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“I’m so sorry, Wes,” she said. “It must be heartbreaking. I still remember her as that vibrant, wonderful woman whom everyone loved.”
Her simple kindness devastated him more than he wanted to admit. His throat burned and for one wild second, he wanted to cover Hannah’s hand with his own—to pull her closer, close his eyes and let himself lean into that warmth he had missed far more than he had let himself realize.
He didn’t lean on her or anyone.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “It’s tough. But we’re all dealing with hard things, right?”
“Right,” she said quietly, easing her hand away. He wanted to grab it and press it against him again but she turned away before he could.
“I really do need to go or the kids will be wondering where I am.”
“How are they doing?” he asked, automatically reaching for the handle of her cart. He didn’t wait for permission, just started pushing it down the hall beside her, Kodiak trotting along.
“Things are good most of the time, but they have their moments. I can’t imagine how hard it must be on them to be away from their mom at Christmas. We FaceTime every night, but that’s not the same as climbing into her lap or having her tuck them in.”
“Can they visit her?” he asked. “At the hospital, I mean.”
“With restrictions,” she said. “Right now her immune system is compromised, and kids are walking germ magnets. But the hospital says they can figure out a way to make it work if everyone wears masks and gloves. I’m thinking about taking them down if I can arrange things.”
“It’s a long drive to Salt Lake City just to talk through masks,” he said.
“About seven hours,” she agreed. “But if it would help them all feel better about the situation, I don’t mind the drive.”
She gave a small shrug. “They’re kids who’ve been separated from their only parent at Christmastime. If there’s something I can do to make that situation hurt a little less, I’m going to try.”
“You’re going to take them,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
She huffed out a rough laugh. “Yeah. Probably. I just have to figure out how to wedge it into everything else.”
He wanted to tell her she was remarkable. That Morgan and those kids were beyond lucky to have her. That he had always known she would turn her compassion into something tangible and beautiful.
He didn’t say any of it. The last thing either of them needed right now was another layer of complication.
They reached the front doors and stepped out into the chill air. Her breath puffed out, mingling with his. For one suspended instant, under the pale sky and the distant outline of snow-tipped mountains, he had the absurd urge to lean in and kiss her.
He didn’t.
She gave Kodiak one last rub behind the ears, then offered Wes a small, careful smile.
“I’ll text you about some music therapy ideas for him,” she said. “We’ll figure something out.”
He watched her walk away across the parking lot, shoulders squared against the cold.
Hannah was the kind of person who always tried to take on other people’s burdens. She had always been that way, even when she was a kid.
He wasn’t sure what terrified him more—the possibility that he might want to lean on her again or the knowledge that a part of him already was.
Chapter 14
“Can we play downstairs with the toys before dinner?” Carter asked, looking hopefully between Hannah and her mother for permission.
Hannah glanced at his empty plate then at her mother.
“That’s totally fine with me,” Paula said, smiling. “As long as you remember the rules.”
“We have to clean up before we leave,” Riley recited with a sigh. “We will. Come on, Lydia.”
Lydia jumped up from the table where the rest of the Goodwins were gathered to celebrate the birthday of Hannah’s father. She followed the older girl toward the stairs leading to the basement and the magical playroom their mother had filled with dolls, blocks, games and an astonishing quantity of LEGOs.
