by Rachel Lacey
“Luke,” she panted, sounding every bit as out of control as he was. “Oh—”
The rumble of a diesel engine reached them, followed by the squeal of brakes. Amy leaped out of his arms. She stood there for a moment, gasping for breath, and then she ran for the house.
Luke scrubbed a hand over his face and watched her go.
Chapter Four
Amy messed around in the kitchen while Noah did his homework, because holy crap, she was still completely flustered by her encounter with Luke under the wedding arbor. She hadn’t been that out of control since, well, since Luke left town fifteen years ago.
And that was a scary thought.
The chemistry between them was as explosive as ever. Maybe more so. But what really scared her was that he made her long for other things, more than sex. Love and marriage and happily ever afters that she hadn’t wanted since she’d been a teenager in his arms.
She wanted Luke. In every possible way.
“I’m going to go put on Brick Tricks,” Noah said. He slid his homework folder into his backpack and headed for the living room. Yoda trotted at his heels, and Amy knew she’d find them curled up on the couch together momentarily. When Noah was home, they were never more than a few steps away from each other. Yoda even slept in his room at night.
Luke passed them in the doorway and walked to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of ice water. He downed it in several big gulps, then stalked toward her with a sexy smile. He leaned in so that the stubble on his cheek tickled her ear. “We aren’t finished.”
And then, with a wink, he followed Noah into the living room.
Amy spun to pour her own glass of water, her throat suddenly gone dry. Somehow, in the past week, Luke had gotten into the habit of watching Brick Tricks with Noah every afternoon after he’d finished his homework. Sometimes they’d play Legos together afterward, or Noah would help Luke with whatever he was working on in the house.
This afternoon’s task—for Amy at least—was repainting the kitchen. Yesterday, with Luke’s help, she’d gotten rid of her grandparents’ old, stained rooster wallpaper. Today, she was repainting the room a soft, happy yellow. She hoisted herself up on the counter to resume her task of sticking painter’s tape around the edges of the cabinets and ceiling. She’d just finished applying tape when she heard the tune that played at the end of every Brick Tricks episode coming from the living room.
“You want to help me pot some flowers outside while your mom paints?” Luke asked Noah. “It might get stinky in here for a little while.”
“It shouldn’t take me too long,” she said. “There isn’t much wall space, and I’ll keep all the windows open.”
Noah followed Luke out the back door.
Amy pressed a hand to her heart as she watched them working together outside. Noah nodded at something Luke was saying, his little face so serious as he walked to the row of ceramic pots Amanda had brought over last night.
Shaking her head at herself, Amy went down the hall to her bedroom to change into old jean cut-offs and a T-shirt for painting. Back in the kitchen, she pried open the can of yellow paint and got to work. An hour and a half later, the kitchen was finished, and Amy felt like jumping for joy. The kitchen looked so bright, and sunny, and cheerful. She already loved it, and she hadn’t even taken the bright blue painter’s tape down yet.
Eager to show Noah, she stepped outside. He and Luke were probably getting hungry for supper too. Luckily, she had leftover pizza in the fridge because there was no way she was cooking in the kitchen while the paint was still wet.
“Hey, Noah, wait until you see the kitchen!” she called as she walked toward them.
Noah and Luke had filled all but one of the pots with bright pink flowers and were busily potting the last one, while Yoda lay panting beside them. Noah looked up at her. He jumped to his feet and took off running toward the house, but his feet got all tangled up beneath him and he went down in a heap. His head slammed into one of the ceramic vases he and Luke had just finished filling, sending shards of pottery and dirt everywhere.
That’s when everything went into slow motion. Amy heard herself screaming his name, felt her feet pounding across the patio as she ran toward him, tasted the sour tang of panic in her throat.
Noah sat up, his face covered in blood. A high, keening wail tore from his throat. His hands started to flail.
“Oh my God, baby. Where are you hurt?” She dropped to her knees beside him.
