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Chapter 2

2

I f he'd hoped for a warm welcome in Sutter's Hollow, this wasn't it. Callum Stewart certainly hadn't planned for the nearby hospital to be his first stop.

And yet, here he was.

As a champion bull rider, Callum intentionally put himself on the back of bulls that weighed fifteen hundred pounds or more. In the course of his career, he'd been tossed off, stomped on, gored.

He'd never hurt as badly as he was hurting right now.

His head throbbed. His ears were ringing, and his concentration was shot. It'd taken the young ER doctor fifteen minutes to explain the compound fracture the x-ray had revealed.

He'd been wheeled to the back of the hospital for an MRI. The motion of the gurney made him nauseated. But good news. There was no bleeding in his brain.

He could've dealt with the concussion.

Probably.

But his leg...

His leg was going to make wrangling the twins impossible.

He gritted his teeth against the urge to vomit as the orderly wheeled him back toward the ER. He'd refused narcotics. He needed to keep his wits about him.

The boys had to be freaking out right now. Where were they?

The moments when he'd been torn out of his mangled pickup were a blur of pain—he might've lost consciousness for a few seconds because he'd been inside the ambulance when he'd come back to awareness.

Iris had pulled Brandt out of the truck.

Don't think about her .

So of course his broken brain pushed the memory of her in the cab of his truck to the forefront.

She'd looked just the same as he remembered. If she'd aged at all, he couldn't tell. She'd been calm and collected while he'd panicked and tried to pull his leg out of the mangled metal by sheer force.

She'd been gentle with the boys. She hadn't baby-talked at them.

She hadn't touched him.

It was a stupid thing to notice—to want—in the middle of the chaos.

At the emergency scene, he hadn't had time for the questions that now felt like physical blows.

What was she doing in Sutter's Hollow?

Shouldn't she be in New York? Or Europe?

Why had she come to his rescue? She had every right to hate him.

Did she hate him?

He hadn't planned on seeing her again. He'd come back to build a life for his sons?—

Levi and Brandt.

"Do you know where my kids are?" he asked the orderly. More like grunted.

The kid looked like he should still be in high school. He shook his head as he wheeled Callum back into the curtained-off room.

A nurse in purple scrubs bustled in as the orderly left. She reached for the blood pressure cuff on the wall.

"I need to see my sons," he said. "Where are they?"

"There'll be time for that after surgery."

She didn't get it. He couldn't keep Levi and Brandt safe from this hospital bed.

"I need to see my sons," he repeated.

He started to sit up, bracing his hands against the edges of the gurney. Pain ripped through him from head to toe. He couldn't contain a groan.

And he was weak as a kitten when the nurse put her hand to his shoulder and pressed him flat.

"Stay still and I'll find out what I can." She muttered something under her breath and ducked beyond the curtain.

He heard a murmur of voices and then Purple Scrubs Nurse was back. He found enough brain power to scan her name badge. Greta.

"They'll be here in a minute."

They who? Levi and Brandt?

Who was bringing them?

Had they eaten supper? It was supper time, wasn't it?

"They won't be able to stay long. The surgeon is on his way to see you."

He had trouble corralling his thoughts as the nurse stuck a thermometer under his tongue and took his blood pressure. She typed her findings into an old-school box-shaped computer on a counter in the corner.

As she was pushing through the curtain to leave, he caught sight of Brandt. His son was holding onto?—

Iris stepped into view, Levi in her arms, conked out.

Just the glimpse of Iris swept him with a rush of emotions that he didn't have the capacity to deal with, a physical pain that was almost enough to match what his beat-up body felt right now.

He put it away and forced himself to focus on Brandt.

"Daddy!" The little boy's face crumpled, and he threw himself at Callum in the bed. His weight jarred the metal frame, and pain pulsed through Callum's left side. He gritted his teeth against it.

"Easy," Iris murmured.

Callum didn't look at her. He didn't have to. She'd always seen through him. No doubt she saw the pain he was hiding from his son.

Brandt's shoe slipped as he climbed the bed frame, and Iris was there to support him with her free hand. Levi didn't stir.

