Winning Back His Wife

He hated the hurt lying over his heart. “Would it be that awful for a few weeks?”

“No, not awful,” she admitted. “Not at all.”

Her words brought a rush of relief, but added to his confusion. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

A burden was the last label he’d use for her. “You’re not.”

“You’ve put your life on hold this past week.”

“I won’t have to do that when I’m in Hood Hamlet. I can get back to work and my mountain-rescue unit.”

Sarah moistened her lips. “I didn’t think I was supposed to be alone.”

“Friends have offered to help.”

Her gaze narrowed. “So you won’t be around that much?”

“I work twelve-hour shifts at the hospital. The rescue unit keeps ready teams stationed on the mountain in May and June.”

“Oh.”

That single word didn’t tell him much. He rocked back on his heels. “So what do you think?”

“I appreciate the offer.”

“But—?”

Sarah squinted. “I…I don’t know.”

Her uncertainty sounded genuine. He had expected to hear a flat-out no.

She sank into her pillow. “Is it something I need to decide right now?”

“Dr. Marshall wants you to tell the nurse your decision. Arrangements have to be made if you choose a SNF.”

She rubbed her thumb against her fingertips.

“Attitude plays a role in healing,” he continued. “Hood Hamlet will be better for you in that regard.”

“Give me a minute to think about it.”

Cullen didn’t know why she needed more time or why he was trying so hard to convince her. Yes, he wanted to do the right thing, but her decision changed nothing. If she refused his offer, the next time they saw each other…They wouldn’t be seeing each other unless she challenged the divorce terms. The way it would have been if she hadn’t had her accident.

The bed dwarfed her body, making her look small and helpless. Strange, given she was the strongest women he knew next to Leanne Thomas, a paramedic and member of OMSAR.

Sarah grimaced.

Two long strides put him at the side of her bed. “Your head.”

She gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I may have overdone the walking today.”

His concern ratcheted. “Does anything else hurt?”

“Not any more than usual.”

Using the back of his hand, he touched her face. She wasn’t flushed, but a temperature could mean another infection. “You don’t feel warm.”

She closed her eyes. “My brain might be rebelling from having to work again. Think I probably need another nap.”

“Probably.”

But Cullen preferred to err on the side of caution. He checked the circulation of each finger sticking out from her cast. He wanted to blame his anxiousness on the Hippocratic oath, but he knew there was more to it than that. The more part revolved around Sarah. He wished it weren’t so. In time he hoped—expected—not to care or to be so concerned about her. Time healed all wounds, right?

She opened her eyes. “You always had a nice bedside manner.”

He didn’t want her words to mean anything. He hated that they did. “It’s easier with some patients.”

“With me?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yes.”

Sarah’s lips curved into a slight, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”

He brushed hair off her face. “You’re welcome.”

Her eyelids fluttered like a pair of butterfly wings.

He remembered when she’d slept against him and her eyelashes had brushed his cheek. The urge to scoop her up in his arms and hold her close was strong, but he couldn’t give in to temptation. This woman had trounced his heart once. Whatever else he did, he couldn’t let himself fall in love with her again.

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