“Fine,” she muttered.
Ranie patted her shoulder. “You get Jingle, and I’ll start packing.”
As Shay took off down the hall toward the kitchen, Ranie met Connor’s gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes darting toward the cabin’s second floor.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he told her, and once she’d disappeared after her sister, he headed up the stairs.
He heard the telltale sound of violent retching before he even opened the bedroom door. The bed was empty so he moved toward the bathroom. She was kneeling on the tile floor, hanging on to the side of the toilet as if she was having trouble staying upright.
She stiffened as he crouched behind her and gathered her thick hair into his hands and away from her face. A moan escaped her lips in between heaves, whether from what was going on inside her body or his presence, he couldn’t tell. He guessed the latter.
His suspicion was confirmed when she stilled a few minutes later, shallow trembles the only thing racking her body.
“Go,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaking. “Don’t need you.”
To prove her point, she shifted away from him like she was going to stand but crumpled into a heap after just one step.
“Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You might not need me, but I’m going to lose my mind if you won’t let me help you right now.”
Her only response was a soft groan.
He knelt beside her, rubbing his palm over her back. “Let me help you.”
She shook her head, her mass of copper hair dull and tangled as it draped over her face, hiding her from his view. Counting on her body’s current frailty to prevent a fight, he took her shoulders and eased her around so he could see her face.
Damn. He stifled a gasp at the sight of her sallow skin and chapped lips, the shadows bruising the sunken hollows of her eyes. She didn’t look at him and her body was so limp in his arms he couldn’t tell if she was still awake. He traced the blue veins of her eyelids with his thumbs.
She stirred as he drew the washcloth over her forehead and cheeks.
“Stomach bug,” she croaked out. “Leave me—”
“I’m taking you to my cabin,” he told her, surprised when she gathered the strength to fight him. Her skin was burning, and he figured she was half-delusional, thanks to the fever. Although she flailed, there was no strength in the movements and he easily subdued her, gathering her closer. He hoped to heaven this was only a stomach bug. The thought that it might be something more serious made it hard to draw air into his lungs.
“We’re going to give it one night,” he said as he stood, cradling her in his arms. “Then I’m bringing in a doctor.”
“No doctor,” she whispered, her body going rigid again. Then she sighed and sagged against him, her breath raspy on his neck.
He headed for the door and found Ranie waiting in the hallway. “She’s in bad shape,” the girl said, and it wasn’t difficult to read the panic in her gaze.
“We’ll take care of her,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel. Maybe he should call a doctor right away or at least contact someone from Crimson Ranch to let them know what was going on.
As if reading his thoughts, April struggled in his arms. “No,” she groaned in a croaky voice that was and wasn’t hers.
He didn’t answer her as he maneuvered down the hallway. Because even if it was only a virus, no one should trust him with the responsibility of nursing another person back to health. He’d already proved that he couldn’t take care of someone who was important to him.
The revelation of his feelings for her had his knees starting to buckle before he clamped down the lid on his emotions. The constant refrain he’d told himself in the past few days...this is a fling, she doesn’t matter...held no weight in his heart as the girls led their silent parade through the frozen afternoon air to the other cabin.
Even if what between them ended, April was his. She was in his heart, part of his very makeup. She’d breathed life back into him when he’d thought it was impossible. Stomach flu or something else, he was going to take care of her. He was going to prove that she could depend on him.
* * *
The next few days passed in a fevered haze for April. She slipped in and out of sleep as her body seemed to turn in on itself. Even during the cancer treatments, the surgery and the searing pain of recovery, she’d remained conscious of each moment.
Whatever was ravaging her body now had taken it over completely. There were short bursts of lucidity and she clung to those and the details of life swirling around her.
Connor holding her hand. The feel of a cool cloth against her forehead. Struggling to the bathroom or heaving over the bucket at the side of the bed. A girl’s voice softly singing Christmas carols. The downy feel of a kitten’s fur against her neck. An unfamiliar presence in the room. A doctor?
She’d protested the clinical hands on her, the cold metal of a stethoscope and a pinpoint of light shone in her eyes. Then Connor’s strong hands soothing her. A glass of water tipped to her dry lips.
Now she blinked open her eyes, the raw ache in her throat propelling her awake. She felt as if she’d crawled her way through a hot, dark desert, pulling sand into her lungs until they were filled with an abrasive scrape.
A rustling across the room and Connor was beside her.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she had the random thought that no one had ever called her that before. Desperately she wanted to be someone’s sweetheart. This man’s sweetheart.
But not as desperately as she needed a drink.
“Water,” she whispered.
He held a glass to her lips and, while swallowing made her wince, it was a cool balm over the fire that burned her throat.
