Chapter 18

Maverick was a terrible patient. But Hazel loved having him at the house anyway.

She finished arranging the breakfast tray with all his favorite foods—scrambled eggs, sausage, biscuits slathered in jam, and a bowl of peaches from the last of the jars she'd helped her mother can last autumn.

As she placed the steaming mug of coffee beside the plate, she paused at the thumping of his cane and uneven steps overhead.

They'd all been relieved—including Dr. Howell when he'd come again yesterday—to learn Maverick hadn't been paralyzed. The doctor believed Maverick had pinched a nerve, which was causing the numbness and lack of mobility.

The doctor had indicated that it would take time for Maverick to heal and regain full function of his legs. He'd insisted Maverick rest and remain motionless for several more days in order for his back to heal properly.

But Maverick was disobeying the doctor's orders. Again.

Hazel pursed her lips, picked up the tray, and headed out of the kitchen.

Morning sunlight slanted through the hallway window and promised another beautiful spring day. The house was quiet and mostly deserted. Sterling was already out with his men doing chores. Mother and Scarlet were in the large vegetable garden behind the house, planting the crops that could withstand the cold and more snowfall that could still come at any time over the next month.

Although Jo-Jo was upstairs making beds and tidying rooms, Hazel hadn't asked their sweet maid for help with anything. She'd also declined assistance from her mother and Scarlet. Selfishly, she'd wanted to take care of Maverick by herself—or at least, as much as Sterling would let her.

He'd been the one to stay at Maverick's bedside during the night, attending to Maverick's personal needs at bedtime and sending Hazel away. He'd only allowed her back into the room in the morning after Maverick was dressed, groomed, and ready for the day.

She was relieved Sterling had apologized and tried to right his relationship with Maverick. Although the easygoing camaraderie between the two wasn't back yet, at least they were talking to each other again.

After Sterling left Maverick's room, she took over caring for him, and she'd gotten to spend the past two days by his bedside. While he'd slept for long hours at a time, she hadn't wanted to be anywhere else. During his waking moments, he hadn't spoken much. From the tight lines in his face and the glassiness of his eyes, she'd been able to tell he was fighting pain, even with the opium pills the doctor had given him.

To distract him, she'd set up first checkers and then backgammon, and they'd played in between his fitful bouts of sleep. But his frustration with himself and the situation had been growing.

As she started up the steps, she prayed today would be a better day, that he'd be in less pain, and that he'd start to regain more function in his legs.

And she prayed he wouldn't get frustrated with their relationship. At times he interacted with her normally, without any strange tension. But then other times, like this morning when she'd entered the room shortly after Sterling left at dawn, Maverick's gaze had landed upon her hungrily. He'd taken her in with such need she'd almost been breathless by the time she crossed to the bed.

A part of her had debated bending down and kissing him like she had when he'd regained consciousness. But he'd closed his eyes, shifted away from her, and gone back to sleep.

It was probably for the best that she hadn't kissed him again. Because even though she'd only meant to show her relief that morning, the kiss had swiftly changed into something much more passionate.

In fact, it had shaken her, perhaps even more than his first kiss. Or maybe she'd just been reeling with how close she'd come to losing him. Whatever the case, his kisses left her with only a desire to kiss him more.

Even now, she wanted to be brave enough to walk into his room, go over to him, and let her lips touch his. Why couldn't she? No one was there to stop her. And no one would have to know, not even Jo-Jo—especially if she was quiet and closed the bedroom door.

Of course, Sterling had told her to leave the door open when she was taking care of Maverick, that he didn't want her to be alone in the bedroom with a man. Her father had reiterated the same thing last night when he'd finally come home from the silver mine and learned of Maverick's accident.

She understood the reasoning behind the rule. If she closed the door, soon enough the ranch hands would learn of it, and her reputation would suffer.

No, she wouldn't close the door. And she wouldn't kiss him again. But as she made her way quietly down the hallway toward Sterling's bedroom, her pulse picked up pace at just the thought of seeing him again... and because she loved him.

Yes, she truly and deeply loved him. She'd allowed herself to acknowledge her love the day of the accident. Was it time to tell him?

He hadn't said anything more about his love. What if he was waiting to say it again until he knew how she felt? Maybe she had to be the one to make the next move.

As she stepped into the doorway, he was standing by a far chair that held the bag of his clothing Clementine had brought over. He was leaning against the wall and attempting to shrug into a coat. His movements were jerky, his muscles and limbs still not cooperating well.

"Maverick," she chided. "You shouldn't be up."

He didn't stop, just grunted as he tugged his coat up over his broad shoulders.

She placed the breakfast tray on the bureau and crossed toward him. "You don't need your coat on. If you're cold, I'll get another blanket."

"I'm not cold." His body might not be cold, but something in his tone was most definitely cold.

She halted several feet away from him. He was an independent man and didn't like to show weakness or accept help. All the Oakley men were like that—tough and single-minded.

As he finished slipping his other arm into the coat, he straightened and pushed away from the wall, holding onto his cane tightly, the muscles in his hand taut and his veins showing.

He glanced out the window, his face flushed from the exertion. "I'm going home."

Only then did she notice that his boots were on, although not laced. He reached for his hat, sitting on top of his bag, and situated it on his head.

He was serious.

Her pulse gave a lurch of protest, and she shook her head. "No. You can't. You'll hurt your back even more if you're not careful."

