She loved him.
She wanted to tell him.
But he didn’t want to hear.
So she would simply show him by caring for him and when he was better, when he was on his way to a true recovery, she’d walk away if that’s what he needed from her.
The thought made her want to scream to the sun and the moon and tear at her hair and cry and cry and cry. But she did none of those things. ‘Close your eyes,’ she whispered, unable to stop herself from stroking his hair away from his forehead. He shook his head, his mouth trembling open as if he wanted to say something to her. As if he was asking her something. There was a softness in his eyes—a wanting, an acceptance, an apology.
An apology?
He wasn’t the one who needed to apologise. But she couldn’t say that here. She put a finger over his lips and shook her head. ‘Shh, don’t speak. Save your energy.’
His lips stilled and then moved again, kissing her fingers. The sensation—soft, warm lips moving against her skin—sent a shiver of electricity from the point of contact, tingling in her breasts and centring low in her body. She knew she shouldn’t, knew it would probably make everything worse, but she’d been holding back so much worry, and her relief was too big a thing to deny. As was her want. Her need.
She bent over him and placed her mouth where her fingers had just been, gentle, caring, tender, moving over his lips with the softest of pressures, waiting for him to stiffen, to deny, to give her the sign she knew she deserved. Instead, his lips softened under hers, moved a little, clung. He was so weak, the movement so slight, but it was the most seismic kiss of her entire life.
A kiss to move worlds.
He wasn’t denying her. Wasn’t pushing her away. She wasn’t sure if it was simply because he was grateful, or because he felt something more and was accepting it. Or perhaps he was still too delirious to truly be aware of what he was doing. She couldn’t read anything into it. Could she?
She leaned back a little. There was pain in his eyes, but they were clear and full of a heat that had burned her so fully when they’d made love.
He’d forgiven her for what she’d thrown in his face.
But was forgiveness all this was?
She couldn’t ask him. Not now. Not with Nat and Reid in the car—she was aware of Nat’s gaze on them. Had become aware of it while her lips lingered on Flynn’s. She should have pulled away but she didn’t care. She needed to touch him, to kiss him, to make certain he knew she cared deeply for him and would make certain he was healthy and safe. She kept it light—she had no expectations of him. All that mattered was that her kisses, her passion—their shared passion—had helped him before. It was all that mattered right now.
She rubbed her brow and took a deep, careful breath, aware of the ache in her chest, an ache that maybe wasn’t completely about her lungs being tired by the day’s exertions.
‘You okay?’
She looked down at him, surprised by the question, surprised to see his gaze on her, the worry lines on his brow matching hers as she noted the dryness of his skin, the shallowness of his breaths. ‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ she said.
‘Sorry.’ He swallowed hard, white lines marring the skin around his mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’
She blinked back tears and shook her head. ‘Me too.’
His gaze met hers, clung and even as she damped another cloth and placed it on the back of his neck in an effort to cool him down, he did not break from that gaze and neither did she. All the way back to his house.
Reid pulled up outside the house and with Nat’s assistance, they got a still trembling Flynn out of the ute and up the stairs. Barb came running down the path from the corrals—Chandra had obviously done what she’d asked of him, thank goodness. It had surprised her when he’d turned up with Vivaan just as she was about to head off. She’d tensed, prepared for another scene, but he’d completely surprised her when he’d said he and Vivaan were there to help. And he hadn’t baulked when Barb wrangled him and Vivaan into helping with the kids and horses.
She’d have to thank him later.
‘Where are the kids?’ Prita asked as Barb ran up the stairs behind them. She knew her papa would keep Carter safe, but she was still worried.
‘They’re with Diarmuid and Lisa and Connie and the others. They’re being kept busy feeding the horses and keeping Charlie and Farrah out of trouble. What can I do here?’
‘We need to get him cooled down and hydrated.’
‘Good. Right.’ Barb opened the front door. ‘There’s some bags of ice in the chest freezer. Will that help?’
Prita nodded.
‘I’ll get them.’ Nat relinquished her hold on Flynn’s other side, allowing Prita to take her place and ran off up the path to the main building.
‘Mum?’ Flynn said as Barb opened the front door. ‘Where’s Aaron?’
‘He’s with Diarmuid and Lisa and the others looking after the horses. Tilly and Carter are there too. They’re all fine. Diarmuid’s been telling them stories about Prita when she was younger and singing them songs while they waited for the all clear.’ She smiled briefly at Prita. ‘Our doc here was quite the handful from the sounds of things.’
Prita groaned and rolled her eyes. ‘He told the story about the sausage, didn’t he?’
Barb snorted a laugh. ‘He sure did.’
‘I have to hear that story,’ Reid said.
‘Not if I have anything to say about it,’ Prita said, resettling Flynn’s arm on her shoulder as they made it through the door. ‘Straight to the bathroom,’ she said as Barb and Reid hesitated.
Barb held the doors open as Prita and Reid moved Flynn forward. Flynn’s head flopped a
