“Move!” The crowd parted and Matt eased him up before anyone else could touch him.
So much blood. Running into his eye, dripping onto Matt’s arm, turning Charlie’s blond hair an obscene shade.
Her mother’s face. Her mother’s arm. Dripping into a puddle.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
She’d never seen blood on her children. They’d never had more than a scrape. But now…She’d like to think she would have snapped to it after the initial shock, but she never got the chance. A man of action, Matt took charge.
Ignoring the concerned crowd, he made his way toward her. “Gracie, hand me Charlie’s towel.” He took the folded froggie towel and rolled it down his thigh to make it even thicker, all the while keeping a screaming, squirming Charlie cradled tightly against him.
“Shh, buddy. It’s okay now.” Matt pressed the towel firmly against his head, never taking his eyes from Charlie’s. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Abby held Charlie’s hand as he pushed frantically at the towel. “It’s okay, baby.” His pained crying tore at her heart.
Matt lifted the cloth to inspect the wound, his brows pinched and serious. “Let’s go. Annie, get Mommy’s bag. Jack, grab those other towels for me.” He was calm, patient, waiting for them to do as he said, then praising them when they completed their assigned task.
His eyes met hers and saw the fear she knew was there. “He’s okay, honey, but it needs stitches. I’ll keep the pressure on while you get your keys.”
She nodded, never questioning his assessment, and followed him to the elevators, half running to keep up with his long stride. Pull it together. You’re all they have. Except she wasn’t. Because right now they had Matt.
“Annie, push the button for your floor, okay?”
Annie, nodded, ready and willing to do whatever Matt asked.
“You’re okay, buddy.” He said it again and again, rubbing Charlie’s back, kissing his head.
Once in their room, they made a lightning-quick change from wet bathing suits to clothes, making sure to grab some for Charlie. Abby grabbed her wallet and car keys as Matt directed the kids to stuff their bag with crackers and juice boxes.
At her car, Matt walked to the passenger side. “Climb in and I’ll hand him to you. Annie, can you make sure Jack and Gracie are buckled?”
Abby got into the SUV, buckled her seat belt, and took Charlie from Matt’s arms.
“Keep the pressure on. It’s a clean cut. Eight stitches, maybe nine.” He spoke just loud enough for her ears, stopping with his face mere inches from hers. “He’ll be fine. I promise.”
She didn’t like promises, but looking into his eyes just then, it did wonders to calm her racing heart.
When they got on the highway, Matt checked the kids in the rearview mirror. No one had said a word since Charlie’s fall.
“Everything’s okay, guys. Charlie’s going to get a few stitches and be good as new. I’ve had lots of stitches, and after you get stitches you have to get ice cream. Lucky for you guys, because everyone in the car gets ice cream too.”
Abby didn’t know whether he was trying to calm her or the kids, but it was working.
—
Six hours and eight stitches later, they were back in the condo. Abby finished tucking in the sleepy children and closed the bedroom door softly behind her. Still wearing the T-shirt with faint smears of Charlie’s blood, Matt waited in the middle of the living room.
As strong as she tried to be, there was something about Matt that instilled confidence. In all of them. It was Matt who Charlie had wanted to hold him when his gash was being sewn up. It was Matt who’d dealt with Jack’s boredom and Gracie’s never-ending questions. Annie hadn’t said a word, but still he’d known explaining things in an honest, adult manner was exactly what her serious six-year-old mind needed.
He’d been her rock, her anchor. She didn’t want to think about going through the past six hours without him. His sure and steady hands on her shoulders, the gentle squeezes of reassurance.
She was exhausted, emotionally drained.
Tears welled in her eyes against her will as she took a step toward him and stopped. She shouldn’t. He wouldn’t always be there. No one would.
“Abby.”
One word, so softly spoken as he opened his arms, offering what she so badly needed. She gave in, slipping into Matt’s arms and sliding hers around his waist. How long had it been since she’d been sheltered instead of being the shelterer? No one wanted to be strong all the time.
His chest was warm and hard against her cheek. His heart beat so strong and steadily, she thought she might sleep peacefully if he was there to hold her all night.
Don’t want this. Don’t need this. The closer you get, the more it will hurt. But wrapped up in Matt’s arms, her heart sang. More than anything, she wanted to let go, to sink into his strength and warmth. Her imagination flitted carelessly through dreams and fantasies she knew would only leave her feeling sad and empty.
She stepped back, pulling out of his arms, leaving herself open to the chill. A good reminder that the world always felt colder after you’d been warm. “I could have called an ambulance.” The words tumbled out like garbage.
Matt studied her, arms at his sides, without moving, without comment.
She focused on the wall behind him so she didn’t have to look at his handsome face or see the change in his eyes. “I would have…if you hadn’t been there. It would have been fast. Even faster maybe.”