It had been a long night.

Claire picked up her phone, glanced at the screen and groaned when all she saw was black. Her phone was dead

The sun was just coming up, so it had to be 6:00 at the earliest. Her ankle throbbed, and she'd tossed and turned for the past hour. Between waves of pain she had alternately worried and prayed, thinking about her apartment and her stuff and how she would get through the next few weeks with what she had.

She hauled herself out of bed, re-wrapped the tensor, slipped on a pair of loose yoga pants and t-shirt, fumbled for her crutches and hobbled to the bathroom just across the hall.

This time of year the sun was just flirting with the horizon, sending out a faint glow over the mountains, promising day would come soon.

But inside, the house was still dark. She heard the rumble of the furnace turning on and despite the pain burning in her ankle; she smiled. As a little girl she used to lay tucked up in her bed upstairs, blankets wrapped around her, waiting for that very sound. It was often the signal that her mother was up and had turned up the thermostat. Claire would come downstairs and sit on one of the registers in the kitchen, heat billowing her nightgown, drinking a huge cup of milk-tea, watching her mother pack lunches for the day and put breakfast on the table. Her father would come down the hall, smiling. He’d give her mom a hug and they would share a kiss. They were so happy then.

Claire doused the memories and turned on the light in the bathroom. She winced as she rummaged through the cosmetic bag she had hastily filled up yesterday, looking for pain killers. Nothing.

When they went to her apartment yesterday, Claire was keenly aware of the fireman who had accompanied her, hovering in the doorway and the urgency he projected. So she had grabbed the bare minimum. And, in her defense, her ankle didn't hurt much at that time, thanks to the hospital’s potent painkillers. But those had worn off, and the agony had returned.

She leaned back against the door, fighting off the painful throbbing as blood pooled in her ankle. She needed to get to the drugstore. But she had promised Emma she could sleep in. Emma was a grump first thing in the morning so riding out the pain was probably easier than listening to her daughter’s grumbling.

Coffee was her only option.

But as she scrambled down the hall, another reality snuffed out that tendril of hope.

She hadn’t thought to grab groceries out of the kitchen cupboards in the apartment.

And she had just bought a container of coffee the other day. Her mouth watered thinking about it. So close and yet so far.

Claire paused in the kitchen a moment, looking around the open space and allowed herself a moment of gratitude. Soon this would be her and her daughter's place. Soon she could give Emma the proper home she'd always wanted.

Please, Lord, she prayed, let it all work out.

She heard the jingle of dog-tags. Mooch had heard her rummaging about and was coming down the stairs. He walked up beside her, whining. He needed to go out.

Claire patted him absently on the head then stumped to the back of the house and opened one of the double French doors.

Mooch barreled past her and, to her dismay, headed directly for the flower beds.

"Mooch, stop. Come back here." He stopped, looked back at her, took a few steps toward the flower beds just as she called him again. He didn't come to her, but stood, staring at the corner of the yard whining. Seriously, they had to find whatever it was he had buried in there before he destroyed it completely.

"Do you think he'll listen?"

The deep voice beside her made her jump which sent pain shooting through her ankle. She faltered and might have fallen but, once again, Nik held her up. Her first reaction was to push him away, but that would cause more problems, so she stayed where she was.

His hand was large, and warm. And as she glanced up at him, she saw his cheeks were flushed and his hair damp. He looked like he had been running.

“Sorry about that,” she said, disappointed at how out of breath she sounded. She wavered a moment as she caught her balance and then, thankfully, he released his hold on her.

“That dog sure likes that flower bed,” Nik said dropping his hands on his hips as he breathed in and out, sounding winded.

“I’m sure he’s got something buried there that he wants to dig up.” She turned back to the dog. “Mooch. Come here.” Thankfully, this time he trotted back, head down, disappointment flowing off him in waves. He dropped beside her with a whine but stayed put.

“So, he’s used to coming and going as he pleases if he’s burying stuff in this yard,” Nik said.

“Mrs. Blatchford didn’t mind and encouraged Emma and Mooch to play in the yard.” Claire leaned on her crutches lifting her foot to ease the pain. “So, he's pretty lackadaisical about territory, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

His chuckle surprised her. He always looked so serious. Then he looked over at her apartment. “I don’t suppose you have any idea when they’ll let you back in?”

“I’m hoping to call somebody today to find out. Although, quite frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they condemn it. It’s old and worn down, people shouldn’t even be living in it.”

“But you did,” Nik said.

“It was the only place available,” Claire said. She wasn’t adding that it was also the only place she could afford. That might make her sound like a loser.

“There don’t seem to be a lot of rental properties here in Sweet Creek,” Nik said.

