“Fess up, asshole.” Ollie flicked the bottle cap he twisted from a beer at me where I was sitting out on the balcony of my loft.

I dodged it, not surprised to see him waltzing into my place like he owned it after I’d ignored the two calls he’d made this afternoon and the ten texts that’d come in after.

Dude was worse than a stage-five clinger.

“Fuck off, man.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “Such a foul mouth for a kiddie doctor. Shame. And here I thought you’d be classier than that. You sound like some kind of lowlife loser.”

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of the beer I’d been nursing for the last two hours. “Gonna blame that one on the fact I hang out with you. They say you are the company you keep.”

He dropped down into the lounger beside me, kicking out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He let out a satisfied sigh.

My brow lifted. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

He smirked. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Ruining my life?”

“Oh, come on, dude. You know you were just begging me to make a surprise visit when you ignored my calls, especially considering you showed up at my bar last night after you’d had dinner with the same chick who’d shot you down the week before. Far as I’m concerned, you were shooting SOS flares in the air. Man down. I came running.”

He sat up on the side of the lounger, elbows resting on his knees with his beer dangling between them. “So let’s hear it, because I’m pretty sure either my best friend has caught some kind of horrible disease or that heart of his is finally thawing out. Which is it?”

I exhaled heavily, eyes trained on the view that was basically exactly the same as the one from Olive’s balcony. Lights stretched out across the city, the river winding behind the buildings just on the other side of the street, carefree voices lifting from the sidewalk below.

My place was just a half block down from Ollie’s bar. It was located in another reclaimed warehouse that Rex’s company, RG Construction, had been hired to bring back to life. I’d been looking for a permanent place to call home at the time, and he’d told me he was working on a project that might interest me.

Even though it’d been nothing but bare bones and rotted wood when I’d viewed it, I’d bought it on the spot.

Pretty much for the view alone since the unit was located on the fifth floor.

Though, I had to admit that my pad turned out to be better than I could have imagined. A cohesive flow of rustic and modern, antique and industrial.

Rex and his crew were skilled, that was for sure.

Too bad the only thing missing from the view tonight was a redhead propped on a table. Like one of those hypnotizing sirens playing you for help when you were the one who was gonna end up dead.

I roughed a hand over my face, trying to clear the vision, to purge her from my mind.

“So,” he prodded.

“So, what?”

“So, why are you moping around like some kind of pathetic pussy when you had that gorgeous girl hanging on your arm last night? Even you have to admit, she’s way out of your league.”

I drove my fingers through my hair. “Guess maybe she is.”

“She send you packing?”

“Something like that.”

I knew I’d pushed her too far and too fast last night. Touching her, thinking it was the only chance I was going to get. But it’d felt impossible not to after what she’d confessed. It hadn’t even been all that much, but I could see the betrayal and hurt written all over her.

The fear.

Without a doubt, the piece of shit was the reason she didn’t think she had anything to offer.

All I’d wanted was to make her feel more.

Treat her like the queen she deserved to be.

Ollie sobered, rocking back when he finally caught the magnitude of my mood. “Whoa . . . you actually really like this girl.”

I sighed out some of the frustration that’d been nagging me all day. “I don’t fucking know. There’s just . . . something about her I can’t shake. She owns this little coffee shop and bakery right down the street from the new office. Stumbled in there last Monday morning, and I couldn’t stay away. And you know I sure as hell don’t have the time or space for a girl, but I was asking her out before I could stop myself.”

“So, last night was, like, a for real date?” He said it like the idea was a mystery dangling somewhere in the universe.

I rubbed my forehead before raking my hand to the back of my head. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Nah, man.”

One night.

It was the only thing either of us could afford.

“And why not? Because your mopey ass does not seem to be happy about it. Which doesn’t fit you, by the way.”

“You know why.” I angled my face away from him a fraction when I said it.

Normally, I was the guy who looked to the bright side. The one who found the good buried in the rubble. But there would always be this one part of me where the sun had gone missing.

That place that had gone dark and dim.

That place I didn’t have the capacity to revisit.

I could feel the weight of his frown. “That was ten years ago, Kale, and you know it doesn’t have a thing to do with that girl. You’ve got to quit blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. Quit thinking you can’t move on.”

