Making a Comeback. Kristina Mathews

her if she had someone who could stay with her to observe for any post-concussion complications.

      With a heavy heart, he walked back into the sunny kitchen.

      Two innocent faces looked up at him. They trusted him. They needed him.

      “Your mom has been in a car accident.” He used the gentlest voice he could find. He didn’t want them to worry. He was doing enough of that for all of them. “She’s going to be okay, but we’ll need to pick her up from the hospital.”

      Sophie blinked back tears but held her head high.

      Olivia slid off the chair and threw herself at him. She clutched his legs, holding on with everything she had.

      “It’s going to be okay.” He patted her back, hoping to God he was telling the truth.

      * * * *

      Annabelle hurt. Everywhere. Her ribs, her back, her neck, and her left shoulder throbbed in pain. But most of all her head hurt, the worst headache she’d ever had. She tried to open her eyes, but could only see out of her right eye. Her other one was covered. Trying to focus with just one eye made her dizzy. Trying to sit up made her dizzy. Even lying still made her dizzy.

      Where was she? She looked around slowly, hoping the nausea would pass, or at least not get any worse. There was a heavy industrial-type curtain dividing the room in half. Along one wall stood a sink with foot pedals below and hand sanitizer above. An uncomfortable-looking couch stood against the other wall. The bed she was lying in had railings and a remote attached to the side. She could raise or lower the foot and head of the bed and call for assistance. A tube coming out of her arm was hooked up to a bag of some kind of fluid. Machines beeped softly behind her.

      She’d been in a place like this before. She just couldn’t remember why.

      Babies. There were babies before, one for each arm. Her babies.

      Was she still in the hospital with the twins? No. She could picture them, much bigger. Walking. Dancing. Starting school. They were definitely old enough to go to school.

      Was she having another baby? She looked down at her flat belly. No. That wasn’t why she was in this place. This… Oh, why couldn’t she remember what it was called? Why couldn’t she remember anything?

      A man stepped into the room. He was a tall man. A strong man. An oh-my-God very good-looking man. His long-sleeved gray T-shirt hugged broad, well-sculpted shoulders. Black athletic shorts hung low on his hips, almost clinging to muscular thighs. His dark brown hair was a little longer than she preferred, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run her fingers through it. His lips were thick, sensuous, and framed by dark whiskers—thicker than stubble, but not quite a full beard. His green-gold eyes swept over her with concern and something else. What was it called? That feeling of wanting…or needing…something?

      Annabelle swallowed. Her throat was dry, too dry to speak. She reached for a glass of water from the bedside table. Even with one eye, she liked what she saw. But she couldn’t remember who he was. He wasn’t a stranger, she knew that much. Could feel that much.

      “Come in.” Her voice sounded raspy and harsh. But maybe that was the way it always sounded.

      He hesitated before entering, turning back to the hallway, he ushered two little blond girls into the room. Her daughters. Thank God. She recognized them. Olivia. And Sophie. The two bright lights of her life. The reason she fought through… What had happened to her? She closed her eyes, trying to recall the details.

      There was screeching, crunching of metal, shattering glass, and blood. So much blood.

      She remembered the blood.

      Her daughters crept carefully into the room, eyes wide as they took in her appearance. She must be a real mess. Sophie clutched the man’s hand. No. It was Olivia. Sophie never wore pink. Or did she?

      “Mommy, you look like a mummy.” Sophie skipped over to the side of the bed. The child’s energy bounced off her in waves. “Maybe I’ll call you Mummy from now on. Like I’m British.”

      Her daughter’s laughter filled Annabelle with joy, taking the edge off her pain and confusion.

      Olivia scooted closer to the man. He must be someone close to them. Olivia was slow to warm to people. She wouldn’t just reach out for someone if he wasn’t special.

      So who was he? And how did she ask without looking like an idiot, or worrying her girls?

      “How are you feeling, Annabelle?” She recognized his voice. It was familiar, comforting, and every bit as sexy as the rest of him. They way her name rolled off his tongue made her believe he was a lover. But she was married. No, divorced. Everything was mixed up in her head.

      She reached for her water again, took a long swallow, and watched him watch her.

      “I’m a little sore.” She tried to smile but her skin felt tight. Especially over her left eye. The one covered in a bandage. “But I’m alive.”

      He smiled, his lips curved almost sinfully, and his gaze roamed over her banged up body as if he knew what she looked like under the sheet.

      If he wasn’t her lover, he wanted to be.

      How could she even think about things like that? After what she’d been through? And with her daughters right there in the room.

      “Mr. Cooper said to be careful when we saw you.” Olivia peeked out from behind his legs. “And not to bounce the bed. He said to ask before giving you a hug.”

      “Just Cooper. You don’t have to call me mister,” he said to Olivia, but he didn’t take his eyes off Annabelle.

      “Can I give you a hug?” Olivia asked, her voice more cautious than usual.

      “Of course.” Annabelle braced for the contact. The man, Cooper, picked her daughter up and gently set her on the bed. Olivia gave her a small squeeze and she felt warm tears against her face. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.”

      Chapter 2

      Cooper was shocked by the sight of Annabelle lying in that hospital bed. Her usually flawless skin was pale and her face was half-covered in bandages. Her silky, golden locks hung matted and limp on the pillow. Her luscious lips had quivered as she’d invited him into her room.

      She looked him over with the one eye not covered in gauze. Maybe she recognized him, maybe she didn’t. She’d drawn her brows together as if she was trying to figure out how she knew him, but she’d winced at the small movement.

      He wondered, not for the first time, if coming here had been a mistake. The girls needed to see their mother, but if he was so shaken by her appearance, he worried they would be even more freaked out. Still, they’d driven all this way, just under the speed limit, and he’d kept glancing back wondering if he’d strapped them into their booster seats correctly in the back of his Escalade.

      The moment the girls stepped into her room, Annabelle’s face had transformed. A beauty no camera could capture lit her up at the sight of her daughters. Love. Pure and simple.

      “Thank you for bringing them here to see me.” Annabelle reached for his arm, and just the slightest touch sent electricity through his entire body.

      “No problem.” He shrugged. Just last week he’d turned down another invite for coffee or chai tea. He didn’t want to get involved, and yet he couldn’t just walk away.

      “I don’t have anyone else to…” She glanced over at her daughters, who had moved off the bed and were entertaining each other on the couch. “We’re still pretty new in town, and I don’t have many friends here yet.”

      “You’ve got me.” He’d spent the better part of the last year trying not to feel anything. Now he felt too much. Annabelle Jones was real. And she needed him.

      “Yes. I’ve got you…” She glanced at