Chapter 17

Maverick shifted and then groaned. Every bone in his body felt like it had been jerked out of joint and every inch of flesh bruised.

A soft hand smoothed back his hair on his forehead, followed by a gentle press of lips. Hazel's hands and lips.

He breathed in the floral scent that sometimes lingered in her hair, suddenly needing her more than life.

She seemed to be leaning into him, her body slightly pressed against his chest. And in the next moment, she brushed another kiss to his face, this one to his cheek.

"Am I dreaming?" he murmured.

She drew in a sharp breath. "Maverick? Are you awake?"

He cracked open his eyes to find that he was in bed and she was sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over him.

"Hey, angel." His voice was groggy, and his smile felt weak.

Her beautiful eyes welled with sudden tears, and before he knew what was happening, she leaned down and touched her lips to his.

No way he was complaining about waking up to one of her kisses. No way, no how. He didn't know why he was in bed or why she was at his side or why she was so emotional. All that mattered was that she was kissing him.

Her lips plied at his tenderly, as if she might break him if she pressed too hard. Her mouth teased his with the phantom of a kiss, not even the real thing. Even so, the touch of her lips, of her chest against his, of her fingers still in his hair—it awakened him from what felt like a deep slumber, and suddenly he was alert and alive and aware of need pulsing in his blood.

Swift longing surged through him—a longing for her that was sharp and keen and greater than anything else. Before she could end the kiss, he lifted his head and took possession of her lips, devouring her mouth as though he wouldn't ever get enough... because the truth was, he never would, not even if he kissed her every day for the rest of his life.

She didn't pull away. Instead she seemed to be greedily consuming him in return, her lips melding and molding against his with a desperation he didn't quite understand.

But he didn't need to understand anything except that Hazel was his. He'd laid claim to her, and she hadn't resisted. Instead, she'd capitulated as if she'd been waiting for him and now wanted him forever.

That wasn't really possible. They'd grown up together. She was younger. And she'd always been off-limits... because she was Sterling's sister.

Sterling.

He broke the kiss and pulled back.

She hovered above him, only an inch away, her ragged breathing bathing his mouth and tempting him to snag her lips into another kiss and another and another.

His own breathing was shallow, and with her beautiful face above his and her honey-brown eyes peering down at him, he didn't know why it should matter that she was Sterling's sister, especially since she was so grown-up and mature.

"How are you feeling?" Both hands were on his face, on his cheeks, on his jaw, then back in his hair.

Her touch was so amazing that he closed his eyes to simply enjoy the sensation. "I'd feel better if you were kissing me again," he whispered.

She didn't respond and didn't bend in the way he'd hoped she would.

As he opened his eyes, he found her still only inches away. Her fair hair was in a single braid with a few loose strands surrounding her pretty face—the lines so elegant and so soft at the same time.

Heaven almighty. She was exquisite. In fact, he couldn't imagine anything else in all of creation that could compare to her.

"Do you remember what happened?" she whispered.

His gaze got stuck on her lips, so full and softly rounded. Just another small kiss wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

She moved back, still partially lying on him but far enough away that he couldn't so easily kiss her again. Her fingers glided from his hair down to his cheeks again, grazing his scruff as if she couldn't get enough of the feel of him. "You were in an accident."

"An accident?" His mind scrambled to make sense of what she was saying.

Her hands stilled. "Yes, you fell down an embankment, cut yourself up badly, dislocated your shoulder, and have been unconscious all day."

At her words, everything tumbled back into his memory. They'd gone after Candy, he'd gone too close to the edge of the river, and he'd slipped in the rocks and hadn't been able to catch himself.

He was suddenly aware of the pain that was shooting through his head, back, ribs, shoulder, arms... everything except his legs. In fact, he felt nothing in the lower half of his body. As he tried to shift his foot, he had the odd sensation that he didn't even have feet anymore.

With a surge of panic mixed with determination, he struggled to push himself up.

"No, Maverick." She tried to hold him in place. "You shouldn't move. The doctor thinks you may have fractured your spine during the fall."

He shrugged off her hold. Though his arms were weak, he made it to his elbows. Then, with a burst of desperation, he struggled the rest of the way until he was sitting.

Hazel was perched on the edge of the bed. The glow of a lantern on the bedside table revealed the worry filling her eyes.

Excruciating pain radiated up and down his spine. He didn't think it was broken, but he'd definitely injured it. Had he permanently lost movement in his legs as a result?

He shifted again, and the pain—especially in his tailbone—nearly made him cry out.

"You've got to take it easy," she chided softly. "You don't want to make things worse."

