Then she went to the upstairs bathroom and wet a washrag with cool water. Back in the living room, she knelt at his side and laid the washcloth over his forehead.
He moaned slightly, turning his face into her hand when her fingers brushed his cheek.
Her stomach dipped as if she'd topped the first hill on a rollercoaster. Take care of him, West had said.
The skin of Cord’s jaw was rough with stubble.
He didn't wake. Which gave her the chance to really look at him.
Out cold like this, the worry lines around his eyes had eased. His jaw was slack, making it look like he was ready to smile at any time—though when he was awake, his smiles were hard-won.
He was mega-hot. More handsome than her favorite movie star. She'd noticed it the first day but had tried to ignore it. She wasn't looking for a fling. Or a relationship, for that matter.
After Toby, she hadn't wanted anyone close. Hadn't wanted to be vulnerable.
Cord had worked to make her feel safe from the very first day. Not wanting her to sleep in her truck. Telling her they weren't compatible when they both felt the spark.
But... there was something about him that drew her.
She liked him, gruff demeanor and all.
Hound Dog padded into the room and rested his chin on Molly's knee. She let her hand slip into the fur at his neck.
"We've got our work cut out for us," she said to the dog.
10
Cord roused once, and Molly forced meds on him and a glass of water.
He drifted off again.
Heard her talking, on the phone probably. Her voice was distant.
"Is there a doctor in Sutter's Hollow that does house calls?"
There was movement from the kitchen. Running water. The scrape of a pot against the stove.
"What about an urgent care clinic?"
Sutter's Hollow was too small for that. What'd she need a doctor for anyway?
Oh. For him.
Chills wracked his body. His muscles clenched up. He ached all over.
Doctor Kindley wouldn't see him as a patient. Even after the oaths that doctors took in med school.
Because of Noah.
He hadn't wanted Molly to find out about Noah. Somehow in his delirium, his tongue had loosened, and he'd let it slip. Now she knew about his part in that fateful night, but she couldn't know how the town had turned against him. Starting with Mackie.
"Really?" Her voice had grown subdued.
He wanted to stand up and go to her, take the phone from her hands and hang it up.
But he was so weak, he couldn't even lift his head off the pillow. Couldn't open his eyes.
Iris. It had to be Iris. Or Jilly.
For a moment, a wash of affection slid over him. Iris and Jilly were—
They weren't his friends. He had to remember that. He'd left them behind, abandoned their friendship just like he'd abandoned West. He could never recapture what had been lost.
The five of them had been there that night. Iris and Jilly. Himself. Noah and Callum. Callum had disappeared and never returned. He'd been Iris's boyfriend, but he'd skipped town without a word.
After the joke that was Cord's trial in front of a district judge, he'd gone to the hospital to try to make things right with Noah. His former friend, covered in bandages and permanently in the dark, had been awake but silent and cold from the hospital bed.
And Cord had known the whole thing was his fault.
Pain sliced through his head. Shivers racked him.
Molly's voice moved closer. Maybe she was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking in on him.
A double batch of chills hit him, and he couldn't stop shivering. He was shivering so violently that the wooden couch legs scraped against the wood floors.
"I gotta go." There was a pause. "Thanks."
Her footsteps padded toward him. He wished he was in his bedroom, where he could suffer alone.
He didn't like being weak. He didn't like her seeing him like this.
Warmth settled over him. A gentle weight. She must've put a blanket on.
Then she brushed back the hair at his temple, and her touch was soft as the fur on those tiny kittens he'd hauled up to the house.
Something cool and damp replaced her fingers. It was a blessed relief against the heat of his head.
He tried to tell her thank-you, but the muscles in his face wouldn't cooperate, and he only mumbled.
Grandma Mackie wouldn't have taken care of him like this.
West wouldn't have. Iris either.
Right now, Molly was the only friend he had.
Molly had the Christmas tree halfway disassembled when Cord roused in the evening.
She'd graduated from worry and was much closer to all-out panic. She'd never had to take care of someone with a fever so high.
But seeing him wake up soothed her slightly.
The house had gone dark around them. She had a lamp on in the corner, and the television was playing a news station—mostly because she couldn't stand the silence. Hound Dog was curled in front of the outside door, smart enough to keep out of the way of the cardboard boxes she had strewn across the floor. She hoped the cats were sleeping. She hadn't had the guts to check on them yet.
"What're you doing?" Cord asked from the couch, voice rough.
"You're awake!" She didn't want to let on how happy that made her, but she was afraid her relief was leaking out anyway.
He shoved off the pile of blankets she'd added to as the day had worn on and his shivers hadn't abated. "I didn't ask you to take that down." He got as far as sitting up before he slumped, resting his head against the back of the couch. His eyes were slitted, watching as she yanked the next piece of green pipe out, getting scratched by the awful fake bristles for her trouble.
"You look like cow manure," she said cheerfully. His face was gray, the skin beneath his eyes saggy. He
