Her breath whispered out of her. “Thank God.”
“Anyway, just wanted to let you know I’m on my way. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re all right.” She hung up. Sweet heavens, what had happened to him?
Noelle paced in the foyer until a cab pulled up in front of the house. She flung the door open and ran down the pathway to help Connor from the taxi. His face was pale and tight with pain, and he accepted her support without a word.
The cab driver got out and pulled out from the trunk a large bag of wrapped gifts, which he handed to Noelle. With an arm around Connor’s waist, Noelle helped Connor into the house. “What happened?” she asked, wincing at the slow and careful way he moved when she helped him shrug off his black leather jacket.
“I think I dozed off at the wheel.”
“What?”
He shook his head. Embarrassment stained his features. “Stupid, I know. I didn’t realize how tired I was. Should have had some coffee before heading out.”
“Should have had more sleep,” Noelle corrected. “How badly hurt are you?”
“The worst is just the strained back, though I’m sure I’ll feel more aches tomorrow. The car’s still in the ditch, but I’ll get a tow truck to haul it out the day after Christmas.”
“Are you going to be able to handle the stairs?”
Connor’s jaw tensed. “I think so. Slowly.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry about this. I’m sure it’s not the way you planned to spend Christmas Eve.”
“No one ever plans for these kinds of things to happen. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
The master bedroom was scarcely larger than the other two bedrooms on the second floor, but it was absent of the clutter that made Grace’s room look like it had been hit by a hurricane. The king-sized bed took up most of the space in the room, but a large chaise lounge tucked against the window looked like a cozy reading nook. The tasteful blend of soft beige and soothing blue hues was likely Millie’s choice of colors, but it suited Connor too. In fact, the bedroom was an oasis of calm in a home still struggling to find its footing after the death of a beloved wife and mother.
She glanced back at Connor. He was struggling to tug his sweater over his head. Indecision pricked her until she saw his grimace of pain. Practicality trumped her instinctive reticence. “Easy,” she murmured as she stepped over to help him. She was close enough to feel the heat from his body. Gently, she eased the piece of clothing over his head.
“Thanks,” he muttered as he started undoing the buttons on the shirt he wore beneath his sweater. “There’s…”
“What?” she asked when he hesitated.
“There’s an ice-pack in the freezer—”
“Be right back.”
She found the ice pack and returned to his room. Noelle jerked to a stop beside the door and gave herself a moment to enjoy the view. He had stripped off his shirt to reveal a lean, muscular torso and the faint outline of a six-pack abdomen. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow. All in all, he was one of the more pleasing male specimens she had ever set eyes on.
And he was hurt.
And he was widowed with two children.
And he lived in a little town in the middle of nowhere Maryland.
No, no, no.
Shoving her less-than-pure thoughts to the back of her mind, Noelle cleared her throat. “I’ve got the ice pack. Why don’t you lie down?” The corner of her lips tugged up when he hesitated. “If you need to take off your jeans—you can’t possibly sleep comfortably in them.” She turned her back to him. “I promise not to peek.”
His laughter was low, but it echoed with humor rather than irony.
She did peek, of course. He wore boxers—plain black cotton boxers, which confirmed for Noelle his simple tastes and lack of vanity. He did not, however, take his boxers off, although Noelle appreciated the hint of his firm buttocks beneath the loose material.
She turned when she heard the rustle of bedcovers. He lowered himself onto his stomach, his back and shoulders taut. Tension knotted in her stomach—tension of the entirely wrong kind. Damn it. Down, girl. He’s hurt. He needs my help. She bit down on her lower lip and braced herself before touching him.
“Gently,” Noelle murmured, as much to herself as to him. She placed her hand against his lower back; his skin was heated, the muscles tender to the touch. Connor tensed when the ice pack pressed against his skin. His breath caught for an instant, and then he breathed out slowly.
His shoulders relaxed as the moment of pain eased.
“Thank you,” he whispered. His eyes closed.
