She couldn’t remember anything...

Except her love for him.

Stricken with temporary amnesia, Maddie Wolfe can’t remember a single thing about her life...or her boy-next-door husband, Sawyer. But even with electricity crackling between them, it turns out their fairy tale’s careening toward disaster. When Sawyer’s unexpectedly thrust into caring for his newborn twin nephews, will he finally change his mind about being a dad and give Maddie the family of her dreams—and his?

MELISSA SENATE has written many novels for Mills & Boon and other publishers, including her debut, See Jane Date, which was made into a TV movie. She also wrote seven books for Mills & Boon True Love line under the pen name Meg Maxwell. Her novels have been published in over twenty-five countries. Melissa lives on the coast of Maine with her teenage son; their rescue shepherd mix, Flash; and a lap cat named Cleo. For more information, please visit her website, melissasenate.com

Also by Melissa Senate

The Baby Switch!

Detective Barelli’s Legendary Triplets

Wyoming Christmas Surprise

To Keep Her Baby

A Promise for the Twins

A New Leash on Love

Rust Creek Falls Cinderella

Mummy and the Maverick

The Maverick’s Baby-in-Waiting

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

A Wyoming Christmas to Remember

Melissa Senate

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09176-3

A WYOMING CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER

© 2019 Melissa Senate

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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As always, for Max, with love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“You’re my husband?” Maddie Wolfe asked.

She tried to latch on to the word, for something, anything, to associate husband with the total stranger sitting at her bedside. The stranger holding her hand in both of his and looking at her with worried green eyes.

“My name is Sawyer Wolfe,” he said. “We’ve been married for seven years.”

“Sawyer Wolfe. Seven years,” she repeated. “And I’m Maddie Wolfe?” She hadn’t even known that until he’d told her when she’d woken up just a couple minutes ago with no idea who she was, where she was or who he was. Her mind, where her identity and memories should be, was a big blank nothing.

She glanced from him to what was beside her bed—quietly beeping hospital machines, an IV pole. A television mounted on the beige-yellow wall. A long, wide window. A miniature Christmas tree decorated with garland and ornaments on the windowsill and so many poinsettia plants—pink, red, white—she couldn’t even count them. There were even more bouquets of flowers.

I’m in a hospital, she realized, reaching up to the goose egg on her forehead and the deep scratch beside it. That would explain why her head felt so woozy and achy. And maybe why her mind was so blank. I’m...she thought, trying to come up with her name on her own. Maddie Wolfe? Didn’t ring a bell. She tried for her age. Nothing. Where she lived. But there was just that nothingness again.

Sawyer Wolfe nodded, his eyes shimmering with tears, relief, concern. When her own eyes had fluttered open, the first thing she saw was him. He’d jumped up, shouted, “Maddie’s awake! My wife is awake!” and then grabbed a white call button attached to her bed and pressed it three times before sitting back down and taking her hand, kissing the back of it over and over.

“Your wife?” she’d asked.

He’d glanced up from the kissing of her hand, clearly confused. “Maddie?”

“Maddie?” she’d repeated, more confused.

He’d sat up very straight. “Maddie, do you know who you are? Who I am?”

She’d looked at him long and hard, and believe you me, he was something to behold. But nothing about this man was familiar.

She’d shaken her head, which had her reaching up to the goose egg, the deep scratch beside it.

“Your name is Maddie Wolfe,” he’d told her. “I’m Sawyer Wolfe, your husband. You were in a car crash—it was snowing hard and you hit a guardrail.”

Now, before she could ask him anything else, two women came rushing in, one in blue scrubs, the other in a white lab coat with a name tag: Dr. Louisa Addison.

The nurse began taking her vitals: temperature, blood pressure.

“Maddie doesn’t seem to know her name or who I am,” Sawyer said to the doctor.

Dr. Addison asked her a bunch of questions she didn’t know the answers to. What is your name? What year is it? Who is the president of the United States?

As the doctor jotted things down on her chart, Maddie wondered how she knew what a chart was if she didn’t know what year it was. She glanced at the four pink poinsettias on the windowsill, clearly knowing what those were. Her gaze moved to the little Christmas tree. There were two Woodstock ornaments—the little yellow bird from Peanuts, Snoopy’s buddy. Why would she know that but not even know it was Christmastime if the tree hadn’t clued her in?

Ow, my head, she thought, letting the questions, the confusing buzz go. The blankness came back, and she instantly felt better.

She glanced at the man—six-two, maybe six-three, dark hair, a scar above his left eyebrow. If she thought he looked worried before, it didn’t come close to the concern on his face now.

“My mind is blank,” she said to both of them. “Why is my mind blank?” She tried to think what day it was, but as she ran through the days of the week, none registered as the right one. She bolted upright. “Why don’t I know my name? Sawyer said I was in a car crash?”

Dr. Addison nodded. “You’ve sustained a head injury that seems to have affected your memory. But rest assured, you’re in good hands. You are Maddie Wolfe, thirty-two years old. Your husband, Sawyer Wolfe, is right here—he’s the chief of police in Wedlock Creek. You’re in Brewer County Hospital in Wyoming, transferred here from the Wedlock Creek Clinic.”

No memory: amnesia. She knew what that was. It explained why her mind was full of holes. She grasped on to what she was told. My name is Maddie Wolfe. My husband is Sawyer Wolfe. Police chief. Wedlock Creek.

Nothing. Her own name was unfamiliar. Her husband was a stranger.

She swallowed, glancing over at the Woodstock ornament. She kept her focus on the little yellow bird, and for some reason, it comforted her.

“Maddie,” Dr. Addison said, “Sawyer hasn’t left your side in the two days since you were brought in.” The doctor offered an encouraging smile to both Maddie and the man. “Your parents and sister were here this morning and said they’d be back this afternoon.”

Parents and a sister! She couldn’t even remember her own family.

“I’ll go text them that you’re awake,” Sawyer said, leaping up and heading near the door, where he pulled out his phone.

As the doctor typed instructions into a computer monitor against the wall and the nurse checked her IV, Maddie stared at Sawyer. Surely if he were her husband, she would remember something. A familiarity. A flash of their wedding day. The two of them at home. Something, anything.

“Will my memory return?” Maddie asked the doctor.

Dr. Addison turned to her. “Amnesia is a tricky thing. There are a few different kinds, and yours is likely caused by trauma. We’ll have to wait and see. I did have a patient a few years ago who’d suffered temporary amnesia from a bad fall. His memory returned to full function within three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” she repeated. “I might not remember anything about myself for three weeks?”

Dr. Addison gave her a reassuring smile. “Could be sooner. But we’ll run some tests, and based on how well you’re doing now, I don’t see any reason why you can’t be discharged later today.”

Discharged where? Where did she live?

With your husband, she reminded herself.

She bolted upright again, her gaze moving to Sawyer, who pocketed his phone and came back over, sitting down and taking her hand in both of his. “Do I—do we—have children?” she asked him. She couldn’t forget her own children. She couldn’t.

“No,” he said, glancing away for a moment. “Your parents and Jenna will be here in fifteen minutes,” he said. “They’re ecstatic you’re awake. I let them know you might not remember them straightaway.”

“Jenna?” she asked.

“Your twin sister. You’re very close. To your parents too. Your family is incredible—very warm and loving.”

That was good.

