Around midday, the cook's assistant appeared in the stable doorway. Sarah was a quiet Beta girl with mousy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled. She carried a paper bag in one handand a thermos in the other, and she walked softly, carefully, like she knew better than to startle me. She didn't say anything—just set the food on the hay bale next to me, gave me a small smile that didn't demand anything in return, and left as quietly as she'd come. Her footsteps faded down the aisle, and then I was alone again.
I ate the sandwich slowly, tasting it this time. Ham and cheese on fresh bread, with mustard and some kind of pickle I didn't recognize. Good. Better than good. The coffee was hot and strong, and I wrapped my hands around the thermos and let the warmth seep into my cold fingers.
When had I started noticing how food tasted? When had I started noticing anything beyond survival? I pushed the thought away and focused on Bella, who had woken up and was watching me with those big, soft eyes. She looked curious. Almost friendly. Like she was waiting to see what I would do next.
"What are you looking at?" My voice sounded strange in the quiet of the stable, rough from disuse, unfamiliar even to my own ears. I hadn't talked to anyone—really talked—in days. The words hung in the air between us, awkward and uncertain.
Bella just blinked at me, her long lashes sweeping down and up, and went back to her hay with a soft snort that sounded almost dismissive. I found myself smiling. Just a little, just for a second, the corners of my mouth turning up before I could stop them. But it was there—a real smile, not the fake ones I used to deflect attention or the bitter ones I gave myself in the mirror.
That, more than anything else—more than Reid's calm patience or Nolan's gentle hands or the bed that was starting to feel like mine—scared the hell out of me. Because smiling meant settling. Settling meant staying. And staying meant eventually, inevitably, being forced to leave.
That's how it always worked. That's how it would always work.
As the afternoon light slanted through the stable windows and Bella dozed in her straw and the scent of whiskey and eucalyptus faded slowly from the air, I couldn't quite make myself believe it the way I used to.
Something was changing. Something I couldn't name and couldn't stop.
I just didn't know if that was a good thing or a very, very bad one.
CHAPTER FIVE
ASTER
Nolan came back the next morning, just like Reid said he would.
I heard him before I saw him—footsteps in the stable aisle, lighter than Reid's, accompanied by a low whistle that made Bella's ears prick forward. Then the scent hit me, eucalyptus and honey rolling through the stall like a summer breeze, and my whole body went tight with something that wasn't quite fear.
I was on my feet by the time he appeared in the doorway, my back against the wall, my hands curled at my sides. Old habits. The kind that kept you alive.
Nolan stopped at the threshold, the same way Reid had yesterday. He was wearing a different henley today, forest green instead of gray, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal those forearms dusted with fine golden hair. His sandy blonde hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently, and his green eyes found mine immediately—soft, patient, giving me time to decide whether he was a threat.
"Morning." His voice was quiet, unhurried, pitched low like he was talking to a nervous animal. He didn't try to enter thestall, didn't push past the invisible line I'd drawn. Just stood there with his medical bag in one hand, his posture deliberately relaxed, his weight settled back on his heels. The early morning light caught the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My heart was doing something strange in my chest—not the panicked hammering it had done with Reid, but something else. Something that felt almost like anticipation.
I hated it.
"Mind if I come in?" Nolan tilted his head slightly, waiting for my answer, his sandy hair falling across his forehead. His green eyes were steady on mine, and there was something in them that made my throat tight—patience, maybe, or understanding. The kind of look that said he'd wait all day if that's what it took. His free hand hung loose at his side, fingers relaxed.
"It's your patient." The words came out rough, almost hostile, scraping past my dry throat, and I winced at the sound of them. My shoulders hunched slightly, defensive. I hadn't meant to sound like that. Hadn't meant to sound like anything at all.
Nolan's mouth curved into a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with something that looked like warmth. He didn't seem offended by my tone—if anything, he seemed almost amused, like my defensiveness was something he'd expected and found oddly endearing. His head tilted slightly to the other side, studying me.
"She is." He stepped into the stall slowly, his boots quiet on the straw-covered floor, giving me plenty of time to move away if I needed to. His movements were careful, deliberate, the same way they'd been that first day when he was treating Bella. He kept to the far side of the stall, giving me a wide berth. "But you're here too. And I don't want to crowd you."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. Just pressed myself further into my corner and watched as heapproached the mare, his attention shifting away from me with a gentleness that felt almost like a gift.
"Hey, pretty girl." Nolan's voice dropped even lower as he reached Bella, soft and warm, his hand coming up to stroke her neck with long, soothing motions. The mare nickered softly, her nose pushing against his chest, and something in his face went soft and open—the look of a man who genuinely loved animals, who found peace in their company. "How are you feeling today? Ready to meet your baby?"
Bella snorted, which seemed to be answer enough. Nolan laughed—a quiet sound, low and genuine, his shoulders shaking slightly with it—and my chest did that strange twisting thing again.
I watched him work, trying not to be obvious about it. His hands moved over Bella's swollen belly with practiced ease, checking, assessing, murmuring to her in that low, soothing voice. He pulled a stethoscope from his bag and listened to something I couldn't hear, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, his green eyes focused and intent, his lips moving silently as he counted.
"She's doing great." He said it without looking at me, his attention still on the mare, one hand resting gently on her side. But I knew the words were meant for my ears—could hear it in the way his voice lifted slightly, pitched to carry across the stall. "Foal's in the right position. Should be any day now." He straightened up, tucking the stethoscope back into his bag with practiced efficiency, and finally turned to face me. His green eyes swept over me, assessing. "You been with her all night?"
"Since yesterday morning." My voice was steadier now, though I still hadn't moved from my corner, my back pressed against the rough wood of the wall. My arms were crossed over my chest, a barrier between us.
Nolan's eyebrows rose slightly, disappearing beneath the sandy hair that fell across his forehead, and something flickered across his face—concern, maybe, or surprise. He looked at me more closely, his green eyes taking in the shadows under my eyes, the tension in my shoulders, the way I was swaying slightly on my feet. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
