“When Colson called to let us know about your mishap, he was shaken up about it.”

Bronwyn lowered her soft voice a bit as if he would be able to hear them in here. “Don’t let him know I told you that. He tries to be so professional about everything, but he refused to leave your side the entire time.” She gave Sabra a light pat on the shoulder as if to drive home the impact of her words.

The woman’s light voice managed to float over the spray of mist. Many water jets hissed while Sabra to still able to understand everything she said. In a stone shower big enough to host a party—DJ included—the two women worked on de-funktifying almost three days of Sabra’s body odor.

The shower took up the entire width of that side of the bathroom. In an area that resembled a high-end spa or athlete’s retreat more than a private home, the bathroom’s decor beamed with luscious earth tones. Sleek fixtures and streamlined equipment pushed it over the top. Even the shower chair was an ergonomic wonder.

Sabra continued to take in the room outside the shower. She tried to buy herself time to figure out how to respond to Bronwyn’s statement. The accumulated condensation of the glassed-in walls of the shower provided entertainment. Sabra continued to think and try to come up with something to tell the stranger.

An adjoining wall hosted a state-of-the-art whirlpool soaking tub. This place exuded taste and affluence. It pulled that off in a subtle way that broadcast assumed normalcy about it all.

Delicate circles of a soft, soapy bath sponge ran along the length of her arm. The external sensation brought Sabra back to the moment. The steam surrounding the two women did little to hide Sabra’s current state.

Sabra had tried to exert her autonomy only to face defeat. Sabra had to admit, the water felt good though. Bronwyn had insisted on helping. They were in a bathroom large enough to have a sauna and long bench along it’s opposing wall. Sabra tried to ignore her old insecurities.

Sabra had refused help and almost slipped more than twice trying to wash. Bronwyn finally donned a disposable poncho and flip-flops. They came from that never-ending mountain of supplies she’d brought. Without another word, she entered the shower to help Sabra wash. It was weird having a stranger in the large bathroom with her. Here she sat in a chair with water rivulets running down her naked body, but Sabra was grateful for the help.

If not for the way Bronwyn worked so fast to assist her, Sabra would have descended into a heap of tears. The embarrassment of her situation took its toll. The short woman continued to work as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Each time I spoke with him, he was back here with you,” Bronwyn continued. “I’m telling you what I know. You have him wrapped around your little finger.”

“I don’t know about that. He seems pretty nonchalant about my progress.”

Bronwyn dismissed her with a wave. “Child, please. You and I both know men aren’t that great at talking about their emotions. That one in there is no different.”

Sabra fought back the urge to slump down in the chair. Colson hadn’t been the one unable to express his feelings. Nope, that disgrace went to her. The truth was downright sad and pathetic. Sabra had no clue why she couldn’t accept that he wasn’t off his rocker for wanting to “take her out for a coffee.” Or, why he went over and beyond to help her.

The more she took in her surroundings, the more Sabra convinced herself of a reason for his attention. Colson was into the whole Savior-complex thing. Yeah, that explanation made sense.

She didn’t belong here in this world of luxury and privilege, or with a man like Colson. Dating him would be too exhausting trying to get caught up on what rich folk already knew and took for granted. Then there was the gulf of differences between their cultures, looks, and the like. Sabra could just see herself hiding behind a huge bush every time they had to go to an event with his peers. The embarrassment would be too great.

Bronwyn’s words brought her back to the conversation. “I haven’t known him to bring anyone home. You’re special to him. I can tell.”

“You don’t say?” Now Sabra was flat out placating the other woman.

“Yes, I do, and you better believe it too. That man doesn’t flirt or give any woman hopes where there isn’t any. He’s got too much at stake to do that. Trust me on that one.”

Sabra was too caught up on her own rumination to press Bronwyn on what that last part meant.

“He’s a very nice man. I’m grateful for his help. He’s gone over and beyond to help me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay him.”

“Start by not breaking his heart.” The other woman’s tone held a definite note of serious threat for her to take heed.