She took a deep breath and looked at her hand in his. Her left hand. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He wore one, though—a gold band. So where was hers?

“Why aren’t I wearing a wedding ring?” she asked.

His expression changed on a dime. He looked at her, then down at his feet. Dark brown cowboy boots.

Uh oh, she thought. He doesn’t want to tell me. What is that about?

Two orderlies came in just then, and Dr. Addison let Maddie know it was time for her CT scan, and that by the time she was done, her family would probably be here.

“I’ll be waiting right here,” Sawyer said, gently cupping his hand to her cheek.

As the orderlies wheeled her toward the door, she realized she missed Sawyer—looking at him, talking to him, her hand in his, his hand on her face. That had to be a good sign, right?

Even if she wasn’t wearing her ring.

Almost exactly the same time that the orderlies wheeled Maddie back into her hospital room, her family arrived. Sawyer had been hoping for some time alone with Maddie, but he’d get that later at home. Right now, her family needed to see her.

The MacLeods—pronounced MacLoud—all hovered around her bed. They lived up to their name and then some.

“Maddie!” April MacLeod shouted, throwing her arms around her daughter. “Oh goodness, I’m not squeezing any sore spots, am I? Let me look at you. Oh my, that’s some goose egg. But that’ll go down, lickety-split. We brought you chicken noodle soup from that fancy gourmet place you like in Brewer. You love chicken noodle.” She stared at Maddie, then waved her hand in the air. “Did I even tell you who I am? I’m your beloved mother, that’s who. You and your sister here are my world. And this guy—” she slung an arm around her tall, gray-haired husband’s shoulder “—married thirty-four years next Saturday.”

“Glad you’re awake, Maddie-girl,” Ace MacLeod said, giving his daughter a gentle hug. Tears shone in his blue eyes and he blinked them back. “You scared us half to death.”

Jenna MacLeod Spinner leaned down to hug her twin as best she could—her sixth-months-pregnant belly didn’t let her get as close as she clearly wanted. “So word is that you don’t remember anything. Trust me, we’re unforgettable. It’ll come back to you.”

Maddie gave a shy smile. “I hope so. You definitely seem like people I’d like to know.”

April laughed her huge, throaty, I-used-to-smoke laugh. “You adore us. Can’t get enough of us. But you take it easy until the doctor says otherwise. I know you’ll try to come back to work, and I won’t hear of it. Not until you’re cleared.”

Maddie tilted her head. “Work? What do I do?”

“You manage the family business—MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.”

“A multiples emporium?” Maddie repeated. She couldn’t even guess what that was.

“Wedlock Creek, our hometown, is famous for its multiples,” April explained. “The Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel has a legend attached to it—for a hundred years now. Those who marry there will have multiples in some way, whether through luck, a little help from science or through marriage.”

“Which one are Jenna and me?” Maddie asked with a grin.

“Pure luck,” her mom said. “Multiples run on both sides of the family. And since there are so many multiples in town, we started a business devoted to twins and triplets and quads and quints twenty-five years ago. Gift baskets, layettes, baby shower accoutrements, personalized gifts, anything anyone could want to celebrate all things multiples.” She glanced at Sawyer, then smiled down at Maddie. “Well, Maddie-girl, we’re going to let you get out of here. Sawyer will take you home, and we’ll call later to see how you are.”

Maddie gave a quick smile and nod, and it was strange how Sawyer couldn’t read her expressions anymore. He knew her so well. But now that she didn’t even know how she felt about anything or anyone, all her reactions were new to him.

An hour later, after eating a light lunch and having her vitals checked again, Dr. Addison ran through some instructions, handed over the discharge papers and Maddie was free to leave.

“Earlier I asked your mom to stop by the house and bring you clothes to change into,” Sawyer said. “And your favorite boots.” He handed her an overnight bag.

“Ah, thank you. I’ll just be a bit.” She headed into the bathroom with the bag.

Why aren’t I wearing my wedding ring?

He hadn’t answered that question, and he was sure she was going to ask again. But he didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to talk about any of that.

He shouldn’t be almost glad that she’d forgotten what had made her drive away from him the morning she’d crashed her car. He couldn’t take back what he’d said, even if he hadn’t meant it, even if he’d said it in anger and frustration. He had said it—and Maddie couldn’t remember.

He was going to have to tell her the truth.

His phone pinged with a text. His rookie, Justin Mobley.

Hey, Chief. Annie Potterowski’s beagle swiped a hot pretzel out of a kid’s hand by the chapel earlier, and the parents want to file a formal complaint. Apparently, it’s the second time in a month. I’ll handle it.

Sawyer texted back.

Just what I like to hear.

Welcome to Wedlock Creek, where food-snatching beagles accounted for half the crime. The other half was the usual—expired car registration, vandalism, the odd burglary, car accidents, teenagers up to old tricks, fights and occasionally more serious issues. Sawyer had lived in Wedlock Creek his entire life, and very little surprised him. Except what had come out of his mouth the morning of Maddie’s crash. And the crash itself. And the memory loss.

His wife didn’t remember any of it. The past few months and how hard things had been. Maddie grabbing her cool-gel pillow and stomping from their bedroom to the living room to sleep on the sofa. The conversations that always ended in arguments and then stalemates. She didn’t remember any of that.

It’s like we can have a fresh start, he thought. Unfairly. Because Maddie was who she was and wanted what she wanted. And she would regain her memory—within a few weeks, if that long. And then what? They would be in exactly the place they were before she’d driven off—and hit the guardrail.

She came out of the bathroom looking more like herself—her beautiful long light brown hair was out if its ponytail, and she’d exchanged the hospital gown for an off-white sweater and jeans. And her favorite footwear, red cowboy boots.

“I stared at myself in the mirror for quite a while,” she said with a smile. “I look a lot like my twin. Except for the pregnant belly.”

For a moment, a hot surge of panic hit him. He thought she’d regained her memory—and that she’d tell him she wasn’t going anywhere with him. But he could tell by her warm, open expression that she had no memory of how she and Jenna had always talked of being pregnant at the same time, new mothers together, new aunts to each other’s babies together.

She didn’t remember any of that.

He slung her bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” she said.

This had to be so strange for her. Following him blindly, not recognizing a thing about him or her past or anyone.

He put the bag down and looked directly at her. “Maddie, I want you to know that I love you very much. I’ve loved you since we were both five years old, and I’ll love you when I’m ninety-two. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable, you just say the word, okay?”

He’d caught them both by surprise with that. She stared at him for a moment, then her expression softened. “I appreciate that. And did you say since we were five years old?”

“That’s how long we’ve known each other. My family moved next door to yours.”

“That’s some history we have,” she said. “I wish I could remember it, Sawyer.”

“In due time, you will.”

Inside his SUV, they buckled up, and he headed for Wedlock Creek, a half hour from Brewer. Maddie asked some questions on the way—if they went to Brewer, a bigger town, often (no); did they have favorite restaurants (yes—Mexican in Brewer and several in Wedlock Creek); what kind of music they liked (Maddie liked her top-forty hits and ’70s music, and Sawyer had long been all about the Beatles and had a fondness for country).

Finally, they pulled into town, Maddie staring out the window.

“Wow, this town is so pretty,” she said. “All the shops and restaurants decked out for Christmas. Wedlock Creek looks like a postcard. Ooh, look at that,” she said, pointing.

