Rose sat by her father's bed with her head in her hands.

"Rose." Lily placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Rose, it was an accident. And it's not so bad after all. He's just banged up."

Rose raised her head and wiped at her eyes. Lily sat beside her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. The blue curtain surrounding the emergency room bed had been tugged closed around them, and Rose was grateful for the privacy. It had been hard to stop the flow of tears.

Dad lay on the narrow hospital bed with his eyes closed. The colour had returned to his face, but whatever they'd given him for pain had knocked him out. It was probably a good thing. Although his leg wasn't broken, only sprained, he'd fallen hard, and his back was bruised something awful.

Rose took a steadying breath. "Thank you for not bringing Mom."

Lily made a face. "Yeah, it didn't seem to be the right time for a family reunion."

"What'd you do with her?"

"I left her at your house. I hope she's not going through your drawers."

Rose nodded distractedly. "That's good."

Lily squeezed her shoulder. "Stop ruminating. This isn't your fault."

"I was holding the ladder."

"Accidents happen, Rose. And Dad is fine. He'll be up and about in no time." Lily let her hand fall and crossed her legs, bouncing her foot. "Hell, I'm sure they'll let him go home today."

"I don't know if that's wise," Rose said, brow furrowing.

The blue curtain moved, and Rose sat up straighter. Jackson appeared, pushing on the curtain with his elbow as his hands were taken up by three Styrofoam coffee cups. As he slipped into their little alcove, Rose ducked her head and wiped at her cheeks where the dregs of tears made her skin feel tight and hot.

Jackson gestured with the cups. "I thought you ladies might need this. Although I wasn't sure what you take. So, I made each of them different, just in case."

Lily rose to her feet and beckoned him in. "Actually, I'm going to get some air. Why don't you sit with Rose?" She peered at the coffees. "Do you have one with just cream?"

"I do." He tapped one of the cups with his finger. "This one here. Can you take it?"

"Thank you, Jackson." Lily extricated the cup from his hands. "Rose, I'll be back in a bit."

Rose glared at Lily, but her sister only smiled as she twitched the curtain aside and stepped out into the emergency room. Rose shifted in her seat. The space around the bed seemed too small to contain both her and Jackson.

He looked down, then lifted his hands. "Do you still take your coffee with cream and sugar?"

She nodded. He passed her a cup. Rose held it to her chest. The warmth was soothing.

Jackson pointed to Lily's vacated chair. "May I?"

She nodded again. He tugged the chair out, making some space between them, then sat, clutching the armrest with one hand, the cup of black coffee with the other.

"How is he?" he asked, nodding to her dad.

"Just bruised."

Jackson sighed. "That's a relief." He shook his head. "I should have just lifted him into the truck for you. We'd have gotten here faster. But I was worried about his back and neck. Glad it's not too serious."

Rose pressed her lips together and rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. She was relieved, too, but she was not going to cry around Jackson. Instead, she lifted the coffee to her lips and sipped. Silence fell between them, punctuated by emergency room sounds—hushed voices and the beeping of medical equipment. It was strange that he remembered the way she liked her coffee. They'd only drunk it a handful of times together as teenagers.

"Do you recall the day we followed the creek?" Jackson asked suddenly.

Rose looked at him sharply.

"We followed it where it wound up into the hills," he continued, looking down at his coffee and picking at the lip of the Styrofoam cup. "I remember we were going up and up and up for a while before I realized we were accidentally climbing a mountain." He smiled a small smile. "We stopped and turned around. That view. We could see everything. The house was as small as a dot. Do you remember?"

She swallowed. "I remember."

He glanced at her, then looked away. "By the time we got back to the house, it was dark. Everyone had been looking for us for hours. You were in so much trouble." He gestured to her father. "He never said a word to me, though. He could have." Jackson snorted. "He probably should have. I was an insufferable little snot."

Rose's lips twitched. She gazed at Dad, who lay breathing shallowly. She brushed her fingers over his hand where it lay on the bed.

"You were insufferable," she said to Jackson.

He chuckled. "I know. I've had a lot of time to reflect. Believe me."

A strange feeling rose in her chest, a rising that felt suspiciously like hope. Rose punched it down. She had no interest in reminiscing with Jackson or of letting anything between them grow, including wistfulness.

She stiffened her tone. "Thank you for your help today. At the house."

He seemed to catch her change in mood. He sat up straighter and planted his feet as though preparing to leave.

"Of course," he said quietly. "I'll go see if Lily—"

A white-coated doctor pulled the curtain open and ventured in, clipboard in hand. Rose recognized her at once. She looked a lot like her father, Herman Huang.

The doctor smiled brightly. "Hello, Rose. Or should I say Mayor Whitfield, now?"

