He deserved Marisa’s vitriolic tirade. Ace knew that. Just as he knew he couldn’t expect her to fall all over him in forgiveness. But seeing her, experiencing her anger and pain all over again, tore him apart. He’d hoped, prayed, that she’d healed, that she didn’t hate him and wasn’t still hurting. Another unanswered prayer.

If his heart hadn’t already been shredded worse than a box of government documents, it would be now. But if absolution came from being shredded, beaten, stomped, he’d take anything Marisa had to dish out.

Ace sat inside his truck sucking on a cinnamon disk while he reread the file folder, searching for the name of Chance’s care center. Chance was an adult, not her minor child, and Ace was going to see him whether Marisa liked it or not. The man deserved no less than a face-to-face apology.

He found the entry, touched it with one finger. Sunset Manor. The name gave him the willies. Sunset, as if the sun was going down permanently on everyone in the place.

Not Chance. Please God, not Chance.

Though Ace was ten years older, he and Marisa’s brother had hit it off from the start. They’d shared a love for the outdoors, for all things sports and athletic. He’d taught Chance to ride horses. Chance had taught him the finer points of throwing a curveball. They’d both enjoyed fishing. And they’d had a blast.

Until Chance’s twenty-fourth birthday.

Squeezing a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t bawl like a two-year-old, Ace punched the address into his navigation system and followed the voice to a long, low-brick building.

The front of Sunset Manor was cheery with blooming rose shrubs, and the small lawn had been recently mowed. The back and sides were surrounded by a tall wooden privacy fence.

Was Chance sitting behind that wall in the sunshine, legs useless, wishing he was at a ballgame or fishing in one of Ace’s forty ponds? Didn’t Marisa understand? Ace could make those things happen. He could take Chance places, do guy things with him.

Or was Chance bedfast, helpless, unable to do anything at all? He’d been on the ventilator at first. Was he still?

Ace didn’t know, and the not knowing scared him as he parked and walked to the entryway. Through the glass, he saw a half dozen senior residents, most in wheelchairs, and most asleep. A sprightly lady in a vibrant pink duster scooted her walker right past the door without acknowledging him.

The door was locked, a security keypad to his left, but he didn’t know the code. He knocked on the glass.

A hefty woman in maroon scrubs and a nametag appeared from the dimness, pushed the inside handle, and leaned around the door. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to visit Chance Foreman.”

Her forehead wrinkled like folded bread dough. “Who?”

“Chance Foreman. I’m told he’s a patient here.”

“Sorry, hon. You must have the wrong facility. Try the others in town. If not there, he might be over in Rock Springs.” She pulled the door shut with a snap and a click and waddled away.

Puzzled, Ace returned to his truck to check the facility’s name and address. The big sign next to the street proclaimed this building to be Sunset Manor. Could there be another one? Maybe a Sunset One and a Sunset Two?

He located the PI’s number and tapped the keypad. The receptionist who didn’t like him much answered. He identified himself and asked for Jon.

“Mr. Buckley is out for the rest of the day, Mr. Caldwell. Call back in the morning.”

After hanging up, Ace tried another tactic. He entered, “nursing homes” into his Garmin, and the navigator returned three names and addresses in Clay City, one of which was Sunset Manor. He tapped the first of the two he’d yet to visit and pointed the truck in that direction.

Clay City wasn’t huge, and in less than thirty minutes, Ace concluded that either he’d been lied to by someone or Chance did not reside in any of the three care facilities in Clay City. Figuring lies were the most likely, considering Marisa’s animosity, and with his patience running thin, he drove back through town to Sunset Manor.

As he pulled into the parking lot, a familiar figure exited an older model red Corolla. The car looked familiar too. The same one she’d driven two years ago.

He’d been duped all right.

“Marisa.” He wanted to be mad at her, but he couldn’t muster the energy, and the truth was, he had no right. She, on the other hand, had every right.

She was still as pretty as a bouquet of flowers, and he experienced a twist in his chest at the sight of her. Even with a perky, brunette ponytail swaying against her shoulders, she looked worn down and exhausted. She was also a good ten or fifteen pounds lighter than she’d been two years ago. And she’d never been anywhere near heavy.

What had she been through in the past eighteen months? A living hell, he supposed, though he was unable to fathom the stress, the fear, the worry. Chance had been her whole world until Ace had come along. She’d raised her brother, taking him out of foster care when she’d turned eighteen and Chance was eleven. She’d fought valiantly to put him through school, to give him a better life.

When Ace had learned about her crazy childhood and how she’d battled to keep custody of her little brother, his admiration had known no bounds. Independent, strong, devoted. That was his Marisa.