Sawyer glanced up at the Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel, built a hundred years ago. Even on a weekday at 5:17 p.m., there were tourists walking around the grounds, several brides in white gowns, the food trucks and carts at this end of Main Street doing brisk business even on a cold December day. Annie Potterowski, the elderly officiant and caretaker of the chapel along with her husband, was walking the pretzel-stealing beagle, who had a rap sheet for that kind of behavior. Wedlock Creek residents loved the chapel’s mascot dog, but his habit of jumping up and swiping food out of people’s hands was cute only the first time it happened to someone, then they were less inclined to laugh about it. The beagle was wearing a red-and-green Christmas sweater, and Sawyer had to admit it added to his mischievous charm.

“That’s the chapel your mom was telling you about,” he said, “with the legend of the multiples.” A big green wreath with a red bow was on the arched door, which was dotted with white Christmas lights.

“Did we marry there?”

He nodded. Please don’t ask what I know you’re going to ask next, he thought.

“But no little multiples of our own?”

There it was. “No. Ah, this is us,” he rushed to add, turning onto Woods Road. He pulled into the driveway of the last house on the dead-end street, an antique-white arts-and-crafts-style bungalow—or at least that was what she’d called it. To him it was just home.

She stepped out of the car, stopping to stare up at the house. “Wow, we live here? It’s gorgeous. And the sparkling Christmas lights around the front trees make it look like an enchanted cottage.”

They day he’d hung the lights, they hadn’t been speaking. He’d needed something to do, something for her, something for them, so he’d spent an hour wrapping the strands around the trees and the porch. Maddie had broken their mutual silent treatment by thanking him. It’s Christmastime, she’d said. We’ve got to get through this so we can have a good Christmas. But they’d done exactly that for a few Christmases now, and Maddie had sounded so unsure of herself.

“You fell in love with this house when you were a kid,” he said now, handing Maddie her set of keys. “It was built in the early 1900s. You saw it on your paper route and said, ‘Sawyer, one day, I’m gonna live in this dream house.’ And you do.”

She smiled, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “How long have we lived here?”

“I bought it for us as a surprise the day I proposed to you,” he said. “My offer was accepted on the house, and I raced over to your condo to ask you to marry me. That offer was accepted too.” He smiled, remembering how she’d flung herself into his arms, kissing him all over his face, completely forgetting to say yes. In fact, it wasn’t until he’d told her he had another surprise for her and driven her over to the house with the Sale Pending sign in front that he reminded her she hadn’t. She’d been sobbing happily over the house and unable to speak for ten minutes and finally took his face in her hands and said, “Sawyer, yes. Always yes.”

Always yes. Except recently, when there had been so much no between them that their history together hadn’t been able to protect them.

She took all that in, then glanced at the key chain. “I’m seeing a pattern here. There’s a little ceramic Woodstock on here, and there were two ornaments on the little Christmas tree in my hospital room.”

“You like birds. And you love Woodstock. Always have. For your birthday every year when we were kids, I would get you something Woodstock. Woodstock erasers, Woodstock socks, Woodstock key chain. In fact, the one in your hand I gave you on your fourteenth birthday.”

She smiled. “Really?”

He nodded. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s head in.” He gestured for her to lead the way because he wanted her to feel that this was her house, even if she didn’t remember it.

She used her key and opened the door, slowly stepping inside. “I like it!” she exclaimed, nodding at the colorful round area rug in the entryway and vintage Le Chat Noir poster with the black cat on the wall.

“Oh my, who’s this?” she asked as a German shepherd hurried up to her with mournful whines. The dog sat at her feet.

“That’s Moose, retired K-9. We worked together for years when I was a detective, but for the last three years he’s been enjoying a life of leisure. He’s eleven years old and adores you.”

“Aw,” she said, kneeling down to pet him. “Hi, Moose.”

“He missed you the past couple of days.” And so did I. Praying you’d wake up. That’d you’d be okay. Bargaining.

“I’ll take your coat,” he said, removing his and hanging it up in the hall closet. She unzipped her down jacket and handed it to him, and he hung it up with her red-and-pink scarf, a gift from her knitting-crazy twin.

He watched her walk around the living room, looking at objects and peering at photos. She picked up their wedding photo off the mantel, one of her favorites because that devilish chapel beagle had photobombed him dipping Maddie in a kiss near the steps.

Her shoulders slumped, and she put the photo back. “I can’t remember my life.” She shook her head. “And it’s clearly a wonderful one. Loving family. Handsome, devoted husband. Lovely home all decked out for Christmas. A sweet dog named Moose.” Tears shone in her eyes, and she dropped down onto the sofa, Moose padding over and putting his head on her lap. She leaned over and buried her face in, hugging the dog.

Well, if it makes you feel any better, things weren’t all sunshine and roses.

Badumpa. Not.

He sat down beside her, hands on his knees. And before he could even think about it, he blurted out, “It’s my fault you got into the accident, Maddie. I said something that upset you, and you got in your car and peeled out fast to get away from me.”

She turned to him. “What did you say?”

“That maybe we should separate.” He closed his eyes for a second and let out a breath. He’d hated saying that. The first time and now.

“The emphasis on should makes me think someone else suggested it first. Me?”

He shook his head. “Right before the accident, we’d had our weekly appointment with a mediator slash marriage counselor. We’d been going to her to help us deal with a stalemate. She said it seemed to her that neither of us was willing to budge and that maybe we should think about separating. I got so upset, I stalked out. You followed and we argued outside. And then I said it—maybe we should separate.”

“What could have possibly come between us to that degree?” she asked.

He took a breath. “Starting a family.”

“Ah,” she said, looking at her left hand. Her bare left hand. “Now things are making sense. Before I got in my car and huffed away, did I yank off my wedding ring because I was angry about that and about you saying maybe we should separate?”

“That’s exactly right. You took it off and handed it to me. I have it in my wallet.” He’d never forget how that had made him feel, like his entire world was crumbling and he couldn’t catch the pieces.

“So I assume it’s me who wants kids?” she asked.

He nodded.

“And you’re content with things as they are. Wife, dog, job.”

He nodded again.

“Married seven years, thirty-two years old, seems like a reasonable time—past reasonable time—to start a family,” she said, a prompting lilt in her voice.

Acid churned in his gut. “I never wanted kids. You always did. And you counted on me changing my mind. You had no doubt I would, even though I cautioned you about that. You never really believed deep down that I wouldn’t want a ‘little Wolfe, a little us’—as you used to say.”

She tilted her head. “And you still don’t?”

He got up and walked over to the windows, looking out at the snow still clinging to the bare tree limbs. “The past two days, while you were lying in that hospital bed...and I had no idea if you’d wake up...I made so many bargains. If only you’d wake up, I’d agree to ten kids. As many as you wanted.”

“So we’re going to have ten kids?”

He turned around to face her. “If that’s what you want.”

“Because you bargained?”

He nodded. “The most important thing to me was having you back. I have that. So yes. Ten kids.” He’d almost lost her. He’d said, prayed, that he’d give anything to have her back. And he’d meant it.

She stared at him, lifting her chin, and he had no idea what she was thinking. Her expressions, the way her mind worked now—all that was new to him. “Well, the only thing I want right now is my memory back. Maybe just being here, in my home, with you, will jog something, trigger something.”

