“What?” He mounted the stairs two at a time, and was suddenly there, sitting a step below her so their faces were on a level. He took her hand. “Tell me.”
“It was… I don’t know for sure.” She shuddered at the memory. “For a minute, I thought it was a person. Someone crossing the highway, or walking down it. I even thought—” She swallowed.
“That it might be a ghost.”
She met his eyes, aware of the desperation in her own. “Except I know it wasn’t. I think…I think it was a cow or maybe a horse. There are some farms along there.”
He nodded, waiting.
“Of course I swerved.”
“Because you don’t want to risk anyone else.”
Erin bobbed her head. “A couple of other times, I’ve had near misses. The kind where I almost lost control and went off the road. You know? I don’t think I felt anything at all.”
“This time, you did.”
Despite his earlier anger, all she saw in those blue eyes now was compassion. Even the hard line of his mouth had softened. Had he guessed what she was going to say?
“I was terrified.” She felt pathetic, holding on to his hand as if she’d go tumbling down the steps if she let go. “Like any normal person would be.”
“Because you are normal.” He tugged her closer, encouraging her to lean forward and rest her head on his shoulder. Still, she held on to that big, warm hand. “You’ve been healing, Erin. Maybe I’ve been your redemption. Maybe coming to a place that feels like home has you remembering happy times. Working on this place, seeing it come to life again.”
She wasn’t so sure about anything he’d said, except…she hadn’t wanted to die last night. There’d been no relief, no thinking, Finally. Only sheer terror, fast reflexes and luck. That animal—too big to be a deer—had lumbered in panic back the way it had come at the same moment she swerved over the yellow line. If it had kept coming—Remembering made her heart pound.
“I knew you’d go out,” he whispered, his mouth brushing her hair. “I can always tell. You…withdraw.”
She nodded against the reassuring strength of his shoulder. “I can feel it coming on.”
His fingers slipped into her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head. “Will you go again?”
“I…don’t know,” Erin said honestly.
His steady breathing stopped, reason for her to lift her head to see his face. Worry seemed to deepen the lines, aging him. But he sighed and said, “I guess that’s better than hearing you say yes.”
“Maybe…” No, she wasn’t ready to say this yet. It would sound like a promise she might not keep. But she was serious.
Maybe he’s right and I should make an appointment to talk to someone. Maybe I will.
Cole hadn’t released her. His arm was looped around her shoulders. His gaze had dropped to her mouth, and the temptation to lean forward scant inches and press her lips to his was hard to resist. Or to lay her hand on his angular cheek, feel the texture of his freshly shaved jaw.
His eyes had darkened, narrowed, and she knew he was thinking the same. Hoping, she quit breathing now.
Abruptly, he straightened, letting her go. Rose to his feet. “What’s your plan for today?” he asked from high above, as if nothing had happened.
Probably it hadn’t. Humiliation warmed her cheeks as she realized any response on his part must have been in her imagination.
“Paint one of the bedrooms. Then I’ll see. How are you progressing?” she asked.
“Good. Come take a look later.”
“I might,” she said. “Unless you think I’d scare the neighbors.”
“Scare the—Oh.” He smiled. “I guess that was rude.”
“Nanna used to say it. About something the cat dragged in.”
“My mother did, too.” Sadness flickered in his eyes. “She’d have said it a lot if she could have seen me my last few years at home. Staggering in wasted.”
“Except those years might have been different if she’d still been alive,” she pointed out, pushing herself to her feet. Still creaky.