As soon as Brandt's shoulders cleared the top of the mattress, Callum reached out and half-tugged the boy into place at his side. Brandt pressed his face into Callum's side and sobbed.

"It's okay. Daddy's right here. You're okay." He rubbed Brandt's back, choking on his own emotion. His boys were all right. That was what mattered.

Brandt raised his tear-streaked face. "I-I fought you were gonna die and go to Heaben like Mama."

Iris shifted slightly. Because of what Brandt had said? Or because the muscles in her arms were giving out? His sons weren't exactly featherweights.

Her expression was a resolute blank. Just her presence here was more than he deserved. More than he'd expected when he'd decided to return to Sutter's Hollow.

Brandt was still shuddering with tears, and Callum kept on rubbing son's back. "I'm not gonna die."

No, but it was going to be a miserable few days in a hotel room. Or wherever they landed. Not the adventure Callum had planned. His leg would make it impossible to camp out like they'd planned. He'd roll with the punches, like he always did. Right now, he just didn't have the brainpower to figure out how.

Brandt collapsed on Callum's chest again, and Callum rested his hand on the back of the boy's head. Brandt had always been the more emotional of the two boys, but his emotions often revealed themselves in a show of temper. This clinging, sobbing business was throwing him for a loop.

He jerked his chin toward Iris. "Thank you for staying with them. Have they eaten anything?"

She nodded, a tiny bob of her head. "They had some sandwiches from the cafeteria." She tipped her head to indicate Levi. "He's been asleep for fifteen minutes."

He had to look away from her, to focus. He let his eyes drift up to the tiled ceiling. Because of the accident, the boys must've missed their nap time. They weren't real regular about sleeping every day, but they played so hard that they needed rest. He'd bet that Levi would be awake within ten minutes, energy revived.

What was Callum going to do?

"I can't stay." Was that a tremble in her voice?

His eyes cut back to her, but she'd lowered her gaze to the floor.

"The fire department found your phone in the wreck. It was crushed. The nurse was asking if there was someone to call...?" Her voice trailed off.

His thoughts were so sluggish that he couldn't catch up to where she was going.

"Someone to help you," she said, and this time he was sure her voice was trembling. "A friend, maybe."

He didn't have any friends in Sutter's Hollow. Not after the way he'd left. He'd planned to get the locals to warm up to him slowly. He'd never even considered needing somebody on his first day here.

She cleared her throat. "Or perhaps the twins' grandparents...?"

No .

He didn't know what registered on his face. Fury, maybe? But she took a half-step back.

He finally got his voice to work. "It's just me and the boys."

It wasn't going to be pretty, but he was going to make it work. Somehow.

She opened her mouth, but before she could say something, an older man in scrubs pushed back the curtain and strode in. "I'm Doctor Burke, the orthopedist."

The little cubicle started to feel crowded. Iris didn't step any closer, and the three feet between them seemed to expand in size. Or maybe his injured brain was playing tricks on him.

"I'll just go," she murmured.

But Brandt clung to Callum's neck, still sniffling. "Wanna stay with Daddy."

"We need to get you into surgery," Burke said. "With a compound fracture like you've got, it's not going to be quick."

Not good. "But I can go home after, right? The boys and I?—"

The doctor's expression creased with consternation. "Absolutely not. You'll need to be hospitalized for a few days while we monitor your condition."

"I can't do that."

He was marshaling his arguments when another person slipped into the room. She wore a slim skirt and a button-up blouse and a stern frown to top it all off. "I'm Amanda Elliot. I'm from social services. Are you Callum Stewart?"

Everything inside him stilled, voices from the past combining with blood rushing in his ears so that he could barely hear.

He turned a horrified glance on Iris. "You called social services?" He knew she must hate him after his desertion, but he hadn't expected this.

She flinched as if he'd struck her.

"She did not." The social worker's voice cracked like a whip. She looked young, fresh out of college maybe. Just what he needed—some over-zealous do-gooder to cause him problems.

"The police department followed policy and notified us that your children might need placement since you will be incapacitated?—"

"I'll be taking them home with me as soon as I get out of here."