He hoped so. Until then, they had this rare chance to be together without the past stomping on their marriage. He had the unfair advantage of knowing everything about them while she knew nothing, and there was no way he’d take it. He’d always be honest with Maddie. And what was most true this minute was that he loved her more than anything, would do anything for her. Ten children. Twenty.

All that mattered was that she’d survived, that she’d be all right, that she was home.

Chapter Two

Maddie needed to take a big step back, let everything she’d learned settle in her mind, her bones, so she suggested a tour of the house. Sawyer seemed relieved. She followed him upstairs, admiring the photos lining the wall. Pictures of the two of them—together—at so many different ages, from early childhood to what looked like recently. She and Sawyer, age five or six, holding kiddie fishing rods at a riverbank, a bucket between them. She and Sawyer, middle school years, arms linked for a semiformal, Maddie liking her pale pink dress. She and Sawyer, early twenties, Sawyer in a Wedlock Creek Police Department T-shirt, giving Maddie a piggyback ride. A couple with a long history together.

Upstairs was a wide landing with a sitting area. Off it were four rooms. Sawyer opened doors. The first was a guest room. Next to it a large bathroom. And the next room was completely empty.

“Couldn’t figure out what to do with the space?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You earmarked it as the nursery,” he said, glancing away.

“Ah.” She peered into the room—pale gray walls, wood floor, closet, four big windows. It would make a nice nursery—with furnishings in it. She imagined herself walking past this room every day, well aware it was empty. That must have burned, she thought. For both of them. A constant reminder of their stalemate.

“And this is our bedroom,” he said, opening the door to a big, cozy room, a four-poster bed with a fluffy white down comforter between two windows. There were plump pillows and a table on either side, matching lamps and a book on each—a history of Wyoming and a mystery. She wondered which was her side, her book. And what it would be like to slip under that soft, warm comforter beside a man she knew was her husband—and yet didn’t know at all. As if he could read her mind, he added, “I can sleep in the guest room or take the couch until your memory returns. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Well, we don’t know what will make my memory return, and since routine might help, I say we do what we always do. You’re my husband, and intellectually, I know that, so I’m going with it.”

He nodded and, if she wasn’t mistaken, looked kind of relieved.

So she would be sleeping beside him tonight. The thought had her taking him in on a purely physical level, and he was so attractive to her that a little burst of excitement and some butterflies let loose in her belly. She liked the way he looked at her with his serious green eyes—as if she were someone very special to him, and despite the issues in their marriage, that did seem clear to her. Plus, her family obviously liked him. And he was tall and strong and the top cop here in Wedlock Creek. Good looks aside, there was something very trustworthy about Sawyer Wolfe.

Of course, Maddie had little to go on in that department. Amnesiac Maddie had known him all of a few hours.

She walked over to a huge closet and opened it. His and hers. Hers on the left. She was very organized. Two piles of sweaters sat next to a row of hung jeans. She had lots of those. She also had a lot of shoes. She moved over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Ooh. Many lacy bras and underwear. Some sexy nighties. A flutter swept her belly again, and she found herself very aware of him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her.

On top of the dresser was a round mirrored tray holding perfume and a red velvet box. Inside she found jewelry. Earrings, bangle bracelets. A diamond tennis bracelet. Necklaces. A stunning diamond ring, square and surrounded by little baguettes in a gold setting. She thought about her wedding ring inside his wallet. Interesting that he kept it there instead of having put it in here.

She bit her lip and turned around to face him. “I assume asking you why you don’t want children, never wanted children, isn’t a simple one.”

“It is and isn’t,” he said.

“But after seven years of marriage? A strong marriage?”

“I’ve always had a lot on my plate,” he said, standing up and moving over to the window. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been chief at the WCPD for only almost a year now, and since I got that promotion on the young side, I felt I had to really prove myself. And before that, I wanted to be chief and worked double time to earn the job, so the timing just never seemed right to even think about starting a family. I have so much responsibility at work—for the town, for my staff—that I guess I couldn’t see having that kind of responsibility at home too. A baby needing more than I could give.”

A lot on his plate. A baby needing more than he could give. Both of those sounded like excuses, and she had a feeling the Maddie she’d been before the thonk on the head knew the real reasons he didn’t want children. The reasons he wasn’t mentioning.

“Hungry?” he asked with a tight smile. “I could heat up your mom’s chili and corn bread—she brought over a ton of food for me the day of the accident. I could barely choke down coffee, though.”

Quite a change of subject. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the state of their marriage anymore. “I had the hospital’s cream of something soup,” she said. “And some stale crackers. So I’m good for a few hours.” She glanced outside. “It’s a pretty nice day—I wouldn’t mind walking into town and visiting my family’s store.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You feel up to it? Dr. Addison said you shouldn’t go overboard trying to get back up to speed or even acclimated.”

“I don’t feel woozy at all. And my curiosity has the better of me right now.” Plus, she wanted to pepper him with questions—about everything—and despite not knowing him at all, she knew from his expression that he wasn’t up to that. “MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium isn’t far from here, is it?” Their house was just two blocks off the main street with all its charming-looking shops and restaurants.

He shook his head. “Walking distance—it’s right on Main Street, a couple minutes’ walk from the wedding chapel. You can’t miss MacLeod’s—there’s a painted wood sign with baby stuff on it—crib, baby shoes, baby bottles. And the windows are decorated to the nines for Christmas.”

I love Christmas. The thought startled her until she realized it was new knowledge from her response to that adorable miniature tree on her hospital windowsill and the shops decked out and the way their house was decorated for the holidays. She had no doubt she’d always loved Christmas. “I’d like to go check it out. Since I worked there, maybe it’ll ring a bell.”

“You’ll call me or text me if you feel overwhelmed or want to go home?” he asked. “I’ll come get you right away.”

She nodded, scrolling through her contacts on her phone. “Yup, there you are. Sawyer—cell and work.” Her family was in there too. And a bunch of other people whose names she didn’t recognize.

“I’ll drop you there, then go check in at the station for a bit,” he said. “We can meet up when you’re ready to go home.”

“Sounds good,” she said.

They headed back downstairs, and he handed Maddie her down jacket and scarf and put on a heavy brown leather jacket. He stood in front of the door, and Maddie had the feeling he almost didn’t want to let her go, that he liked having her in the house, their house. She wondered if he was worried about their marriage, if their impasse had gotten even bigger than their shared history, their love.

And she wondered if, when her memory did return, they’d be right back in that snowy moment outside the mediator’s office.

According to Sawyer, thirty-eight degrees in Wyoming in December was practically springlike, so they decided to walk the couple of blocks into town. He’d mentioned that the police station was just another half mile down. Wedlock Creek was bustling, people going in and out of stores, carrying bright bags with wrapped gifts poking out. The moment they arrived on the corner of Main Street, they were mobbed by well-wishers.

“It’s so wonderful to see you out and about!” one woman said, reaching for Maddie’s mittened hand. “We were all so worried. No one more than Sawyer, of course. And maybe your mom and dad.”

Sawyer smiled. “You’re right, Brenna,” he said, making a point of her name.

Maddie caught on quickly that, after the third such back-and-forth, Sawyer was covering for her lack of memory, and luckily, acquaintances were giving something of a wide berth since she’d gotten out of the hospital only that afternoon. “Do I know everyone?” she asked as they finally headed across the street toward MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.