She glanced up at him from under her lashes and other memories poured into her mind, like a thick soup that meant to choke her. Memories of waking from terrible dreams, the kind that had plagued her during her radiation and chemo, and being comforted in Connor’s embrace. Embarrassment followed quickly. She knew from when Sara had cared for her during her treatment, April had a tendency to talk in her sleep. What had she said in the thrall of the fever? What had she revealed when she’d worked so hard to keep her secret fears hidden?
She coughed a little and Connor moved the glass away, dabbed at her chin with a soft cloth. She’d sworn after the cancer that no one would see her so weak again, and a part of her hated that he’d been forced into the role of playing nursemaid.
Perhaps he didn’t mind, but she’d watched the way her husband had changed. The difference between how he had looked at her when she’d been whole and healthy and the disgust and pity in his gaze after her diagnosis.
The thought of Connor seeing her that way was more than she could bear.
Tears clouded her vision before she could stop them and immediately he scooped her into his arms, rocking her back and forth like a father would a child who’d scraped a knee. She knew she should fight, show him she was still strong, but the truth was twofold. She wasn’t strong and the comfort of being held was too appealing. She wasn’t ready to let him go.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice raspy, and she forced herself to pull away.
He gave a tired laugh. “You scared me.”
She scooted back against the headboard, shocked when her arm muscles protested the work of supporting her as she moved. “I’m sorry.”
How many times had she said those words to her husband? I’m sorry I’m sick. I’m sorry I’m not the woman you married. I’m sorry you don’t love me anymore.
Bitterness filled the emptiness in her belly, making her hunger for more than just food.
“Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about.”
That word again. Sweetheart. Connor’s voice was so gentle. She forced
herself to meet his gaze, steeling herself for whatever she’d find there.
The tenderness radiating from him was the last thing she’d expected. Again tears pricked her eyes, but this time she blinked them away.
“How long have I been out?”
“Three days.” He ran a hand through his hair, and she realized he looked almost as exhausted as she felt. “The fever broke yesterday, shortly after the doctor was here.”
“I said no doctors.”
“You said a lot of things,” he told her. “That one I ignored. Sara insisted—”
“You called Sara?”
“Right away,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“It was a stomach bug.”
“April,” he said on a sigh. “I haven’t ever seen a person that sick from a virus. I wasn’t taking any chances.” He looked away, out the window with the curtains that were drawn so only a bit of light filtered through.
She bit her lip. He’d watched his wife and son die in that car accident. Of course he’d wanted a doctor to take responsibility for her. She was surprised he hadn’t shipped her off to the ER so she’d be out of his hair.
No. That was unfair. Connor wasn’t her ex-husband. She couldn’t lay the shortcomings of another man at his feet.
“Will you open the curtains?” she asked softly, and he stood to do her bidding. “I’m sorry you were worried. And Sara... I’m surprised she didn’t fly back from her trip.”
He smiled at her over his shoulder. “You know her well. The doctor who made the house call was her brother-in-law.”
April cringed. “Jake Travers drove up the mountain to check on me?”
“Only then did Sara agree to stay on her vacation.” The mattress sagged as he sat on the edge of it again. “He gave you three liters of IV fluids but said you should still take it easy.”
“I feel awful that everyone was so put out by me. He has a family of his own and—”
He placed a finger over her mouth. “He didn’t mind, and his wife—”
“Millie?”
“Yes, Millie. She’s called twice to check on you.” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his flannel shirt and smiled at the screen. “It seems like half the town has called or texted for updates on your progress. You have a lot of people who care about you.”
“I wish no one knew,” she said on a sigh. “I don’t want people to think that I’m...”
“Human?” Connor asked, one side of his mouth curved.
“Sick,” she whispered.
He frowned. “You were sick, April.”
“I mean really sick,” she clarified. “Most people know my history and—”
“A stomach virus is different than cancer.”
“I know,” she mumbled, although feeling weak and dependent on other people was universally awful no matter the reason. “It’s difficult for me to not be the one taking care of others.” She glanced around at the room she was in, suddenly realizing it wasn’t her bedroom. “I’m at the main cabin?”
“It was easier to take care of you here.”
“What about the girls?”
“They’re here, too. In fact, if you’re up for it, I know they’d love to see you awake. Both of them have been worried.”
“I didn’t want them to tell you I was sick.”
He flashed a wry smile. “They told me anyway.”
She shook her head. “That was stupid and selfish of me. Those girls shouldn’t have to feel responsible for anyone but themselves. After everything they’ve been through...”
“Don’t beat yourself up, April,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “Ranie and Shay care about you. They just wanted you to feel better.”
“I don’t deserve them,” she whispered, her chest squeezing. That was why she couldn’t keep them. She didn’t deserve that kind of devotion, and her instincts around taking care of herself were twisted. She should never have asked the girls to hide her illness from Connor.