From her reaction to his offer of financial assistance, she was still all those qualities. But she’d been vulnerable, too. Eager for someone strong in her life, someone she could lean on and love.

And he’d betrayed her with his bad-boy behavior.

Contrite, grieved, he prayed as he guided his truck into the parking spot next to hers. Praying for the words to say, for understanding, and for a calm he didn’t feel, Ace hopped out before she could spot him and rush into the locked confines of the nursing home.

He knew the minute she saw him. She paused, stiffened, and her once smiling mouth thinned to the point of disappearing.

Ace held out a hand, pleading. “Don’t go. Please.”

Her eyes, dark gray and sad, studied him as if he were a specimen she’d hoped wouldn’t grow on her Petri dish. “You always had trouble taking no for an answer.”

“I’m sorry about that. Sorry about so many things.” He held her gaze, though he was afraid of what he’d find there and let his own sorrow and grief pour out. Now might be his only chance. “I know you hate me. You have every right. But I need for you to know that I regret everything and anything I did that hurt you.”

She clutched a Walmart sack in one hand, crinkling it with the pressure. She didn’t reply. But she didn’t bolt either.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Ace went on, encouraged, “but I’d like to help you in whatever way I can, anything you decide is appropriate.”

“The best thing you can do is to leave us alone.”

He chewed on that, found it too bitter to swallow and rejected it. “Remember all those times I teased you about being a Christian, about taking your faith too far? I was wrong. Faith is the only thing holding me together these days. I suspect the same is true for you.”

Though wary and watchful still, something shifted in Marisa’s demeanor. She relaxed. Not a lot, but enough that he knew that she was listening and wouldn’t run away. For now.

She glanced at a large-faced watch on her wrist. “I have to be on duty in ten minutes.”

That wasn’t long enough. He had so much to tell her and so many words backed up inside him like a clogged pipe. He needed her to know about AA, about the changes he was making, the ones God was making in him, and he had to learn about Chance.

“Ten minutes then.” He could ask for more later.

He stepped closer. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back away. She wasn’t afraid of him. She just loathed what he stood for.

“Why are you doing this, Ace? Why couldn’t you leave us in peace? Haven’t you hurt us enough?”

He had. The sharp, jagged slice of that truth lacerated his very soul. But that’s why he was here.

One look through the deep windows to her soul, and he was torn between falling at her feet and pulling her into his arms. He wanted to touch her so badly, he could barely breathe. To hold her and promise not to ever let anything hurt her again. But he’d been her greatest source of pain. How did he protect her from himself when he couldn’t leave her alone any more than he could ever take another drink? He required her forgiveness the same way he required oxygen, a fact that scared him half to death.

He licked dry lips, blood pounding in his ears. He’d have a headache later, and he’d want a drink. Stress did that to him. But he couldn’t allow stress to win anymore.

Gently, praying she’d recognize his remorse, he asked, “I want to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ace.” Her voice was quieter too, not so angry, and the thrumming eased in Ace’s temples. “Chance is fragile. You’ll upset him.”

“Will you ask him? Let him make the decision?”

Another car pulled into the parking lot, and a door slammed. Marisa glanced in that direction. “I have to go in.”

She started to back away, and he did the unthinkable. He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her too-thin arm. She glanced down at the place where he held her and backed up again.

Ace dropped his hold. “What time do you get off?”

“Eleven.”

“Will you meet for coffee? Tell me what Chance says. Talk to me about him?” About you. But he didn’t say the last. She might take it wrong, and right now they were on shaky ground. Earthquake ground.

Marisa looked away, out across a parking lot of cars, all gleaming in the sunlight. Even the dirty ones. A tiny frown creased the spot between her eyebrows. He wished he still had the right to smooth it away.

Slowly, she shook her head. “There are some things that can’t be fixed. Chance is one of them. Go back to your ranch and leave us in peace.”

“Marisa—”

“I’ll give him your message, but don’t expect to hear from me.”

With a regal fling of her ponytail, Marisa walked away, leaving him right where he’d started. Guilty and broken with no way to repay his debt.

Marisa trembled as she entered the care center, her mind rolling with the last few minutes. She should have run the moment she spotted his truck in the lot, but Ace had seemed different, not the same cocky cowboy who knew he was attractive and used it to his advantage. He’d been repentant and humble, two words she would never have equated with the proud ranch owner.

Didn’t matter. He was who he was, and he’d done what he’d done. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to be fooled by him again. In theory, forgiveness sounded easy. Doing it was a whole other universe. Someone once said there was a fine line between love and hate. She got that. Big time.