“Yup. Both of us do. Wedlock Creek is a small town, and we’ve lived here our entire lives. And I’m the chief of police, so everyone knows me. We knew everyone without that added to the mix.”

Maddie looked up at the pastel painted sign atop the length of her family’s business. A family walked past—with two red-haired identical twin girls. A woman wheeling a triple stroller was across the street. Multiples everywhere. Including right here—me, she thought.

“Your dad made the sign and painted it,” Sawyer said. “He’s quite a craftsman. He hand makes all the furniture MacLeod’s sells, cribs and bassinets and other wood items. He has a big following.”

“How wonderful,” she said, admiring the sign and the easel out front listing a colorful array of items in someone’s excellent handwriting. Everything from personalization to layettes to baby paraphernalia to children’s clothing. She watched two women wheeling twin strollers go inside the shop; two more came out carrying big yellow shopping bags with the MacLeod’s logo.

“I’ll probably be thirty minutes or so,” she said to Sawyer. “I’ll just visit the store and say hi to my family if they’re there. I don’t think I’ll walk around town just yet on my own in case I run into someone who knows me and I have no idea who they are. Seems so complicated to explain about my memory.”

He nodded. “I’ll pick you up here in thirty minutes.”

She smiled, and he leaned over awkwardly and kissed her on the cheek. He hesitated before pulling back, and she had the feeling he’d wanted to embrace her. More than embrace—hold her, tightly. Frankly, she could use a hug.

“See you in a bit,” she said, those flutters in her belly again, and darted into the shop. She turned back to see Sawyer watching her as if to make sure she was okay. She gave a wave and walked in farther. When she looked back, he was finally heading up the street.

The shop was both elegant and folksy at the same time and separated into sections for clothing and furniture and baby paraphernalia. The place was pretty crowded too; Maddie could see two saleswomen with MacLeod’s name tags helping shoppers.

“Maddie!”

She turned to find her twin, Jenna, smiling and rushing up to her. She and Jenna really did look a lot alike. They both had the same blue eyes and slightly long nose, wavy light brown hair past their shoulders. Jenna wore a dark purple maternity wrap dress and gray suede knee-high boots, lots of gold bangles on her arm. And a gold wedding band and solitaire diamond ring.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Jenna said, straightening a huge stuffed giraffe. “Feeling all right?”

“I feel pretty good. A little weird not knowing anything about myself—okay, a lot weird. I figured I’d come check out the family business. Do you work here too?”

Jenna nodded. “I’m a saleswoman, and let me tell you, the huge belly helps. Five minutes ago, I sold three personalized cribs—the ones our dad famously hand makes—and then the mom and her mom came back a minute later and added the triple bassinets they were waffling on. And then the mom bought three of these,” she said, pointing to three big stuffed bear chairs with pink or blue bow ties around their necks.

“Ooh, you are good. Did I work on the floor too?”

“Nah, you’re more a back-office type. You’re not a pushy schmoozer like me.”

Maddie laughed. “Speaking of pushy, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She leaned a bit closer to whisper. “Was I pushing Sawyer to have a baby?”

Jenna’s smile faltered. “Maddie, I love you. You’re my sister, my twin. But you don’t remember anything about your life, and I’m not sure I should fill in details that are personal between you and your husband.”

Maddie thought about that. “I get it. How about details about my husband. He said we grew up next door to each other.”

“More like Sawyer grew up in our house. He’s been an honorary MacLeod since he was five, when he and his dad moved into the in-law apartment of our neighbors’ house. The Wolfe door opened very close to our side porch, so that’s how you and Sawyer became such good friends. Apparently I was anti boy, but you adored Sawyer from the get-go.”

“He and his dad lived in an in-law apartment? With his dad’s in-laws?”

Jenna shook her head. “No. That’s just what one-or two-bedroom apartments attached to private homes are called. They were usually meant for parents or in-laws as they aged. The neighbors back then were friendly with Sawyer’s mom, so they felt terrible about the situation and gave his dad a big break on rent.”

“What situation?” Maddie asked.

A shopper walked up to them. “Excuse me, is it possible to get those adorable little cowboy hats personalized for my impending triplet nephews?”

Jenna nodded at the woman. “Personalization is MacLeod’s specialty. I set aside two of those hats for my little babies-to-be—a girl and boy. My husband and I still can’t agree on names, so the personalization will have to wait.”

The woman laughed. “Names are the one thing my husband and I do agree on.” She put three impossibly tiny leather cowboy hats in her basket and continued on in the stuffed animal area.

Jenna led Maddie over near the checkout desk away from the shoppers. “Sawyer’s mom died from complications after his birth. His dad raised him alone. Well, he tried, I guess. But he really wasn’t cut out for fatherhood. I think the landlords let him stay to make sure Sawyer would have a safe place to live next to caring neighbors. They were traveling a lot, but between them and us looking out for Sawyer, he had what he needed.”

Maddie frowned. “Sounds rough.”

“I’m sure it was. No mom. A father who wasn’t really present—and lots of girlfriends in and out. To be honest, if he hadn’t lived next door to us and slept over so often, there’s a good chance he would have been taken away and put in the foster-care system. His father was that neglectful. But no one wanted to see that happen.”

Maddie thought about how Sawyer had said he’d always known he hadn’t wanted kids. That made a little more sense to her now.

She imagined a little Sawyer, three, five, eight, ten. No mother. A father with issues. Alone, hungry, no guidance. Slipping next door to the warm, welcoming MacLeods. She was glad her family had been there for him. That she’d been there for him. They’d been best friends their whole lives.

She could also imagine wanting to start a family. Being thirty-two and the ole biological clock ticking away. “I must have figured he’d change his mind about wanting kids,” Maddie said. “But he never did, huh?”

Jenna bit her lip and seemed unsure if she should say anything. “No. This is all secondhand from you, so I guess it’s okay for me to tell you.” She shook her head. “How crazy is this situation? Anyway, yes. In fact, he put off proposing because of it. Because he knew you wanted a houseful of kids, and he just wanted you and a good dog.”

“But he did propose. He told me he bought my dream house and then proposed.”

Jenna smiled. “He asked Mom and Dad what to do. He told them he loved you more than anything, but he didn’t want kids and you did, and how could he propose when he couldn’t promise the one thing you really wanted. They said he’d change his mind. I said he’d change his mind. You said he’d change his mind. And finally, Sawyer got to a place where he could imagine changing his mind—one day. Maybe. I think because he loved you so much he could imagine it, you know, even if he didn’t want it for himself. You told me he made it very clear he couldn’t promise he’d ever want kids and that there was a very good chance he wouldn’t.”

Yikes. “I feel awful,” Maddie said, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “He was so honest about it. It’s not fair to him.”

“And it’s not fair to you either, Maddie,” Jenna said gently. “You were both always honest with each other. But suddenly time stopped being on your side. And let me tell you, having a pregnant twin sister didn’t help.”

Maddie eyed her twin’s big, lovely belly. “I bet.” She sucked in a breath. “All I want now is my memory back. My life back. I don’t even remember wanting a baby. I don’t really know what that would even feel like.”

“Well, maybe you and Sawyer can use this time to get to know each other all over again without that stalemate pressing on you. It’s always been there the past few years, worse this past year. But now the two of you can just be Maddie and Sawyer again. For a time anyway.”

