“No, no, no!” he sobbed. “Bandit! Bandit!”
“Huck, baby, wake up.” Sierra sat on the edge of his bed, gathering him into her arms. “It’s just a dream. You’re safe.”
His eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. “Mom?”
“I’m here. You’re okay.”
“The fire,” he gasped, clinging to her, choking on sudden, hot tears. “I was falling, and Bandit was so scared, and I couldn’t get to him. The smoke was so thick, and I could hear him crying, but I couldn’t…” He clung to her and wept.
Sierra’s heart shattered. She’d known the fire had traumatized him, but she hadn’t realized how deeply the images had burned into his mind.
“Shh, it’s over. Bandit is fine. See?” Indeed, the dog had put his head into Huck’s lap. “You saved him.”
“But I didn’t…I didn’t save him.”
“Hey.” Sierra cupped his face in her hands, making him look at her. “You know what I think?”
Huck shook his head, still hiccuping.
“I think God was there that night. And when you needed help, He sent Rowan. Mr. R.” Sierra smoothed his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “You didn’t have to save Bandit by yourself. Sometimes God sends people to help us when we can’t do it alone.”
His big blue eyes fixed on hers. “You really think so?”
“I know so. Rowan was exactly where you needed him to be, exactly when you needed him.”
Some of the tension left Huck’s small body. “He’s pretty cool.”
“He was. He is.” Sierra’s voice caught. “Do you think you can try to sleep now? I could get you some warm milk.”
“Don’t go.”
Sierra settled beside him on the narrow bed, humming softly until his breathing evened out and his grip on her hand relaxed. When she was sure he was deeply asleep, she whispered out of the bed and tiptoed toward the door.
A shadow in the hallway made her jump.
Rowan stood there in rumpled jeans and a T-shirt, his dark-blond hair mussed from sleep—or lack thereof. Even disheveled at two in the morning, he was devastatingly handsome. The stubble along his strong jaw had darkened, and his eyes held concern and something else she couldn’t name. The dim hallway light caught the planes of his face, emphasizing the masculine beauty that had captured her heart in fourth grade and never let go.
“Is he okay?” he whispered.
“Nightmare about the fire. He’ll be okay.” Sierra pulled Huck’s door mostly closed, leaving it cracked in case he called out again.
“Poor kid. That kind of trauma…” Rowan ran a hand through his hair. “Is there anything I can do?”
The question, asked with such genuine care, made Sierra’s chest tight. Here was a man who’d known Huck for all of three days, and he was already thinking like a father.
Because, well…
“Are you okay?”
She looked away, her arms wrapped around herself.
“Can we talk?” he said.
“Now?”
“I’m not sleeping. Are you?”
She sighed. Shook her head.