He moaned, his eyes glassy. Blood streamed down the right side of his face. His glasses had gotten knocked off, and he looked even younger and more vulnerable without them. He brought his hands to his face, smearing blood everywhere.
“Tell me where it hurts,” she said, cautiously touching his chin to get a better look. She was trying not to panic, but there was so much blood, and she’d left her cell phone inside. This might be serious enough for a 911 call. Oh God. Noah…
Yoda jumped into his lap and started licking his fingers. Amy pushed him aside, but the little dog didn’t go far, pressing himself against Noah’s right leg.
Luke knelt in front of them, his hazel eyes intense yet calm. “Amy, run around front and get the black bag that’s in the trunk of my car. It’s unlocked.”
She just stared. “What? But Noah’s hurt. I—”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “And I’m a doctor. I’ll take good care of him. Now please run and get my bag.” He spoke with a quiet authority that broke through the haze in her brain.
Luke was a doctor. Of course he was. Thank God.
“I’ll be right back, bud. Okay? I’m going to go get Mr. Luke’s bag so he can patch you up.” She squeezed Noah’s hand and took off running around the side of the house. She sprinted to his SUV, swung the rear hatch up, and grabbed the black duffel bag she found inside. Then she ran as fast as she could back to the patio.
But they weren’t there.
She hurried to the back door and found Luke and Noah in the living room. Luke had thrown one of the tarps she’d brought out for painting over the couch. Noah lay on it, Yoda clutched in his arms.
Luke glanced over his shoulder at her and put his hand out for the bag. “Thanks. Now could you bring me a couple of cold, wet towels?”
She nodded, breathless. All she really wanted to do was sit with Noah and be sure he was okay. But first she could get some towels. She went into the bathroom and grabbed all the hand towels out of the linen closet. She wet them under the sink, placed them in the big plastic bowl she used when she was cutting Noah’s hair, and hurried back to the living room.
“Great,” Luke said. “You can use one to clean off his hands while I clean his face.”
Noah was staring wide-eyed at his blood-stained hands. He couldn’t stand for his hands to be dirty, and he’d never liked the sight of blood. Either Luke knew that cleaning his hands would help calm him, or he was just trying to keep her busy.
Amy pried Yoda from Noah’s arms. This was not the time or place for the dog. Noah whimpered, reaching for him. She set him on the floor and started wiping Noah’s hands.
“Okay, buddy. This may sting a little, but I need to wipe off your face to get a better look at your cut.” Luke touched Noah’s shoulder, then took one of the hand towels and gently began wiping blood from his face.
Noah started to wail again, that high-pitched noise he only made when he was really hurt or frightened, like a wild animal in pain. Yoda leaped up onto his chest, and Noah’s arms clamped around him.
“Not now, Yoda.” Amy scooted the dog back onto the floor. “It’s okay, Noah. I’m right here. And Mr. Luke is a really great doctor.” At least she hoped so, but he certainly seemed capable. “He’s going to get you all fixed up.”
Noah wailed louder, his hands flailing. Yoda whined at her feet.
“Let him hold Yoda,” Luke said. “He’s not in my way.”
Well, the damn dog was in her way. She couldn’t see past him to clean Noah’s hands, and it couldn
’t be sanitary to have a dog so near his wound. But Yoda overruled her, jumping back up. Noah gripped him, his cries silenced, arms still.
And she was an idiot. Yoda helped calm him. Dogs had always had that effect on Noah, this one in particular.
She glanced at the side of Noah’s head where Luke was working, and her stomach twisted up in knots. So much blood. Had he fractured his skull? “Should I dial 911?” she whispered.
Luke looked over at her with a reassuring smile. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But—”
He shook his head, looking amused. “It’s just a superficial laceration. Scalp wounds bleed a lot. I don’t think this one’s even going to need stitches. Hear that, Noah?”
But Noah had completely zoned out. He held tight to Yoda, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
“He spent a few days in the hospital last summer with a concussion,” she told Luke. It had been terrifying for all of them but especially for Noah.