Maddie nodded. “Because my memory will come back. Dr. Addison said it could be a week, three weeks, possibly longer, but she thinks just a few weeks.”

“It’ll all come back. With these new memories you’re making every moment now.”

“Do you think we were headed for a separation?” Maddie asked.

Jenna frowned. “I can’t even imagine it. You were class BFFs every year since first grade. You were MadSaw—your own celebrity nickname. You guys love each other.”

“He said he made all kinds of bargains while I was unconscious. That if I woke up, he’d give me ten kids.”

“He told you that?” Jenna asked, touching a hand to her heart.

Maddie nodded. “That’s not how I want to start my family off. I’d want to have a baby with a man who wanted that baby. Not because of a harrowing bargain he made skyward.”

“Oh, Maddie. It’s complicated, right? Just get to know your husband during this time. You’ll be getting to know yourself too. You’re still you.”

“Excuse me?” a very pregnant woman said. “Do you make programmable lullaby players? My husband is a budding country singer, and we want a player that has those stars-and-moons lights for the ceiling while playing my husband singing.”

“Absolutely,” Jenna said. “I just ordered my version of that. Little cows jumping over the moon to the tune of lullabies sung by one of my favorite singers. Let me show you our catalog.”

The woman’s face lit up. Suddenly Maddie realized that she may have been more a back-office type because all the moms-to-be buying such fun stuff must have made Maddie feel very left out.

The door jangled and there was Sawyer. Maddie wrapped her sister in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You helped a lot.”

Jenna hugged her back and waved at Sawyer. “I’m always here for you.”

Maddie smiled and left Jenna to her customer. Suddenly she felt a lot better and a little heavyhearted about what was to come.

But as she walked over to Sawyer, the handsome, green-eyed man in the brown leather jacket, she wanted to wrap her arms around him—tight. That much she knew for sure.

Chapter Three

They walked home from town, Maddie linking her arm through his, which buoyed him like nothing else. There was affection in that gesture, a degree of trust, and that meant a great deal to him since he’d lost that over the past several months. Once, for a very long time, she’d believed he’d never hurt her. Then he’d started outwardly denying her what she wanted most. And the bond began fraying.

Now, in the simplest way, he felt her saying yes to him, to them.

“How about lasagna for dinner?” he asked. “Your mother really did stock the freezer after your accident. She said all that cooking gave her something to do with her mind and hands or she’d have gone nuts. There are five containers of lasagna alone.”

Then again, Sawyer thought he should be doing more for Maddie than just heating up her very kind mother’s bounty of food. But April MacLeod was a great cook and he a mediocre one, and she’d made their favorites. Lasagna. Shepherd’s pie. Fettuccini carbonara. Her amazing chili and three pans of corn bread, which Sawyer could polish off in one sitting. He felt like he should be cooking for her, figuring out how to make some of her favorite dishes, such as blackened salmon, without burning it, and risotto.

“Do I love lasagna?” she asked.

“It’s only your very favorite food on earth. Mine too. We used to make it as teenagers. I did a layer, you did a layer and then we’d stuff our faces.”

She smiled. “What else do I love?”

“Blackened everything. Also, fish tacos. Caesar salad. Cheeseburgers. The Pie Diner’s chili potpie. Your mother’s brisket. Coffee chip ice cream.”

“What don’t I like?” she asked. “In general, I mean.”

“That you can’t figure out yoga. You don’t like corn. You don’t like horror movies.”

She smiled. “What did I do when I wasn’t working?”

“Well, the past few months you started volunteering for the town’s Holiday Happymakers program. You devoted quite a few hours a day to it.”

“Holiday Happymakers? What’s that?”

“A group that plans ways the town can help those who can’t afford Christmas or can’t do much in the way of celebrating because of illness or other issues. You started an adopt-a-family program to provide holiday decorations and gifts for each family member. Anyone can leave a letter on the Christmas tree in the community center with a wish list for the family or a relative.”

“I sound kind!” she said. “Glad to hear it.”

“You are. Very.”

“What was Christmas like when you were growing up?” she asked.

He frowned at the thought. “I spent every Christmas at your house. My dad didn’t always have his act together, or he disappeared to a girlfriend’s. Your parents always hung a stocking for me—stuffed it too. And there were always presents for me under the tree. I got them gifts, too, and always wished I could have afforded better than a scented candle for your parents. But that’s what I got them every year.”

“Aw,” she said. “I’ll bet they loved it.”

“Your mom always made a show of sniffing it and lighting it and setting it right on the mantel.” He’d never forget her mother’s kindness. Ever.

“My sister told me the basics of your childhood,” she said. “I hope that’s all right. She figured because it was something we all knew, it wasn’t telling tales or talking about your personal business, which she refused to do.”

“I don’t mind your family filling in holes,” he said. “The truth is the truth. And I’m not interested in hiding anything from you. Our marriage was rocky two days ago when you got into the accident and months before that. Very rocky.”

“I’m glad I don’t remember,” she said, tears poking again. “I guess that’s wrong. But all I know is that I’m not unhappy or sad or anxious or wanting anything. I don’t know who I am, but I feel safe because of you and the MacLeods. So if I’m in limbo, at least it’s a nice limbo. A Christmas limbo, at that.”

He smiled. “That’s a nice way to look at it.”

She tightened her hold on his arm, and again he felt like they had a chance. Even if it was just this limbo chance. This Christmas limbo chance. Right now, she was his again.

At the house, Sawyer let out Moose, who raced around the yard, which still held a good covering of snow. Maddie threw his favorite squeaky ball at least twenty times, and he chased it over and over, dropping it by her foot.

“Sorry, Moose, I think my arm is going to give out,” she said, kneeling down to give the German shepherd a rub and a pat.

The phone was ringing, so they headed inside, Moose going over to his big red fluffy dog bed by the fireplace in the living room. They missed the call, and about twenty others, from Maddie’s parents and sister, checking in, and friends and fellow volunteers on the Holiday Happymakers committee.

“That’s really nice,” Maddie said after she listened to all the messages.

Sawyer nodded. “Everyone likes you. Well, I’m gonna go get dinner ready. Want a glass of wine?”

“I have a craving for a little eggnog. Do we have any?”

“Of course. You love eggnog.” He was back in half a minute with two glasses of eggnog. He handed her one, then clinked hers.

“Yum,” she said. “You don’t want help with dinner?”

“My job is reheating,” he said. “So no. You relax. It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes, per your mother’s very specific instructions.”

She flashed him a smile and sank onto the couch, Moose coming over and sitting in front of her, his head on her knee. Sawyer watched her give the dog a warm hug, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms and hold her. But he was afraid to overwhelm her, and he had a feeling he should let her make any physical moves.

Over dinner they talked more about what they liked and didn’t, laughing more in twenty minutes than they had in the past three months. After dinner and cleaning up the kitchen together, they bundled up and took Moose on a long walk around the neighborhood, enjoying the holiday lights. Back home they watched a singing competition on TV, Maddie sitting very close beside him on the couch as she drank a little more eggnog. Then she yawned—twice—and they realized she’d better get to bed. It had been a long day for her, busier than either expected it’d be once she was discharged, and she could probably use the rest.