“You’re welcome.” She gently brushed sweat-soaked locks off his brow.
His eyes flashed open. Dark brown locked on blue. The surprised vulnerability in his eyes stunned her.
She jerked her hand away. “I’m sorry.”
He swallowed hard. His lips moved. “Don’t be. Noelle—”
“You should rest. I’ll let myself out and lock the door behind me.”
His brow furrowed, as if he wanted to say something else, but finally he nodded. “Thank you.”
Not good. Noelle hurried downstairs. The lump in her throat threatened to migrate to her chest. She had flight reservations back to Los Angeles on January 2. The last thing she needed was a distraction in the form of a gorgeous doctor whose strength and grace under pressure tugged at her heartstrings.
She was about to step out of the door when she heard the fretful, sleepy cry of a child. Hope.
Indecision tickled up her spine. She couldn’t afford to get sucked in any deeper into Connor’s life than she already was. A gorgeous man with two beautiful little girls—a gorgeous man with a good heart and two beautiful little girls who desperately needed a mother. The situation had “DANGER—QUICKSAND AHEAD” stamped all over it.
Hope continued to cry.
Damn it. Noelle closed the front door and scurried into the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle of milk from the refrigerator and took the steps two at a time. Even so, she had not been fast enough. Connor stood at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily against the bannister. He was obviously on his way downstairs to get milk for Hope.
Their eyes met.
“I thought you’d left,” he said quietly.
“I’m not leaving. Now, get back to bed. I’ve got Hope.”
“But—”
“Just leave pillows and a blanket on the couch in your bedroom. I’ll be on hand if anyone needs help in the night.” She touched his cheek gently. “You need someone to take care of you. You need sleep.”
He stared at her. For a moment, she thought he would say something, but a soft sigh escaped from him and he nodded. Apparently, they had both come to the same conclusion: It took too much energy to argue.
It took her ten minutes to feed Hope a bottle of milk and get her settled back to sleep. Noelle returned to Connor’s bedroom and found him fast asleep too. He had left two pillows and a soft down comforter on the chaise lounge for her. The chair wasn’t long enough for her to stretch out fully, but she was a snuggle-up-in-a-ball type of person anyway. She closed her eyes and listened to the unfamiliar sound of another person sleeping not far away. Connor, thankfully, didn’t snore, but his erratic breaths testified to the restlessness of his sleep. Twice she swapped out his ice pack for a heat pack. He flinched from the contact but did not fully wake.
She stood by his bedside, staring down at Connor. A smile crept across her face. How much of a hardship could it possibly be to wake up next to him every day?
Not hard at all, she realized.
And it terrified her.
Chapter 7
Pain jolted up his spine and tugged him awake. Connor yanked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth against the heated pulses. His muscles clenched, intensifying the agony. He bit back the curse words and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until his muscles relaxed and the pain eased slightly.
His gaze fell on the lovely woman asleep o
n the chaise lounge, curled beneath the thick comforter. The pale dawn light filtered in through the window to caress Noelle’s face. She looked like an angel with her blond hair and sweetly serene expression.
She was an angel. He could not have made it through the night without her.
The memory of the accident, his near miss with death, shuddered through him. His daughters had lost their mother on Christmas Eve and, but for the grace of God, had nearly lost their father the following Christmas Eve. He had been stupid and careless, and he was incredibly lucky and blessed to be alive with nothing worse than a strained back.
And Noelle, poor Noelle, had more than she had bargained for when she offered to babysit for a few hours. Connor’s lips tugged into a half-smile as he studied her. She had always been pretty, but Connor found her mature beauty far more attractive than the unrepentant flirt she had been in high school.
The age gap between Noelle and Holly had given Noelle access to the high school seniors, and she had shot to instant popularity with the jocks. Connor, of course, had been beneath her notice, as had been the rest of the nerds, but she had never been unkind. She did not stop to talk to him, but she did nod at him when they passed in the corridors. Once or twice, she might have even smiled.