Luke just nodded. He reached into the bowl and pulled out a fresh towel. “Okay, Noah, I’m going to put some pressure on your cut now to get the bleeding to stop. It might hurt a little at first so I need you to do something for me. Okay?”
Noah nodded slightly.
“Good boy.” Luke patted his shoulder. “I want you to close your eyes now and start replaying that last episode of Brick Tricks in your head.”
Noah whimpered, but his eyes closed.
Luke pressed a clean towel against the side of his head. Noah yelped.
“Should I get him some ibuprofen?” she asked.
Luke shook his head. “That could increase his bleeding. You okay, Noah?”
Noah didn’t respond, but he didn’t cry either.
“Remember how they took all those red and white bricks and built that cool lighthouse?” Luke said. “I really liked how they alternated the colors like that. It made a nice pattern.”
Amy squeezed Noah’s hand. Legos. Patterns. How did Luke already understand her son so well? Right now, he was doing a better job than she was at keeping Noah calm.
Noah lay with his eyes closed, still holding onto Yoda. The little dog just lay there, panting, looking completely content. They sat like that for what felt like a long time, while Luke talked about Brick Tricks and held the towel firmly against the side of Noah’s head. Noah lay still and quiet the whole time.
“Okay,” Luke said finally. “I’m going to have another look at your cut now.”
He lifted the towel, and, to Amy’s amazement, there was nothing left but a thin, red line along Noah’s hairline where his head had hit the planter. It didn’t look bad at all now. Amy felt the knot in her stomach ease for the first time since he’d fallen.
Noah’s eyes popped open. “It hurts.”
“I know it does, bud. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand.
“Let me finish fixing up your cut, and then your mom can get you an ice pack.” Luke reached into his bag and took out a small light. He felt along the cut on Noah’s head, tugging gently at the edges. “Good news. No stitches. Now I just need to check and make sure you don’t have another concussion.”
“It doesn’t feel like it did in my brain the last time,” Noah said quietly.
“Well, you are a really smart boy to be able to feel the difference like that,” Luke told him. “And I think you’re right, but I just need to be sure. I’m going to shine a light in your eyes now. It won’t hurt, so try not to blink, okay?”
He checked Noah’s eyes, then asked, “Do you see any funny spots when you close your eyes?”
Noah shook his head.
“Any funny noises in your ears, like a bug buzzing around you?”
Another shake.
“And how bad does your head hurt right now, like kind of sore or super, duper painful?”
“It just hurts where the cut is.”
Luke nodded. “That’s good. Do you remember what we were doing right before you fell?”
“Potting flowers,” Noah said, his voice little more than a whisper.
“What did I ask your mom to get out of my car?” Luke asked.
“Your black bag. It was in the trunk.”
“Great memory, Noah. I just need you to do a couple more things for me to make sure your brain’s a-okay in there. Can you count backward from one hundred by sevens?”
A small smile creased Noah’s face. “Easy. One hundred, ninety-three, eighty-six…” He kept going, his voice getting stronger with each number. Amy gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Noah had always excelled at math. He liked order, and numbers, and patterns.
“Awesome job, Noah,” Luke said when he’d finished. “I’m going to ask you to take my hand and sit up now. Let me know if the pain in your head gets worse or if you start to feel dizzy at all.”
Amy lifted Yoda out of his arms and set him on the floor. Then Noah gripped Luke’s hand and sat up. He whimpered, his hand automatically going for the cut. Luke intercepted him gently, folding his hand back into his lap. “I know it’s hard, but try not to touch it. In a minute, I’m going to disinfect it and put a bandage on there to keep it clean, okay?”
Noah nodded, his little face pinched and miserable.
Luke asked him to stand with his feet together, arms extended palms up, eyes closed, and count backward from ten. While Noah counted, Luke stood with his arms out, ready to catch him if he fell. “Great job,” he said when Noah had finished. “You can sit down now and relax. And, Amy, you can go get him that ice pack.”