“That’s why I am squatting here,” Claire said. “And thanks again for letting me stay. I promise to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

She looked up at the sky, which grew lighter as the sun came up. “Do you mind telling me what time it is?”

“About 6:30. Why?”

“My phone died and I’m just trying to figure out when’s a reasonable time to wake Emma up so I can go buy coffee. There’s none in the house.”

“Yeah, I didn’t stock the kitchen up when I moved in. I hadn’t figured on staying in it long.”

His comment hung between them, heavy with its import. He hadn’t figured on staying in it because he had planned on living in his trailer. While he tore down the house.

“I’ve got some coffee brewing in the trailer,” Nik said, breaking the momentary silence. “If you are as addicted as me, you might not want to wait until Emma wakes up.”

Claire hesitated, but the need for caffeine overrode her resistance to spending more time with Nik. She was too touchy about him. After all, he had practically carried her out of the apartment. A few boundaries between them had already come down.

In that moment of hesitation, he seemed to get his answer.

“Black or cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Just black please,” she said.

“I’ll be right back,” he said then turned and strode to the trailer.

Claire’s foot throbbed and she eased herself onto the step, stretching her leg out in front of her. Thankfully, it was nice and warm so sitting outside was pleasant.

As promised, Nik returned with not one, but two steaming mugs.

“I haven’t had mine yet either,” he explained as he handed one to her. Then, to her surprise, he sat on the step beside her.

Claire wasn’t sure what to make of this, but it was enjoyable to drink coffee in the morning with an adult.

“So how did your visit with your mother go?” she asked, taking a sip of the hot brew. She cradled her hands around the mug, drawing from its warmth.

Nik leaned his elbows on his knees, holding his mug as he stared at the trailer. “It was… okay.”

“I’m sure it was hard,” Claire said. “After all, you barely knew her.”

“I was about four years old when I got adopted,” Nik said. He took a sip of his coffee. “Old enough to have some fairly strong memories of her.”

Claire knew she was venturing into shaky territory by asking questions; getting too involved.

But her life had turned upside down and the only person who had been there for her was this stranger.

So she stifled her second thoughts.

“What do you remember about her?” she asked.

Nik sighed then took another sip of his coffee looking away, and for a moment Claire wondered if she had gone too far.

But he blinked then gave her a careful smile. “I remember her holding me on her lap and reading a book. I can’t recall which book, only that it had a picture of a rabbit with a bright red hat. I don’t remember my father. Apparently, he died when I was a baby. He was a carpenter, too.” He pulled in a long, slow breath and eased it out.

“Too? Is that what you do? Build houses?”

“Sometimes. I’ll rehab them if they’re good enough, tear them down and do an infill if they aren’t. Then I sell them and move on.”

“You’ve never lived in the places you work on?”

He shook his head. “No. Once I'm done, I'm gone. I don't like getting too attached. I like my freedom."

“So you’ve never owned a home?”

Once again, he was quiet, drinking his coffee.

“I had a house. Once.”

“What happened?”

He took another sip as silence fell between them and he looked away from her.

The door behind them creaked open, breaking the now-awkward quiet.

“Hi, Mom. Can I get up?”

Emma stood on the porch in her nightgown, one foot layered over the other, hugging herself. Her hair was a tousle of curls and her cheek still held the faint imprint of her hand.

“Of course you can,” Claire said, setting her mug on the step below her and holding out her arms for Emma.

“Hello, Mr. Nik,” Emma said, yawning as she curled up on Claire’s lap.

Claire smoothed Emma’s unruly hair back from her face, then laid her cheek on Emma’s head, inhaling the sleepy, little girl smell of her. “How did you sleep, punkin?”

“Great. This house smells so good. And I don’t have to listen to the people fighting in the ‘partment beside us.” She yawned — a jaw-cracking yawn — and cuddled closer to Claire. “Can we go back and get more of my stuff? I don’t have all my dolls or stuffies.”

“I don’t know, honey,” Claire said, feeling a pang herself for the things she’d left behind.

“Do you think you could go with me, Mr. Nik?” Emma asked.

Nik half-turned, glancing at the two of them. A curious expression flitted across his face. “I doubt we're allowed,” he said.

“But no one is there now. We could just sneak in.” Emma lifted her head, trying to look over the fence at the building. “If we’re quiet no one will know we’re there.”

“I don’t think it matters how quiet we are,” Nik said. “It isn’t safe.”

“But I’m not very big. I won’t fall through the floor. I can crawl real good. And I know how to be real quiet. Sneaky quiet.”

To Claire’s surprise, Nik sputtered then took a quick swig of his coffee as if to cover up his reaction to her daughter and her incessant finagling.

