Awol Bride. Victoria Pade

the fact that these weren’t just walls, they were tree trunks.

      “I’m not a medical person,” she said calmly. “I don’t know anything about that kind of thing, so help me understand... Do you feel like Declan’s doctors are incompetent?”

      “No, they’re good. They’re just overworked. His primary is actually a guy I was with for a while on a tour on an aircraft carrier—Vince Collier. I’d let him treat me.”

      “So his doctor is competent and conscientious,” she said, then, “I know I’m always asked if I’m allergic to anything when I see a doctor, so you must have told everyone about Declan’s allergies, right?”

      “I made sure it was noted in big letters everywhere, and yeah, I’ve said it to everyone who’s come near him.”

      “Plus Declan knows his allergies and he hasn’t gone into shock, so double-checking his antibiotics is something he can make sure of himself.”

      “I don’t know about that—a fever like he has could leave him confused.”

      “Okay, but you’ve been there with Declan, so everyone knows you, too—that you’re a navy doctor, that you’re keeping an eye on them and everything they do, yes?”

      “Yes, but I’m not there to do that now,” he said impatiently, as if he didn’t see the point of any of what she was asking.

      “But the groundwork is laid,” she said. “And you’ve got two brotherhoods working for you—the brotherhood of doctors, and the whole military brotherhood. It seems to me that whether you’re there or not, everyone is going to try that much harder not to drop the ball with Declan.”

      That gave him pause for just a moment before he conceded. “I don’t know...maybe... This is just really serious...”

      “But you said Declan was doing pretty well before this—it would be worse if this had hit him when he was even weaker, wouldn’t it? Now he’s in good enough shape for you to feel like you could leave him, so he must have a little bit to fight this with.”

      “Sepsis is dangerous no matter what,” he insisted.

      “And if you were there with him, what would you be doing?”

      “Keeping watch!” he said, again as if she was clueless.

      “And you’d see a lot of people doing their jobs—which is what’s still happening. Sitting in a chair in his room would make you feel better, but it wouldn’t necessarily change anything,” she reasoned. “So yes, we’ll keep my phone as backup and you’ll still keep trying to get through so you can put your two cents’ worth in, but maybe you can trust—at least a little—that you’ve gotten Declan this far and put him in the best position, and whatever he needs will be done now with or without you being there?”

      Conor drew his hands through his hair again, pulling so hard on his scalp that he yanked his head back and glared at the ceiling.

      From her vantage point Maicy saw his upturned jaw clench and she wondered if she’d pushed too far, if reason wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.

      Then he took a deep breath and sighed hard as he dropped his hands and brought his head down again to look at her.

      “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted. “About all of that. And I did talk to Collier for a few minutes before the phone cut out again. I think—think—he’s doing what he should. It’s just that this is really bad,” he said in a tone that was thick with fear and worry. “And I should be there...” His voice dwindled off, letting Maicy see just how much this bothered him.

      But before she could think of anything more to say he let out a mirthless chuckle. “I guess this must be what Kinsey feels like with us all in active service—afraid for us and helpless as all hell.”

      Knowing nothing about what that might be like, Maicy agreed with that observation only with a raise of her eyebrows.

      That inspired a shock of pain that reminded her that she was injured. She thought that they were quite a pair stuck here snowbound—her with a head injury and him climbing out of his skin with worry about his brother.

      Then Conor drew himself up as if coming to grips with some of his demons and said, “I’m gonna heat the water and take a quick shower.”

      “Sure. Good idea,” Maicy said.

      Conor disappeared downstairs. In the meantime Maicy retrieved her suitcase and purse, feeling as joyful as a kid at Christmas to have them with her again, and took them into the bedroom.

      Then she relocated the pink cake box to the kitchen, setting it aside for later.

      By the time Conor’s shower was finished the cornbread was cooked, the can of chili she’d opened was simmering on the stovetop, she had plates, bowls and bottles of water waiting, and she’d lit some of the candles she’d found in the mudroom to add a little light.

      Not in any romantic way, she made sure to tell herself. Just so they could see what they were eating.

      What she wasn’t prepared for was the impact of looking up from her tasks to find the freshly showered and shaved Conor rejoining her in that candlelight.

      He was wearing navy blue sweatpants and a matching hoodie with NAVY emblazoned across his expansive chest.

      His dark hair was shower-damp. His face was bare of whiskers and even more handsome with all the sculpted lines and planes revealed. And that soapy scent that had tormented her from his clothes wafted out from him and went right to her head.

      But only for a minute before she got a hold of herself. She focused on stirring the chili so she didn’t have to look at him, thinking that this was a dirty trick on fate’s part. If Conor had aged into a troll of a man it would have been bad enough to be in this situation with him. But as it was, his appeal had doubled from what it had been when he was eighteen and this was turning into a constant test of her resistance that she didn’t appreciate.

      “I’ll shut off the propane on the water heater but we should still have enough warm water in the tank to do the dishes,” he said as he headed for the basement again.

      Maicy didn’t respond to that, working to remind herself not to let the way he looked have any effect on her.

      She thought she had it under control until he came back. But one glimpse of him rattled her all over again.

      It doesn’t matter how hot he is, she lectured herself, think about who he is and what he did.

      Holding fast to memories of old injuries, she ladled out the chili and cut the cornbread, then he took his plate and she took hers to the coffee table to eat, sitting side by side on the sofa, facing the kitchen rather than each other.

      After a few bites, Conor said, “Now that you’ve talked me off the ledge—thanks for that by the way—tell me about this wedding of yours so I can think about something else and stop obsessing over Declan and things I can’t do.”

      Maicy wondered if it had rocked him at all to think of her with someone else—the way it had rocked her earlier when she’d thought he might want cell service to keep up with a pregnant wife. But there were no indications of it.

      Before she’d said anything he said, “I know you didn’t stay in Northbridge—my mom said you left a year after I did and never came back—but you were getting married there?”

      “I got a scholarship to the University of Colorado in Boulder, I went there for undergrad. Then I got my masters at CU Denver campus and stayed,” she explained.

      “What did you get your degrees in?”

      “Career counseling and development. I own my own career counseling service in Denver.”

      “So you went to Colorado, live in Denver, but went back to Northbridge to get married?” he said, returning to the original subject.

      “A little over