“Really? So you’re not worried about a concussion?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I don’t even see any bruising around the wound. Keep an eye on him tonight in case any new symptoms develop, but I don’t see any signs of a concussion.”
“Are you sure?”
Luke put his hand on her shoulder. “He didn’t lose consciousness. His balance, memory, and cognitive function are not impaired, and his pupils are equal, round, and reactive to light just like they should be. So yes, I’m sure.”
“Sorry.” She pressed a hand over her eyes. “You’re a doctor. I’m being ridiculous.”
“No, you’re not. You’re being his mom. Now be glad I was here and saved you an ER visit and go get him an ice pack for his sore head.” There wasn’t the least bit of annoyance in his voice.
She nodded and went into the kitchen, tears suddenly pricking the backs of her eyes. Noah was okay. He didn’t even need stitches. She gulped a deep breath and tried not to totally lose it.
Get it together, Amy.
Her hands shook as she took a cold pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a paper towel, and walked back to the couch. She handed it to Noah, then pulled him in and hugged him tight. His arms wrapped around her, his face tucked against her neck like he’d done when he was little. He might be nine now, but when he was hurting, he was still her baby. And right now he seemed like he needed this hug every bit as much as she did.
When she finally pulled back, she saw a streak of blood across his cheek. “Oh, no. I made it bleed again.”
“It’s likely to bleed on and off a little bit right now,” Luke said. “I’m going to clean it up and put a bandage on it. Sound okay, Noah?”
He nodded.
While Luke cleaned the wound, Amy walked down the hall to her bedroom. She sat on the bed, pressed her face into her hands, and sobbed.
A few minutes later, she heard Luke’s heavy footsteps coming down the hall. “You okay in there?”
“Yeah.” She motioned him in. “How’s Noah?”
“I told him he’d earned a bonus episode of Brick Tricks, considering the circumstances. Hope that was okay.”
She nodded, grateful. “Thanks.”
“You okay?” He sat beside her, brushing a lock of hair back from her face.
She sniffed through a smile. “Yeah. Just being an overly emotional mom, I guess.”
“No such thing.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against him. “It’s perfectly
normal. I see it all the time in the ER. Mom holds it together through all the scary stuff to be brave for her kid, then falls apart after it’s all over.”
“Really?” She turned her face to him, and dammit she was way too close. Close enough to kiss him.
“Mm hmm.” Luke’s gaze dropped to her lips, but instead of kissing her, he gave her shoulders a squeeze and tugged her to her feet. “Let’s get back to Noah.”
She stopped in the doorway of her bedroom. “Thank you. For everything. If you hadn’t been here, I probably would have dialed 911 and wasted a whole bunch of money I don’t have on ambulance and hospital fees, not to mention traumatizing Noah.”
“I’m glad I could help. Would it make you feel better if I stayed here tonight?” he asked. “On the couch,” he added after her cheeks grew hot.
No, she definitely couldn’t handle having Luke here tonight. “Thanks, but we’ll be okay.”
He nodded.
Back in the living room, she snuggled in next to Noah and Yoda on the couch, while Luke sat in the chair beside it. They watched two bonus episodes of Brick Tricks, then ate cold pizza. Noah was nodding off by the time he’d finished his first slice, so she took him down the hall and put him to bed.
Luke was standing in the doorway to the kitchen when she came out. “Sure you’re okay?”
“I really am.” But dammit, after a million single parenting emergencies, it sure had been nice to have him to lean on this time. “You’re really good with him, you know that?”
Luke smiled. “He’s a great kid.”
He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t. A lot of people were intimidated by Noah’s autism. They didn’t know how to act around him or treated him like he was handicapped.
She walked into Luke’s arms. He felt so warm and solid beneath her palms. “Luke—”
“Shh.” He tipped her face up to his. “We definitely have some unfinished business, but not tonight. Tonight, you take care of Noah.”
A tear slipped from her eye and trailed over her cheek. She nodded.
“Call me, no matter what time, if you have any concerns or questions. I don’t care how silly you think it is, if you’re worried, just call. Okay?”