My laughter was hard. “Not my fault?”

It didn’t matter that everyone around me had told me it wasn’t my fault. That I’d done everything I could. My heart had convicted me on the spot that I was the only one who should shoulder the blame.

“You made a mistake, man.”

A mistake?

“And someone died,” I spat.

The girl I loved fucking died because of that mistake.

Because I’d missed it.

Because I’d been too wrapped up.

Busy.

My guts clenched in pain. In the kind of regret that would never fade.

It was right at the second Ollie flinched with my statement. A lightning bolt that ravaged his body.

“Shit,” I muttered in apology, knowing where his mind had gone with the callus way I’d thrown it out there. Our situations were different, but in the end, we both were culpable for the same damned thing.

He’d sent his sixteen-year-old sister home from the lake in the middle of the night. Telling her she didn’t belong.

She hadn’t made it home that night.

That was the kind of guilt that could eat a man alive. Make him hard and callus and coarse.

Ollie lifted his head to the night sky. “We are a fucking pair, aren’t we?”

A low chuckle filtered free. “Yeah. Guess we are.”

He dropped his head back down to look at me, eyeing me seriously. “Don’t let the past keep you from today, man. I know you loved her, and I know a piece of you died with her. But what about the rest of you that’s still living? You’re the coolest fucking guy I know. You love with all you have. You give every part of yourself to your career and still manage to give more to the rest of us after there shouldn’t be anything left. You deserve to live, Kale. Really live.”

That was the problem. It was those dead, dark places that didn’t know how to move on. If I even wanted to.

Hope’s face flashed behind my eyes, and I wasn’t quite sure where the fresh bolt of regret was coming from.

The lump that rose in my throat was nothing but cragged, pitted rocks. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. Hope’s got her own shit.”

Standing, he drained his beer and then pointed at me with the same hand wrapped around the empty bottle. “Then pull her out of it.” He smirked. “And why don’t you pull yourself out of yours while you’re at it.”

* * *

It was Monday morning, and I sat at the red light, drumming my thumbs on my steering wheel as if it might keep me busy enough not to notice where I was.

Like I could drive right by and pretend the little coffee shop wasn’t tucked under the quaint, three-story building or keep the colorful umbrellas that were shading the small tables out front from singing out in welcome, begging me to stop in.

Hell, the little A-frame chalkboard sign literally read: It’s a beautiful day. We’re about to make it better. Come on in.

Motherfucking sunshine.

I accelerated through the intersection, a war going on inside me, knowing she was fighting one of her own. I tried to convince myself to let it go. To just man the fuck up and get to the office because God knew I had plenty to do.

Leave all this nonsense behind.

Because all Hope had given me was one night.

I kept my attention facing forward as I passed, the logo calling out to me where it was printed on the large plate glass window.

A Drop of Hope.

“Fuck it.” I whipped my car into an available spot and jumped out into the warm Alabama morning, probably a little quicker than necessary.

Like I said, pathetic.

My insides were nothing but a jumble of nerves, but I pasted on a smile and roughed an easy hand through my hair as I jerked open the door, figuring what the hell.

Some things were just worth a second try.

The bell jingled overhead, and movement rustled in the back. The door swung open, and Jenna rushed out while drying her hands on a dishtowel.

A little too eagerly, my gaze jumped around the small space, across the tables littered with people enjoying their morning coffee and a muffin rather than taking it on the go.

“You lookin’ for someone?” The question was delivered with an undercurrent of laughter.

I jerked my attention back to Jenna, who stood there grinning.

Like she didn’t know exactly why I was there. It was written all over me. “Just wanted to grab a cup of coffee before work.”

It wasn’t like I was going to admit it, either.

“Is that so?”

“It is the best coffee in town. It says so right there.” I pointed at the little plaque proudly affixed to the wall.

She grinned. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” She turned away and grabbed a large paper cup, talking as she did. “If I remember right, since you seem to just keep stumbling in for our award-winning brew, you prefer a regular ol’ cup of Joe. Nothing fancy.” She shot me a look from over her shoulder. “I mean, unlike your clothes and your car and that face.”

