by Tori Kayson
Some parent she was. Picked up her son late from school and all she had to show for it was a sandwich on a disposable plate. Why hadn’t she taken him out to eat?
Because Logan would’ve melted down in the restaurant and screamed for Mav. Just like during the ride home.
Maybe a shot of the stiff December breeze would help. She unlatched the window and stood in front of it, bunching the hair off her hot neck. Cool air wrapped around her, allowing a moment of peace to seep into her weary spirit.
Her sour mood wasn’t Logan’s fault. Not Kierra’s either. Even though Kierra’s words ricocheted through Summer’s head like a recorder stuck on fast forward. He’s caring and unselfish, and he would never, never treat you and Logan like your ex did...does. And That’s how he sees you. One big happy family.
All. Week. Long. Until Summer wanted to throw her hands in the air in surrender. Rush home and pack their things.
But why? They belonged here in Coldwater Ridge. Not Dallas…and not with Maverick. She didn’t want that world anymore.
Massaging her thrumming temple, Summer cocked an ear to hear water running in the bathroom sink. Or Logan singing. Nothing.
She sighed, swiped her hands across the dish towel, and trudged down the hallway. The sandwich could wait. What was wrong with her? Her son needed her attention right now, even more than he needed to eat.
“Logan?” She peered into his bedroom. Not there. So maybe he was washing his hands after all.
The bathroom door was closed. Odd. He usually left the door open. She knocked then stepped inside. Logan sprawled out on the tile floor, asleep.
Awww. Poor little guy. So exhausted he’d—
Wait a minute! What was in his hand? Was that…medicine? She slammed her knees against the tile. Her heart plummeted to her toes. Fighting nausea, she pried his fingers open. A plastic bottle of pain relievers clattered to the floor.
Oh, Logan! No! She slapped his face a few times, gentle but firm. “Honey, wake up!”
Her baby stirred and moaned, but his eyelids never lifted.
Her phone. She needed her phone! She dropped the bottle. Pills pinged and scattered all over the bathroom floor. She ran to the kitchen. Where was it? Her gaze skittered across the granite surface. Not there. Where? Where? The table by the door? Fear swelled with another wave of nausea, her head spinning and roaring while her legs slogged to the table. Keys. Purse. No phone. A whimper started in her belly and pushed out through her throat.
Stay calm. Stay calm. You won’t do him any good if you’re a basket case.
She rooted around in the bottom of her gigantic purse. Finally! She dug out the phone and pressed the emergency buttons.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” Unruffled, composed, the female dispatcher’s voice came through the phone.
****
Maverick opened the door, allowing his partner to breeze into the safe house, along with a frigid blast of icy rain.
St. Clare knew the drill. Silent, he came clear into the foyer, getting out of the way so Maverick could deadbolt the door.
“Phew! Should have dressed warmer. Who knew the temperature was going to plummet.” St. Clare scraped leather soles against the welcome rug and hung his coat on the rack by the door. He took off his beanie and rubbed a palm across his shaved head. “I’m not complaining, though, especially if the rain translates to a quiet night.”
“So far, so good.” Maverick gave him a quick recap of the evening. “They’re all hanging out in the great room.”
Maverick’s phone vibrated with Kierra’s smiling image. “Excuse me.” He connected the call, paced to the end of the foyer, and nudged a shoulder against the wall. “Hey, Kierra. What’s up?”
“Hey, Mav. Sorry to bother you while you’re working, but—” Her voice quivered and stopped altogether.
To blow her nose? Was she crying? Had something happened to mom?
“It’s all right, Kierra. What’s wrong?”
“Logan was just transported to the hospital—”
“What?” Panic surged. He straightened, his body tense, rigid.
“Yeah. He swallowed some pills. Summer didn’t know how many—”
Fear clamped his chest. “Which hospital?”
“Regional.” Another catch in her voice. “It’s all my—”
“I’m on my way.” Maverick disconnected, adrenaline shooting hot sparks through his blood. Good thing his partner was here to relieve him. Not that it mattered.