The surgeon cleared his throat. "Mr. Stewart, you need surgery or you risk losing significant mobility in your leg. You aren't going to be able to just walk out of here."

Iris looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Callum was conscious of Brandt, still tucked against his chest, listening to every word. How much did he understand? He trusted his daddy to take care of him, to protect him. What a colossal failure Callum was turning out to be.

The social worker apparently wasn't done. "I also received a call from a Mrs. Jamison, who had some very specific concerns."

Rachel's mom.

His gut clenched with fear and hot emotion. He would just bet Maude had concerns . How had she even known about the accident? Was she in town? The thought filled him with terror.

"Daddy, you're holding too tight!" Brandt squirmed against him, and Callum loosened his grasp.

"The Jamisons are the boys' maternal grandparents, as I understand it?"

No doubt Maude had spilled all kinds of ugly details about him—but had she told the social worker the most important part?

The back of his neck went hot. He moved his hand to cover Brandt's ear and pitched his voice low. "Did she mention there's a restraining order against both of them? Or that they attempted to abduct my sons?"

He swallowed against the hot knot of fear that lodged in his throat, remembering those frenzied hours when he'd been powerless, when he hadn't known where his boys were or what had happened to them.

A brief flare of surprise lit the social worker's eyes as she flipped through the stack of papers she held.

He didn't dare look at Iris. Ten years ago, she'd seen the real him. He couldn't bear for her to see him now, not even if her gaze was filled with compassion.

He didn't want her pity. He firmed his jaw and hiked his chin. "If they're petitioning for temporary custody, you have to deny them. I don't have the paperwork with me." A moving truck would arrive tomorrow or the day after with all of his and the boys' stuff. "But you can call the Midland County courthouse, and they'll pull a copy of the restraining order."

"I'll do that," the social worker murmured. He'd flustered her, that was for sure. "But we still have an issue with the boys. Who's going to care for them until you're on your feet again?"

He gritted his teeth. He would kill Rachel's parents if he ever got his hands on them.

"I'll sign myself out right now?—"

"I strongly recommend you don't," Burke spoke over him.

"I'm not letting my sons go into the system."

Levi stirred against Iris's shoulder. It was a wonder he'd slept through this much commotion.

Callum ran a hand over his face. This wasn't his finest hour, he knew that. He hated that Iris and the social worker and the doctor were witnessing it. He was in pain, brain-broken, and worried about his boys. He'd spent his teen years in the boys' home just outside of Sutter's Hollow, and there was no way he was letting his boys see the inside of one of the foster homes in town. No way.

He looked down on Brandt, the wide-eyed boy looking back at him with such trust. And he swallowed his pride. He would do anything to keep them out of the foster system. Anything.

When he looked up at her, he didn't even have to ask.

Iris had sidled closer. She slid her hand around his wrist.

She faced the social worker, not him. "Callum and the boys can stay with me and Jilly until Cal recovers. Our ranch house is plenty big enough for everyone. We've been friends for a long time."

He breathed in deeply through his nose. Her offer was too much.

And his sluggish brain caught on the words. "What ranch house? You live in Sutter's Hollow?"

Her brows drew together. "Jilly and I live on the Red Cedar." She paused. "Uncle Joe passed five years ago and left it to us." Her lips twisted at the end, as if she were holding something back. She shook her head slightly.

His stomach twisted painfully. Iris and Jilly owned the ranch? That's who he'd bought it from? Guilt surged and nauseated him.

Dr. Burke clapped his hands once and addressed the social worker. "You satisfied with that?"

She nodded, though her mouth was a tight line. "I'll be following up on the paperwork you mentioned."

Fine with him. He never wanted to see the Jamisons again.

"Everybody happy?" the doctor said. Before anyone could speak, he continued. "Good. Let's get you into surgery. I'll get the wheels moving with the nurses." He disappeared from the cubicle.

"I just need to make a call." The social worker followed the doctor out.

Which left Callum and the boys with a very uncomfortable Iris. He could read it in the tightness of her shoulders, the fine lines around her mouth.

Whatever absolution he might've hoped for was up in smoke.

She was uncomfortable?

That made two of them.

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