As soon as I opened the door, she gave me a subdued smile as she passed into the kitchen through the laundry room.
“Come on,” Anya yelled, sprinting for the stairs, “I’ll show you my room. I have a pink canopy!”
“Uhh, okay.”
Isabel exhaled a soft laugh. “I don’t think he’ll act suitably impressed.” As she walked slowly into the family room, her gaze lit on the wall of windows, pitched in an A-frame, overlooking the sprawling view of Lake Sammamish. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Thanks,” I replied. “Do you want to go straight to bed? Or rest on the couch?”
Her eyes flew to mine, her cheeks becoming a shade of pink. “Which room should I use? I wouldn’t mind a nap.”
I blew out a hard breath because I hadn’t thought this piece through. The guest room, which I’d assumed Emmett would use, was across the hall from Anya’s room on the second floor. The third bedroom—my own—was on the main floor, along the back of the house with the same view as the family room. I gestured in that direction. “You can sleep back there. I don’t want to make you do stairs.”
Without argument, Isabel walked in that direction, and when I pulled the Tylenol out of the cabinet in the kitchen, I had to take a moment. Hands braced on the kitchen counter, I pushed through the feeling that I’d made a massive mistake by doing this.
As soon as I strode through the living room, painkillers in one hand and an ice pack in the other, and caught sight of her sitting on the edge of my bed, I knew I had.
She took the pain meds without complaint, allowing me to pull back the covers so she could slide in. Not a word was spoken as she settled herself onto my pillow, let me set the ice pack on her hip. For that, I was glad because I didn’t even know what to say.
Isabel Ward was the blood-red apple, tempting just by being herself. She was the thing I shouldn’t want but might wreck the world around me in order to try.
One taste, even the smallest indulgence, and I’d know exactly what I was missing.
If I allowed myself to, I’d want to devour her whole. Because there were no half measures, not with her. There might be a hundred things I didn’t know about her. What her favorite food was. If she was a good dancer. If she liked action movies or romances or stories that made her cry. If she liked to read or if ice cream in the winter sounded good to her.
The frantic urge to uncover each and every thing took me by surprise. Because I’d never felt anything like it.
It was impossible not to compare it to Beth, and I hated that too. Beth had been slow, sweet growth. And this … this was not in the same universe.
I walked out of the bedroom and took a deep breath because I didn’t need to figure it out immediately.
While she slept soundly in my bed, I fed the kids dinner, and we walked down to the lake for a little bit.
After we got back to the house, I quietly pushed the door open. She was on her back now, her wrapped wrist laying on her chest, which rose and fell evenly.
“Are you going to wake her up?” Anya whispered.
I ushered her away from the door. “Soon. She’s only been asleep for a couple of hours. I’ll give her another hour and then see if I can wake her up.”
Emmett gave me a nervous look from where he sat on the couch. “And if you can’t?”
“I’ll be able to,” I promised him. “She’ll be okay, bud. You said she never passed out when she … when they fell?” I almost stuttered over the question because it sparked a dangerous, violent reaction in my head if I tried to imagine her and Anya crashing to the ground. Something volatile.
He shook his head. “No, she said way too many bad words when she hit the ground.”
Reluctantly, I smiled. “That’s a good sign.” I tilted my head toward the bedroom. “Your parents gonna be mad when they find out about this?”
His eyes got huge. “Oh yeah. I was actually supposed to FaceTime with my mom tonight, but maybe I’ll just ignore it so she doesn’t find out and try to get a flight home. My dad has to coach tomorrow.”
If I had to guess, missing a game would be an easy sacrifice for both of them, but I didn’t tell him that.
“Is Isabel’s phone in her backpack?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
Her pack was still sitting on the floor by the door, right where she’d left it when she walked in. After turning on a movie for the kids, I picked it up, pausing before I unzipped the front pocket.
The phone was right there, and when I touched the screen, I saw a few texts and two missed calls from Paige.
“Do you know her passcode?” I asked Emmett.
“You’re breaking into her phone? Cool.” He motioned for it. “I know the pattern. Up, middle, down, then middle.”
He tapped the screen, the phone unlocking immediately.
“You’re not going to throw me under the bus if she kicks my ass for this, are you?”
Emmett laughed. “No. I’ll tell her I did it.”
With a nod, I walked out onto the back deck and pulled up the missed call. I hit the name of her sister-in-law and took a deep breath.
Paige answered on the first ring. “Holy shit, Isabel, I’ve been freaking out since Molly texted me. You fell out of a tree?”
I winced. “This is Aiden, actually. Her … boss.”
Deafening silence met my announcement.
“You’re …” She paused again. “Aiden Hennessy?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry to call you like this.”
“Is she okay? Why do you have her phone?” Paige asked, the concern in her voice loud and clear.
“She’s asleep, and I think she’ll be fine. Sore, but nothing broken or seriously injured.”
She exhaled heavily, then I heard her cover the microphone and repeat what I said to her husband. “I’m going to put you on speaker, Aiden. Logan wants to know what’s going on. Is Emmett okay?”
