Page 54 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

She laughed—a soft, surprised sound that did something wonderful to the tight knot in my chest. “I believe you.”

I settled back on the couch, arm around her, and a fire raging in the fireplace. The fire was crackling steadily, and the storm continued to hammer down, but inside, we were warm and separate from all of that chaos.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked. “Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?”

“Tea sounds perfect,” she said. “But I can⁠—”

“You can sit right there and let me take care of you,” I interrupted gently. “You read my mind.”

She settled back into the couch cushions with a sigh that sounded almost relieved. “Okay. Just this once.”

I made her tea—chamomile, because it seemed like the kind of thing that might help with shock—and found myself moving around my kitchen with more awareness than usual. This wasn’t the first time Cassie had been inside my house, but I found myself seeing it through her eyes. The mismatched furniture I'd inherited from my grandfather. The stack of books on the coffee table. The framed photo of my SEAL unit that I'd never quite known what to do with.

When I came back with the tea, she was looking around with genuine curiosity, taking in the details of my space the way she did everything—with attention and appreciation.

“I like it,” she said, accepting the mug with both hands. “It feels like you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Very good,” she said, smiling. “Solid. Real.”

I felt heat creep up my neck and was grateful for the dim lighting. “Thanks.”

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the fire. I kept stealing glances at her, checking for signs of delayed shock or injury, but she seemed to be growing steadier by the minute. The tea was helping, and the warmth, and maybe just being here.

“I can't believe it's gone,” she said quietly, staring into her mug. “I mean, I know it's not completely gone, but...”

“We'll figure it out,” I said. “Bob's got insurance on the property, and your renters’ insurance should cover your belongings. And the structure... well, we'll see what the damage looks like when we can actually get a good look.”

She nodded, but I could see her mind working, probably calculating costs and timelines and all the complicated logistics of dealing with disaster.

“Hey,” I said, reaching over to touch her hand. “One thing at a time. Tonight, you're safe and warm. We’ll let tomorrow deal with itself. We'll start making lists and phone calls. But tonight, just be here.”

Her fingers curled around mine, palm to palm, and she squeezed gently. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't...”

“But I did,” I said firmly. “And I always will. That's not something you need to worry about.”

The words came out more intense than I'd intended, and I saw something shift in her expression—surprise, maybe. Like she was hearing something in my voice that I hadn't meant to reveal. I never wanted to pressure her.

Before either of us could explore that moment further, there was a knock at the door—three sharp raps that cut through the storm's noise.

“That'll be Doc,” I said, getting up to answer it.

Doc Miller stood on my porch looking like a snow-covered mountain man, his medical bag in one hand and a thermos in the other. He stomped his boots and shook off his coat before stepping inside, bringing a swirl of cold air and snowflakes with him.

“Heck of a night,” he said by way of greeting. “Where's my patient?”

“Right here,” Cassie said, raising her hand slightly from the couch. “And I'm really fine.”

Doc fixed her with a look that had probably cowed generations of Everwood residents. “Let me be the judge of that, young lady.”

He was thorough—checking her pupils, her reflexes, asking questions about pain and dizziness and nausea. He examined the spot on her chest where the branch had hit her, probing gently for broken ribs or internal injuries.

“You're going to have a beautiful bruise,” he told her, “but nothing’s broken. No signs of concussion either, which is frankly a miracle given what Levi described.”

“So, she's okay?” I asked, probably sounding more worried than I should have.

Doc looked between us with a knowing expression that comes from delivering half the babies in town and patching up the other half when they inevitably hurt themselves doing stupid things.