“Then in you go with your undies on,” Mom decreed, moving from the now filled bath to Mindy.

We helped her in and I said to Mom, “My shampoo and conditioner are in the shower stall, can you get them?”

“Sure thing, Neenee Bean,” Mom replied before scurrying off.

“I’m not strong like you,” Mindy mumbled and I looked from Mom to her and dropped down to my knees by the tub.

“What, darling?” I asked.

She was shivering in the tub, her arms crossed on her chest, fingers curled around her shoulders, eyes glued to her toes.

“You’re strong. I’m not.”

“Mins,” I whispered and her head twisted to look at me.

“You don’t let anyone walk all over you. I’ll never be that way.”

If she hadn’t already broken my heart, that would have done it.

“We’ll talk later,” I told her. “Let’s get you warm.”

Mom handed me my shampoo and conditioner. I set it on the side of the tub and I moved down the tub to grab the hand spray in order to get to work on Mindy’s hair.

“I’ll get this, you go get out of those wet clothes,” Mom said, bending toward me.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “Mins, lean your head forward for me, will you?”

Mindy did what I asked but Mom got closer.

“Sweetie, you’re soaked through and shivering, go change your clothes, you can come back to Mindy in a second.”

Mindy turned toward me and her eyes hit me but I smiled at her, realizing for the first time I was, indeed, shivering mostly because I was chilled straight through to the bone likely because I’d been in a snow melt rushing river and also because of all that had recently transpired. I also realized then that my clothes felt like they weighed a ton.

I ignored all of this.

“I’m fine,” I replied on a small, trembling smile to Mindy. “Head forward, my lovely.”

“Nina –” Mom started and I turned and locked eyes with her.

“Mom. I’m. Fine.”

Mom stared at me a second, straightened and I felt her presence move away. It took me a couple of tries to get the hand spray working because my own hands were trembling so much.

I distractedly heard Mom say, “Max,” but I was able to get the hand spray working so my concentration went to getting the water warm.

“Cover Mindy,” I heard Max’s gravelly voice say from not too far but not too close.

“Gotcha,” I heard Mom reply and then she was for some reason holding up a towel lengthwise beside the tub, getting right in my space.

“Mom, you’re in my way,” I told her.

“Hand me the spray, Nina,” Becca said, coming in behind me.

“But –” I started, Becca reached in, pulled the spray out of my hand and then I was going up.

I twisted my neck to see I was in Max’s arms. “Max! I’m washing Mindy’s hair.”

“You can do it after you change,” Max replied, walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

I saw Brody, back to the room, his clothes, likely Max’s clothes, were dry and he was standing at the railing.

Max walked me directly to my suitcase.

“Max, seriously, I’m fine.”

“You’re tremblin’.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, you will, after you get some dry, warm clothes on you.”

“Max!” I snapped.

“Shut it, Duchess,” he clipped back then put me on my feet.

I no sooner got steady when his hands were at my sweater and it was over my head, it’s sodden weight lifted clean away and I felt like I’d come out from under a boulder.

Even so, I breathed, “Max,” and looked over my shoulder at Brody, who still had his back to the room.

When I turned back Max was digging through my suitcase.

“Bra off,” he ordered quietly when he turned to me.

“What?” I breathed again.

He lifted up a clean bra. “Wet bra off, dry bra on.”

“Brody’s here,” I hissed.

“Brody’s not thinkin’ about your body,” Max returned.

This was definitely true.

I twisted my hands behind me and unhooked my bra. Max handed me the new one before the wet one fell away and he’d already turned back to my suitcase and was again rummaging when I clumsily slipped it on.

When he was facing me again, he had my heaviest sweater in his hands and he gave it to me then his hands went to my jeans.

“Can you get your boots off?” he asked as the button came undone and the zip went down.

I nodded and with some effort flipped my boots off with a toe to each heel as he pulled the jeans down my legs. When he did, I sucked in breath when surprising, stinging pain struck my entire left side.

Max’s hands stopped pulling down the jeans and they went to my hips. He tilted them slightly, looked my leg up and down and whistled through his teeth.

“Scraped, honey, hip to ankle,” he muttered, his fingers probing gently at my flesh.

“I’m okay,” I assured him.

“We need to get this cleaned up.”

“In a minute.”

His head tipped back and he looked at me. “Nina –”

“Please, Max,” I whispered, my whisper heavy and clogged, my tone saying I was holding on but my hold was loose and slipping.

His eyes held mine for a long moment before he went back to my jeans and gently freed them from my ankles.

I stepped out of them and he tossed my jeans where he’d tossed my soggy sweater. He straightened, walking to the dresser as I tugged on the sweater and he pulled out a pair of his pajama bottoms. These were flannel, checked dark brown and red on a cream background.

“Looser, for your leg,” he explained and I nodded and pulled off my drenched socks and tossed them on the pile.

Max gave me the pajamas, I pulled them up and drew the drawstring tight. They were overlong and bunched at my ankles, covering my feet.

Still, Max went back to my suitcase then he was facing me again, he put a hand in my belly, pushed me back to the bed where I fell to my behind and he got to a knee in front of me.

He lifted a foot and put on first one thick, wool sock then he dropped that foot and went after the other.

Then his eyes came to me.

“Am I done?” I whispered, staring at Max on a knee in front of me, both of his hands curled around my foot and he had a look on his face as he gazed at me that I’d never forget in my whole life.

He let my foot go, leaned forward, lifted up and, lips at my forehead, he murmured, “You’re a lot of things, Duchess, dressed is just one of them.”

