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“I told Morgan we would visit her first thing in the morning and grab some breakfast before we head back to Idaho. I promised her Starbucks. Again, we can take an Uber or something. You don’t have to be our chauffeur.”
“I’m happy to drive you,” he said immediately. “If you want to pack up all your things in the morning, I can take you to Starbucks then the hospital. After I drop you off, I’ll come back here, walk the dog, load up our gear, then pick you up later.”
He had been extraordinarily good about this whole thing. On a rush of gratitude, she stepped closer, drawn by something she was too tired to fight.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek. His skin was warm, faintly rough with late-day stubble.
“You’ve been so kind, Wes,” she said quietly. “Thank you again.”
He went still at her touch. When he turned his head, she saw an answering heat blazing in his gaze.
“I don’t want to hear you say thank you for anything else the entire rest of this trip,” he said, voice rougher than before. “I’m doing this because I want to do it, Hannah. You don’t have to thank me over and over again.”
“What if I want to?” she asked, a little breathless.
One corner of his mouth lifted, his smile charming her as easily as it ever had.
“You can think it all you want,” he said. “Just don’t say it out loud.”
“That seems like a technicality,” she murmured.
“I’ve always been good with technicalities,” he answered.
They gazed at each other for a long moment. Before either of them could act on the sudden churning tension, his bedroom door opened and Riley emerged in her pajamas, wet hair wrapped in a towel.
Hannah drew in a deep breath. That was relief, she told herself. Not disappointment.
“I’m done,” Riley announced.
“I should probably go to bed too,” Hannah said, easing toward the bedroom she would share with the children. “We’ve all got a long day tomorrow.”
He nodded. “True enough. Sleep well.”
Despite her mental turmoil, Hannah was so exhausted that she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she dreamed, her subconscious did her no favors.
She dreamed of a snowy night on an outdoor rink beside Lake Haven, of a man she had loved most of her life and the very first time he had kissed her.
She woke with her heart pounding, her skin hot and prickly.
Something had pulled her out of sleep, some small shift in the room. Blinking at the dim numerals on the bedside clock, she saw that it was past 2:00 a.m.
“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. She hated waking in the middle of the night, especially when she needed rest so desperately. But now that she was awake, her mind humming, she knew she wouldn’t drop off again right away.
Careful not to disturb Riley and Carter, who were sprawled across the other bed in a tangle of blankets, Hannah slipped out from under the covers and padded into the sitting area, pulling the door closed behind her.
She went to the refrigerator of the kitchenette, found one of the small plastic water bottles Wes had stowed there and twisted off the cap.
The light was still on in the other bedroom, spilling a narrow wedge across the carpet. She paused, listening, but heard no murmur of voices, no rustle of movement. When she glanced toward the chair where Kodiak’s leash had been hanging earlier, she saw it was missing and so was Wes’s coat from the hook by the door.
The faint sound she had heard must have been the main door closing as Wes took the dog out one more time.
She took a sip of cold water, then another, moving closer to the window.
Outside, Salt Lake City shimmered under a thin layer of fresh snow. Snowflakes glimmered in the streetlights as they fell. It was a beautiful view from here, clean and quiet and somehow hopeful.
Memories stirred. Salt Lake City was the nearest large metropolitan area to her college town so she and her friends would often come down for concerts, sporting events, shopping trips.
That girl who had been full of plans, certain she understood how her life would unfold, felt like an entirely different person now. She had learned about heartache and pain and the inexorable lesson that life somehow went on, even when it felt as if everything should stop.