"Hi, Fern." Rose stood. Her knees ached from sitting so long. "Jackson, this is Dr. Huang. Fern, tell me you've got good news."

"As a matter of fact, I do have good news." Fern glanced at Jackson. "For both of you."

"Oh, we're not...together." Rose cleared her throat. "What's the good news?"

"Your father can go home now." Fern tore a piece of paper off her clipboard. "Here. A mild painkiller. He'll need to go slow for a few weeks, but it won't be long before he's good as new."

Rose exhaled in a whoosh, her knees weakening. Beside her, Jackson rose and put his hand under her arm, supporting her. She leaned into him for a moment before jerking back and shooting him a look of admonishment.

She turned to the doctor. "Thank you. I'll make sure he rests."

Fern pushed the curtain open a little more. "I'll be back with a wheelchair so you can help him out to your car. You'll find crutches at the pharmacy. You can rent them or buy them. Up to you."

Jackson interrupted. "I'll get the chair, Doctor. If you'll just show me where to find it."

She nodded to him. "Sure. This way."

Jackson glanced at Rose, then followed Fern out. When he was gone, Rose sagged and released a tremulous breath. Her arm burned where he'd touched her, as though he'd left a mark on her skin. She rubbed her temples as she sank into her chair.

Dad stirred. "Is he gone?"

Rose narrowed her eyes. "How much did you hear?"

He opened his eyes and smiled. "Oh, all of it."

He shifted slightly in the bed and let out a groan of pain.

Rose clutched his hand. "Don't you dare move until he gets back with the chair."

Dad waved her off. "I'm fine. You know, I should have tanned his hide that day." He chuckled. "That little hike of yours. You had no fear, and he had no sense. It was a lethal combination. I never stopped worrying you'd get hurt."

Rose squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Rose." He turned his hand and clasped her fingers. "It was an accident. I put the ladder on soft ground. Anyway, there's no real harm done."

"No harm?" She let out a pained sound. "Look at you."

"I'll be fine in a few days. There's too much to do around the grounds for me to lie about convalescing."

"The doctor said you'd need to take it easy for a few weeks." Rose shook her head. "I won't allow it, Dad. I'll tend to the McBride house myself before I let you get hurt. Again."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I hardly think so—"

Jackson reappeared with a wheelchair, smiling brightly. "Mr. Whitfield, good to see you awake." He gestured to the chair. "Your chariot awaits. Rosie, I pulled the car around front. I don't know that we can get your dad into your truck. That okay?"

Rose stared at him. He was insinuating himself into the situation in true Jackson McBride fashion—as though he had every right to be there and not a single thought in his head as to why he shouldn't. She clucked her tongue and gave herself a mental shake. Perhaps she ought to be more grateful; he was trying to help. Anyway, he was right about the truck. There was no way she'd get Dad up into it.

"Fine," she said. "I'll meet you back at the cottage."

Jackson wheeled the chair in closer to the end of the bed. "Sounds good."

"Jackson?"

He cocked his head toward her.

She softened her voice. "Thank you."

He put his head down as he engaged the brakes on the chair, but she saw a blush rise in his cheeks.

"No problem, Rosie. I'm yours." He cleared his throat, then said quietly. "I mean I'm here to help."

As she edged around him to get out of his way, she brushed against his arm, and her own face flushed warmly. She ducked her head and stepped outside the curtain, waiting while Jackson helped Dad into the wheelchair. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, thinking about what he'd said. I'm yours. Just the way he'd used to.

She shook it off like water and opened her eyes as Jackson wheeled Dad out. Jackson smiled at her as he pushed the chair toward the door. Rose followed, the ache in her heart flaring up again, the warmth in her face spreading down her neck. She couldn't tell if the heat was from longing or just plain irritation.

After he'd helped Dad into the car—gently as a mother with a newborn baby—Jackson stepped aside. Rose leaned in and fussed over Dad's seatbelt.

"I'll see you at home," said Jackson.

She nodded. The way he said home irked her, as though it belonged to them both. It was the McBride house.

Dad grumped at her. "For God's sake, Rose, I can buckle myself in. I'm not made of glass."

She stood and put her hands on her hips. "Fine." She pointed a finger at Jackson. "I'll see you in a few minutes. I have to stop at the pharmacy. Drive carefully."

Jackson held up his hands. "I will."

The heat in her face intensified. "Well—fine."

She stormed away across the hospital parking lot, cheeks flaming. Damn Jackson McBride. Why had he come home after all these years? She paused outside the truck, keys in hand. Home! Even she was thinking about Jackson as though he belonged here, now. Rose got into the Bronco and jammed the key into the ignition with more force than was necessary. This was her town. If Jackson wanted to call Dogwood home so badly, he should never have left.