He hadn’t particularly cared one way or another, but he had certainly noticed Holly’s pretty younger sister. Did she recall, he wondered, the one interaction they had in high school? He had stayed late to study at the library, and at the end of his day, was walking past what he thought were empty classrooms when he heard a squeal of anguish.
“Leave her alone, Josh!” an outraged female voice ordered.
He pushed open the door and saw Josh, the star quarterback, and Noelle in the classroom. Josh held the squirming class mascot, a white rabbit, in one hand. With the other, he twisted its hind leg.
Connor had never thought that rabbits could make sounds, but that rabbit most definitely screamed.
“You’re hurting her! Give her to me!” Noelle tried to snatch the rabbit out of Josh’s hands, but he fended her off easily.
Josh looked up at the intrusion. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, Con. You wanna dissect this bunny?”
Noelle’s gaze flicked to Connor. Her eyes widened. “You can’t!”
The revulsion in her voice scorched him. Connor dropped his book bag and lunged at Josh. Surprise was the only advantage he had against his classmate who was taller, heavier, and stronger. He grabbed Josh’s wrist and twisted it. The rabbit tumbled onto the desk and scrambled away, limping. Noelle dashed after it.
And Connor fought for his life.
The outcome was inevitable but closer than either Josh or Connor could have imagined. Connor took a heck of a beating, but not by much. The janitor and a teacher were summoned to break up the fight, and Josh and Connor were both suspended for a week—Josh for animal cruelty and Connor for starting the fight and for injuring the star quarterback enough to sideline him for an important home game.
It was ironic, Connor supposed, that the only black mark on his high school career had been over a rabbit, but between the rabbit’s physical agony and Noelle’s emotional anguish, he hadn’t had a chance of avoiding the fight. He still recalled sitting outside the principal’s office, his vision blurry and head throbbing. His father was speaking to the principal. He could hear the disappointment in his father’s voice. Connor swallowed hard. He was going to be suspended and grounded. Damn it.
He stared at his knuckles; they were bruised and skinned. Dried blood—some his, some Josh’s—streaked his skin. If his transcript and high school record listed the suspension, it could jeopardize his college applications. All for a rabbit. He cursed under his breath.
Noelle’s small hand snaked into his. She held his fingertips—probably the only part of him that didn’t hurt. He heard his father’s footsteps approach but he did not look up. Noelle, however, had leapt to her feet. She spoke quickly, but her words blurred into an incomprehensible jumble in his aching head. He never did figure out what she had said to his father that day, but in the end, his father had patted him on the back. “Come on, son. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
His father hadn’t grounded him.
Eventually, his knuckles healed. The bruises faded, and his head stopped hurting. Eventually, he and Josh had become friends, but he had not spoken to Noelle since.
Not for twelve years.
And now she was back in Havre de Grace, as compelling and irresistible as he remembered, but she hadn’t come back to stay.
If only… But no…
Connor sighed quietly. Nothing would come of this.
Chapter 8
“Daddy?”
Grace’s hesitant voice woke Noelle. Stretching widely, she sat up in the chaise lounge and held her arms out.
Grace scurried across the carpet and launched herself into Noelle’s embrace. The little girl’s eyes remained fixed on the bed where her father slept. She lowered her voice. “Is Daddy sick?”
“Um, no. Not exactly.” Noelle cuddled the child close. A smile spread across her face. Oh, was there anything better than holding a child in the morning?
“Why is he not moving?”
“He’s sleeping.”
“But Daddy is always awake when I’m awake.”
“Daddies need to sleep too.”
“I want Daddy to wake up!” Grace scrambled to the bed and shook Connor’s arm.
He didn’t respond.
Alarmed, Noelle went up to the bed. Connor was obviously alive, his breaths deep and even. On the bedside table was a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers combined with a sleep aid.
Grace shook Connor more vigorously. “Daddy!”
