She’d startled him. And then he smiled to himself. He should have known it would take more than this to get her down. He looked at the shadowy contours of her sleepy face, saw the invitation, and knew that it hadn’t been far from his thoughts since he’d brought her home.

“Do you pull covers?” he asked as he began to unwrap her.

“You’ll soon see,” she muttered, and allowed him to straighten the bed.

It took every ounce of willpower he owned, but he crawled in and settled down. For one long moment, neither spoke.

Debbie had issued the invitation out of frustration. He had accepted it out of need. But when his long arm gently snaked beneath her head and pulled her toward him, she sighed. There! She’d found that comfortable spot again, after all. She should have known where it was. It was next to his heart.

Cole gently wrapped her, covers and all, and held her. Long after he’d felt her relax, long after he heard her breathing slow and soften, he watched and he listened. And he fell in love.

*  *  *

“Good morning, honey.”

Debbie opened her eyes, stared up into the faces of two extra Brownfields who were grinning down at her, and stretched and smiled. Her arm hit the other pillow and she jerked, suddenly remembering her bed partner. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He was gone. It would have been awkward explaining his presence.

“Cole made us get up,” Buddy said.

Morgan grinned. “He got an early call. He said to bring your food to you. I’ll just set it on the bed here beside you. After you’ve washed up, you can dig in.”

He watched her wince as she tried to smile around the bruise on her chin. A dark anger, similar to the one his son was wearing, began to simmer. He’d give a lot for an hour alone with the man who’d done this. “Can you manage on your own? Maybe you need some help getting out of bed? Are you sore?”

“Yes. No. Yes.”

Morgan grinned again. Their old Debbie was back. “I get the picture. Come on, Buddy. We’re in the way.”

“When it’s time, I’ll fix lunch,” Buddy announced.

Morgan rolled his eyes as they made an exit. “No one wants a diet of pure sugar but you son. I think we’d better just wait and see if anyone even wants to eat. What do you say?”

He hated to discourage the first normal thing his son had offered to do in nearly five years, but he didn’t think any of them was ready for ice cream decorated with dollops of peanut butter and sprinkled with Fruit Loops.