He'd watched many a man over his lifetime pick himself back up after getting injured, particularly his pa. There had even been the time when his pa had gotten bucked from a stallion and thrown into a pile of hay, where a pitchfork had impaled his leg. They'd still been living in Kentucky on the horse farm, and he'd been just a little tyke. But he'd never forgotten how his pa had stood up, pulled out the pitchfork, and limped away, even with blood saturating his trousers.

Through that example and plenty of others, his pa had taught him to expect the hardships and not to run from the pain. The true test of strength wasn't whether a man could endure. Instead it was in how strong he could grow as a result of battling the pain.

Maverick ground his teeth together, then swiveled on the bed. His legs shifted only slightly, but it was enough to tell him that he hadn't lost their use altogether.

Hazel stood, obviously sensing he wouldn't be persuaded to stay still. She knew he'd never let himself be confined to a bed. At least, not for long.

Even so, her pretty face was lined with worry. "Be careful, Maverick."

He wasn't about to be careful. He was determined to get on his feet, and he didn't care if he had to do so by sheer willpower alone—he was gonna do it. Summoning all his strength, he slowly began to move his legs, one small increment at a time. When he finally had them near the edge of the bed, the pain in his back was so intense he was dizzy. But he forced himself to keep shifting, dropping first one leg to the floor, then the next.

He wasn't in his clothes, was instead wearing a light cotton shirt and underdrawers. He reckoned his clothing had been ripped and bloodstained, maybe even past repairing. Regardless of his scantily clad state, he had to prove to himself that he would get better, that he wouldn't let the accident hold him down.

As he settled his feet against the braided rug that covered the wood floor, he paused at the sight of the colorful strands, then he glanced around, taking in the spacious room that belonged to Sterling. Why was he in the Nobles' house and in Sterling's room, especially since Sterling hated him?

It didn't matter. He gave himself a mental shake and forced himself to concentrate on each tiny movement. He could hardly feel the rug beneath his toes, but he shoved himself up from the bed, wobbling like a newborn foal first standing.

Hazel hovered by his side, her hand out to catch him if he faltered. But she understood him enough to let him attempt to stand on his own without her help.

The pressure on his tailbone, though, was excruciating. Even though his legs were numb, he could feel his muscles spasming.

Before he could grab onto anything or even lower himself back to the bed, he felt himself going down. His knees buckled and his legs folded, dropping him heavily to his knees on the floor.

Hazel released a startled cry just as he cried out at the pain. It wasn't a loud holler, but he hated the weakness in himself and clamped his jaw closed.

In the next instant, Hazel was kneeling beside him, grasping his arm. "Are you all right?"

He couldn't speak past the pain.

"Let me help you back into bed," Hazel quietly urged.

He shook his head.

Heavy footfalls sounded on the stairway and then slapped the hallway floor. Maverick didn't have to wonder who the steps belonged to. They were familiar enough from years of hearing them.

A moment later, Sterling burst through the open door into the room. His face was scruffy, his clothing dusty, and a hat ring matted his hair. From not only his presence in the house but the darkness out the window, it was probably the supper hour.

Maverick drew in a steadying breath. No doubt Sterling had been out in one of the pastures and hadn't known about the accident. Hazel, being the sweet woman that she was, had brought him up to the room intending to help but hadn't given thought to what Sterling would think about taking over the bedroom.

Sterling swept his gaze from the bed to Maverick to Hazel and back.

Maverick's gut tightened, and he braced himself for Sterling's wrath—at the very least a cold voice demanding that he leave.

Sterling had told him to stay away from Hazel. Now here he was in a bedroom alone with her. He was wearing only his undergarments. And he'd kissed her while he'd been lying in Sterling's bed. Even if he didn't say anything to Sterling, the fellow would figure out his transgressions. No doubt the guilt was written all over his face.

"What are you doing?" Sterling's brows furrowed.

"Don't worry." Maverick gripped the edge of the bed and began to pull himself back up. "I'm leaving just as soon as I can manage it."

"Leaving?" Sterling's tone took on a scoffing note, and he began to cross to Maverick. "Really? You think so?"

"Yep." Maverick hoisted himself up so that he was hunched over, then he grabbed the headboard for support. "I didn't know Hazel brought me here." He could hardly see straight through the wave of pain, and perspiration broke out on his forehead.

"She didn't bring you here." Sterling was at his side in the next instant and was slipping an arm around his waist and bracing him up. "I did."

Maverick froze.

Sterling nudged him back toward the bed.

Maverick couldn't get his feet to work and would have collapsed again if not for Sterling's arm supporting him.

"If you don't get back in bed, I'll put you there myself." Sterling's voice came out a low growl, but it held a hint of humor.

