Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ASTER
Nolan came back the next morning, just like Reid said he would.
I heard him before I saw him—footsteps in the stable aisle, lighter than Reid's, accompanied by a low whistle that made Bella's ears prick forward.
Then the scent hit me, eucalyptus and honey rolling through the stall like a summer breeze, and my whole body went tight with something that wasn't quite fear.
I was on my feet by the time he appeared in the doorway, my back against the wall, my hands curled at my sides. Old habits. The kind that kept you alive.
Nolan stopped at the threshold, the same way Reid had yesterday.
He was wearing a different henley today, forest green instead of gray, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal those forearms dusted with fine golden hair.
His sandy blonde hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently, and his green eyes found mine immediately—soft, patient, giving me time to decide whether he was a threat.
"Morning." His voice was quiet, unhurried, pitched low like he was talking to a nervous animal.
He didn't try to enter the stall, didn't push past the invisible line I'd drawn.
Just stood there with his medical bag in one hand, his posture deliberately relaxed, his weight settled back on his heels.
The early morning light caught the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My heart was doing something strange in my chest—not the panicked hammering it had done with Reid, but something else. Something that felt almost like anticipation.
I hated it.
"Mind if I come in?" Nolan tilted his head slightly, waiting for my answer, his sandy hair falling across his forehead.
His green eyes were steady on mine, and there was something in them that made my throat tight—patience, maybe, or understanding.
The kind of look that said he'd wait all day if that's what it took.
His free hand hung loose at his side, fingers relaxed.
"It's your patient." The words came out rough, almost hostile, scraping past my dry throat, and I winced at the sound of them. My shoulders hunched slightly, defensive. I hadn't meant to sound like that. Hadn't meant to sound like anything at all.
Nolan's mouth curved into a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with something that looked like warmth.
He didn't seem offended by my tone—if anything, he seemed almost amused, like my defensiveness was something he'd expected and found oddly endearing.
His head tilted slightly to the other side, studying me.
"She is." He stepped into the stall slowly, his boots quiet on the straw-covered floor, giving me plenty of time to move away if I needed to.
His movements were careful, deliberate, the same way they'd been that first day when he was treating Bella.
He kept to the far side of the stall, giving me a wide berth.
"But you're here too. And I don't want to crowd you. "
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. Just pressed myself further into my corner and watched as he approached the mare, his attention shifting away from me with a gentleness that felt almost like a gift.
"Hey, pretty girl." Nolan's voice dropped even lower as he reached Bella, soft and warm, his hand coming up to stroke her neck with long, soothing motions.
The mare nickered softly, her nose pushing against his chest, and something in his face went soft and open—the look of a man who genuinely loved animals, who found peace in their company.
"How are you feeling today? Ready to meet your baby? "
Bella snorted, which seemed to be answer enough. Nolan laughed—a quiet sound, low and genuine, his shoulders shaking slightly with it—and my chest did that strange twisting thing again.
I watched him work, trying not to be obvious about it.
His hands moved over Bella's swollen belly with practiced ease, checking, assessing, murmuring to her in that low, soothing voice.
He pulled a stethoscope from his bag and listened to something I couldn't hear, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, his green eyes focused and intent, his lips moving silently as he counted.
"She's doing great." He said it without looking at me, his attention still on the mare, one hand resting gently on her side.
But I knew the words were meant for my ears—could hear it in the way his voice lifted slightly, pitched to carry across the stall.
"Foal's in the right position. Should be any day now.
" He straightened up, tucking the stethoscope back into his bag with practiced efficiency, and finally turned to face me.
His green eyes swept over me, assessing. "You been with her all night?"
"Since yesterday morning." My voice was steadier now, though I still hadn't moved from my corner, my back pressed against the rough wood of the wall. My arms were crossed over my chest, a barrier between us.
Nolan's eyebrows rose slightly, disappearing beneath the sandy hair that fell across his forehead, and something flickered across his face—concern, maybe, or surprise.
He looked at me more closely, his green eyes taking in the shadows under my eyes, the tension in my shoulders, the way I was swaying slightly on my feet. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Have you slept at all?" The question was soft, careful, his voice dropping lower, like he was afraid the wrong word might send me running. He took a small step toward me, then stopped himself, respecting the distance between us.
"Some." It was a lie, and we both knew it.
I'd dozed a little, leaning against the wall, jerking awake every time Bella shifted or a sound came from outside.
But real sleep? The kind where you actually close your eyes and let go?
I couldn't remember the last time I'd done that.
My eyes dropped to the straw-covered floor, unable to hold his gaze.
Nolan's jaw tightened more visibly this time, the muscle flexing beneath his fair skin. He glanced at Bella, then back at me, and I watched him make some kind of decision behind those patient green eyes—watched the way his expression shifted, became more determined.
"She's stable." He said it carefully, like he was choosing each word with precision, his voice gentle but firm. His hands spread slightly at his sides, palms up, an open gesture. "Won't foal for at least another day or two, based on what I'm seeing. You could take a break. Get some real rest."
"I'm fine." The words came out sharper than I intended, defensive in a way I hadn't meant them to be, my chin lifting stubbornly. I forced my shoulders to relax, forced my voice into something softer, less hostile. "I said I'd watch her."
Nolan didn't argue. Didn't push. Just nodded slowly, his sandy hair catching the light from the high windows, his green eyes holding mine with an understanding that made me want to look away. His expression was patient, accepting—no judgment, no frustration.
"Okay." He said it simply, the word soft and easy, accepting my choice without pressure.
His weight shifted, settling more comfortably on his feet, like he was prepared to stay a while.
"But if you change your mind, I can stay with her for a while.
Give you a chance to eat something. Stretch your legs.
" He paused, his mouth curving into that small, careful smile again, a hint of warmth flickering in his green eyes.
"I'm told the cook makes a mean breakfast burrito on Thursdays. "
Despite everything—despite the exhaustion and the wariness and the voice in my head screaming at me not to let my guard down—I felt my lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but close. My arms loosened slightly where they were crossed over my chest.
"It's Thursday?" I hadn't been keeping track of the days. They all blurred together when you were running on no sleep and pure stubbornness. My voice came out rough, confused.
"All day." Nolan's smile widened slightly, crinkling the corners of his eyes, something warm and almost playful flickering in their green depths. He shifted his weight, angling his body toward the stall door. "I could bring you one, if you want. Breakfast burrito. Coffee. Whatever you need."
I should have said no. Should have told him I didn't need anything, that I could take care of myself, that I'd been doing it for years without any help from anyone.
But my stomach chose that moment to growl, loud and undeniable in the quiet of the stable, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
My hand pressed against my belly as if I could silence it.
Nolan's smile softened into something almost tender, the teasing warmth fading into something gentler. He didn't comment on the noise, didn't make me feel embarrassed about it—just nodded like my answer had already been given, like my body had spoken for me and that was enough.
"I'll be back in ten minutes." He picked up his medical bag, slinging it over his shoulder, the strap settling across his broad chest, and headed for the stall door with easy, unhurried strides.
At the threshold, he paused, turning back to look at me, one hand resting on the wooden frame.
His green eyes found mine, steady and warm.
"She's lucky, you know. Bella. Having someone watch over her like this. "
I didn't know what to say to that either. Lucky wasn't a word I'd ever associated with myself, and hearing it applied to something I was doing felt strange. Foreign. Like trying on clothes that didn't quite fit.
"I'm just sitting here." My voice came out rough, dismissive, my shoulders lifting in an awkward shrug. My eyes dropped to the straw at my feet. "Anyone could do it."