Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Willa
“ A re you okay?” The words startled me as I stepped into the cabin.
Before I could get the door shut behind me, Cole was up and off the couch, grasping my shoulders and pulling me into a hug.
He wrapped those long arms round me in the most intense and comforting embrace.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, soaking in his strength. Every cell in my body ached with exhaustion from the adrenaline that had coursed through me for hours.
When he kissed the top of my head, I almost melted into his body. I needed this. Comfort, warmth.
“You are fucking magnificent,” he said, his lips in my hair.
This interaction was crossing several of our carefully drawn lines, but I didn’t care.
“I am so proud of you,” he gushed. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got dinner ready, and then you’re taking a bath. Then I’m going to wrap you up in that fancy robe and put you to bed.”
All of that sounded perfect. I didn’t have the energy to make decisions or even think. I needed to be near him.
I toed off my boots as he gently took the coat off my shoulders.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
“He’s gonna be okay,” I said, letting out the breath it felt like I’d been holding since that moment in the diner many hours ago.
He led me to the couch, where I collapsed and pulled my knees into my chest. I’d traveled with the ambulance to the hospital in Bangor. They’d needed to operate, so I’d waited, helping Mrs. Moran understand what the doctors were saying and ensuring my patient was awake and stable before I left.
I’d hitched a ride home with Camden, one of the local EMTs. He lived in Heartsborough, but he’d been kind enough to drop me off.
Cole fed me roasted chicken and glazed carrots—one of those recipes he’d found on YouTube and then effortlessly made his own. And then he drew me a bath, complete with candles, classical piano music, and fancy floral bubble bath. Where he’d procured bubble bath, I didn’t know, but it was delightful.
After I was sufficiently waterlogged, I combed out my hair, put on my pajamas, and headed out to the living room. There, I found Cole knitting and two mugs of tea on the coffee table.
“Sleepytime?” I asked with a smile.
He nodded, still knitting furiously. The yarn was a deep red color.
“Whatcha working on?”
“A little something for my team.” He smirked. “And you’re not getting away with ignoring what I said earlier. You were a fucking superhero today.”
His expression turned serious, causing a charge to run through me. Cole saw me, and he wasn’t afraid to be honest with me. It was terrifying and a bit thrilling at the same time.
“It’s nothing. It’s what I was trained to do.” I picked up the mug and blew on the hot liquid to avoid his intense stare.
“Stop that. Don’t discount how talented you are.”
“It’s CPR.”
He put his knitting down, his brow furrowed deeply. Oh boy, now he was serious. “A lot of people know CPR, but few can manage a crisis the way you did today. You took command, gave orders, provided lifesaving medical care, and then stayed with your patient until he was stable. You are a fucking superhero,” he bit out. “And if you ever, for a single minute, think otherwise, then I’m here to remind you.”
My heart flipped, but still… “It’s my job.”
“Sure. Being a doctor may be how you earn a living, but what you did today was so much more than a job . It’s your calling, Willa. You help, you care, and you jump in when needed. Without hesitation.” He roughed a hand over his beard and shook his head. “How were you able to keep your chest compressions so even and steady for so long? How did you control your own heart rate and adrenaline?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure how to even begin to form a response.
“That’s it. I’m getting a tattoo. You, wearing a cape and a stethoscope. Right here.” He pulled up his shirt and thumped his chiseled chest.
Giggling, I averted my eyes. I was exhausted and coming down from one hell of an adrenaline high. My muscles ached and so did my head. I couldn’t control what I would do if faced head-on with the combination of those abs, that chest, and that face. He was a deadly temptation. While I could usually resist, in my weakened state, it wasn’t worth the risk.
“I was terrified,” I admitted, lowering my chin. Try as I might, I needed to unload. Rather than call my mom, who’d always been my sounding board, or Lila or Magnolia, I wanted to share myself with Cole. “I was panicking and struggling to stay focused.”
I pulled my damp hair back into a ponytail and focused on breathing steadily.
“I should be used to this. Battle hardened by now. I spent two years in an emergency room. I’ve seen awful things and treated hundreds of trauma patients. I’ve lost some. I’ve seen children with gunshot wounds. Over time, you learn to detach, to be objective, to problem-solve and execute with precision. But today, detaching was difficult.”
His eyes softened. “You’re not a robot, and when the patients are people you know and love? Cut yourself some slack. Mr. Moran drove us to school from kindergarten until we graduated from high school. He dressed up as Santa at church. He and his wife give out full-size candy bars at Halloween. You’re allowed to be scared.”
