wasn’t easy. Nothing about him screamed domestic. “That’s very admirable, Meredith.”
The young girl grasped Lauren’s arm and relaxed. Her eyes drifted closed. That’s how they were positioned when Cole and Justin returned to the waiting room. Cole remained pale but was no longer shaking, and Justin had a large bandage on his head but otherwise appeared to be fine. For a moment, Lauren’s eyes met Cole’s. She felt a connection to her core, and it was so strong it actually jolted her. He stopped in his tracks, stared into her eyes and almost pulled back, as if he’d felt the same thing.
Attraction. An awareness of one another. A physical response and an instinctive awareness of…possibility.
And absolutely no chance that whatever they felt would actually work in the real world.
Lauren relaxed as she turned onto her street and saw the welcoming light of her front porch ahead. It had been a very long, very strange day. She wanted a cup of hot tea, a warm shower, soft pajamas and a good night’s sleep.
She pulled the van into the Donovan driveway. All was quiet, since the kids had all dozed off on the way home, and Cole hadn’t said a word since they’d pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
“Thanks,” he said softly as she shut off the engine. “I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”
“No problem.” She wanted to run for home—tea, shower, pajamas, bed—but as she stepped out of the van and the kids roused, Hank called out.
“Miss Lauren, will you tuck me in?” His voice was sleepy; he’d probably drift back into dreamland the moment his head hit the pillow.
“Miss Lauren’s done enough,” Cole said, his voice perhaps a touch sharp. Maybe that was just exhaustion she heard.
“Please,” Hank said, drawing the word out to the end of a breath. There was so much heart in his voice, Lauren couldn’t say no. She told herself it would be a short delay.
“I’d be happy to tuck you in,” she said, helping the little boy from the backseat as Cole carried Justin to the front door and unlocked it. Meredith yawned as she made her way to the door. As Lauren and Hank walked in that direction, Hank took her hand. His hand was incredibly small, so soft and trusting.
Meredith yawned again and said good-night, and Justin roused just long enough to ask if he could sleep with his dad tonight. Cole agreed, and carried his youngest son toward the master bedroom.
Hank turned on the light to his bedroom, which was messy but clean. Action figures lined the shelves and the dresser, and an open toy chest held an array of water guns, a couple of plastic dragons and balls in every size and color. A watercolor of some sort of mythical beast had been framed and hung above the bed. Most of the dirty clothes had made it into the hamper, and the bed was made. It was not made well, but there had been a valiant attempt.
“I think you’re awesome,” Hank said sleepily as he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of mismatched pajamas. “You should have some kids of your own, and then I’d have someone else to play with.”
“You have a brother and a sister to play with.”
“Yeah, but they don’t always want to play what I want to play. Meredith likes girl stuff.”
“Well,” Lauren said, “she is a girl.”
Hank started stripping off his clothes and throwing them toward the hamper. Lauren turned her back, offering him the privacy he obviously didn’t care about.
“Don’t you like kids?” Hank asked.
“Of course I do.”
“I thought so. You’d make a really good mom.”
Lauren’s heart broke a little, for the child who’d lost his own mother. “Maybe one day,” she said.
She heard the mattress creak, and turned as Hank was crawling under the covers. “Don’t you need to brush your teeth?”
“Nope,” he said decisively. “Around here we only do the minimum.”
“Excuse me?”
“The minimum. Once a day is the minimum.”
“No.” Lauren sat on the edge of the bed and straightened
The young girl grasped Lauren’s arm and relaxed. Her eyes drifted closed. That’s how they were positioned when Cole and Justin returned to the waiting room. Cole remained pale but was no longer shaking, and Justin had a large bandage on his head but otherwise appeared to be fine. For a moment, Lauren’s eyes met Cole’s. She felt a connection to her core, and it was so strong it actually jolted her. He stopped in his tracks, stared into her eyes and almost pulled back, as if he’d felt the same thing.
Attraction. An awareness of one another. A physical response and an instinctive awareness of…possibility.
And absolutely no chance that whatever they felt would actually work in the real world.
Lauren relaxed as she turned onto her street and saw the welcoming light of her front porch ahead. It had been a very long, very strange day. She wanted a cup of hot tea, a warm shower, soft pajamas and a good night’s sleep.
She pulled the van into the Donovan driveway. All was quiet, since the kids had all dozed off on the way home, and Cole hadn’t said a word since they’d pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
“Thanks,” he said softly as she shut off the engine. “I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”
“No problem.” She wanted to run for home—tea, shower, pajamas, bed—but as she stepped out of the van and the kids roused, Hank called out.
“Miss Lauren, will you tuck me in?” His voice was sleepy; he’d probably drift back into dreamland the moment his head hit the pillow.
“Miss Lauren’s done enough,” Cole said, his voice perhaps a touch sharp. Maybe that was just exhaustion she heard.
“Please,” Hank said, drawing the word out to the end of a breath. There was so much heart in his voice, Lauren couldn’t say no. She told herself it would be a short delay.
“I’d be happy to tuck you in,” she said, helping the little boy from the backseat as Cole carried Justin to the front door and unlocked it. Meredith yawned as she made her way to the door. As Lauren and Hank walked in that direction, Hank took her hand. His hand was incredibly small, so soft and trusting.
Meredith yawned again and said good-night, and Justin roused just long enough to ask if he could sleep with his dad tonight. Cole agreed, and carried his youngest son toward the master bedroom.
Hank turned on the light to his bedroom, which was messy but clean. Action figures lined the shelves and the dresser, and an open toy chest held an array of water guns, a couple of plastic dragons and balls in every size and color. A watercolor of some sort of mythical beast had been framed and hung above the bed. Most of the dirty clothes had made it into the hamper, and the bed was made. It was not made well, but there had been a valiant attempt.
“I think you’re awesome,” Hank said sleepily as he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of mismatched pajamas. “You should have some kids of your own, and then I’d have someone else to play with.”
“You have a brother and a sister to play with.”
“Yeah, but they don’t always want to play what I want to play. Meredith likes girl stuff.”
“Well,” Lauren said, “she is a girl.”
Hank started stripping off his clothes and throwing them toward the hamper. Lauren turned her back, offering him the privacy he obviously didn’t care about.
“Don’t you like kids?” Hank asked.
“Of course I do.”
“I thought so. You’d make a really good mom.”
Lauren’s heart broke a little, for the child who’d lost his own mother. “Maybe one day,” she said.
She heard the mattress creak, and turned as Hank was crawling under the covers. “Don’t you need to brush your teeth?”
“Nope,” he said decisively. “Around here we only do the minimum.”
“Excuse me?”
“The minimum. Once a day is the minimum.”
“No.” Lauren sat on the edge of the bed and straightened
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