My chuckle was two-parts unease and one-part amusement. “Hey, I was born with this face.”

She turned back around, head angled in scrutiny as she slid the coffee across the counter in my direction. “Really. Here I was thinking it might have been cosmetically enhanced.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

Her eyes went wide. “Well, probably depends on who you’re talking to.”

I laughed again, this time lighter. “Which would you be?”

She leaned against the counter. “Depends.”

I pulled a ten from my wallet and passed it to her. “On what?”

“On what you’re really doing here.”

I pushed out a breath, eyes darting around, searching for that fall of red. “Is she around?” I asked. Clearly, Jenna already had my intentions pegged.

“No, she has an appointment this morning.”

Disappointment.

It was there in the way the anxious tension in my shoulders slumped in some kind of defeat.

That should have been warning enough.

“I love her like a sister, you know? So you probably should be aware I’ll happily cut your dick off if you hurt her.”

Apparently, I really was fluent in silent conversations. I’d gotten that one spot on.

“She’s the one who said she could only give me one night.”

“Did she?” Jenna handed me the change, looking at me like I was dense. “Or was that her asking you to be careful with her because she’s terrified of getting herself mixed up in another situation that isn’t healthy? But you need to know that when she tells you her life is complicated, she isn’t exaggerating or feeling sorry for herself. It’s because her life is really that damned complicated.”

I pushed out a sigh. “Last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

A puff of air shot from her nose. “That’s what they all say in the beginning, isn’t it? It’d be nice for a guy to actually prove it for once.” She headed for the back, sending a flippant wave over her shoulder. “See ya around, Sir Bryant.”

Laughter burst from my chest, and I pressed my fist over my mouth, shaking my head as I tried to keep it contained.

But with the thought of Hope talking about me to her friend?

It made hope come bubbling up inside.

Because maybe Ollie was right.

Maybe it was time for me to move on. And maybe Hope needed help moving on, too.

* * *

White lights glared from above. Blinding. The emergency room stark and barren and cold.

Arms aching.

Compression after compression after compression.

Desperation bursting in my blood.

Sweat ran down my brow and soaked the back of my shirt.

And I tried and I tried and I tried.

A flat line . . .

I sucked in a breath against the phantom hum of the machine.

That fucking flat line.

I gave a harsh shake of my head to clear the pictures from my mind and forced myself to focus on the chart I was studying on my laptop.

Telling myself not to freak the fuck out. This wasn’t the past trying to test me.

Taunt me and tease me.

This was shit that just happened.

Uncontrolled.

While doctors did their best to control it.

I’d come to accept it was cases like this that got me most, but that didn’t mean it didn’t shake me to my bones.

My eyes moved over the screen.

An eight-year-old boy who’d been born with a genetic defect that had required a heart transplant when he was an infant. That genetic defect had also affected other organs and caused complete deafness.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t constantly dealt with life-threatening issues in the ER.

But when kids had come through those doors, I either patched them up and sent them on their way or referred them to someone who specialized in what they were going through.

Or in the worst cases, which thank God were rare in this town, a child was rushed in, already so far gone there’d been nothing anyone could do.

Twice, I’d lost a kid on my table in the ER.

Both times, I’d thought I might lose myself.

That was somehow different. Part of this boy’s permanent care was being placed in my hands when I’d signed up to become a part of this team.

Evan.

Josiah’s best friend with the “bad” heart.

But I didn’t think Josiah understood the full extent of what that meant for Evan.

Another swell of dread tumbled through me, and I knocked it down, refusing it. Seemed the more time I’d spent with Hope, the more unearthed that feeling was becoming. That girl making me face the reasons why I couldn’t give myself wholly. The reasons I couldn’t risk it.

Why I had to keep my focus on what I’d devoted my life to.

But knowing it didn’t seem to make a difference. Not with the way I’d gone running into her shop earlier today. Not the way I just kept wanting more.

Because fuck.

Ollie was right. Maybe it was fucking time, and that scared the shit out of me.

Pushing to my feet, I forced myself to leave my office and get this over with. I knew that no matter how much this was going to affect me—make me remember—I was still going to pour myself into this kid and his case.

