Coming Home Read Online Free PDF

the same position. Even some of her old clothes still resided in the dresser drawers. She'd started crying all over again when she saw that her father hadn't allowed a thing to be changed about her bedroom.
    "It's not easy coming home again. Though, I guess you never really considered this home, since you spent most of the childhood with your mother."
    "The best part of my childhood was spent with my father," Nicole admitted. Not waiting for a reply, she slipped out the door and made her way to her father's room.
    Her father looked stronger, and was awake, watching for her as she entered. “Nicole, I didn't dream you."
    "No, Dad, I got in last night. How are you today?"
    "Better. Any luck with that ice cream?" he asked with a tiny tired smile.
    "Nope. And I'm not sneaking any in, either. You're going to follow the doctor's orders to the letter."
    "What a lot of nonsense. I have things to do, and I'm sure you do too. You don't need to be down here taking care of your old man."
    She smiled fondly and pulled a chair close to his bed to take his hand. He gently squeezed her fingers, silently offering her comfort, as if he knew just how afraid she really was.
    "How is Justin? Is he with you?"
    Nicole shook her head slowly. "No, he wasn't able to get away just now. I think he'll try to come down in a few weeks. He's very concerned."
    "He's alone in that mausoleum with Monica? God help him!"
    Nicole laughed as her father rolled his eyes. "I know you won't ask, but I'll tell you anyway...she was very worried when I told her about your heart attack."
    "But, I suppose, not so worried that she thought it was a good idea for you to fly down here and be with me, hmm? Don't bother to deny it. If I know your mother, and I do, her first concern was that you wouldn't be there to attend some hugely critical charity luncheon."
    Nicole shook her head. "No, truly, she was very concerned. I think part of her wanted to come herself."
    "Heaven forbid!" her father said, his eyes widening.
    Nicole saw the genuine horror on her father's face and laughed out loud for the first time in twenty-four hours. "Don't worry, I'd never let her."
    After the too-brief visit, Nicole left her father's room to find Wyatt leaning indolently against the wall in the corridor. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his tight, faded jeans. His black tee shirt fit him like skin and he stared down, as if intent on the toes of his scuffed leather boots. Nicole caught the long admiring looks two passing nurses gave him. When he slowly raised his head, glanced out the corner of his eye toward the woman, then stared full at Nicole, she knew he'd been aware of their intense scrutiny. He was amused by it. The boyish grin he gave her was so like the old Wyatt that it hurt her to see it.
    It quickly disappeared, however, as if he realized just who it was he was smiling at.
    "How is he?" Wyatt asked as he walked toward her.
    "Better. Laughing. More like himself."
    He nodded and fell into step beside her as Nicole returned to the waiting room. It was still deserted, but someone had brewed a pot of coffee and left it on a table near the window. Nicole filled a Styrofoam cup, lifting the pot and silently asking if he wanted one, too.
    “No thanks,” he replied. "So, were you serious about staying here until he gets back on his feet?"
    "Yes," she replied as she stirred her coffee and sat in an uncomfortable wingback chair. "It's the least I can do for him."
    Wyatt frowned. "What about your own practice? You can't just pick up and take off for what could be weeks...even months."
    So, he was displeased with the idea of her sticking around town? That was a positive side effect of her staying, she decided. "I work exclusively on my mother's ranch, and there's another full time vet on staff. I really don't have to answer to anyone. Not that it's any of your business."
    Though she tried to sound calm and smooth, Nicole saw the way her coffee sloshed in the cop and realized her hand was