St. Clare waited by the door, worry etching his forehead. “Everything all right?”
All right? No. Not by a long shot. He should have been there, protecting the little guy. He shook his head. Dread and fear, unlike he’d ever known, coiled around his lungs, cutting off air. “That miniature cowboy who kept me hopping at the ranch overdosed.”
His partner nodded. Without missing a beat, St. Clare requested clearance from the marshal stationed outside.
Maverick plucked his coat from the rack and shoved his arms through the sleeves. “He’s in Coldwater Ridge Regional. That’s where I’ll be.” He fingered the doorknob, waiting for the all clear announcement over the radio.
“Want me to line up somebody to cover tomorrow’s shift for you?”
Mav pinched the bridge of his nose. From the safe house, he could make the trip in an hour. He could drive back in the morning, but that would depend on Logan’s status. And Summer’s.
Beautiful, independent Summer. Would she even want him there?
Maybe. Maybe not. But Logan’s father surely wouldn’t come.
Decision made. Mav needed to be there for her and Logan. He tugged the door open. “Thanks. That’s probably a good idea. I’ll let you know how things are when I get there.”
****
“It was so sweet of you all to come. Thank you!” Summer pressed a hand over Rebekah’s, gratefulness for her adopted Texas family welling up in her chest and dribbling over her cheeks. She sniffed. What would she do without them?
Summer scrounged up a weak smile at the three ladies, Rebekah, Kierra and Darby, crowding the tiny room. Beeps kept up a steady stream of noise in the room and rubber soles squeaked down the hallway.
“Of course we had to come. I had to see for myself that our little guy was going to be all right.” Rebekah slid her hand away to graze Logan’s cheeks. Adoration and concern warred across her face. “And these two wouldn’t take my word for it. They insisted on tagging along. May I?” She held out her arms.
“Sure.” Summer pushed herself out of the only chair that Logan could reach, tethered between the wires and the equipment. She released her sleeping son to the older woman’s open arms.
“I’m so sorry, Summer! I still can’t believe this happened. If I hadn’t—Oh! This is all my fault!” Kierra moaned and covered her face with a hand.
Summer hooked an arm around her best friend’s neck and hugged her. “It’s all right. It could just as easily have happened with one of my bottles.”
“No, it wouldn’t. Because you keep them locked,” Kierra said. Sniffling, she pulled back and swiped her nose with a tissue.
Locked in a box on the highest shelf in the kitchen. But, knowing Logan, that wouldn’t stop her son from finding a way to get into them.
“You didn’t leave them out on purpose, Kierra. The bottle fell out of your pocket. Cut yourself some slack. He’s going to be all right,” Summer reassured. Relief weakened her legs. She plunked down on the edge of the bed.
“Thank God! Poor baby!” Kierra’s lower lip jutted out as she brushed Logan’s hair with a hand. A fresh onslaught of tears tracked down her cheeks.
Darby cleared her throat. She tugged a stuffed horse from her oversized purse and tucked it under Logan’s arm. “He’s probably past this stage, but it’s just so soft, I couldn’t resist.”
“Thank you. I didn’t even think to bring something from home. Especially not when the ambulance—” Fear claimed Summer’s voice. She hugged her middle and closed her eye
s. The icy tentacles of terror still gripped her insides. Oh, dear God, that siren!
Don’t go there. Your baby’s all right. It’s all good. Maybe if she told herself enough times, she’d believe it.
Heels clicked the tile floor and an arm tightened around her neck. “Hey. You can’t possibly watch him every second of the day and night, Summer. You’re a good mother. Don’t doubt yourself.” Darby’s dark eyes softened with kindness and sympathy as she plucked a tissue from the box and handed it to Summer. “I don’t know what I’d do without Fargo to help with Shiloah.”
“Thanks.” I think.
Darby meant well. But her comment struck a raw nerve.
An ache of longing reared and kicked her in the belly. Only one man had ever helped her with Logan.