But that was just the thing. I couldn’t be scared. I couldn’t be human. Not in those types of situations. As the town doctor, my job was to keep everyone healthy all the time, to care for generation after generation of Lovewell citizens. “What if I hadn’t been there?” I whispered. “He would have been dead before the ambulance arrived.”
“You can’t be everywhere for everyone, but you were today. Because of you, Mr. Moran gets to kiss his wife and see his kids again. And maybe that’s enough.”
I nodded, my eyes welling with tears.
“Let’s get you to bed, wifey. You’re beat.”
I was. And I was in desperate need of a reset. But I couldn’t bear the thought of going in there alone. Of not being with him.
“Can you stay with me?” I asked, sniffling.
“Of course. Let me brush my teeth.”
My stomach twisted, and my chest went tight as he shuffled away from me. What had I done? I’d invited Cole into my bed?
It wasn’t sexual—I was wearing faded old pj’s, and my face was red and splotchy from crying, for God’s sake—but it was intimate. Regardless, I didn’t think I could sleep without him. But was I setting myself up for total devastation by doing this? Because my defenses were crumbling, and my heart had already begun to embrace the man I’d married.
He came into my room dressed in nothing but boxer briefs and a faded T-shirt, his face scrubbed and his hair sticking up funny, like he’d been tugging on it all night.
“Which side do you sleep on?” he asked, his eyes downcast and his cheeks pink, looking boyish. God, that wasn’t helping my nerves one bit.
“Right.”
Nodding, he rounded the bed and shuffled up to the left side.
It was a queen-size bed, which had always felt spacious to me, but when a six-seven hockey playing lumberjack crawled in beside me, it felt a lot smaller.
He shifted, rolling toward me. “Is this okay?”
Instantly, his warmth radiated through his T-shirt, calming me. With a nod, I reached over and flipped off the lamp on my nightstand.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispered.
Humming, I rolled onto my side so we were eye to eye, our faces only inches apart, though we weren’t touching.
“I was thinking about what a treat it is to watch a person when they’re at their absolute best. Doing the thing they’re exceptional at. Like hearing Mozart play the piano, or Serena Williams play tennis.”
My breath caught at the sincerity in his tone while confusion swirled inside me. This was not what I expected at all.
“I know today was a lot for you, and I respect that. But watching you in action made it clear to me that this is exactly what you were born to do.”
Huffing, I buried my face in my pillow. “I am not the Serena Williams of doctors.”
“Of course not. But Serena is probably the Willa Savard of tennis. Ever think about that?”
I rolled onto my back with a giggle.
“You were even singing a song,” he said.
“Oh yeah. ‘Dancing Queen,’ by ABBA. It’s my CPR song.”
“CPR song?”
“It’s important to keep a consistent pace when performing chest compressions. Usually 110-120 beats per minute. Most people sing ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees, for obvious reasons. But my mom is a huge ABBA fan, so I sing ‘Dancing Queen’ in my head.”
“You are literally proving my point right now.” He chuckled. “You’re one of the greats. Now you need your rest. Get in here and snuggle.” He rolled onto his back, pulling me against him with one arm.
I hit his chest and was instantly engulfed in his clean, manly smell. Soap and wood and spice. Total comfort. Not to mention the softness of his shirt beneath my cheek and my palm as I rested a hand on his sternum.
I hadn’t been prepared for what it would be like to snuggle such a big, strong man. Lord, was it incredible. He tucked me in closer and kissed the top of my head again. Delight rushed through me. I shouldn’t, but I secretly loved when he did that. It was as if the gesture was more for him than for me. Like he couldn’t hold back. And that made my heart rate speed up even faster than the sensation of his muscular chest under my hand did.
“Close your eyes,” he said, his low tone soothing me in a way that was like magic. “You’ll be back at full strength in the morning. let yourself recharge.”
The weight of the day pressed on me, and the warmth of his body, the kindness of his words, embraced me. Without my permission, my eyes welled. All the feelings were rushing to the surface, and I had no hope of containing them.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I sniffled.
“Sure.”
“I don’t think hockey is your thing.” Every day, whether he knew it or not, Cole revealed more of his complexity. The more I saw, the more I realized that he had not yet scraped the surface of his abilities.
“No, it was.”
“You were good at hockey, but in you, Cole, I see greatness.” I tapped his chest, my eyelids heavy. “You just haven’t realized it yet. And when you do, look out world.”