He followed her up the stairs, Moose trailing them. In their bedroom, she poked around her dresser drawers and pulled out blue flannel pj bottoms with little Woodstocks all over and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt.

“So...I’ll just change in the bathroom,” she said. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all. We just met this morning.”

She laughed. “It really does feel that way.”

It did feel that way. And not—at the same time. All their history was front and center in his head and heart, weighing heavily. He was taking a T-shirt and pair of sweats from the dresser when she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail so her goose egg was even more prominent, the scratch beside it too.

“Which side of the bed is mine?” she asked.

“Window side. I’m the door side.”

“Ah,” she said, “so the robbers get you first.”

He smiled. “Exactly. And so I can roll out of bed and rush out if an emergency call comes in.”

She picked up the mystery on her bedside table and looked at the cover. “Am I reading this?”

“I think you just plucked it off the bookcase to pick up whenever I’d come in the bedroom—to avoid talking,” he said. “When you weren’t pretending to be sleeping.”

“Yeesh. That bad, huh?”

He looked at his wife, his beautiful Maddie, wishing he could say otherwise. “Yeah. There were recent moments, though, that even our stalemate couldn’t ruin. When I plugged in the Christmas tree for the first time. When Moose ate a stick that required a trip to the vet, and we were both so worried about him that we actually held hands in the vet’s office for the first time in forever.”

“Was Moose okay?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning toward him.

“Yeah.”

“But we weren’t. We’re not,” she amended. “I’m not sure I want to remember that, Sawyer.”

“Well, like I said, I’m prepared to give you ten kids. So, once your memory is back, we’re all set. We’ll start a family.”

She frowned. “But, Sawyer, you don’t want a baby. You’re only agreeing because you made a spiritual pact.”

“But I meant it. I’m prepared to have a baby.”

“Well, that’s not what Maddie-who-I-don’t-remember would want. That Maddie would want you to want to have a baby, a family of your own.”

He let out a breath, exhausted. “I don’t know that there should be conditions. A yes is a yes, right?”

“No. The yes was about something else. Having your wife back. Giving her what she wanted so badly because you made a bargain with the heavens. It’s not actually about what you want, Sawyer.”

“So what you’re saying is that I can’t win?” That came out sharper than he intended. They weren’t supposed to be arguing. Maddie needed her head to settle; she needed rest. Not this. He turned away, barely able to take it—that they were back in this place, arguing.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really know anything, do I?”

Dammit. He walked over to her side of the bed where she was sitting, and he held out his arms. She bit her lip and looked up at him, then stood and walked right into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head atop hers, and hell if he didn’t feel tears stinging his eyes. “I’m just so grateful you’re alive, Maddie. That we have a second chance. That’s the truest thing I know.”

She raised her head and looked at him, then kissed him on the lips, just a peck, but a kiss nonetheless. Then she got into bed and drew the down comforter up to her neck.

He slipped in beside her knowing there was no way he’d get a wink of sleep tonight.

Maddie’s eyes fluttered open as she felt Sawyer suddenly bolt up beside her. She heard the doorbell ring—twice. Then a third time.

She sat up and glanced at her phone on her bedside table. It was 12:19 a.m.

“Someone’s at the door?” she asked.

His phone pinged, and he grabbed it, reading the screen. “Oh man.”

“What?”

“It’s my brother. He’s the one ringing the bell.” He texted something back, then got out of bed. “I’ll handle this. Try to go back to bed, Maddie. You need your sleep.”

Sawyer had a brother? No one mentioned a brother.

There was no way she was going back to bed. Sawyer’s brother was at the door after midnight, pounding on the ringer and texting? Something was definitely up.

She found a terry bathrobe on a hook in the bathroom and put it on, then tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the bottom step as Sawyer reached the door. Unless she was mistaken, he took a breath before pulling open the door.

Standing there, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, was a younger version of Sawyer, with shaggier and lighter hair. He wore a black leather bomber jacket and a thick black ski hat. He had an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

Before he could say a word, Sawyer barked, “Cole, it’s really late. And Maddie’s not feeling well.”

“Yeah, hello to you,” Cole said.

Sawyer didn’t invite him in. “The last time you needed a place to crash and I let you stay a couple days, you robbed us blind and disappeared. If you need a place to stay, I’ll front you some money I know I’ll never see again, but you can’t stay here.”

“I’m not looking to stay here,” Cole said, his body language all fidgety and nervous. “Um, look, it’s not good for the twins to be out in the cold so long, okay?”

“What?” Sawyer asked. “What twins?”

Cole leaned down and picked something up out of view. Sawyer stepped onto the porch and Maddie heard his gasp. She rushed toward the door as Cole came inside carrying two infant car seats, a baby asleep in each one.

Sawyer stared at the babies, shutting the door behind him. “What the hell is going on? Whose babies are these?”

Cole put the car seats down on the foyer rug, then dropped the bag off his shoulder, rubbing his face with both hands. He looked absolutely miserable. And nervous.

Maddie stepped out of the shadows. “Hi.”

“Hey, Maddie.” Cole nodded at her, his expression warmer, and she had the feeling they’d gotten along at some point or that she’d been kind to him. “Whoa, what happened to you? That’s some bump on your forehead.”

“Car accident,” she said. “I’m okay, though.”

He nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand. Yup, she’d been right. They had definitely gotten along—or just better than Cole and his brother did.

“What the hell, Cole?” Sawyer barked. “Whose babies are these?”

“I got an ex pregnant,” he answered, his voice shaky. “We got back together, but then I was fired from my job, and she told me forget it and hooked up with someone else, but he said no way is he gonna be a father. So she went into labor yesterday and called me and I rushed over. I witnessed the birth—wow, that was something.” He shook his head. “And I thought maybe my ex would say she wanted us to have a second chance, but she told me she wasn’t ready for motherhood and didn’t want the twins. She even signed away her parental rights. Unless I accepted responsibility for them, the state would have put them up for adoption.”

This time Maddie gasped. She looked down at the two infants—newborns—asleep in the carriers.

“Good Lord,” Sawyer said, shaking his head.

Cole closed his eyes for a second, his expression pained. “I stood outside the hospital nursery, staring through the glass at their bassinets and holding the forms to give up my rights so they could be placed for adoption. A nurse saw me struggling, I guess. She came over and told me that allowing them to be placed for adoption could be the best thing I could do for them if I couldn’t take care of them. She said it was up to me, that I was their father. Damn that word, Sawyer. Father. Father. Father.” His eyes brimmed with tears, and he slashed a hand underneath and sucked in a breath.

Sawyer put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his expression full of so many emotions Maddie couldn’t begin to pick them out.

“But I couldn’t sign, Sawyer,” Cole continued. “I couldn’t just abandon them completely like that. I know what it’s like to be tossed aside.”

Maddie’s chest constricted. She had no idea what Cole’s story was—and from what she knew, he wasn’t raised with Sawyer next door to the MacLeods, or his name would have come up. But whatever his story was, it certainly didn’t sound good.

Cole dropped down on the bottom step of the staircase, covering his face with his hands, then stood up and paced. “My name is on the application for the birth certificate that Gigi started filling out—and they look like me, I can see that, even though I thought all babies just looked like babies. They’re mine. But I can’t take care of them. I can’t take care of myself.”

“Jesus, Cole,” Sawyer said, his gaze moving from his brother to the infants.