He dragged his eyes open. His unfocused gaze drifted over Grace’s face.
“Wake up!”
“I…I’m tired,” Connor whispered. “I just need to sleep for a while, okay?” His eyelids fluttered closed.
“No!” Grace screeched and flung her entire body over Connor’s.
“It’s all right.” Noelle placed her hands on Grace’s shoulders and led her away. “Let him sleep. How about you come downstairs with me to get breakfast ready?”
Shivering, Grace allowed Noelle to lead her to the kitchen, but she sat at the table, her legs pulled up to her chest. Her fingers locked on her knees. She sat in silence as Noelle inventoried the refrigerator and pantry. She was quiet for so long that Noelle finally looked out at her.
The little girl’s face was pale, her wide eyes terror-stricken.
“Grace? What’s wrong?”
Grace’s lips trembled. “When is my daddy going to die?”
“Your daddy’s not going to die.”
“He said he was tired. He said he was going to sleep. Mama said that too. And then she died.”
Oh, God. Noelle swallowed hard. No wonder Grace was traumatized. She tugged up a chair to sit across from the child. “Your mother was sick when she said that, but your daddy’s not sick. He’s just tired. Really. I promise.”
“I don’t want him to die.” Grace’s voice shook.
“I know.”
“I want to see him.”
“Okay, let’s go see him.” Noelle held her hand out to Grace, and they went up the stairs together.
Grace tiptoed exaggeratedly into the room to stand in front of her sleeping father. The little girl sniffed to hold back her tears and then crawled under the covers. Noelle made no move to stop her.
In his sleep, Connor shifted to wrap his arms around his daughter and hold her close. A shaky smile wavered on Grace’s lips, and she closed her eyes as she snuggled against her father’s chest.
A lump rose in Noelle’s throat, and she turned away before dashing the tears from her eyes with an unsteady hand. She walked down the stairs and saw the bag of gifts in the foyer. After arranging the presents under the tree, she started a cheery fire in the hearth before reaching for her smartphone to call her sister.
�
��Hey, stranger,” Holly said. “What’s with these cryptic text messages you sent?”
“Cryptic?”
There was a hint of laughter in Holly’s voice. “If you’re gonna jump a guy’s bones, just say so. Don’t call it an accident, and say you’re staying to help.”
Noelle scowled. “Connor was in a car accident last night that landed him in the ER. He hurt his back, so I stayed to help with his kids.”
“Oh my God. Is he all right?”
“Nothing broken or bleeding, but other than that, I don’t know. I helped swap out ice packs and heat packs several times last night, but he’s still asleep, so I can’t ask him.”
“Poor man. Will you be staying to help him through the day?”
“I know it’s Christmas—”
“I’ve got Dad covered.”
“I’ll wait until he’s awake and see how he’s doing. I want to be home for Christmas, too, but Connor needs help.”
Her sister remained silent. She was sneaky, Noelle reflected. Holly knew full well that silence only served as an invitation for Noelle to keep speaking. At another time, she might have denied her sister the satisfaction, but her heart was so full that she had to speak. “He’s trying so hard, Holly. It breaks my heart to see him struggle alone.”
“He’s not a stray you can pick up off the road and nurse back to health.”
“I know. It’s just…” She sighed. “I’m crazy, right?”
“Do you know if he’s ready to move on?”
Noelle glanced up at the photograph on the mantle place. “I don’t know.”
“He hasn’t dated since she died. Hasn’t even looked twice at any woman.”
Noelle bit her lower lip. Had she only imagined his attraction? “How long were they together?”
“Oh…since junior or senior year of high school, I imagine. I think she was at Boston University when he was at Harvard; I know she applied to colleges in the same cities as he did. They got married after they graduated from college, and they continued to live in Boston when he went to medical school.”
Noelle drew a deep breath. Connor and Millie had a high school sweetheart love story that should have lasted their whole lives. How could she possibly compete with it?
Graced: A Love Letters Novel Page 4