Bronwyn’s change in tone was enough of a pattern-interrupt for Sabra to ease her mind. “Trust me, I have no intentions of doing that.”

I don’t think I could even if I tried. Her thoughts were back off to the racings spinning a narrative to make sense of her being here.

“Good. Now lift your arm up high.” Bronwyn continued to scrub away.

Sabra’s mind wove a tight pattern of reason and conclusions into the story she told herself about this sexy Doctor Colson.

He had to be confusing pity with attraction—had to be. There was no way a man like him would be into her. He’d been there to see her packing up the last of her livelihood. No, she wouldn’t be a charity case, or even worse a fetish, he’d one day soon tire of and decide to cast aside. Sabra had to break the spell over them and get back on her feet to get far away from here.

As for now, she had yet to find her footing, pun intended. These people might be nice, but this show couldn’t last. It wouldn’t last. Everything was foreign and seemed to come with a learning curve to adjust.

To cosign her point, it had been Bronwyn who had to turn on the shower. The other woman explained that she had one like it at her home. A shower with a menu to rival a restaurant wasn’t standard issue even in the few mini-mansions she’d been in over the last few years. This shower room and bedroom had next-level technology and accommodations—period.

Her mind settled, Sabra relaxed a little to accept the other woman’s help. It was the least she could do to make the rich folks happy with themselves. As soon as she could get on her feet enough to walk without help, it was back to her regular life.

A droplet of water dripped on her shoulder blade reminding her of Bronwyn’s kindness.

Sabra had to thank God for the fact that Bronwyn understood the whole water and hair thing. Without having to ask, she had adjusted the shower to mist. Soft clouds of moisture rained down. It was a nice change from the traditional streams of water she'd expected. Sabra sat and enjoyed the novelty of a mist shower. She wore a shower cap capable of handling the weight and volume of her hair. It protected her mane from a halo of soothing mist. All thanks to Bronwyn.

Sabra had never been in a shower room, let alone an area like this one. Why this area fascinated her so was a point she’d process later. What Sabra had thought was a traditional bathroom was another large room. It contained items to help with medical situations and rehabilitation. The opulent shower, with all its features, added another layer to her overwhelm. Sabra's new surroundings and recent accident kept her from a comfort zone she needed. Or, so she thought.

Sabra didn’t know how to broach the subject of Bronwyn’s ease with the situation. The other woman ran a soapy bath sponge across her back. Her apprehension faded. Sabra came to grips with the fact that the woman was giving her a bath. They'd crossed the polite stranger boundary a while back. She dove in.

“Bronwyn, are you wealthy like this, too?”

“Haha—well I would say no. My husband would say more so.”

“Oh,” was all Sabra could muster. She needed more details but was it rude to keep prying?

The other woman finished scrubbing her back and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to have a foot soak after this? I can help you sit on the edge of the whirlpool. I think I brought a butt cushion, but I know I brought the best foot soak ever. You’ll love it,” she said, chattering away. “It’s infused with oils that take all the stress away.”

Sabra shifted a bit in the chair to stave off the tell-tale throb of her thigh. “Uh—no. I think I need to finish up. My leg is threatening to act up again. Plus, you’ve already done so much and have thought of everything as it is.”

Bronwyn grabbed more of the delicious smelling bath wash and lathered the fluffy bath sponge again before passing it over to her.

“You better take over and get into your real private bits then. We have been away from Colson for a little while.” As if calculating something in her head, Bronwyn looked down at the sitting Sabra and added, “Yeah, you need to hurry up so I can help you dress and get back in the bed before Colson needs to come back.”

Confusion about the woman’s obsession with Colson’s proximity urged Sabra to ask, “Why does Colson have to be here to give me an aspirin? He already said I’m off the powerful pain meds and I feel fine. A few aspirins should be enough to keep my leg in check.”