What was going on?

Maverick didn't resist as Sterling helped him climb into bed. He was in too much pain to talk and had to use every ounce of concentration to get his legs working again.

When he was finally lying down, he was breathing hard from the exertion, and he had to close his eyes to fight against the pain and exhaustion.

He could feel Sterling's presence at the side of the bed and Hazel's at the end. Both were watching him.

"I'll go home tomorrow," Maverick managed to say.

Sterling pressed against his shoulder as if to keep him in place. "No, you'll stay here. It's already been decided."

Maverick pried his eyes open and found himself peering up at Sterling. "I can't impose. Know you don't want me here—"

"I want you here." Sterling's expression turned earnest. "I want you to stay until you can get around on your own again."

Maverick shook his head. He hadn't been paralyzed. Thank the good Lord for that. But he was gonna have a long road to recovery, and the last thing he wanted was Sterling feeling sorry for him. "I'll be up and moving in no time."

"Hazel's sticking close to home so that she can help take care of you."

Maverick didn't dare look at her. "I'm not imposing on Hazel either."

"You won't be, Maverick," she rushed to say. "Tanner said he'd stay on at the ranch and take care of things until you're back."

He was having a hard time believing Sterling was okay with the plans. Not after how angry his friend had been.

Sterling stuffed his hands into his pockets and trained his gaze on the dark window. "I owe you an apology, Maverick."

As uncomfortable as Maverick was, Sterling's words brought the tumult inside his chest and head to a standstill.

Sterling continued to stare out the window, his Adam's apple bobbing up then down. "I was wrong to accuse you of ruining my wedding."

"I should've been more careful—"

"It was all Violet's fault." Sterling's gaze fell back on Maverick.

He wanted to deny Sterling's statement, but it was the truth, and the heartache in his friend's eyes told him that Sterling had finally accepted the truth too.

"Even if you'd been at fault," Sterling said quietly, "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."

"I understand. I shouldn't have kissed her back."

"That's just it." Sterling's voice wavered with emotion. "You're the kind of friend who's willing to take the blame for something you didn't do in order to spare my feelings."

Had Hazel told Sterling what really happened the morning of the wedding?

She wouldn't meet his gaze and instead fidgeted with tucking the blanket into the end of the mattress more securely.

"You've always been a good friend and a good man, Maverick." Again Sterling's words were tinged with heavy emotion. "I couldn't ask for a better friend."

A lump pushed up into Maverick's throat.

"I just hope you can forgive me for throwing our friendship aside instead of working things out man to man."

Maverick swallowed hard. "Course I forgive you. Hope you can forgive me too."

"Nothin' to forgive."

That wasn't exactly true. Guilt pricked at Maverick sharply. He'd betrayed Sterling by letting his feelings for Hazel run out of control. Even if Sterling had told him to stay away from Hazel partly out of his frustration and anger, Maverick had agreed to it. And instead of being a man of his word, he'd let his attraction to Hazel get the best of him. He'd even told her he loved her. That's what had sent him running from her out by the river and caused his accident to begin with.

To make matters worse, he'd just kissed her right in this room in Sterling's bed. If that wasn't disloyalty to his friend, he didn't know what was.

An apology swelled within Maverick. He needed to confess what he'd done. Yet how could he? Now that he'd reached a tenuous truce with Sterling, he'd only make his friend angry all over again, and he didn't want to do that.

Sterling hesitated at his bedside a moment longer before turning and crossing the room. He paused in the door. "Glad you're here, Mav. Realized mighty fast today that I don't want to lose you too."

With that, Sterling ducked out of the room.

Maverick's chest pinched tighter with more guilt. As Hazel moved back to the side of his bed and gently squeezed his arm, he closed his eyes and fought against his need for her.

Sterling had offered him the hand of friendship. If he went behind Sterling's back and continued to let his relationship with Hazel grow, then he'd hurt and betray his friend again.

For the time being, he couldn't do anything that would jeopardize the fragile reconciliation he'd started with Sterling. That meant he'd have to put aside his feelings for Hazel. As much as he loved her and wanted her, he wouldn't go about getting her the wrong way, sneaking around behind Sterling's back to see her.

No, when the time came to start courting her, he wanted to do so properly and openly with the support of both their families. For that to happen, he was gonna need to give Sterling more time and allow their friendship to get back on solid ground first.

In the meantime, he'd have to switch back to viewing Hazel as just a friend. Doing so would be nearly impossible. He knew that. But he valued his friendship with Sterling too much to make another mistake. So even if resisting Hazel ended up being the hardest thing he'd ever done, he was gonna do it.

It was the right thing to do.