When I stepped out into the hall, my nurse was calling over her shoulder as she flew by. “Vitals are all logged. He’s ready for you.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled before I lightly knocked at the door with my knuckle, mentally preparing myself. I pushed open the door, ready to meet him and his family for the first time.

And my own heart . . .

It stalled in my chest.

Before it bottomed out and spilled onto the floor.

Breath gone.

Shock racing my veins.

Eyes wide as I tried to process the scene in front of me.

Because there was this adorable kid, sitting on the exam table, legs swinging over the side, kicking the heels of his shoes against the metal drawers.

Massive grin on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world. Or like maybe he had every care, and he embraced what life had given him, anyway.

He wore these thick glasses that made him look like a cute little bug because his sight had also been affected by the congenital malformations.

But his eye involvement hadn’t been nearly as severe as the defect of his ears.

His hearing loss complete and profound.

As profound as the deformity of his heart.

His chart had told me he’d had his heart transplant when he was six months old. The last-ditch effort that had saved his life.

When he sensed my presence in the room, his attention snapped my direction, his messy red, wavy hair flopping over with the action.

Attention landing on me, he grinned even wider.

The sight of it clutched me everywhere.

I had this instant, overwhelming sense of affection.

And fear.

So much damned fear I didn’t know how to process the two.

To make sense of the two of them together.

Because there was also his mother.

She was standing in the middle of the room. Like she’d barely just made it to her feet a second before I’d opened the door.

Gasping for air and backing away.

Clutching the business card with my contact information my nurse had undoubtedly just passed to her, the same way she did with every new patient I’d taken over for Dr. Browning.

Her horrified gaze bounced between me and the card and the fucking lollipops that were still in the basket, left like a tease or a prize or maybe an outright bribe, on the counter at the back of the exam room.

“Hope,” I breathed, my hand still clutching the knob, frozen in the middle of the doorway.

God. In all my hunting for crucial information in Evan’s chart, I hadn’t even taken note of his last name.

Everything came crashing down.

The things she’d said, and everything she’d implied. The fact she had nothing left to give and no time for herself because she was giving all her time to this little man who needed her most.

She swallowed hard and blinked at me as if she were begging me for something.

Problem was, I didn’t exactly know what that was, and I thought maybe she didn’t, either.

We stood there staring.

Held.

Bound.

The air between us alive. Thick and tense and aching.

Fuck. What was I supposed to do?

Finally, she broke the connection. She dropped her gaze and sank back into the chair.

Every single thing about her movements were riddled with anxiety. It was as if she was teetering between reaching out and stopping me and heaving all her hope and trust into my taking care of her son.

Because all those amazing things I’d been thinking about her?

They were suddenly right there.

Brought into the light.

Whole.

Flickering with the goodness I saw surrounding her every time I got in her space.

Her reason.

And that reason was right there, grinning this bright smile that lit the whole room.

Clearing my throat, I moved the rest of the way through the door and snapped it shut behind me. “I’m Dr. Bryant,” I said, feeling totally off-kilter.

Hope made a little choking sound, and my attention darted that way. Trying to tell her I was sorry for putting her in this uncomfortable position. That I had been caught just as much off-guard as she was.

Fuck, I had this intense urge to tell her that her son was everything that terrified me the most. What made me question and made me fight to be the best damned doctor I could possibly be.

“Dr. Bryant,” she whispered, as if she were processing that fact.

Cautiously, I went to the little wheeled stool and dropped down onto it, sucking in a breath as I used my feet to wheel closer to Evan.

I felt the frantic movement off to the side and behind me. For a flash, I cut my eyes that way.

Hope.

Hope was signing, her hands and fingers moving in this choreographed dance. The sight of it pierced me somewhere deep.

God. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

And I had no fucking clue how to process the turmoil raging inside me.

Evan smiled a wide smile at her, nothing but adoration and belief, before he was looking at me, freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. He lifted his hand, fingertips to his temple, drawing it out to the side in a wave.

“He said hello.” A hoarse explanation from Hope.

Which I got because my own throat had grown thick. I offered an awkward wave to this adorable kid.

And Evan.

He laughed.

