Thirty minutes after she’d given Cole the medication, Paige went back into the family room to check on him. She knew that he was embarrassed and not at all happy that she was having to take care of him. But she enjoyed feeling needed again. Her own mother had always told her she was a natural-born nurturer and would be a wonderful mother someday. Because it appeared that was never going to happen, she had to be content nurturing others she cared for.
Craig had never made her feel that he really needed her, and if she hadn’t had Mr. Richardson to focus her attention on while Craig was away, she couldn’t imagine how boring her life would have been. But Cole and Craig’s father had always made her feel as if she made a difference in the quality of his life, and toward the end, she was the one he’d asked to oversee his diet, medications and doctor’s appointments. He’d even told her it was nice to have a woman fuss over him again—something he hadn’t had since his wife had died when the twins were little.
As Paige walked over to the bed to stare down at Cole, she smiled. The boy she thought to be so good-looking when they were in high school was nothing compared to the devastatingly handsome man he had become.
Why couldn’t he have been the Richardson twin to ask her out all those years ago? He had promised her that he would wait the two years for her to graduate from school. Why hadn’t he come back home that summer and kept his promise? And why hadn’t she waited for him?
Paige sighed over what might have been. If there had been even the slightest possibility of a second chance for them, she had ruined it. From the moment he came back to Royal over six months ago, Cole had avoided being with her, and it had been clear that he hadn’t wanted to stay at the Double R. But she had pressured him into agreeing simply because she had been so lonely. Then when he’d tried to be a gentleman and help her through the fear she’d had since the tornado, she had pressed for more by asking him to make love to her.
Lost in thought, she was startled when Cole reached up to grab hold of her hand. “Hi, sweetheart. Where have you been?”
“In the kitchen,” she answered, knowing that he had no idea where he was, let alone where she had been.
“Why don’t you lie down with me and I’ll hold you while it storms,” he said, giving her the same grin he had when she’d first seen him in the hospital.
Her breath caught at the reference to their night together. But she immediately dismissed it. It was the medication talking, not Cole.
“It isn’t even raining,” she said, forcing a smile.
“We can pretend it is,” he coaxed, pulling her down to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. He reached up to trace her lips with his forefinger. “That way we can make love again.”
“Why don’t you try to get some more sleep,” she countered, her pulse racing like a runaway train. To get her mind off his ramblings, she checked to make sure his leg was still elevated.
When he closed his eyes and she thought he had drifted back to sleep, she started to get up. But his eyes flew open, and he tightened his grip on her hand. “I sleep better and I’m a lot happier when you’re with me.” His grin widened. “We could make love again.”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea.” Thinking fast, she added, “I don’t want to run the risk of hurting your knee.”
She knew his euphoria was drug-induced and that he didn’t have a clue what he was saying. But that didn’t keep her from wishing that he did.
“I, um, have a few things I need to do,” she said, trying hard to come up with a convincing excuse. “Would it help if I sit here until you go back to sleep?”
He looked disappointed but finally nodded. “I just don’t want to lose you again,” he said sleepily.
He didn’t want to lose her again? What did he mean by that?
She tried not to put too much stock in what Cole said. He wasn’t himself on the medication and nothing he said was based in reality. Unfortunately, her heart wanted to argue the point.
Paige waited until she was absolutely certain Cole was asleep before she extricated her hand from his, stood up and left the family room. She had to call Royal Memorial Hospital to set up an appointment for the following week with an in-home therapist to start Cole’s physical therapy. Then she needed to start the chicken soup she’d planned for their dinner. And if she could think of something else to do, she’d do that, too. The busier she kept herself, the less time she would have to think about the man softly snoring on her pullout couch.