,” he admitted as she turned out of the driveway onto the road. He gave a nervous chuckle. “Sitting on the couch is much easier.”
Every bump and turn sent a shock of discomfort through his knee. He gritted his teeth and gripped the armrest. By the time they arrived at Silver Creek, Sterling felt like riding in a car was a new torture device.
Norah helped him stand, and he kept his hold on her hand when she started to move away. “Can you take on a third job?”
Her eyebrows drew down. “What do you mean?”
“I have to get out of that house,” he said. “I’m going insane up there alone. I need a babysitter, someone to take me to the park, or the movies, or anything outside of those walls.” He slid a sly smile in her direction. “You up for the job?”
“I don’t know, Sterling….” She trailed off, looked away, and hugged her arms around herself. “I have class two nights a week, and I, well.” She brought her gaze back to his. “I take care of my three half-brothers and my mom all by myself.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You do?” New respect for her bloomed in his chest. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. Is your mom sick?”
Norah moved away from the car, leaving Sterling to follow. She matched her pace to his, never making him feel like his stunted gait was a problem.
“Yes, she has a debilitating lung disease. COPD?” Norah glanced at him, but Sterling didn’t know what COPD was. “She doesn’t leave the house.”
“Oh, well, I could come to your house.”
She burst into laughter, but not the same happy sound he’d heard before. More like doubtful and scared. “You are not coming to my house.”
“Why not?”
“The whole thing could fit into your basement.”
“I don’t care.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
Sterling didn’t understand the venom in her voice, and couldn’t answer because they’d arrived at the meeting and a brown-haired, eager-eyed man met him at the door. “You must be Officer Maughan.” The man pumped Sterling’s hand. “I’m so glad our Norah got you here.”
He looked at her, but she refused to meet his eye, instead wandering further into the room and choosing a seat. “Me too.”
“I’m Doctor Richards. Let me know if you have any questions after the meeting.” He bustled away, and Sterling entered the room and sat next to Norah on the last row. The meeting started, leaving the worries about what she meant about him caring what size her house was to fly from one side of his mind to the other.
As he listened to Dr. Richards talk about the in-patient mentor program at Silver Creek, a warm feeling descended on Sterling. He’d felt this sensation before, with his family when he was a child, when the eight of them would gather for dinner. When he’d told the truth about breaking his mother’s Thanksgiving china. When he used to go to church.
Emotion gathered in his throat, and Sterling knew he was in the right place, doing the right thing.
When Dr. Richards concluded, the group moved outside to the horse stables. A burly man wearing a cowboy hat greeted them, calling himself Owen.
“We encourage anyone applying at Silver Creek to come take riding lessons,” Owen said, and that same comforting feeling dove through Sterling again.
He glanced at Norah. “Forget about babysitting. Maybe you could bring me down for riding lessons?”
“Does this mean you’re going to apply?” she whispered, her eyes trained on Owen.
“Yeah,” he said, his emotion getting lost in the hushed tone. Thank goodness. “I’m going to apply.”
Norah watched as Sterling wiped his face, but he didn’t seem upset or emotional. Maybe his leg hurt from standing for the past twenty minutes while Owen talked about the equine therapy program at Silver Creek.
Her stomach had been in knots since she woke that morning, and she’d skipped breakfast and lunch. What had she been thinking? Accepting Sterling’s dinner invitation? Just the jeans he wore cost more than her car. He outclassed her in every sense of the word, and she suspected anyone with one good eye could see right through her carefully crafted façade to make him think she was his equal.
The very idea was laughable. Just like his suggestion of coming to her house. His apartment in Denver had been twice as big and ten times nicer, with stainless steel appliances and hardwood floors. She knew; Javier had watched the in-home interview Sterling had done for Fox Sports just after he won the gold medal at least a dozen times.
No way she was taking him to her house. No way, no how, not ever.
If only she didn’t hear him telling her thank you in the soft moments before she fell asleep. If only she didn’t want to spend every waking minute with him, tell him all her secrets, including the one about her own past addiction. She swall
owed the words as Owen finished his presentation.
“So, will you?” Sterling asked as the other attendees moved to ask questions or leave.
“Will I what?”
“Bring me down to riding lessons.” Sterling focused on the beautiful black horse standing behind Owen, and he took a step in that direction. Norah followed him, glad for the distraction so she didn’t have to answer his question, introducing him to Owen when they arrived at the horse stall.
“Nice to meet you.” Owen shook hands with Sterling, and he nodded to the horse.
“What’s his name?”
“Blackjack.” Owen patted the horse’s cheek. “You gonna come to riding lessons?”
“Yes,” Sterling said. “I’m still working on getting a ride.” He gestured to his leg. “I can’t really drive yet.”
“I can—” Owen started.
“I’ll take you,” Norah practically shouted over the wrangler, causing both Owen and Sterling to turn toward her.
Sterling grinned, something devilish residing in his dark eyes. “Perfect.”
Norah felt like throwing up, but having Owen pick up and drop off Sterling was somehow worse. She turned away from him to pat Blackjack. “Yeah, perfect.”
Sterling pressed in close to her. “If you can’t drive me, it’s no problem. Owen seemed like he was going to offer.”
“I can do it,” Norah said without looking at him.
“I’ll pay for your gas.”
“That would be great.”
“Sterling.” Dr. Richards’ voice sounded behind them, and Sterling stepped away. She’d need to figure out how to breathe with him around, because she couldn’t keep holding her breath. The last thing she needed was to pass out while driving him home because he smelled so good.
“Any questions?”
“No,” Sterling said. “I’m ready to apply. Norah’s going to bring me down for riding lessons.”
Norah turned when he said her name. He’d said it a few times, always soft, like she deserved special treatment. She loved hearing him say her name.