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“Halley,” he says softly, coming to the bed. He perches on the side and runs a hand over her hair. His fingers linger over the shock of white. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t take the blame for what a madman has done. If you hadn’t come, we wouldn’t be here. And I like being here.”
He starts to lean in for another kiss. Once, she can attribute to the shock and the pain and the horror of the week, and the need to be comforted. Twice? That’s intentional. And damn her, she wants him. She wants him so badly. Wants to forget, for a little while, this madness.
But she can’t do that to Theo. She owes it to her husband not to complicate things even more. Not to make reckless decisions that will ruin everything.
“Please,” she says, and he stops.
“Bad timing, huh?”
“Yes. Very bad. My head is killing me.” She’s not lying; it is. She can feel the migraine building. She needs her medicine. But it’s in her bag.Oh, shit.
Noah sighs heavily. “A shame. You and I could be good together.”
She is thirsty and grabs the glass of water she left by the bed to cover up her discomfort. She downs it, using the moment to escape his devastatingly gorgeous eyes.
She’s alive, at least. Noah is not the killer. But her head swims, the pain starting to build in her temple. “No, not now,” she groans.
“What is it?”
The headache is fast and intense. She’s seeing spots, black dancing in the edges.
“I get migraines. One is starting. I need my medicine from my bag. But your brother has it.” She shuts her eyes. Vertigo. This is going to be a whopper if she doesn’t stop it soon.
“Get my bag, Noah. Please.”
She lies back down, fighting the headache, putting the pillow over her head. She needs dark. She needs her pills. She is an idiot for not leaving when she had the chance.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Knocking brings Halley to the surface again. She is alone in the bedroom, and the sun has begun its journey into the horizon. Her head is splitting. The cottage door opens, and two male voices start talking. It’s Noah and Cameron. The sheriff must have brought her meds.
She wants the pills but stops at the door when she realizes they are arguing, craning to overhear their words.
“This has gone too far. Does Dad know what’s happening?”
“He does, and he is livid. You have to get her out of here. She’s a danger to us all.”
“I think that’s a little—”
“Noah. Do not get attached.”
“I’m not.”
A smothered, unamused laugh. “Don’t lie to me, little brother. You’ve been mooning over her since she walked into the restaurant.”
“Hey, it wasn’t me that slashed her tires and disabled her Jeep. She would have been gone, and all this mess with her, if not for that.”
“Well, we’re dealing with it. The car will be ready in an hour. So do what you need to, but we need to get her out of here.”
“She’s flat on her back in there with a migraine. Needs her meds. They’re in her bag. When she’s functioning again, I’ll get her out of here. I suggested she go to Nashville. She’s stubborn, though. Asked about the little boy she saw.”
“I don’t know who the hell that could have been. Do you?”
“Of course not. I’m sure it was just some kid from town playing.”
“Let’s hope so. We can’t have a repeat of what happened last time. Here’s her bag. Give her the medicine and send her packing. Now, Noah. Dad’s orders.”
“I will. I promise.”