It was a quiet sound that scuffed from the depths of him, a laugh from his belly that shook his entire body.

He reached out, all excited like, and grabbed my wrist, pulled my hand up, and showed me how to do it right.

I repeated it.

He smiled again, touched his chin, fingertips coming out toward me like he was blowing a kiss.

“Good.” I saw the word form on his lips when he did.

GOOD.

He was telling me I did a good job.

But I knew that was the furthest from the truth.

Because everything inside me was screaming that I’d already fucked this up beyond repair. Of all the people I couldn’t get involved with, Hope owned the number one spot.

Goddamned forbidden.

Because my insides were clenching and all those fears and inadequacies were rushing back.

A smile tweaked at the edge of my mouth, and I eyed him carefully as I spoke. “I bet you are way better at it than I am, though, yeah?”

He nodded enthusiastically, green eyes glinting beneath the lights.

A mossy, earthy green.

Just like his mom’s.

His hands suddenly went wild, speaking a language I was ignorant to. Somehow, it made me feel like some kind of illiterate asshole.

Tinkling laughter filtered from Hope, the woman so in tune with her kid that it sent a tumble of affection through the center of me. She shifted forward so she could look at me, her expression so damned soft as she said, “He said there’s no way you can keep up, but he might be nice enough to let you try.”

I turned back to him, cocked my head, mouth moving with the tease. “Is that a challenge?”

Another emphatic nod, the kid’s grin so wide I could have counted his teeth.

“Oh really . . . I’m the doctor here. You don’t think I can beat you at your little game?”

He made a gesture across his body, a swipe of his hand as he pinched his fingers together, his mouth moving in time.

NO WAY.

I hefted out a breath. That was what I thought.

Evan could read lips.

Of course, he could. This sweet kid who oozed love and faith and intelligence.

A kid whose chart promised he was fragile and breakable and weak, when really his spirit was big enough to fill the entire room as he prepared to outwit me.

“Well, then, I’ll do my best to keep up. How’s that sound?”

GOOD, he signed again.

And my insides were twisting again because I had no idea how the fuck I was going to get through this. But I had to suck it up, act like the man I’d been trained to be. How I was going to pretend I hadn’t had his mother propped on a table a mere three days before, touching her and wishing things could be different, was beyond me. One thing at a time, though.

Because this was the reality.

I was Evan’s doctor.

His doctor.

The one responsible for his care.

And I wasn’t about to fuck that up.

Stark lights. Cold. Barren. Flat line.

I jarred against the sudden vision, blinking the cruelty away, voice rough when I said, “All right, then, Evan. Let’s check you out.”

If I wasn’t paying such close attention, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the way he flinched.

Wouldn’t have noticed the fear that went racing beneath the surface of his skin.

Or the way his mother cringed in sympathy of it. Swore, I could feel her having to physically restrain herself from reaching out and gathering him into the safety of her arms.

This amazing woman so clearly desperate to shield him from the things she didn’t have the power to protect him from.

No doubt, he was no stranger to needles and pain or being poked and prodded.

Even though I knew he couldn’t hear me, I kept my voice soft, filled with assurance. “I already checked out your records, Evan. You don’t need any shots, and you did all your heart tests for Dr. Krane last month. That means, I’m going to give you a really fast checkup. Make sure everything’s going just right. No needles. How’s that sound?”

His trusting face flushed with relief, tension draining from his body.

While mine curled with the yearning to be able to take everything from him.

Make it better.

Promise him he would never hurt again.

Wishing I could be the hero I could never be.

Another part of me wanted to tease him about monsters growing in his belly. Make him laugh the way I did Frankie Leigh and my younger patients, but the boy was eight years old. If I did that, he would probably demand a new doctor because the one he’d been assigned had lost his mind.

Sounded about right.

“I’m going to take your shirt off, okay?” I made sure to keep my mouth in view of his eyes when I asked it.

Without any reluctance, his arms flew over his head.

I chuckled, reached down, and worked it over his head. Had to beat down the urge to ruffle my fingers through his hair when I did. “There we go,” I said, setting it beside him.

From behind and to the side, I could feel the weight of his mother’s stare against the side of my face.

