Hannah had never thought she would have a moment like this. Ever.

Two days after being rescued from the deadly mattress by Maddox, Hannah was happier than she ever thought she could be. With a happy sigh, she snuggled deeper into the blanket, her head resting on a throw pillow on the couch as she watched Maddox read Ava's bedtime story. Ava was curled up on his lap, pointing at the drawings on each page as Maddox read the book and talked about the pictures. Hannah couldn't get over how gentle his voice was. This big, broad, rugged cowboy, talking about a flying squirrel named Norman, as if he was in awe of every tiny, furry creature ever created.

Ava was clearly riveted by his storytelling, laughing every time he deviated from the words that she had memorized as a result of all the times that Hannah had read her that same book.

Laughter.

Hannah had feared that laughter was gone from Ava's life, but Maddox had brought them back to life. Lying there, on the couch, listening to the gurgles of hysterics from her daughter was the greatest gift Hannah had ever been given in her life. Who would've thought that a cowboy with dark, weighted shadows in his eyes would be the one to make her daughter feel safe enough to laugh again? Maybe it was all the time he'd spent reading to her. Maybe it was the hours he'd spent in the bitter cold working on the generator, until electricity and heat flooded their little house. Maybe it was the Mickey Mouse pancakes he had made Ava as soon as they had power again.

Or maybe it was just the solid strength of his presence, because that's what was doing it for Hannah.

"Okay," Maddox said, closing the book. "I think ten bedtime stories is enough for little girls who need their sleep. Time for bed, pumpkin." He kissed her forehead as Ava threw her arms around his neck, squeezing hard.

Tears blurred Hannah's vision as she watched Ava hugging him. Somehow, Maddox was giving Ava the gift of learning that not every man would harm her. It was a lesson that Hannah had never had, not until the last two days of having Maddox take care of her and Ava while the fever had been raging.

Tonight, she felt almost like her old self again, but she hadn't wanted to interfere in what had already become a nighttime ritual between Ava and Maddox. Somehow, Maddox was healing the cracks in Ava's heart, a gift Hannah would forever be grateful for.

Ava finished hugging Maddox, and then ran over to Hannah, climbing on top of her with a mischievous giggle. "Oh, you think you can pin me down, so you don't have to go to bed?" Laughing with her daughter, Hannah swept Ava up in a hug and stood up. It was amazing to feel like her muscles would hold her again, and she hugged Ava to her as she carried her to the bedroom, feeling Maddox's eyes on them.

Hannah took her time putting Ava to sleep, hugging her daughter, and singing the little songs that they had once sung together, back when she was Aunt Hannah, and not Mommy. Ava snuggled close, but her voice didn't join in the songs, and the deep sense of peace that Hannah had felt watching Ava and Maddox reading on the couch faded, replaced by the grim reality of life, of the depth of the damage that had been done to Ava's view of the world.

She rested beside Ava until the little girl fell asleep, then carefully untangled herself from the blankets. Feeling sadness in her heart, now that she wasn't too sick to remember all the things they were facing, Hannah made sure the nightlight was on before she shut the door, leaving Ava to dreamland.

She made her way back into the living room, where Maddox was sitting on the couch, watching her, as if he'd been waiting for her. He was leaning back, one arm trailing along the back of the cushions. He propped his feet up on the table, his jeans loose and low over his hips. He had on bright red socks that were much too cute for a man as rugged as he was. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt that had a loose neck that showed just enough of his collarbones to make her belly jump. He hadn't shaved since he'd been there, and his whiskers were thick and long. Not a beard. Just an incredibly masculine shadow along his strong jaw. He studied her, his gaze so intense that she felt heat rise to her cheeks. He was pure masculinity, strong and powerful, but his gentleness with Ava, and his kindness when she had been so sick were intertwined with who he was.

When he'd been so solicitous when she was so ill, she had learned to trust him, to trust that he would be there for her, to see him as her support. But now that she was feeling better, suddenly, she didn't see him only as a healer who held the weight of her burdens in his arms. He was also pure male, stretched out on her couch. With her daughter asleep behind a closed door, it was just the two of them in the small, contained space.

Her pulse began to flutter in her throat, and she stopped in the doorway, suddenly nervous. Letting him take care of her when she was sick, and allowing him to nurture Ava were completely different than seeing him as a man, a man who could reach into her heart, and make her vulnerable.

She cleared her throat, trying to distract herself from thinking about him as a man. "So, thanks again for taking care of Ava and me when I was sick. I really appreciate it."

He nodded, still studying her. "That's why I came back. To help you guys out."