The smile the other woman gave her stank of accusation that she knew something Sabra didn’t. Instead of going there with her, Sabra took a breath to refocus. Bronwyn was here of her own will helping Sabra wash and dress. The other woman meant nothing but good. Sabra wouldn’t second guess her gut about Bronwyn’s intentions. No, the only thing Bronwyn might be guilty of was being too nosey and overbearing with her help.

“How about I step out and let you finish up? I’ll be back to help you out of the chair when you’re ready.”

Bronwyn opened the shower door. She left it ajar as she bustled around the large area going through bags and humming.

Alone in the shower once again, Sabra elevated her voice to speak to the still humming Bronwyn in the outer room.

“This experience is so humbling. First, Cole and now you. Why is it that I’ve gone from no one seeing me naked in the last few years to two near strangers seeing everything there is to know about me in the span of a weekend?”

“Ooh, girl, spill the tea. I need deets! Start with Colson.”

Sabra didn’t know the woman well enough to spill her deepest secrets. Instead, she skirted the question.

“Those clothes are giving me life!” Sabra said, referring to the pile of clothing Bronwyn had laid out before helping her in the shower.

“Haha, it’s all good. Gifts are my love language, after all.”

“Duly noted,” Sabra said excitement lacing her words with sincerity.

“So glad you like them, but you’re not going to get off the Cole subject so fast. I saw what you did there and admire your skill.”

Deciding to play coy, Sabra kept the facade up. “Skill? What are you talking about?”

“Sabra give it a rest. I see you. First, you faked a leg cramp to get Danny and me out of the room. Now, you did the sidetrack hustle when I asked about Colson seeing you naked.” Bronwyn leaned down and around to face Sabra. “You know you two aren’t fooling anyone. Why do you think I made sure to get you alone?” Large brown eyes peered into Sabra’s. “There are some things I need you to take into consideration about Cole.”

“Bronwyn? Does Cole know you’re in here acting like his hype girl?”

“If he doesn’t then he’s daft. I left my husband back at home so I could share a little pertinent info with you. That and so he wouldn’t run you off with his exuberance for life. Trust me.” Bronwyn tilted her head. She gave Sabra a look that hinted at a familiarity they hadn’t fostered yet, “Cole is a teddy bear compared to my husband. Oh, yes, my Mac is the oldest and takes his birth order very serious.”

Bronwyn had created more questions than answers with those tidbits. Sabra had to know more.

“Bronwyn?”

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how are you and Cole siblings?”

“Duh, we aren’t by blood,” Bronwyn said motioning to the back of her hand as if Sabra was blind. “His first cousin, MacMillan Kelnar, is my husband. Call him Mac when you meet him. That’s what he goes by. As for Cole, I claim him through marriage and family bond. He was the first person from Mac’s family that I met, and he was so kind and caring I emotionally adopted him as my brother.”

“You two fight like how I imagine blood siblings would.”

“Yeah, I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“For you maybe, but I don’t think for Cole so much.”

“Huh, what are you getting at?”

Sabra needed to choose her words, “I’m saying that Cole appears to get frustrated when you don’t heed his requests.”

“Don’t all big brothers do that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sabra caught herself mumbling.

“Hey, looks like you’re finished. Hold on while I put my poncho back on.”

Sabra waited for the help. She was unable to do anything to the contrary now that her leg throbbed in an undeniable warning of what was to come.

“There,” Bronwyn eyed her handy work as Sabra leaned against a wall. “Which outfit would you like to try?”

Dull aches in the back of her thigh pulsed in tandem to a war drum. Sabra tried to use mind over matter to stay focused on the conversation.

“Give me anything that’s loose and easy to slip over my head.”

“Excellent choice. Here’s a Moo-Moo nightgown and matching hair bonnet I thought you might like.”

Bronwyn fished out a decadent rose-gold colored length of satiny fabric. She grabbed its matching hair bonnet. Bronwyn then went to yet another bag. There, she pulled out panties of various styles and sizes. The shorter woman held each up in the air until she settled on a pair that looked big enough to cover Sabra’s ample ass.

Sabra watched the other woman move about the room. She realized her mouth breathing as she watched Bronwyn bordered on creepiness. So, she let more questions fly.