"Tanner will be here for me any minute."

Her racing thoughts came to a halt. Tanner had stopped by last evening for a little bit to check on Maverick. Had Maverick made the plans then?

"You know Sterling wants you to stay." Could he hear her need for him? It practically echoed in each word she spoke.

"I appreciate that Sterling is trying to make things right between us. And now I have to do the same."

"What does that mean?" She tried to read Maverick's face, but before she could decipher the shadows and furrows, he pivoted away from her.

He hobbled to the window and peered down at the ranch yard. He was silent a moment before responding. "I'm doing my best to honor my word to Sterling. And if I'm gonna do that, I have to go."

"Sterling's forgiven you and is trying to put everything behind him."

Maverick's back was hunched as he leaned into his cane and rested his arm against the windowpane. He needed to get back into bed, but he was too stubborn for his own good.

"Please, Maverick, just stay a few more days and rest. It won't hurt you."

"It's killing me."

"What's killing you?"

"I need to be back at my place, all right?"

She didn't understand why that was so important to him, but she'd do her best to respect his decision. "Fine. Then I'll stay at your house and take care of you there."

He released a low, mirthless laugh. "That won't work."

"Why not? It's the perfect solution. I can stay in the loft and look out for you during the day. When you're resting, then I'll go out and spend some time with the mares."

"No."

The abruptness of his refusal was like a slap in the face. She tried to tell herself he wasn't rejecting her again like he had after their initial kiss, that this was different, but somehow it felt like she was following him down a path she didn't want to take, and she was helpless to turn back.

Maybe if he knew the truth about how she felt, he'd change his mind. "I want to be with you, Maverick." Her voice came out soft, plaintive. That night when she'd fallen asleep on him on his sofa, he'd mentioned that they ought to just get married. The idea of doing so had startled her then.

But now... she realized she would marry him in a heartbeat if it meant she never had to leave his side.

He was still staring out the window, his shoulders rigid.

She approached him. Maybe if she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him from behind, she'd show him how much she cared about him and wanted to be with him wherever that was.

As she stopped only inches from him, she lifted a hand, then hesitated. Something wasn't right—hadn't been right since she'd stepped into the room with his breakfast. She touched his back lightly.

He flinched and hobbled a step away.

She remained frozen to her spot, an ache forming in her chest. He was definitely pushing her away again. "I assumed you wanted to be with me too... after what you told me out in Dead Man's Gulch."

She willed him to respond, to turn around and tell her that he loved her again and that he'd do whatever it took to be together.

But his silence filled the air.

She hadn't been wrong about everything, had she? Surely he hadn't simply been flirting with her, telling her all the right things and leading her on with kisses because she was just another woman in his life to win over.

All of his attention had meant more than that, hadn't it?

She had to know. "Say something, Maverick."

He remained quiet for another moment, then he exhaled loudly. "We can't be together, Hazel." His voice was low but filled with determination. "Not here and not at my home."

"I don't understand." The pain in her chest was swelling. "I thought we were starting to care about each other. I thought you wanted to be with me... like I want to be with you."

With slumping shoulders, he dropped his head and leaned it against the window. "I'm sorry, but it won't work between us right now."

"Then someday?" If he could give her any indication of a future, she'd wait for him, just as she'd always done.

He hesitated. Then he shook his head. "I don't know."

The uncertainty was as bad as if he'd outright told her no, because obviously he didn't care about her enough to fight for her—for them—and for whatever this was that had started to develop. If he was willing to let her go so easily for a second time, then she didn't want him.

"You pushed me aside after our first kiss." The heat began to sting the backs of her eyes, but she didn't want to cry around him, didn't want him to see how much his rejection was hurting her. "Now you're pushing me away after our second."

"I didn't mean to kiss you either time."

"Oh, so kissing me both times was a mistake?" She couldn't stop the anger from swelling now too.

"I shouldn't have done it—"

"Then why did you?"

He didn't answer.

She wanted to stomp her foot and demand an answer. But she knew Maverick all too well, and she guessed he truly didn't have an answer and was as confused by everything that had transpired between them as she was.

At the rattle of a wagon on the lane that led to the house, she guessed Tanner was coming.

She took a step back, the anger already dispersing inside her. She never had been able to stay frustrated at Maverick for long. Instead, the pain pushed in and swamped her.

"Fine, Maverick," she whispered so that her voice wouldn't crack. "You can push me away again. But next time you feel attraction surfacing, please just leave me alone. I won't be interested."

She spun and stalked out of his room. She closed herself in her bedroom and tossed herself onto her bed before she let the tears flow silently.

It wasn't long before she heard Tanner's voice call out from the entryway below. But she didn't get up, didn't want to see him, and most certainly didn't want to say goodbye to Maverick.

When, a short while later, the heavy steps and thump of a cane told her that Tanner was helping Maverick leave, she swiped at her cheeks and held her breath as he drew near her door.

She wanted him to stop and tell her that he'd been wrong, that he needed to be with her. But his footsteps didn't hesitate as he shuffled past. Instead, he was soon descending the stairs and in the front hallway and then out the door.

A few minutes later, the wagon wheels began to rumble down the lane away from the house. Only then did she bury her face in her pillow and let the sobs come.

The relationship that had started to bloom between her and Maverick was over before it'd had a chance to grow. Now it never would. Not after he'd trampled it into the ground right alongside her heart.