“Honey, there was a fire in the building. We don’t know what it’s like inside. We can’t go back,” Claire reiterated.

“But we went back for some of our stuff,” Emma continued, her voice wavering. “Why can’t we go again?”

“The firemen were there to make sure we didn’t hurt ourselves and that we were safe. They’re not there now.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest but Claire gently placed a finger on her lips. “And I’m sorry you don’t have all your toys, we’re not talking about this anymore and there’s no way we are even thinking about going to the apartment again.” She had to be firm. If she wasn’t, she was afraid Emma might sneak over, though she was fairly sure the doors were locked.

“Well, I’m hungry,” Emma said, hugging her knees, resting her head on them.

“I am too, so we need to get some groceries. And a pill for my ankle.” Claire picked up her coffee and drank it down.

“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Nik said, pushing himself to his feet.

“What are you working on?” Emma asked.

“Some blueprints,” he said, evasively. Not that it was any of their business, but Claire suspected his plans had everything to do with the house behind them.

“Those are like plans right?”

“That’s right,” Nik said.

“Maybe you can make some plans for my mommy. She said she wants to make a bigger deck on here. So she can sit on a chair and look over the yard. She used to live here, you know?” Emma prattled on, delightfully unaware of the shift in the atmosphere.

Claire was reminded how tenuous her hold on this house was and once again she sent up a quick prayer that the check would clear. God had larger things to deal with, but she had always been encouraged to lay her troubles at his feet. Well, this was a trouble out of her control.

“Here’s my cup,” she said, sparing Nik the trouble of finding an answer to her daughter’s question. “As for you, Missy,” she said to Emma, “you need to get dressed so we can go out.”

Emma scrambled over Claire and in the process, tripped over Claire’s ankle. Oblivious to her mother’s sudden indrawn gasp of pain, she skipped across the deck and into the house.

“You okay?” Nik asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” She pulled in another breath through her clenched teeth, riding out the pain, her hands tight fists.

“I don’t think you should drive yet,” Nik said. “Why don’t I take you?”

She shook her head. “I’ll call my parents,” she said, then made a face. Her phone was dead. She wasn’t calling anyone.

“I’m right here. I’m not doing much else. Let me be a good neighbor.”

He was being more than a good neighbor, she thought. She and her daughter were sleeping in the house he was paying rent on. He had taken her to the hospital and had helped bring her things from the apartment to the house. She owed him a lot more than she could ever repay and didn’t want to be driven further into his debt.

However, she needed to be realistic. Driving would be painful and probably unsafe. She couldn’t call anyone unless she borrowed his cell phone.

“Okay, but you have to let me pay you for the gas.”

Nik shot her a look of disbelief. “Sure. In a town the size of Sweet Creek, that will probably come to about ninety-seven cents,” he said.

She laughed. “Okay. I get it. But I don’t feel right about all this.”

“Someday you can pay it forward,” he said. “So, let’s leave it at that.”

She slowly got to her feet, hoping he would let her stand on her own. But also, in some part of her lonely female brain, she hoped he would give her a gentle boost. She managed to stand on her own.

Too bad.

“I’ll meet you out front,” he said, poking his thumb over his shoulder to where his truck was parked. “Unless you need a hand?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be okay. I just need to get my purse and make sure Emma’s ready to go.”

She turned to go back into the house, far too conscious of Nik’s eyes on her.

* * *

Was he being smart about the situation, Nik wondered, as he stepped into his trailer.

Spending time with a single, attractive woman who was hoping to buy the same house he was?

And what about her daughter?

Despite the discomfort she initially created, Emma made him laugh. She was spunky and fun and very much alive. This had surprised him. When he heard about the baby his girlfriend had swept from her life, he had been angry, hurt, frustrated. And for years afterward, seeing any child the same age as their baby would have been, brought up the pain of loss.

But somehow, being with Emma, those feelings eased.

Don’t get attached. Be the first to leave.

Nik shook his head and made do with a quick wash-up and a change of clothes.

He could hardly turn his back on an injured woman and her young daughter. Sure, she had relatives and friends, but he was close, and available.

Nik grabbed his keys from the tray beside his bed, shoved his wallet in his pants and ran his fingers through his hair again, wishing he’d had time to have a shower.

He glanced around the inside of his newer living quarters, thankful for the space and that he was out of the house.

Though many years had passed since those dark days, staying here had resurrected those memories. Memories of fear and pain and hours spent alone. The uncertainty of what the day would bring when he got up in the morning. Some days were good. And some — the days that Rick Baley came home drunk — not so good.

Thankfully, Nik was no longer that scared kid. He had dealt with those demons, and they would be exorcised once the house was pulled down and the reminder of that time eradicated.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Cory.