Hannah shifted restlessly, torn between wanting to go over to the couch and sink down next to him, and wanting to flee to her bedroom. "Well, I appreciate it." Unbidden, her gaze drifted to his shoulder and his upper arm. The way he was sitting made his right biceps flex, and her belly jumped at the reminder of how strong he was. Strong enough to hurt her, if he wanted.

The thought made her flinch, and she took a step back, her need for safety suddenly overwhelming her attraction to him. She was frustrated by the way her old thought patterns had sprung up, but grateful at the same time, because she was terrified by the direction of her thoughts, seeing him as a man, a deliciously sexy man. She cleared her throat. "I'm going to head to bed now. I'm feeling so much better, but I'm super beat. So, I'll just—"

"I made some hot chocolate. Want some?"

She hesitated. "You mean, the kind that Skip's wife used to make for you? The kind with melted chocolate and cream?" He had already treated them to the hot chocolate a couple times, mentioning briefly that he and his brothers used to spend a lot of time on a ranch owned by a man they used to call Ol' Skip. Apparently, it was the ranch that his brother Chase currently owned, that some of his brothers had built houses on with their wives.

It was really good hot chocolate. The thought of snuggling down next to Maddox on the couch with a mug of it in her hand sounded infinitely better than sneaking off to her room because she was too afraid of her own feelings to be with him.

Maddox nodded. "The milk should be hot by now." He stood up. "Sit. I'll bring it out."

He was past her and into the kitchen before she could reply, leaving her standing there.

She could either duck back into her bedroom and leave him with two mugs of hot chocolate when he walked out, or she could summon the nerve to go sit on the couch.

She wanted to sit on the couch with him. She really did. But, God, she wanted to almost too much. What was she doing?

Hannah closed her eyes, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. It was suddenly racing, because she was remembering the two times he had kissed her before she had gotten sick. Nothing else had happened since then, partly because they'd been sharing the room with Ava, and, of course, because she had felt like she was dying.

But Ava wasn't in the room with them, and her body no longer felt like ten thousand pounds of lethargy.

She took a deep breath, trying to think rationally. She could sit on the couch with him, and that would be purely platonic and safe, right? Right.

But what if something happened with him? What if he tried to kiss her? What if his arm was too tempting for her not to run her fingers over it? Her heart started to pound even harder. What if he tried to kiss her again? She didn't even need to ask that question. She knew she would kiss him back. Despite all her determination not to get involved with a man, not to trust a guy, and not to bring one into her and Ava's life, she knew that the last two days of Maddox's caretaking had whittled down the wall she kept erected so carefully around her.

She wanted desperately to sit on the couch with him. To spend one evening wrapped up in him, before he left. The snow had stopped that morning, and the wind had finally died down. Maddox had talked to Chase, and it sounded like they would probably be plowed out tomorrow, which meant this might be her last opportunity with Maddox, her last moment to breathe in how he made her feel.

The kitchen door opened, and she jumped, startled as he appeared next to her. He had a mug in each hand, with steam spiraling off them. His eyebrows went up, and his gaze settled on her face. She knew he was reading every emotion she was feeling, because she had no ability to hide them.

Silently, he set one of the mugs in her hand. Her fingers closed around the handle, brushing against his palm. Electricity jumped in her belly, but before she could panic, he slid his hand along her jaw, and bent his head.

Dear God. He was going to kiss her, and they weren't even on the couch yet. How could he want to kiss her? She hadn't showered in two days, she was wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt, she had no makeup on, and her hair was a disaster. There was nothing remotely sexy or appealing about her right now. There was no possible way he actually wanted to kiss her—

His mouth paused a breath from hers, his lips hovering just over hers, teasing her, but not touching. "I've been wanting to kiss you for two days," he whispered.

He wanted to kiss her. Her stomach leapt, and her fingers curled, the urge to touch him almost too much to resist. She swallowed. She wanted to say yes. Desperately. But fear clamped around her chest, and she couldn't get the words out. She simply couldn't say yes, and tell him it would be okay for him to kiss her.

For a long moment, they stood there in silence, and then he pulled back, searching her face. "You're a wise woman," he said softly.

As he moved past her to the couch, she wanted to grab his arm and pull him back, to ask him to pose the question again, to give her another chance to answer. But she didn't. She just stood there, clutching her mug, like some panic-stricken fool who couldn't function in the presence of a man.

Maddox sat down at the end of the couch, his forearms braced on his thighs, his fingers wrapped around the mug of hot chocolate. He bowed his head, so she couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were tense, and his grip on the mug was tight.

