Page 53 of Paper Horses

“Just lie down and don’t read anything into it. I’m too comfortable to move to the chair, so you can spread out.”

But I couldn’t help but read into it, thinking the soft moments were building into something I didn’t want to believe, because if I was wrong, the agony that awaited me would be too much to bear. It had taken me years to build my defenses so that thoughts of Hudson didn’t shake them, and still there were moments when they would. Moments usually tempered by a few drinks and mindlessly staring at reality shows.

Tentatively, I shifted my body, tugging the robe further around me and suddenly aware that I was completely naked under it. The idea added a level of intimacy to laying my head down, but I did anyway, curling up like I had when we were young, soaking up his strength, the safety he offered, and clinging to it. I exhaled, and with it, a layer of strain released. I closed my eyes, relishing the moment and not wanting to return to the snarky comments and abrasive words, the cold indifference, the shallowness. I wanted to be me again. To be who I was when I was with him. To have him love me again.

Chapter 13

Hudson

There was no explanation for what I was doing. For why Olivia was sleeping soundly, curled up with her head in my lap. I kept my hands from her, resting my arms on the back of the couch, even though my fingers twitched to touch her. Now that she was asleep, I dropped my hand to her hair, letting my fingers drape over the damp strands.

Something had shattered in me the moment she had slipped, and the water had taken her from me. Fear had coiled in my chest, squeezing it so tight that my scream had come out broken. The water hadn’t been that deep, but the ground was soaked and muddy, the stream flowing through the front of the yard, eroding the grass and leaving a slick slide that took her away. She wouldn’t have drowned, there wasn’t enough water, but she could have been seriously hurt.

I slid my hand over her shoulder, closing my eyes to the sensation of holding her again. The glint of possibility shone too brightly in my mind, and I laid my head back, hating that it was there, and how her presence stirred the emotions that still lived in the recesses of my heart, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Flicking off the television, I looked down at her. Relaxed and peaceful. I shifted, sliding from under her and gently lowered her head. She still wore my robe, a gift from my brother years ago that I’d never used, leaving it tucked in the back of my closet. No one had worn it until now, and I knew no one ever would, even after she left, because her scent was on it, and I was certain I wouldn’t want to remove it or have another woman taint it. Like I could watch Olivia return to New York and turn to another after this. It had taken me years to move on, and even then, I never fully had. This time, I didn’t think I ever would.

I gathered her in my arms, lifting her from the sofa. The robe slipped, exposing the top of her breast, and I tore my eyes from it, my body reacting impulsively to the knowledge that she wore nothing below it. She murmured and snuggled into my chest, and I stood there, savoring the act of holding her. Of being something to her again, the shelter in whatever storm she lived in, the safety that allowed her to relax, that lifted the strain that kept her from sleeping at home.

Walking from the room, I considered that maybe her trouble with sleep was the same that I struggled with. Nights of regrets, of missing something that could never be, of the resounding hollowness where she had taken a part of me that would always be hers.

I carried her up the stairs, breathing in the scent of jasmine and sensing more of my barriers crumbling. I wasn’t so sure any would remain when she finally returned home. Stepping into the spare room, I cursed the suitcase and clothes on the bed. There was no way I could lay her down without waking her. Too much stuff cluttered her bed.

“Damn,” I muttered, contemplating my choices. With a sigh, I walked her to my room, lowered her onto the bed, and pulled a blanket from my closet to cover her. She didn’t wake, even as I tucked the blanket around her. Smoothing her hair from her face, I took a moment to admire her. The freckles that graced her cheeks, the lush lips parted and perfect for kissing, the thick lashes that surrounded her eyes. She curled further into my pillow, and I doubted I would wash the case anytime soon.

Inhaling, I turned and left her to sleep, making my way back to the living room and getting comfortable in the recliner. Sleep took me faster than it normally did, even with the noise of the storm, and I didn’t have to question that it was the tempting, beautiful woman from my past sleeping in my bed who made it easier this time.

Olivia was still sleeping when I slipped into the room to grab clean clothes. I showered and returned downstairs, sipping my coffee as I convinced myself to brave the storm and check on the horses. The front of the house looked like a swamp. The steady flow of water streaming from the mountains left a distinct path through the ranch and down past the barn into the field beyond. Thankfully, it hadn’t hit the gravel driveway, or Olivia would have been banged up even more.

“Good morning.” I turned at the quiet greeting, seeing Olivia coming into the kitchen, still wrapped in my robe. She had combed her hair, and her face shone as if she had just washed it. I hadn’t heard her upstairs, too lost in my thoughts to notice.

“Morning,” I said, pulling a coffee cup from the cabinet and pushing it toward her. “How are you feeling?”

The bruise on her cheek had darkened, and I imagined it had to be sore to touch.

“Like I got into a fight with a bathtub.”

I snorted, lowering my coffee so it wouldn’t spill.

“Thank you,” she said, still standing in the same spot. Her eyes dropped, an awkward silence hanging between us.

“Well, I couldn’t very well let you drown.”

“I’m sure you wanted to.”

I tilted my head, trying to figure her out. She seemed different.

“Eh,” I said with a shrug. “I considered it for a second.”

She nodded, coming over to the island and taking the coffee cup. I turned and leaned on the island while I watched her put a pod in the coffeemaker. She kept her focus on the coffee as it filled her cup.

“I know you hate me,” she said, pain lacing her voice.

“I don’t hate you.” I had, but the emotion had always twisted with the love I couldn’t remove.

The coffee flow stopped, yet she didn’t turn. With her back to me, the uncertainty in the air, the emotion that charged it, the one memory that hurt the most, that destroyed me every time it returned, came barreling into me.

I gaped at Olivia, trying to comprehend why she was so upset.