“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked, his heart giving a little lift. His sister, he thought, a half-sister, but still. The idea would never grow old.

“I’m good. But, about tonight…” she let the word trail away and Nik figured out what was next.

“Your mom wants to cancel?” He struggled to keep his annoyance from entering his voice.

“She doesn’t want to. She’s exhausted today. It’s not something she can help.” Cory sounded defensive.

Nik pulled in a slow breath, realizing the emotions swirling through him were a combination of frustration and, if he were honest, disappointment.

“That’s too bad. It’s just… this was the reason I came here.”

“She really wants to see you,” Cory said. “Her fibro is often brought on by stress and much as she’s excited to see you, her emotions bring on stress, which triggers her fibro. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“Okay. What about tonight? You and me getting together?”

“I’d love to, but Matthew and I have an appointment with our wedding photographer. I’d try to get out of it, but we had a hard enough time getting him in the first place, he’s so busy. I could call him—”

“Don’t. It’s my fault for jumping into your lives without giving you advance notice. Keep the appointment. What about Sunday?”

This elicited another sigh. “I’m so sorry. After seeing the photographer, we’re getting together with Matthew’s parents in Edmonton. It’s a long drive so we’re staying overnight. We won’t be back until late Sunday night. But you could visit Mom on your own.”

Nik paused, surprised at his unwillingness to do that.

“Or maybe it would be best if I’m there,” Cory added quickly. “So, let’s make it Monday night, and I’ll tell Mom that it’s happening no matter what.”

Despite his frustration, Nik smiled at the firm note in Cory’s voice. “Then I’ll figure on that.”

They said goodbye and as Nik shoved his phone in his pocket he struggled with the anger his memories of his mother could create. The sorrow. It was exhausting, and, over time, it had lost its sharp angles but it stayed, weighing him down.

Yet, these past few days weren’t how he had envisioned his reunion with his mother.

One step at a time, he reminded himself. Like you told Cory, you just jumped into their lives. And you’ll be here a while.

Unless Claire gets the house. Then what happens to your plans?

He wished he could just walk away. But this house had been a dark shadow over his life. He couldn't do anything about his foster parents, but he could do something about the house

He walked across the yard just as Emma bounded out of the door. Claire’s oversized purse hung from her scrawny shoulder and she turned to hold the door open for her mother.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked as the door fell shut behind Claire.

She had changed as well and now wore a soft pink shirt with large white polka dots and white cropped pants with flats. Her hair flowed loose and a faint breeze lifted it off her shoulders. For a moment he was transfixed. She was gorgeous.

Then Nik saw Emma and reality tempered his admiration. Though he wasn’t as uncomfortable around the little girl as he initially was, she was a reminder of why he had to keep his admiration to himself.

His plans couldn’t include women, especially not women who came with kids. Too complicated and not fair to the child.

Emma grunted as she tried to shift the purse to her other shoulder and almost dropped it.

“Why don’t you let me carry that?” Nik said.

“It’s really heavy.” Emma grimaced as she handed it over, barely able to keep it off the ground.

“No kidding,” Nik said as he took it from her. He glanced at Claire, lifting it up and down as if guessing its weight. “What do you have in here?”

Claire held up a hand to stop him, shooting him a warning glance. “Don’t start with the brick-in-the purse jokes.”

“Well, if it’s not a brick, then maybe a rock.”

Emma giggled and, despite his caution Nik felt a curious lift of his heart.

“So where’s the dog?” he asked.

“Mooch is inside. He’ll be okay,” Claire said, giving him a careful smile which hindered his resolve. “We’ve had to leave him in the apartment from time to time. He’s usually fine.”

Nik wasn’t too sure about that, but he wasn’t arguing. What did he care if the dog tore things apart in the house?

“Okay, let’s go then,” Nik said.

Ignoring Claire’s protests, he helped her into his truck, feeling that momentary spark of attraction as he held her arm and supported her; her hair brushing his face.

Emma settled in and soon they were on their way.

“Just turn left at the second set of lights,” Claire said. “That’s where I usually shop.”

“Good to know. I’ll need groceries, too,” Nik said.

“Are you staying on the yard for very long?” Emma piped up from the back seat.

“Not sure,” he said.

“Do you like living in your trailer? My mommy said she can’t imagine why you would, but I think it looks cozy.”

Nik shot Claire a glance, surprised to see her blushing. So, they were talking about him.

“I live in it often.”

“That’s kind of fun, but you can’t have a play center and swing and slide then. Like our house does.”

Our house. Nik felt another flash of concern, and with it came second thoughts surrounding his purchase of the house.

He pushed them aside. He'd learned to hold plans loosely.