Page 73 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

“Where are you going?” she asked, because her voice still worked and she trusted it more than the rest of herself.

“Locating the bathroom.” He found it on the second try. A moment later, the rush of water followed.

The scent of bergamot drifted from the bathroom. He’d found the bath oil under the sink without asking. She headed back to the couch and sat down. God, that felt good.

Headlights swept across the front window.

“That’s Wyatt.” Hudson set the hospital pain meds and a glass of water on the table beside her. “Sit on the edge of the bath first. If you’re dizzy, call him.”

“You called my brother?”

“He’s worried, and you need someone here while I’m gone.”

“I’m not twelve.”

“No. You’re concussed.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I’m going to the store.”

She blinked. “Why?”

His eyes moved briefly toward the kitchen, then back to her. “I’m going to cook you some real food because whatever the hell was in your fridge wasn’t food.”

She tightened the blanket around her shoulders. “Buy coffee,” she said. “Please.”

Hudson’s mouth softened by a fraction. “Yes, ma’am.” He headed for the front door.

“Hudson.”

His hand paused on the handle as he looked back.

The words stuck somewhere in her throat. There were a dozen things she should probably say. Sorry. Be careful. Don’t blame yourself.

She picked the one closest to her heart. “Thank you.”

His gaze held hers for a long second. “Always.”

31

Hudson stepped out of Sarah's house and crossed the yard toward Wyatt’s Volvo.

Wyatt climbed out of his dad's blue pickup with a coffee balanced in one hand and a glass dish covered with foil tucked under the other arm.

Hudson eyed the foil-covered dish. “Casserole?”

The corner of Wyatt’s mouth tilted. “Mom. She was up cooking at six this morning.”

“Sarah needs groceries, and I’m going to swing by Mitch’s garage to see about the rental.”

Wyatt gave him a nod. “I’ve got her. She asleep?”

A corner of Hudson’s mouth moved. “Nope. Pretending she’s not concussed.”

Wyatt snorted. “Sounds about right.”

They stood for another beat before Wyatt jerked his head toward the Volvo. “Go.”