“Yeah, he was a little rattled when I showed up at the house, but he’s the one who called 911 when the branch broke. He’s a brave kid.”
Logan spoke next. “What happened exactly?”
I told them what I knew and what the paramedics relayed to me.
Paige made a tsking noise. “Why am I not surprised she’d be so damn stubborn about this?” Her voice wavered on the end. Then she sniffed, and I heard Logan murmur something quietly to her. She sniffed again. “Sorry, Aiden, I just hate being away when something happens to my babies.”
I smiled a little, imagining the woman in my bed as anyone’s baby. “No apology necessary.”
“You’re sure she shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Logan asked. “How do you know she doesn’t have a concussion?”
“I don’t,” I answered honestly. “But I’ve had a couple myself, so I know what to look for. She’s steady on her feet, she never passed out, no nausea, no confusion.” I sat in a chair and stared out at the water, thought about the night in front of me. “I’ll wake her every three to four hours, and if I have even the slightest worry, I promise I’ll take her in.”
“What about the kids?” Paige asked.
“My parents live about five minutes away. I can call my mom to come over here if it comes down to it.”
She exhaled audibly. “Okay. Before we even talked to you, I decided to switch my flight to the first one out tomorrow. Logan is going to talk to his head coach, not sure if he’ll be with me or not.”
“I’ll text you my address.”
Paige paused. “She’s going to hate that you called us. Like, a lot.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” I answered wryly. “But I’m a parent. I’d want to know if it was me.”
“We appreciate you telling us,” Logan said.
“Gimme a second, honey,” Paige said to her husband, and I heard the sound of a door closing a second later. “Just … a word of advice, Aiden. If you’re open to it.”
My brow furrowed at the change in her tone. “Of course.”
“Isabel is the most st
ubborn of the four girls, and that’s … a pretty impressive feat if you’ve met her sisters.” She took a deep breath. “And underneath that is the kindest, biggest heart of anyone I know.”
My face went hot. “Paige, I—”
She ignored me. “She will argue with you helping her. She will fight you every step of the way tonight, and I need you to promise me that you will ignore her when she says she can handle it herself or she doesn’t need anything. Because knowing someone is there to take care of her is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind right now.”
“I promise,” I told her.
“But also,” she continued, her tone perfectly polite, perfectly sweet, “if you upset her in any way, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
My eyebrows popped up. “Umm, okay?”
“Good talk, Aiden. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Despite the warning, I walked back into the house with a smile on my face.
The kids were fully engrossed in their movie, and I walked quietly past the family room and down the hall to my bedroom.
The light from the hallway spilled into the opening, and Isabel hadn’t moved from the last time I checked on her.
I crouched next to the bed and said her name quietly. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake.
Even as I held my breath before I raised my hand, I wondered at the intelligence of allowing myself even this slight touch.
Even before Paige had finished saying what she said, even before I recognized the deep swell of emotion in the words, I knew exactly what Paige was going to say about Isabel.
Because somehow, in the midst of all the mundane, I knew exactly who this woman was.
That was why the details didn’t matter to me.
Carefully, I slid my fingertips along her cheekbone and let out a slow, shaky exhale. Her skin was so soft.
“Isabel,” I said again. “Time to wake up.”
She hummed. Her head turned toward my touch. “Wha—” she murmured sleepily.
My fingers trailed the hairline at the back of her neck, and I said her name again. My palm laid gently along her neck, my entire hand now framing her face.
Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, and she woke. “Aiden,” she whispered.
“You know who I am. That’s good.”
“Mm-hmm.” She inhaled, and I saw the slow trickle of awareness in her face at the way I was touching her.
I pulled my hand back even though that awareness told me it was a welcome touch. “You remember why you’re here?”
“That fucking tree,” she said, stifling a yawn.
I smiled. “What about the year?”
She told me. With a dry look, she also told me the president and what kind of car she drove.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“A little.” She used her good hand to brace on the mattress and sit up. Her hair was a tangled mess, and it was a good thing she was injured. A good thing there were children in the other room. Because she looked so fucking irresistible, I had to step back from the bed.
“I’ll go heat some lasagna,” I told her.
With a slight shake of her head, Isabel opened her mouth, and like an idiot, I laid a finger over her petal-soft lips.
“No arguments,” I said in a gruff voice. My finger slipped away from her mouth slowly, and her eyes were huge when she looked up at me.
“No arguments,” she agreed quietly.
Paige’s words swam through my head as I fixed her a plate and brought it to where she was propped up against my headboard. With perfect clarity, I understood her protective instincts toward Isabel. Not because she wasn’t strong or because she couldn’t handle herself. But because there was some soul-deep recognition that she was mine to protect.
That if anyone upset her, I’d make them wish they were never born.
Only once in my life had I ever felt like that. I’d married her. Loved her. And when I’d lost her, I mourned ever feeling that way again.
But as I watched Isabel eat, drink some water, and as I watched her hug my daughter good night like she was something precious, I already knew that somehow, by some magic, some miracle, it was happening again.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have terrified me more.
Chapter Twenty
Isabel
I managed every wake-up just fine.