Could feel the weight of her burden and her fear that I was sure never went away.

The anticipated prominent scar ran from the top of his sternum to about two inches above his belly button. I ran my fingers across his breastbone, palpating the area and familiarizing myself with his scars and the way his surgical wound had healed.

I moved back to make sure he could see my mouth. “Do you ever have any pain in this area? Anytime you’re playing or trying to sleep? Anything that makes you feel funny?”

He’d had a cardiology checkup with Dr. Krane recently. His chart affirmed his transplanted heart was functioning well. But as his primary care, I would cover all the bases.

That was what the clinic was all about.

Ensuring nothing was overlooked. If one doctor missed a sign, chances were, the next would pick up on it. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to miss it.

Evan gave an assertive shake of his head.

Clearly, he knew the importance of that answer.

“That’s good. Why don’t you lie back so I can check your belly?”

He didn’t hesitate. He shifted and laid on his back, and I stood over him, my fingertips checking his abdomen for any lumps or bumps, examining all the quadrants, watching his face for any kind of reaction. “Anything feel funny when I do that?”

He smiled when he gave another shake of his head.

And the examination continued that way. Like he was any kid who walked through my door. Which of course, I cared about every single patient I saw.

They were the reason I lived.

Why I devoted my life.

But this one . . . this one left me with a lump the size of a grapefruit in my throat and my heart battering my ribcage.

I stood over him, pretending like I didn’t want to drop to my knees and tell him I’d make it better if I could.

Pretending I didn’t want to say a million things to his mom and demand a million things of her in return.

Instead, I carried on like this was perfectly normal while tension I hoped Evan didn’t notice bounded through the tight space, ricocheting from the walls and echoing in the air.

Swore, I could taste the woman on my breath and hear her moan in my ear.

God. This was brutal.

I patted his knee when I finished. “All done.”

Rolling the stool to the counter, I set my laptop on it, cleared my throat, and tried not to really look at her when I started going over all the shit I normally did first with the parents but had been too shocked to focus on when I’d found her there.

I asked Hope about his diet and exercise and if she had any concerns while thousands of unsaid questions roiled between us.

I told her he was at the fifth percentile in height and weight, to be expected for his condition, that as long as he was eating well, it was nothing to worry about.

Right.

Nothing to worry about.

Because worry surrounded her like a dark, ominous cloud. But with a simple glance at her kid, that storm was obliterated with the force of a thousand suns.

“Thank you, Dr. Bryant,” she said, eyes downcast as if she couldn’t physically bring herself to look at me.

She stood, took Evan’s hand, and helped him down. She ran a tender hand through his hair and then signed something I didn’t understand.

He beamed up at her.

Clearly, she hung the little boy’s moon.

Watching it felt like I was being shredded in two.

I looked at him, trying to loosen my jaw. No doubt, he’d recognize if I was grinding my teeth.

“It was great to meet you, Evan. I . . .” I hesitated, suddenly feeling like a fool. Like maybe I was the brunt of a cruel, sick joke. So out of sorts, I had no clue how to decipher up from down.

Still, I didn’t want to treat him any different from anyone else, so I plucked one of the lollipops from the box and bent at the knees to offer it to him. “Here. This is for you . . . if your mom says it’s okay.”

His face lit up, and Hope choked over a tiny sob that I knew she was doing her best to hide. I paused, reluctant to turn and look her way. I’d told Hope that night that I didn’t know her all that well, but some things a person couldn’t miss. And I knew without a doubt that Hope was at her breaking point.

She’d warned me her life was complicated. I guessed I couldn’t really grasp what that really meant until right then when all those threads I could sense her hanging by started to weave together. Taking shape in my mind. The fact she was in the middle of a nasty divorce.

Dread settled over me like a sheet of ice, awareness taking hold. Suddenly, I was sure all that nasty had to do with the well-being of this kid.

Evan yanked at her arm, signed something quickly. Casting him a soft smile, she nodded, and he took the candy, grinning at it like he was in awe before he pushed past me toward the counter.

Hiking up onto his toes, he grabbed the pen and the pad with the clinic info at the top, tongue sticking out at the side in concentration as he scribbled something across the paper.