Maverick! How she missed him. His teasing, his tenderness, his…kisses. She traced a finger across her lips. Mercy, those kisses.
“Would you like us to call Logan’s dad, dear?” Rebekah asked.
“What?” Summer jerked her hand away from her mouth and banished the memory of the cowboy and his kisses to the shadowy recesses of her mind.
Maverick wasn’t here. Just like Judd.
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I called and left a message earlier, and then texted him once the doctor examined Logan.” For all the good that did.
“And you haven’t heard a thing,” Kierra said, shaking her head. Her friend hadn’t phrased it as a question. More an acknowledgement of something she knew to be true.
“No.” Summer scrounged up a smile, gratitude for the Kester family warming her spirit. She’d be keeping vigil over her son alone if it weren’t for them. “Thanks for offering, though.”
“Well, I can tell you that Maverick—”
Maverick…
Summer closed her eyes. The kaleidoscope of snapshots featuring the handsome lawman and her sweet boy drowned out Kierra’s voice. Maverick, biting down the pain as he chased after the four-wheeler. Him and Logan, their clothes drenched and dripping after Logan’s dip in the pool. Logan stretched out across Maverick on the couch, sleeping on the lawman’s chest.
An ache both bittersweet and wonderful carved a giant hole in her heart.
She needed that man. As much as she needed her next breath. Not only that, but she wanted him in her life. No matter what he did for a living. No matter where it took them.
“Summer?” A hand fluttered against her arm. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
She blinked and focused on Kierra’s questioning glance. In her periphery, Rebekah smiled at her phone.
Summer shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kierra. I think the day’s finally catching up with me.”
“We’ll leave you alone, then. Maybe you can get some rest too.” Rebekah stood, lowered Logan to the bed, and planted a grandmotherly kiss on his forehead. Then the older woman slanted a sly smile toward Kierra and Darby, grabbed both their hands and ushered them out the door, whispering.
“Good night. And thanks again for coming.” Summer called out to the retreating women. She collapsed on the side of the bed and gripped Logan’s hand, staring at the door as it swung closed.
What was that all about? What had she missed?
16
“Come on! Come on!” Maverick pounded the elevator door. As if that would make it open faster.
Finally! The doors whooshed open. The pungent blend of cleaning solutions and medicines blasted him. He wrinkled his nose and scanned the wall for directions.
Hospitals. He hated them. Hated that some people never came home from them. Like Sam.
Not Logan! Please, not the little cowboy!
Helplessness surged. Blurred his vision. Almost brought him to his knees.
Summer was strong, but Mav ached to be there for her and with her.
He clenched his jaw and rubbed a palm across his face, battling it back, then tried again to focus on the directional signs.
There. Go right. Go right.
His boots clicked the tile, just short of running down the long hallway. Another sign.
Left. He turned and barreled into a nurse.
“Excuse me. Sorry.” He sidestepped the nurse with a hand to the elbow and hauled his sorry butt down another long hall.
Please let him be all right. Please let him come home. Mav repeated until he came close to the room number his mother had texted. He slowed his steps, caught a decent breath outside a colorfully painted door.
A man-sized green turtle announced the occupant. A board hung from the turtle’s sword with a chalked name. Kyleson.
Logan’s room.
Mav switched off his phone and sanitized his hands. He nudged the door open and stepped inside, halted in the shadow.
Summer slumped in a chair scooted close to the bed, head swallowed by her arms. Sleeping? Or crying? Logan appeared to be fast asleep, those long dark lashes closed over chubby cheeks. Numbers flashed and beeped out an eerie rhythm, the only sound in the dark room. That, and an occasional sniffle.
Summer.
His heart dived to his boots, a freefall that seemed to last for an eternity.
Mav eased the door closed. He stepped over to the chair and laid a hand on Summer’s shoulder, dropped his hat on a side table.
“Summer.” His hoarse whisper reverberated around the quiet room.
She lifted her head, slow and cautious, freezing in mid-air, as if afraid who she might see if she turned to look.