“Tell me more about your husband. Is he a doctor too?”

“Mac, girl, no. I wouldn’t let him near mere mortals without plenty of warning. What? Did you miss the part about his exuberance for life? I wasn’t kidding. My Mac can be a handful.” As if remembering Sabra’s question, she added, “He’s a collector—of businesses. That man loves taking struggling businesses and turning them around.”

“He’s in mergers and acquisitions, then?” Sabra asked trying to show her acumen for business concepts.

“No, he’s a collector. That man doesn’t merge stuff, he hoards and enhances. I’m the one trying to get him to slough off some of the ones he hasn’t been interested in for a while.” She eyed Sabra’s breasts. Sabra lifted a hand to attempt to shield at least the nipples from Bronwyn’s peering eyes. “Oh, sorry about that. I’m trying to see if I have your bra size in here. Or—I could ask. What size are you?”

“A thirty-eight G.”

“Ooh, I was right! Here try these on.” Bronwyn was back by her side passing three beautifully crafted bras over.

“Wow, these are gorgeous.”

“I know. I’ve found these ladies who make them by hand. These bras last and do their job all day long. Here, let me help.”

Sabra allowed Bronwyn to help her into the comfortable bra. It fit like a glove and felt like a dream.

“Now, we need to get you taking care of down there,” Bronwyn motioned to Sabra’s pelvic area. “Take this and wipe up just in case,” she said offering Sabra a moistened towelette.

“How did you know to bring all this stuff?”

“I started packing up when Colson first called. I knew he wouldn’t have the things a woman would need. He thinks he does, but we know better.”

Humbled yet again by the woman’s thoughtfulness, Sabra let down a little more of her guard, but just a little. “Thank you, seriously. This is so kind of you. But why was it so important for you to come over here?”

“Don’t mention it. As for coming over here? It’s part of my gift, can’t help but be helpful. I’m either helpful to those I’m drawn to, or I go nuts. I had to come and help you, Sabra.” Bronwyn’s cheery sincerity helped Sabra accept the woman’s offerings.

“Okay, then, back to the good stuff. Bronwyn, I know you’re not going to leave me hanging with that little bit of information about you and your hubby. How did you meet? I need you to break it down.” Sabra let the questions roll using anything to keep her mind off the mounting pain of her thigh.

“You don’t look so well.” The shorter woman eyed her. “Hold tight, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

A rush of panic at being left alone flushed away reason as the plea left her lips. “Please, don’t leave me in here.”

“Oh, dear one, I need to get Cole and change your bed linens. I can tell you need to lie back down.”

“Don’t leave me, I can make it back to my bed.”

“I believe you think you can, but I can’t help you. My back is starting to hurt too,” Bronwyn said, pointing to her large belly. “My baby boy is sucking up Mommy’s energy faster with each day.”

“Oh, forgive me for being so selfish. Yes, I see. Don’t worry about the bed sheets. I can change them. If you give me the crutches Cole said were in the other room, I’ll manage.”

“And, again, I said to hold tight.”

There was no reasoning with Bronwyn. No sooner had their spat come to an end than her stomach roiled and threatened of an upcoming issue. Taunting flashes of Colson’s words came back to dog her. Sabra’s body was on the verge of rejecting all the food she’d wolfed down.

“Bronwyn, I hate to bother you, but could you help me to the toilet? It seems my stomach isn’t happy with my meal.”

“Oh, yes, of course!”

Alone in the closed off toilet area, Sabra sat, prayed, and tried to find the best position to extend her leg. Her stomach emptied its contents. Away from the others for the first time since regaining consciousness, her mind raced with ways to bring her visit to a polite end.

Then the answer came. Chloe!

Sabra hadn’t checked her phone since Friday night. Chloe and Tilar must have tried to call her by now. Mind made up, Sabra finished up and used the feminine products Bronwyn had left next to her.