Being sick had affected more than April’s body. It messed with her mind, bringing back too many memories of not being able to care for herself or having to rely on her husband during her cancer treatments. That experience had changed her, and while she hated the way it had distorted her view of herself and the world around her, she didn’t know how to fix it.
“Hey,” he told her, tracing his thumb in circles on her palm. “How about you give yourself a break for a minute?” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead so gentle it almost broke her heart. “Let’s concentrate on the fact that you’re on the mend.”
“Three days,” she muttered. “That means...it’s two days until Christmas Eve.”
“Yep.”
She gave a little groan. “I don’t have anything ready. No tree, no presents. I wanted to go to town once more to buy gifts.” Disappointment and guilt warred inside her, both vying for equal measure. “I’d hoped to give the girls a special Christmas with their mom gone. Now, it’s ruined.”
“Nothing is ruined,” he assured her. “The best gift those girls can get is you feeling better.”
She nodded, even though she didn’t agree. She was no one’s best thing. “I’m going to brush my teeth and splash water on my face before I see them.”
He stood as she moved her legs from under the covers, then caught her as she stumbled when her feet hit the floor. Her head spun as she realized how truly weak her body was.
“Slow down,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Her nerves bristled at his words, but he only wrapped his arms more tightly around her. After a moment, she let herself sag against him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For taking care of me and the girls. I should have said it earlier, but the stupid virus seems to have taken my manners along with my dignity.”
“I’m glad to be the one who was here to look out for you.”
She tipped her face to meet his gaze. “Do I even want to know what I said in my sleep?”
He couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Probably not, but I got lots of creative story ideas.”
She groaned again. “Your book. Oh, Connor. I’m sorry. You’re supposed to be working on the book, not holding my hair back while I puke.”
“I like your hair,” he said as he led her slowly toward the bathroom, “and I brought my laptop into your room to work while you slept. Turns out you’re inspiring even when feverish and nauseous.”
“I’ll remember that.” She paused, placed her hand on the door frame. “I’m okay from here.”
“Are you sure?” He loosened his hold but didn’t quite let her go. “The last thing we need is for you to fall and crack your head open.”
“I’m fine. I should make myself something to eat after I see the girls.”
“I’ll heat up some soup.”
“We don’t have soup.”
“The girls and I made it.”
She felt her eyes widen. “You made soup?”
“I found a recipe on Pinterest.”
“Oh, no.” She swallowed another groan. “You were reduced to searching Pinterest?”
“Ranie set me up with an account.”
“Well, thank you. But I can take care of—”
He bent his knees so his gaze was level with hers. “I’m not done taking care of you, April. You might be uncomfortable and you can fight me all you want. I’m not walking away.”
She sniffed, swiped her fingers across her cheeks. “I like you better when you’re a jerk.”
He laughed. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s a lie, but things were simpler when you were a jerk.”
“Things were simpler when I was alone, but it didn’t make me happy.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “You make me happy.” He lifted a str
and of her hair and cringed. “Even with dried...something stuck in your hair.”
“I’m a mess.”
“You’ll feel stronger after you eat. I’ll get the girls.”
By the time she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, April felt almost human again. She looked like hell, pasty and drawn, and her hair was a dirty, stringy mess around her face. She ran a brush through it and then gathered it into a ponytail.
The girls were waiting quietly next to the bed when she walked out into the bedroom. Ranie held on to Jingle like he was keeping her grounded. Connor stood next to the older girl, Shay clinging to his hand. He must have been an amazing father. The thought made her heart ache for him all over again. For what he’d lost and the capacity for caring he was slowly regaining.
“I’m so glad to see you both,” she said, lowering herself onto the bed, then opening her arms. Shay launched herself into them immediately, but Ranie held back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ranie asked as the kitten squirmed and jumped onto the bed, sniffing at April before curling into a ball at her side.
April nodded. “I need food and a shower, but I’m fine.”
“I’ll work on the food,” Connor said, and left the room.
April stroked the kitten’s silky fur. “I remember this guy keeping me company.”
“He’s a good boy,” Ranie whispered. “He was worried about you.”
“You threw up a lot,” Shay said quietly, tucked against April’s chest.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.” April rubbed the little girl’s back. “Thank you for taking care of me and for letting Connor know I was sick.”
Ranie shifted a bit closer. “You aren’t mad about that?”
“No, sweetie. You did exactly the right thing. It was wrong that I didn’t tell another adult right away. You shouldn’t have had to take care of me.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Ranie whispered, sitting next to April.
April adjusted her hold on Shay so she could wrap an arm around Ranie’s shoulders.
“Ranie took care of Mommy,” Shay added. “But she never puked as much as you.”
April drew in a breath. “I was sick after my treatments, too, but this was different. You both understand that, right? I was sick with a stomach virus, but I’ll be healthy again. It isn’t like—”
Christmas on Crimson Mountain Page 11