When he was finished, the beaming was directed at me, the kid getting under my skin as quickly as his mom had as he stood there with the pad of paper lifted up to me like an offering.

Unsure what to do, I glanced at Hope.

Her voice scratched. “He wants to be able to talk to you himself. Not through me. He said it’s a secret.”

My throat was nothing but sheers of broken glass when I accepted the pad. My eyes moved across the messy marks scored deep on the page.

My nod felt like a confession of a crime.

He grabbed it back and scribbled some more.

Emotion screamed through my throat. Racing the length. Winding down to fist my heart and crush my ribs. With a shaky hand, I took the pen from him and wrote my own message below his.

I thought he might be more alive than anyone I’d ever met.

His grin lit up the room when he read my answer. He gave me a thumbs-up. Apparently, he thought that was simple enough for me.

When I’d never felt so complicated in all my life.

Hope gathered him by the hand. She cast me a remorseful glance, those green eyes telling a million secrets that I knew she wouldn’t allow her tongue to speak. The two of them started out the door. Evan dashed out ahead of her.

Before she could make it all the way out, I snatched her by the wrist, unable to keep it back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It came out harder than I intended.

An accusation. A demand.

I didn’t know.

She spun around, all that red hair swishing around her like a red, violent wave. It was almost terror that rippled across her gorgeous face.

It wrenched through me.

Tripping me up.

Bringing me to my knees.

“What was I supposed to tell you? I told you what you needed to know. I told you my life was complicated, and I didn’t have room for anything else.”

“You could have at least told me you had a kid.”

Disbelief pinched her eyes together. “And what then? What difference would it have made? He’s my priority. My only priority.”

Her tone swung into desperation. “And right now, I’m fighting for him. I’ve been fighting for him since the second he was born, Kale. But this fight I’m in the middle of right now? It’s one I didn’t see coming. One that’s going to take all of me to win. Sacrifice.”

Instead of releasing her, anger tightened my hold, none of it directed at her.

“What does that mean?” The question hissed between my teeth as all those threads had suddenly laced together became clear.

Venom seeped into my veins.

The implications of her confessions.

“He wants to take everything from me.”

I suddenly understood what kind of fight she was talking about.

Motherfucker.

I could feel the emphasis of it twist across my brow. “He’s trying to get custody?”

Fuck. I didn’t even know who he was. But I hated him. Hated him more than I thought I’d ever hated anyone in my life.

And that shouldn’t be possible.

Her entire being winced, her chin trembling before she gave me a small nod. “The suit is asking for joint.”

She pressed her hands to her chest. “Which I know sounds fair to most people, but if you knew . . .” She inhaled a sharp breath. “If you knew how unfair that is to my son . . .”

I gritted my teeth, fighting the rage that bloomed in my blood.

She swallowed hard. “Do you get it now? Why I can’t do this? Why I can’t risk it?” Those green eyes moved across my face, searching for understanding.

And I got it.

I got it on every level.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t seething inside. Wanting to hunt the piece of shit down.

She blinked, like she was trying to break the connection, the band of understanding that stretched and pulled between us.

“We never should have done what we did, Kale. I shouldn’t have. That’s on me. It was selfish, but I wanted to experience it for a little while. Being with a man like you. But it was a mistake.”

It was.

I knew it was.

But I wanted to counter her claim.

Refute it.

Tell her I’d just been getting started.

But Evan was my patient.

My fucking heart-transplant patient.

“Shit.” Dropping my hold and the power of her gaze, I ran a frustrated hand through my hair.

“Shit,” I mumbled again.

What had I done? How could I have let myself get into this position again? But that was the way it happened. Without your knowledge. Without your permission. You got caught up, and before you even knew it, you were in deep.

Swept away.

Hope reached out to caress my jaw with her fingertips.

Sweet.

Soft.

Heat.

Her lip trembled as she traced across my chin before she tilted her head and looked up at me with the warmth of those green, earthy eyes.

Need and something else I didn’t want to recognize tumbled through my body, a flare in my spirit that lit.

“I told you I’d never forget that night. I meant it. But now . . . now I’m going to walk away and pretend it didn’t happen, and I’m going to trust you to take care of my son.”