Determined to make it on her own, she used the steel bar that ran along the walls of the enclosed toilet. Sabra inched her way along it until she was back into the larger shower room. A chance step on the balls of her feet sent a bolt of searing torment through her. The pain had enough force to render Sabra breathless. A drive to get to her phone powered her on until she was at the door.

Bronwyn smoothed the top layer of the newly made bed. She turned in time to see Sabra try to balance herself along the wall.

“What in the world? Why are you out here with no crutches? You’re going to do permanent damage to yourself if you don’t sit it down.”

“I need to check my phone. I just realized I haven’t let my friends know what happened to me.”

“Oh, yeah, you do need to do that.” Bronwyn turned in a tight circle until she spotted Sabra’s phone on the table next to the bed. Grabbing it, she came over and helped Sabra over to the newly outfitted hospital bed. “Here, let me get Cole now. You need him to help from here.”

Sabra pressed her finger to the sensor and waited. Nothing happened. Another attempt and the phone refused to respond. It was dead.

“Bronwyn, do you have a phone charger?”

“I sure do, and for the last time, please call me Bron.”

“Okay, Bron,” Sabra made sure to stress the pronunciation. When she had the phone connected to the charger’s sensors working, the nagging question came back. “Why do you insist on getting Cole back here? If he’s been on constant duty since Friday, I want to give him a break. If you have them, please give me a few aspirins, and I’ll be out of all your hair.” She looked down at the loose-fitting sleepwear and added, “The bed and I are clean, and I’ve gotten myself taken care of with the period situation—thank you very much. Why don’t you get off your feet now and rest? I feel like taking a nap anyway.”

Sabra could swear a brief look of something akin to panic rode Bron’s face. She let it pass.

“Yeah, I have some painkillers, but not what you need.” Bron inched closer to the bed and pulled up a chair to sit. “Sabra, before I go, I need to talk with you about something.”

Sabra didn’t like the somberness of her tone but nodded for the woman to continue.

“The reason I needed to speak with you in private was to see how serious you are about Cole.” She paused and looked down at the hand that rested on her rounded tummy before looking up with a stare down of Sabra. In words carefully chosen, she said, “Sabra, Colson has deep feelings for you. I know it might be hard to handle, but I want to make sure you realize that he’s not playing around here. If you don’t feel the same way or can’t see yourself considering exploring what it a relationship with him might be, I want to help you get back to your life now.”

Well, that sucked. Had she heard what she thought she heard? After a long, drawn out silent moment of the other woman staring at her without as much as a blink, Sabra said, “I think you’re overstepping your bounds. That’s a matter best discussed between Cole and me.”

“Yes, you’d be right if it was only a matter between you and Cole. There’s another person to consider that I’m willing to risk butting into your business to protect.”

“Who?” Sabra couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay.

“I’ll leave that to Cole to talk with you about.” Bronwyn leaned in. “Sabra, I can sense that you at least like Cole a lot. What I really want to know is if you can handle knowing the real man behind the easy-going doctor. Do you have the character to hold his trust in a way that no other man will ever demand from you?”

Her thigh’s mounting wails of pain weren’t enough to keep Sabra from pressing forward with this conversation.

“I would think so. I’ve been through a hell of a lot this year, and I consider myself a strong person.”

“You’ll need more than strength to have a successful relationship with Cole. I need you to be truthful with yourself and him. Please listen to what I’m about to say? Take it seriously—I mean it.” Bronwyn took in a heavy breath. “Sabra, if you can’t expand your mind and heart to consider possibilities that you’ve never encountered before, then don’t waste his time.”

“What did you say?”

Bronwyn smiled, but her eyes held sadness. “Sabra I need to make it plain. If you’re not able to be flexible and tolerant of differences that may be challenging, Colson’s not the guy for you. I only want the best for both of you. But if you lack the self-discipline to stick and stay to work through the many issues that will come from having a relationship with a man like Cole, then I beg you to leave now.” Bronwyn’s voice faded out with that last part.

Anger feasted on the words that popped out of Sabra’s mouth. “Wait, did I miss the part where you told me you were Colson’s mother?” For emphasis, she asked in a nice-nasty way, “Well, are you his mother?”