Suddenly, she forgot to be afraid of him. She saw only a man who'd given all of who he was to her and Ava for the last two days, a man who she'd just insulted by being terrified of him. Maybe she didn't want to get romantically involved with him. Maybe he did have shadows that were very dark and haunted. But the truth was that she had never felt as safe in her life as she had these last two days. Never. And she had thanked him by making him feel like she saw him as a monster.

With a nervous sigh, she walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. Not at the far end of it, but in the middle, close enough to let him know that she wasn't trying to put a chasm between them. "Maddox?"

He didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"It's not you. It's not you that I'm afraid of. It's…an instinctive reaction that grabs me, I don't know how to stop it. But the truth is, I've spent my whole life feeling unsafe. Pretty much every minute of every day has been overshadowed by a need to keep looking over my shoulder, to keep people at a distance, to protect myself."

He looked up at her then, not moving, except to turn his head to look at her. There were so many shadows in his eyes, so much darkness, like the nightmares that chased her all the time. He didn't say anything. He just looked at her, waiting for her to finish.

"But…" She hesitated, unsure how to articulate what she wanted him to know. "These last few days with you, even when I was so sick, trapped in the storm, without electricity…" She shrugged, tracing her finger over the rim of her mug. "I just…" She finally looked up, needing to see him, to meet his gaze as she spoke. "These last few days," she whispered, her voice almost breaking, "I felt truly safe for the first time that I can remember. I will never forget that gift you gave us, that ability to let go, and stop flinching at every shadow. I haven't heard Ava laugh for a long time, and I know that you have made her feel safe as well. It's a gift, Maddox, a gift that I could never repay you for. It gives me hope that maybe some time, someday, Ava could live in a world where she feels brave and confident, not the world that I grew up in."

Maddox studied her for a long moment, his stare so intent that it seemed to penetrate the deepest, coldest recesses of her soul. "What happened to you? What happened to Ava? What are you running from?"

Hannah's throat tightened at the gentleness in his voice, at the raw caring in his eyes. Tears swam in her eyes, and she had to look away as she fought for composure. "I don't like to talk about it—" She froze when she felt his hand in her hair.

She closed her eyes, desperately focusing on the feel of his fingers in the strands, ever so gently tucking her hair behind her ear, pulling it away from her face. His finger traced along her jaw, a touch so tender that she held her breath, unable to focus on anything but the way her entire body reverberated in response.

"Tell me." His voice was gentle, but there was an urgency to it, almost as if he needed to know for his own survival.

Her eyes opened, and she looked at him. His face was inches from hers, his eyes turbulent and dark. There was anger in there, a controlled, suppressed anger, which should have scared her. Somehow she knew that anger was on her behalf, and would be harnessed only to protect her and Ava. A strength that would be wielded in her defense.

Suddenly, a need to tell him welled up inside her, an almost desperate need to unload it into his strong, capable being, as if telling him would somehow pour his strength into her, and make her better able to face it, and triumph over it.

She swallowed. "Six months ago—" She stopped when he shook his head. "You don't want to know? I thought you—"

"Tell me from the start," he said. "The shadows in your eyes are much older than six months. I want to know it all."

The genuine need in his voice made tears swim even more fiercely in her eyes. He cared. He wanted to know. She could tell he meant it. And suddenly, she wanted to pour it all out to him. She wanted to unload everything onto his capable shoulders, as if putting it into words would give her the answers that had evaded her for so long. She managed a small smile. "It's a long story," she said. "Complicated, boring, and in the past."

Maddox searched her face, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, as he sorted through everything that she had mentioned to him in this conversation, and during all the other times that they'd been together over the last few days. Finally, he spoke. "Tell me what happened six months ago, then. One sentence. Put it into one sentence."

One sentence. Surely, she could handle one sentence, right? She swallowed, and looked down at her steaming mug of hot chocolate. It felt so incongruous to be sipping the most delicious hot chocolate, while ugly images formed in her mind. She took a deep breath. "My sister…" Tears started to fall down her cheeks, and suddenly she couldn't speak. God, she had kept it in for so long, that merely saying those two words made the grief tear through her, grief she had refused to acknowledge, because she'd been so focused on survival, and trying to make things right for Ava.

With a low sigh, he took her hot chocolate from her hands and set it on the table next to his mug. Then he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her against him. She squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed her face into the curve of his neck, fighting against the sobs trying to take her. His body was so warm and strong, somehow holding her up as the memories came flooding back, every little detail that she had forgotten for so long, filling her mind in the most horrible of ways.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her, like steel shields protecting her from the world. "Tell me, sweetheart. Get it out of your heart, so you can live again."

Hannah took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest so tight she could barely get the oxygen into her lungs. Maddox's words settled into her, and she knew he was right. She had to tell someone, and that someone was him, and the time was now.