Every three hours, Aiden pulled me from a deep sleep, surrounded in sheets that smelled like him. He never touched my face again, simply called my name or laid a gentle hand on top of the covers over my shoulder. His questions were innocuous—the year, my middle name, where I worked. At one point, he gave me more painkillers and a new ice pack for my wrist, and even with the frigid cold against my skin, I fell right back asleep.
Each time, I managed fine. So did he.
Until the last one.
No dreams were happening because I was too exhausted, too sore. But the last time he woke me up, it was still pitch-black in the room with only a weak path of light coming from the hallway. I’d hardly moved on the king-size mattress, sticking to one side and my back because my hip was too sore to roll to the other side.
His voice, low and quiet, pierced through the haze of sleep, and I found myself humming contentedly. My name on his lips made me want to curl up like a cat in his lap and arch my body into the sound, roll my back into his hands.
“Isabel, come on, you gotta wake up for me.”
This time, his hand was skimming down my upper arm in small circles, and the calluses on his palms felt delicious on my skin.
“Hmm, that feels nice,” I heard myself say.
His hand only froze for a moment but then continued. “Does it?” he asked quietly.
I pressed my face into his pillow and inhaled. I kept my eyes firmly shut because if I was dreaming this, I refused to wake up. I wanted to allow myself this moment of a loose, sleepy tongue, where I could say the things in my head without fear of embarrassment.
“Everything you do feels nice,” I murmured. “I wish you’d do more.”
Aiden was quiet for a moment, and cautiously, I opened my eyes in narrow slits to see his face in the dim light of the room. It was so terribly intimate, how closely he crouched down by the bed. He didn’t sit on the mattress to possibly cause me discomfort. He’d given up his bed so I could get better sleep.
His profile was visible as I studied him, but I couldn’t tell where he was looking. Maybe he was watching his hand on my arm because he moved from my upper arm, down around the curve of my elbow, allowing his fingertips to drag softly over my forearm, stopping just shy of the wrapping of my wrist. Then back up.
“Where did you sleep?” I asked him.
“The couch.”
My lips curled up slightly. “You fit on that thing?”
“Not very well,” he admitted. “But I’ve slept in much worse places.”
I adjusted my head and stared openly at him. “Thank you for doing that for me.”
The thick column of his throat moved in a heavy swallow, but he nodded. “I told you, I owe you, Isabel.”
“No, you don’t.” I paused. “I did what anyone would’ve—”
The pressure of his hand increased as it coasted back up over my shoulder, and that was where it came to rest, the blunt edges of his fingertips tangling with my hair.
“I’m not talking about what anyone else would’ve done. I’m talking about what you did for Anya. And me.” He shifted his weight, and I finally got a clearer look at his eyes. He wasn’t looking at his hand; he was looking at me. “Thank you, Isabel. I need you to hear me say that.”
I’d never had anyone look at me like Aiden was, and I had no clue what to make of it.
This wasn’t reality, this tiny moment in his bedroom. And if I thought too hard about how little we knew about each other, I’d question my sanity. But he was looking at me like I was unexpected, and he wasn’t sure how to handle me the right way. Aiden was looking at me like I belonged in his home,
in his bed, and he just might be okay with that.
I let out a shaky breath. “You’re welcome.”
“What’s your favorite food?” he asked suddenly.
I blinked at the change in topic, the change in tone. It was the only reason I answered honestly. “Strawberry Pop-Tarts.”
Now it was Aiden’s turn to blink. “No, it’s not.”
“You don’t get to argue with me about it.”
“No one’s favorite food is Pop-Tarts after the age of seven.”
“Well, mine is,” I said indignantly. “They’re delicious, and maybe you just haven’t had one in a long time so you don’t remember.”
The smile that spread over his face was warm, and it made me all gooey inside, and I pressed my now-hot face back into the pillow that smelled like him. His warm smile turned into a low, amused chuckle.
“I had no idea you were this judgmental,” I teased. “You better tell me your favorite food now.”
“You’re very demanding when you wake up.”
That was because my filter was gone. That process had been a slow one, pushing through embarrassment, pushing through the first unsteady weeks, then the tiptoeing into a more balanced relationship. He didn’t even realize that this was me, wide open.
But I did. And that was why it mattered, these quiet moments.
“Cranberry juice?” I asked.
He laughed, eyes tracing my features. “Getting warmer.”
I had to bury my face into his pillow to hide my pleased smile.
Aiden moved from a crouching position to sitting on the floor, his back braced against the nightstand, and he turned his head to face me. I tucked my good hand up under the pillow and imagined that this was just … normal. The two of us trading whispered questions in bed. He grimaced, sending a glare over his shoulder at the table.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just the handle digging into my back.” His eyes traced my face. “I’m too old to be sitting in places like this.”
I pulled in a deep breath and decided not to weigh the wisdom of what was about to come out of my mouth. “You can lay up here,” I whispered. “On top of the blanket,” I rushed to add when his gaze sharpened.
Forbidden: A Ward Sisters Sisters Novel Page 18