Apparently startled by Sabra’s response, Bronwyn stumbled over her reply. “No, I’m not… but I know when the mating thrall is at hand.”

“The what?”

“Never mind. You’re right, I’m not his mother. He’s a grown man and can do what he wants.”

“Oh, so now you’re insinuating that I’m not the best person to be with him?” Sabra saw red.

“No, you’re putting words in my mouth. I won’t tell you to calm down because I hate when people tell me to do that. I don’t like being handled, and I suspect you feel the same.” Bronwyn took a moment to steady herself against the chair before adding, “How about we start over? I intend to impress on you the seriousness of Colson’s interest in you. Please, just consider that as you decide what you’re going to do.”

Sabra didn’t have the nerve to tell Bronwyn that she had it all wrong. Colson might think he liked her but was locked in that Savior-complex role she’d heard so many doctors have. She was sure of it.

Sabra’s stomach churned and roiled once more. She needed to go back to the toilet but didn’t want to rely on this overly protective woman for the help. How dare she come in here and try to mess with Sabra’s head like this.

The two of them remained silent. Sabra mentally chewed through the words and fought back the need to run to the toilet. What a way to get trapped between a rock and a hard place?

Her eyes closed with the effort to stay seated and deal with the situation before her. An echo of Tilar’s words came rushing to the front. As if on total recall, her friend’s advice about having the strength to deal with a powerful man came through.

The fact that it was his overprotective cousin-in-law demanding she promise not to hurt a grown man’s feelings could qualify for what Tilar meant, right?

Tired of being ignored, her bowels screeched in a loud churning grumble. That was it, Sabra needed a toilet—stat. Forgetting her hamstring pain for a second, nature took over. Her cramping stomach pressed her into committing to make it to the bathroom. On her feet, the slicing pain that erupted in her thigh area shook the breath out of her.

“Sabra, what are you doing? Hold on,” Bronwyn scrambled to her side.

“I have to use the toilet now!”

The two women hobbled back into the massive bathroom. They shuffled onward to the private toilet area. There Bronwyn helped Sabra plop down on the toilet in the nick of time.

Alone in the toilet again, Sabra allowed the new torrent of information from her conversation with Bronwyn to process. What did she mean? Two points of interest stuck firm. Who was the other person and what did Bronwyn mean with that other phrase she kept using? The words escaped recollection as Sabra dug deep to retrieve them.

Coming up short, she shifted her focus to the other conundrum. Who would be involved in Colson’s life? Sabra sat and thought as another round of churning roiled through her body.

Damned soup and bread.

She’d learn to listen and trust Colson’s advice about her health from here on. Her thoughts drifted down the lazy stream of the wonderfulness of Colson. Sabra paused to remember how useful and understanding he’d been. He had helped her pack and then made sure the job was completed.

Realization of her selfish and bratty behavior wailed a wallop of remorse. Instead of thanking him for his medical attention, welcoming her into his home, and managing the rest of her office move, Sabra had taken it all for granted. She’d been more interested in doing it her way than having it done. She made a solemn swear to apologize and thank him.

Another stomach cramp had her slumping over and breathing to lessen the impact. A flash of the little girl on that card from Tilar’s reading materialized in her mental vision. What was that card’s name?

Sabra remembered how it reminded her of the little pageant darlings she’d worked with over the years. As if answering her inquiry, she knew the card’s name was the Princess of Cups.

The stomach cramp subsided as Sabra marveled at the cuteness of the card. The word Ava floated on the wisps of unformed thought in the recesses of her consciousness. Sabra prepared to finish and return to the bed.

Thankful she was able to use the metal bar again to stand, Sabra, hopped over to the sink and washed her hands. She was about to open the door when the snippet from Bronwyn’s conversation to Colson bounded forward.

Bronwyn’s chastisement to Colson with her saying, “I’m not Ava,” replayed in Sabra’s mind. That name—Ava—who was it? Unable to pinpoint how but Sabra knew this wasn’t the first time she’d heard that name.

