I found her in the deserted chapel. Cast in shadows, the quiet space was illuminated only by the candles that had been lit and remained flickering through the deepest hours of the darkest night.

She was in the very front. On her knees. Red hair all around her where she had her head bowed forward.

That sweet body was shuddering and heaving with silent, wracking sobs.

I wondered if any distance could come between us when I might not be able to hear it.

Because I’d heard her through those six excruciating hours it’d taken to be released from the small city jail. My charges dropped, my assault labeled defense of a patient.

The whole time I’d felt like I was losing my mind because I’d heard it in my ear. Heard it in my heart.

I’d heard it through time and space and miles.

Her grief thick and profound.

Ingrained in me.

Marked in me.

I took another step forward.

Energy raced across the floor.

Saw it the second it slammed into her from behind. The way her spine jerked in awareness and that feeling rushed out in front of me.

Thick and heavy.

I took another tentative step forward. I might as well have been wading through quicksand, my steps laboring and heavy and slowed.

Going nowhere.

Or maybe I was just wading through honey.

Sweet, sweet heat.

I took another step down the middle aisle, and she jarred forward, bracing her hand on the floor in front of her as she gasped for a breath.

Swore, the flames on the candles shivered where they licked.

Two feet behind her, I came to a stop.

“Hope.” Her name was a tortured murmur.

She choked, and all I wanted was to wrap her up. Hold her and make her all the promises I’d wanted to make all along. Knowing if it did, they would only be lies.

She rose on her knees, her hands flattened to her chest like that action was the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart. “It hurts so bad, Kale. So bad.”

My throat was clogged, so goddamned tight and thick I could barely speak. “I should have recognized it. Seen it all along. It’s my fault.”

“No.” It left her on a harrowed breath.

“Yes. I should have seen it. Just like I should have seen it in Melody. But I was too caught up, Hope, too caught up in what I felt for you.”

Because of it, I’d done exactly what I’d promised myself I’d never do again.

I’d failed.

Old grief slammed me so hard that I rocked forward. Unable to stand beneath it, I sank down onto the front pew off to the side of her, elbows on my knees as I leaned forward, my face in my hands.

I could feel her peering over at me. Could feel the weight of her unwavering gaze. “You were there when we needed you most. You came back. Right when we needed you.”

Bile swam. “It never should have come to that. I should have caught it the first time he came into my office. Instead, I spent the whole time thinking of touching you.”

Wanting her.

Wishing for things I couldn’t have.

I could sense her shifting on her knees, turning to face my direction. Disbelief oozed out on her words. “You’re really gonna sit there and make that claim? After everything we shared? After the way you treated him? Like he was somethin’ rather than nothin’? Like he might be your world the way you became ours?”

Grief stalked my throat, burning and choking. “I wanted to save him, Hope. I would have given anything. And now he’s—”

Barely clinging to life.

I bit down on the words. Unable to even say them even though we both knew exactly what I’d meant.

He was barely clinging to life.

I’d gone straight to the ICU when I’d been released. Dr. Krane had just been leaving when I’d walked in. His expression had been . . . grim.

Worse than grim.

He’d touched my arm and promised me he’d done everything he possibly could. He hadn’t filled me in like Evan was just another of my patients. His tone had been cautious, filled with sympathy I actually knew the guy truly felt, the jargon slim.

But I knew well enough what lay in his words and Evan’s chart.

Evan had little chance of making it through the night.

A panicked regret swelled, constricting and suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. “I tried.”

I’d tried to save him.

Had tried to save Melody.

And it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

I would never, ever be enough.

Her soggy plea filled the air. “Don’t you dare give up on hope, Kale Bryant. Don’t you dare. Not when we’re finally free.”

I forced myself to look up at her.

At this girl who had changed everything.

Green eyes and red hair and dimpled chin striking in the glow of the candles that sent shadows flickering across her gorgeous, unforgettable face.

The best thing I’d ever seen.

And that spark in the deepest part of me, the one she’d ignited, lapped and danced and begged.

I forced myself to stand, my smile weak. “I think you have enough faith for the both of us, sweet girl.”

I’d no longer be the one who threatened it.

I swallowed around the misery. “No matter what happens . . . don’t ever lose that. Don’t ever give up on hope. It’s the brightest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I turned on my heel and started up the aisle.

I could feel her pushing to standing, her presence powerful as it slammed into me from behind, her words choked and rasping, “Don’t you dare, Kale Bryant. You promised me.”

I kept walking.

“I need you.”

I need you. I need you. I need you.

Melody’s voice twined with Hopes.

Torment.

Torture.

Agony.

I came to a standstill, breaths panting from my lungs.

“Who is it you’re running from Kale? What are you afraid of? That the girl you loved was Evan’s aunt? Their hearts? Or are you just afraid of lovin’ me?”

I tried to stand upright under the crushing weight of the grief that surged and raged and slammed.

I forced myself to look at her from over my shoulder. “I’m afraid of what I’ve been afraid of all along. That I would never be enough. That I was chasing after something I couldn’t have.”

Seeing the heartbreak wash over her face, I turned back around and rushed for the door.

Needing to get out of there before I fell at her feet.

Before I begged her to let me try to be that guy I’d been pretending to be all along.

But that guy had only hurt her. Fucked up time and again.

I squeezed my eyes closed when her voice pierced me from behind. “The only way you can fail me is by walking away.”

Grief clutched me in its fiery hold. Incinerating. Blistering.

Ash.

When I tore the door open to escape, I knew that was all that was left of me.