“The twins were cleared to leave, and the nurses told me what to buy before I could leave with them—two infant car seats. She also told me to buy some newborn-sized pajamas. When I returned with all that, they gave me a starter pack of diapers and formula and other stuff I’d need. I sat in my car in the hospital parking lot for a half hour with the twins in the back seat and completely panicked, no clue what to do, what to think, how I was gonna do this. Then I drove here.”

“Did you name them?” Maddie asked gently.

Cole didn’t respond; he just ran a hand through his hair. He looked so frantic. “I’m gonna get their other bag from my car. Be right back.”

He dashed out, closing the door behind him. Sawyer stared at Maddie, then looked at the two sleeping infants in the carriers again. They looked so peaceful, blissfully unaware of all that had happened since they came into the world just a day ago. All that was going on now.

Maddie heard a car start and peel away, tires screeching.

Sawyer raced to the door and flung it open, rushing out to the porch. Maddie followed, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her in the cold December night air.

She saw the car’s red taillights barely pause at the stop sign up on Main Street before turning right. Maddie recalled the sign for the freeway in that direction. “He’s not coming back tonight, is he?” she said. More a statement than a question.

Sawyer took her hand and led her inside, closing and locking the door behind them. He stared at the babies, then at her. “I’m not sure he’s ever coming back.”

Chapter Four

For a moment, Sawyer just stood staring at the two babies on the floor in their blue car seats. But then one of them opened his eyes, and Sawyer almost jumped.

The little slate-blue eyes opened a bit wider, the baby moving slightly, his bow lips quirking.

“That one’s awake!” Maddie said, stepping over. She picked up the carrier and looked at Sawyer until he picked up the other carrier. His brain was not quite catching up just yet. As a cop, as the chief of police, he never had time to be shocked. Police work, training, protocol always took over. But right now, where his brother was concerned, where his newborn nephews were concerned, shock had permeated. There were few people in this world who could get to him. Cole was one of them.

He followed Maddie into the living room. She set the carrier on the rug and began unlatching the harness, the baby staring at her, the bow lips still quirking.

“Oh my goodness, look at you,” she said, her voice holding a wonder he hadn’t heard in a long time. She moved aside the white-and-blue-striped blanket covering the baby, slid a hand behind the baby’s neck and another under his bottom, gently lifting him from the seat. “Aren’t you just beautiful,” she whispered, rocking the infant slightly in her arms.

Sawyer eyed the baby. He looked healthy, good color in his cheeks, eyes clear. He wore plush green pajamas with feet. Thank heavens for that kind nurse, telling Cole what to buy, giving him a little breathing room to leave and return.

He could imagine Cole driving from the hospital with the twins, no idea where he was going, what he was doing. And then the idea lighting in his mind: Sawyer and Maddie.

The baby in Maddie’s arms began to squirm some. You’re my nephew, Sawyer thought, trying to wrap his mind around that. I’m someone’s uncle. Two someones.

“Hey, there’s what looks like an M on his cap—in marker,” Maddie said, peering closer. “M for male?”

Sawyer looked at the other baby’s cap. “This one has an S on it. Could be their initials.” He froze, then looked at Maddie. “M and S? That’s us. Maddie and Sawyer.”

Her eyes widened. “Coincidence?”

He shrugged, barely able to take in everything, let alone begin to process and think straight.

“Could you root around the overnight bag and see if the starter kit of bottles and formula are inside?” she asked. “He doesn’t feel wet, but he’s probably hungry. Babies eat every few hours the first couple of months, I think.”

He picked up the bag Cole had left behind and sat down with it, going through it. Yup, luckily there were the hospital-issued beginner supplies. A small pack of newborn-sized diapers. Two bottles and a few different nipples. Pacifiers. Formula. Two blankets, a few extra baby hats. Enough to get through the night.

And some clipped-together paperwork. The birth certificate applications. Cole had named them. One was Shane Wolfe. The other was Max Wolfe. Something told him the nurse had initialed their caps as a just-in-case.

“Their names are Shane and Max,” he said, holding up the application. He flipped through the papers. The relinquishment of Gigi Andersen’s parental rights, signed by two witnesses, both nurses. He shook his head.

“Shane and Max. Sawyer and Maddie. That can’t be coincidence.”

“I’ll go make up a bottle,” he said, unable to wrap his mind around that. “At the PD, we’ve watched training videos on assisting with births and newborn care, so none of this is all that unfamiliar to me.”

And honestly, he was grateful for the chance to slip away into the kitchen so that he could catch his breath. Take a breath. He scanned the directions on the small canister of formula, then added the powder and water to the bottle, shook it up and put on the correct nipple. He quickly made up the other bottle just in case the little guy’s brother woke up.

Cries coming from the living room—two different voices—indicated he had. Sawyer rushed back in, bottles in hand, and gave one to Maddie.

As he reached in to pick up the other baby, he glanced over at Maddie, leaning back against the sofa, feeding the infant, her expression so serene, so full of marvel. This is what she always wanted, he thought. All she wanted.

His chest squeezed and he focused on the other baby, gently lifting him out and settling beside Maddie with the other bottle.

Man, was this weird. You’re my nephew, he thought, watching the baby slurping the bottle quite contentedly, his blue eyes opening and closing as if he couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to be awake or asleep again. The baby was his kin, but nothing about this felt natural. Maybe because he and Cole had been estranged for the past couple of years. There had been times over the years when Sawyer had felt close to Cole no matter the distance between them, physical or emotional. But since that last time, when Sawyer had given Cole a place to crash for a few days and he’d stolen cash and a diamond bracelet that Maddie had inherited from her late grandmother, Sawyer’s heart had closed up to his brother. He’d felt done with Cole, the last straw.

And now this.

With the newborn cradled in her arms, Maddie reached into the bag and rooted around and pulled out a folded-up mat. “I think this little one needs a change.”

She lay the baby down on the mat and undid his wet diaper. She found a small container of cornstarch and gave his bottom a sprinkle, then found some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads and gently cleaned the umbilical cord area before putting on a fresh diaper. “I have no idea how I know how to do all this. Either instinct or common sense.”

Or you wanted to be a mother for so long and did so much research in preparation that it’s in your blood and bones and veins if not your memory.

Once the infant in Cole’s arms was done with his bottle, Maddie reached over for him as well and got him all changed, then they each sat on the sofa, just holding the twins, unable to even speak for a time.

“I guess we’ll hang on to the paperwork for a few days,” he said. “See if Cole returns.” He looked down at the baby in his arms, S for Shane and possibly Sawyer, then at baby Max in Maddie’s arms, M for Maddie. Their mother had signed away her rights. Their father had taken off. And here were Maddie and Sawyer, caring for them, all of a day old, for God knew how long. “I guess it’s fitting they’re named after us. If they even are.”

“Wow—we’ve got newborn twins to take care of.” She stared down at Max, then glanced at Sawyer. She seemed about to say something, but then didn’t. “Sawyer?”

He looked at her, shifting Shane in his arms just a bit. The baby didn’t even stir.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked. “I mean, taking care of the babies. Given...how you feel about having babies in the first place.”

“I do what needs to be done,” he said, then regretted it when he noticed the look on her face. A little disappointment, a little surprise, a little Jeez, really? “And they’re my nephews,” he added fast, “so of course I’m okay with it.”

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