Then the pieces snapped into place. Colson had a daughter!

Sabra supported herself against the sink basin as she let that thought marble around in her mind. Recollections of his interest in her office and the pageant items took on a deeper meaning. Having a daughter would make sense and explain some of how attentive was to her needs.

Another run through of the idea, and the verdict that came out on the other end was that Sabra was fine with him having a child. She did love kids after all. It hadn’t been her pageant babies who made her leave. Nope, that honor went to some of their hateful-ass mothers.

She’d never fault children for adult stupidity.

If Bronwyn had any concern about her being around Colson’s daughter, Sabra would make sure to rest the woman’s worries. She sucked in another breath and summoned the strength to hop out of the bathroom. Sabra readied herself to address the Ava situation.

In the outer bathroom, she eyed neat piles of clothes. They were complete with underwear and shoes that Bronwyn must have laid out for her. The other woman was friendly and considerate. She’d do better to behave with respect. Bronwyn’s love for her family shone in everything she did. That extended to warning Sabra not to break Colson’s heart.

She managed to make it over to the row of clothes. Sabra decided on a particularly cute set when she heard Bronwyn’s voice from behind.

“Sabra—you’re so hard headed. Weren’t you supposed to yell when you were ready for me to come and help?”

Sabra turned too fast causing her hamstring to wail and start to enact its revenge. Pain, powerful enough to make her yip, wrapped Sabra’s leg in a vice grip.

“Quick, give me some aspirins,” she pleaded with Bronwyn.

“You need Colson. Aspirins won’t handle what you’ve got.”

“Are you a doctor too?”

“Sabra, listen to me because I don’t have much time before I need to get Cole back in here.” Bronwyn waited for Sabra to give her some sort of acknowledgment of understanding. Then she continued. “I think you might be in shock.”

Bronwyn spoke with confidence. This made Sabra push aside her misgivings about their conversation until now.

Daring to go down a potential rabbit hole with this woman, Sabra took the bait. “Why would I be in shock? What aren’t you telling me, Bronwyn?”

“Hmm,” she continued to stare at Sabra, “I’m not sure you’re ready to handle what I have to say.”

“Bronwyn, talk.”

“Okay, fine then,” Bronwyn said, rubbing the lower part of her back. “Have you noticed how your injury is better when Cole is near and acts as if it hates you when he’s gone? Like now?”

Sabra decided to humor the woman. “Yes, I guess so.”

“That’s because you and Cole are starting to bond. That and he has an exceptionally effective gift of healing.”

“He better, he’s a doctor.”

“No, I mean his healing gift goes way beyond that. My Mac has the gift too but not to the extent that Colson does. With your mating thrall activated, his effect on you has increased.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at. Please, speak in plain terms?”

“I mean that you have a completely torn hamstring. Yet you're able to get around with minimum pain after only a few days. Do you know how severe your injury is? Why is it that when Colson is around, and I’m assuming he touches your pain sight, that you can go without pain meds? Have you stopped to consider how that might be seen as a miracle by any other medical professional?”

Sabra took a beat to process Bron’s rationale. The whole healing thing was weird. It was that unusual phrase the woman had used again that stuck in her mind like a craw. Sabra turned the phrase over in her mind a few times coming up with nothing.

“Okay, I see your point,” she said building up the courage to ask her real question. “But what I want to know is what is a mating thrall?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth then a tsunami of torment crashed into her washing away all reason. Her ability to connect with a sense of time evaporated as Sabra fought to stop the torture of her thigh’s assault. Her fingers clawed at the irritated flesh of her thigh as Sabra tried to do what Colson had done to halt the pain.

When it seemed as though the sensory inputs would wipe out her consciousness, strong familiar hands pushed hers away. They enveloped her thigh in a firm grip.

Through the blinding pain, Colson’s voice sounded in her head. “Everyone out! Bria, I’m here, let me help you. Concentrate on me. I’ve got you, my love.”