God help him, he loved this woman and hated that she was suffering. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and gave her a gentle tug out of the chair, tightening his grip when her knees buckled.
Her startled gaze rose to connect with his. Purple hollows smudged her cheeks and bordered red-rimmed eyes. Her lips quivered as they formed his name, but nothing came out.
Guilt sucker punched him. He should have been here for her and Logan. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I got here as soon as I could.” Yeah. He’d broken a law or two to get here as fast as he had.
“You’re here.” Her fingers explored the length of his upper arms.
Mav couldn’t corral the satisfied sigh that lifted his chest. As if he’d come home, where he belonged. But was it really Coldwater Ridge? Or just with her and Logan?
“I thought I was dreaming.” Her voice came out on a breath. Did that mean she was happy to see him?
He smiled. “I’ll expect you to elaborate on that later. But, yeah. I’m here.” His gaze landed on the bed. “How is he?”
“He’s okay. The doctor wanted to keep him overnight, just to be sure since I didn’t know how many pills he swallowed.”
“Thank God he’s all right.”
“Yeah. Thank God! I don’t know what I’d do without my little boy.” With arms hugging her middle, she nodded. But then her lips quivered and her teeth clacked. A tremor shuddered through her.
He reached for her, and she came right to him, burrowing her face against his chest. Her sobs ripped his heart in half. He wanted to make her world right. To reassure her that her little boy would be safe. To offer the moon and stars if he could. To say he’d be her cowboy.
But he couldn’t do any of that. The most he could offer was that he’d be here for her, right now, this moment.
He rubbed circles along her back, rocking them slightly. When all that remained of her crying gig was a few snuffles and a damp shirt, he led her over to the chair and pulled her onto his lap.
“I’m glad you came.” She curled one arm around his neck, the other splayed against his chest.
“Mmmm. Me too.” He rested his chin on her hair, smiling when he breathed in jasmine and vanilla. Peace seeped into his spirit. Both Logan and Summer were all right.
Mav propped his boots up on a side table and repositioned Summer’s legs so that she was comfortable. Soon her breathing evened out with sleep, the same as her son.
He was a fool. How could he give this up? He couldn’t. Not today. Maybe not ever.
He wrangled his cell fr
om the clip on his belt, switched it back on, and sent an update text to his boss and partner. Then, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
****
Summer peered through slitted eyelids. Sunlight beamed through the blinds and speared her in the chest and arm. Machines beeped and flashed—
Oh! The hospital! Her heart stuttered until she found Logan. Thank God, still sleeping. He’d made it through the night with no complications. She closed her eyes again, willed her muscles to relax.
The chair shifted underneath her rump, moving her along with it, and something razor sharp bristled against her head. An arm, steady and firm, landed on top of her hip, cradling her against a broad chest.
Maverick! He’d spent the whole night at the hospital with her?
Something broke loose in her heart. The beliefs and attitude that she’d clung to since her divorce disintegrated as she cuddled into Maverick’s frame. Her fingertips trailed the heavy smattering of whiskers shadowing his jaw, slid over the cleft in his chin, trailed a powerful shoulder, grazed the honey blond hair.
How could she have compared him to her ex? Maverick was obviously so much more, as different as the ocean to the mountains, as the sun to the dead of night.
She traced his lips, soft, full, inviting. Would he wake if she kissed him?
He caught her hand, and she gasped. Silver eyes, warm and hazy from sleep, stared back.
“Morning, sweetness.” His voice came out husky and low. He kissed her palm.
Her pulse flared to life.
Cradling her cheek, he teased her mouth open with his lips. His hands roamed down her arms and settled around her back, his touch blazing a fire. Every nerve in her body, especially those that had been dormant for quite some time now, buzzed with awareness.
“Mav!” Logan’s voice, more subdued than his usual exuberant tone, startled her.
Summer pulled back, disconnecting their lips with one last lingering nibble. She savored the satisfied drowsy look on Maverick’s face while she fought to catch a much-needed breath.