Today had been exciting and busy. Rachel was ready to relax, and she relaxed best by crafting. She brewed a cup of hot tea and took it upstairs.
She looked around the room. Everything had a place, and she could easily find whatever she needed.
She set her drink down on the table beside the comfortable rocking recliner Clara had insisted she needed.
Gunner and his brothers had wrestled the chair up the stairs into the loft. She had giggled along with everyone else as they tried to get it through the wooden banister separating the loft from below, the wall, and a bookcase that was built in directly by the stairs.
Flick yellingPivothad them all laughing. Brody, the brother she’d nicknamed the broody one in her head, had waited until they were done and were walking down the stairs. He’d been behind Flick and had given him a kick in the behind, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Gunner had just chuckled and shaken his head at them.
She picked up the pale pink yarn and her crochet needle. She’d sold out at the last craft show of a couple of the items she wanted to show Gunner. The pink loaf cat was part of her idea for gift boxes for people who visited Broken Hearts. She also wondered about having them available to ship to people if someone asked. She needed to write down her ideas after she finished this little one because she’d thought of a lot of ideas on the drive.
She lost herself in the motions of crocheting. She breathed deeply and relaxed. They were safe behind walls tonight. Tomorrow she’d meet with Gunner and they could talk ideas about the shop.
She finished the cat in under an hour. She’d become faster the more she made. She stared at the pink one and then had an idea. She lookedthrough the craft supplies she’d brought into the house.
Darn it!
She wanted a purple and a soft buttery yellow for her two ideas. She’d only brought a small amount of yarn into the house. She glanced down at her thin T-shirt and sleep shorts. It was chilly outside, but the house was toasty warm.
The kids were safe inside. She could run out to her van parked in the driveway. She had debated about parking in the garage when Gunner had offered. If she had, she wouldn’t have needed to go outside. But that small part of her that wasn’t quite ready to trust had wanted the van and trailer outside to be able to make a quick getaway if needed.
She pulled her curtain on the window closest to where her van was parked and looked outside. She didn’t see anyone. She grabbed the house keys so she could get back inside. She opened her front door and stepped out. Locking the door, she hurried toward the van. The chilly night air had her nipples tightening and Rachel shivering. Openingthe van door, she found her yarn divided by color and grabbed the small totes with purple and yellow. She started to leave, then thought about how she felt and how mad she was about her situation.
She bent down and crawled under the table area where she’d stored the tote of black yarn. She started scooting backward from under the table, pulling the tote.
“Everything okay?” Gunner’s voice called.
She jerked, slamming her head into the table and yelping.
She backed out, tears filling her eyes, and sat up to check her head where she hit it.
“Oh crap. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was taking a walk on the compound and saw a light on in your van. I was worried it got left on and would drain the battery. Then I heard someone rummaging in it,” he said, his voice close by.
She turned, her face flushing. “I just hit my head. I had an idea and needed some yarn,” she said, waving her hand toward the totes.
“I feel horrible you hit your head because I startled you. Can I at least carry them for you?” he asked.
Rachel stared at Gunner’s face. Unlike the kids’ father, Gunner’s face expressed everything he was feeling—regret at her getting hurt and a need to help her.
“I’d appreciate that,” she said. She pushed the totes toward him and used the counter to steady herself as she stood.
“Whoa, you look a little unsteady. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and took stock. Her head ached, and her fingers had a little blood from when she checked her head. She wasn’t sure why she felt off.
“I think I’m okay,” she said, Gunner’s face wavering in front of her.
He dropped the totesand then everything went dark.
Gunner dropped the totes and reached for Rachel, catching her as she fainted. Holding her against him, he texted Stella and Flick for help. He lifted her, grabbing her keys off the cabinet to get back into the house. Once he knew she was okay, he’d come out and get the totes.
“Everything okay?” Stone called.
“Rachel hit her head when I startled her. Can you unlock the door and then bring these totes in?” Gunner asked, tossing him the keys. Lifting Rachel in his arms, he realized how thin she was. She had a beautiful face, but the shadows under her eyes and the hollowness below her cheeks worried him.
He carried her in, laying her on the couch in the front room. He’d move her to the bedroom if Stella or Flick said to, but he wasn’t encroaching on her personal space without her okay.
“What did you do to my mommy?” Marcus yelled before he pushed Gunner away and startedbeating on Gunner wherever his hands could reach. “You’re supposed to be nice, Clara said. Not like our bad daddy!” Marcus screamed.