Then he kissed me sweet, grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed.

I tipped my head back to look in his beautiful, clear gray eyes and, suddenly, I wasn’t trembling anymore.

Then I ran back to Mindy.

***

We got Mindy cleaned, dried and we wrapped her in my robe, putting a pair of Max’s thick socks on her feet as I only brought the one pair.

Mom shuffled off with Mindy, Max, Brody and my wet clothes and Brody climbed into Max’s bed with Mindy, holding her close as the doctor came up the stairs.

At this point, Max took my hand and led me to the bathroom, closing the door. Before I knew what he was about, the drawstring at my bottoms was pulled and the pajamas dropped to my ankles.

“Max!” I hissed on a whisper.

“Shower,” he whispered back.

“Max,” I repeated my hiss.

His hands came to my waist and his face got in mine. “Two choices, Duchess, you get undressed and get in that shower, warm yourself up and clean those scrapes so I can put salve on ‘em or we both get undressed, get in the shower and I clean you up. You got one second, what’s it gonna be?”

“I’ll take a shower,” I said immediately because I knew by the look on his face that his threat was not idle.

“Right,” he replied and then he was gone.

I was putting my shampoo and conditioner back in the shower when the door opened, Max’s torso slipped through, he tossed a pile of clothing on the counter by the sink then the door closed again.

I took a hasty shower but even hasty, the warmth of the water seeped into my skin reminding me I was alive, I was healthy and so was Mindy. It also reminded me of other things, other things I didn’t want to be reminded of and that I could hold at bay if I was doing something, like saving someone’s life or washing her hair.

I felt the tears threaten as I carefully cleaned my leg and I choked them back, my choking audible, reverberating around the marble-tiled shower. I had to keep it together. I couldn’t let Mindy hear me. I could let it go later. Now, I had to keep it together.

I got out, dried off, wrapped my hair in the towel and had new, clean underwear on when Max was back in the room, closing the door behind him.

I covered my lacy bra-covered chest with my arms and hissed yet again, “Max!”

He completely ignored me, got close then squatted down. I tried to take a step away but he caught me behind my knee and kept me close, his head tipping back.

“Stay still, Nina,” he ordered.

“I’m okay, it’s not that bad.”

“Babe, the skin’s broken in places.”

“It’ll be fine.”

His fingers squeezed the back of my knee. “Honey, this’ll take two seconds.”

“Max –”

“Stay still, for me.”

I closed my eyes and my body settled. Without thinking, my system knew it’d do anything, anything, for Holden Maxwell.

I opened them again when I felt Max’s moist fingers gliding with care along the scrapes on my leg from hip to ankle. He had to go back to the tube of ointment several times and it took longer than two seconds but I didn’t call him on this mainly because I was absorbed in watching his bent head, his fingers on my skin, both of these successfully shoving out the panicked, desperate thoughts and feelings that had me in their grip.

When he was done, he straightened and his eyes came to me. “All right, Duchess, take care when gettin’ dressed.”

Then he moved to the sink to wash the salve from his fingers and I grabbed the soft, flannel pajama bottoms, not Max’s this time, clean ones, mine. These were not checked in bold, masculine colors but were mint green with big pink, blue, yellow and peach polka dots and had a wide, blue, satiny ribbon as a drawstring. They were also loose fitting though not as loose as Max’s and I pulled them cautiously up my injured leg.

There was also the ribbed, long-sleeved, scoop-necked, blue top that went with them. I pulled the towel from my hair and Max took it from my hands and wiped his own before he shoved it on the railing as I pulled the top on.

When he turned back, I grabbed my comb, yanked it through my hair and whispered, “What’d the doctor say?”

“She’s okay. All systems go. He doesn’t figure she was in the water that long,” Max whispered back, I nodded and kept yanking the comb through my hair when Max said, “Barb and Darren are out there, Cotton called ‘em. They got here about five minutes ago.” When I looked blank, he went on, “Her Mom and Dad.”

“Oh.”

I was still yanking the comb through my hair when Max reached out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist, he pulled my hand between us and pried the comb from me.

“I’m combing my hair,” I informed him unnecessarily and I watched his eyes slide from forehead to shoulders before they came back to me.

“You got it, Duchess.”

“Oh,” I repeated.

He tossed the comb in the sink and his hand at my wrist brought me closer. His other hand came to my hip and that brought me closer too.

“Baby,” he said softly as he tipped his head so his face was all I could see and the emotion welled up in me, threatening to split open my skin.

I shook my head, short, quick, frantic shakes.

“No, Max, no, not now, please,” I whispered my entreaty.

He dropped my wrist but his hand curled around my neck and he gave me what I needed. “All right, honey, we’ll talk later.”

I nodded, grateful, then fell forward and pressed my forehead to his chest.

“I need a second before I go out there,” I said quietly to his chest.

“You can have as many as you need.”

I took in a shaky but deep breath before I muttered, “Stop being nice.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just stood, one hand to my hip, one hand at my neck, my hands went to his waist and I held on.

After awhile, I said, “All right.”

He kissed the top of my head and repeated my words, “All right.”

Then he grabbed my hand and walked me to the door, opened it and led me out.

A redheaded woman, her long, strawberry blonde hair streaked liberally and attractively with white, was sitting on the bed, her back to me, facing Mindy as well as hiding Mindy from me. An older, mountain man stood by the side of the bed next to her, Becca next to him. None of them turned to me and the woman was whispering to Mindy.