She clocked in and made her rounds, saving Chance’s room for last so she could spend extra time there. Each time she came to work, the care center’s smell of disinfectant and urine got to her for a few minutes until she’d acclimated, ratcheting her compassion for those who lived here permanently. As a certified nurse’s aide, she’d worked in plenty of nursing homes, and only the very best managed to avoid the odor. She couldn’t afford the very best.

Outside her brother’s door, she paused to put on her happiest expression. She didn’t want him to know how upset she’d been since Ace’s appearance. He had enough worries. It was her job as the healthy one to protect him, control who came and went, decide his medical care, and make sure every order was followed. Rhonda, the RN, called her a control freak, but what did she know? Rhonda’s baby brother wasn’t paralyzed from the waist down.

When she pushed inside, Chance was seated in his chair, his back to her as he faced the exterior windows. Thank goodness he hadn’t stayed in bed again all day. But he stared out over the parking lot. Marisa tensed. Had he seen Ace?

“Hey, brother. You’re up! It’s a gorgeous day out there, isn’t it?” She straightened his rumpled bed as she talked, keeping her tone upbeat and cheery. “Sunshine. Blue sky. Fluffy clouds. Remember how we used to find pictures in the clouds? You were a master at finding the best ones.”

Her brother didn’t turn or join her falsely happy conversation. When they came, his words were low and tired. “I saw you talking to Ace.”

Marisa’s hands paused, sheets cool against her fingers. Her eyelids dropped shut. Chance had seen them. He’d have questions she didn’t want to answer.

“I sent him away.”

“How is he?”

She huffed. “Sober.”

“What did he want?”

The bitterness returned. “To make amends, he said. As if he could.”

“Did he want to see me?”

“He’s a fool if he thinks that’s going to happen. I told the nurse’s desk that he is not permitted in this building. You’ve been hurt enough by that man.”

Chance’s reply was silence. Since the accident, she never knew for certain what her brother was thinking. He refused to talk much, to share his feelings or ever tell her when he was in pain. Mostly, he sat and stared into space, depressed, bitter, lonely, and refusing to cooperate in his care plan.

She rounded his chair and crouched beside him. Gently, she took his hand. “Would you like me to take you out on the patio for a while? The sun is nice and warm, not scalding hot yet.”

“No.”

She sighed, a long, worried breath, suffering with him. “Chance, you have to try.”

“I hate it here.”

Obviously. “Give it time. We’ve only been home a few weeks. In no time, your old friends will learn you’re back, and you can reconnect. I could call some of them, if you’d like.”

He turned his face toward her. Her brother was a handsome, masculine man, his blue, soulful eyes and bright smile once enough to keep his cell phone pinging constantly. Now, he rarely smiled, and he couldn’t afford a cell phone.

“I don’t want them to see me like this. Ace already knows. He saw me in the hospital.”

An episode she didn’t want to rehash. “He’s the reason you’re in here.”

Chance lifted a hand and touched her hair. “Big sister, so fierce. You want to find him guilty and let me go free, but we both know the truth.”

“He was the adult. He should have stopped you.”

“I’m an adult, too. And I was then. Sometimes you forget that.”

The hornet’s nest of anger stirred to life. She leaped up, fists tight at her sides. “He should have protected you. He should have known you were in no shape to drive.”

Ace Caldwell had let her baby brother drive drunk, because he had been too drunk to take the wheel. He’d been passed out in the backseat when Chance left the road and rolled the truck. Ace had come away unscathed except for a well-deserved hangover.

“I hate this place.” Chance said, his tone tired and hopeless. “I hate being a cripple. I hate myself for being so stupid.”

“It was Ace’s fault. He shouldn’t have taken you out partying.”

Chance’s mouth twisted. “Some birthday present, huh?”

The words pierced her. She was his big sister, the closest thing to a mother he could remember, but she’d failed to protect him from the man she’d loved.

Chance sighed and went silent again, broody, his gaze far away. She wondered if he thought about running and playing ball, about the athletic things he’d once done but could do no more. She was sure he did, but she was afraid to ask.

Her pager buzzed, and she kissed his forehead and left to answer the call. By the time she returned, she had her emotions under control.

When she re-entered the room, this time to urge him toward the dining area for dinner, he refused. She’d known he would. Every night, she delivered his tray to this room while he hid away, too depressed to interact. At least today he’d talked to her. He didn’t always.

She wasn’t giving Ace credit for that.

“I was thinking.” He slowly, painstakingly wheeled his chair around to face her.

“Dangerous,” she joked. “Might burn out a brain cell.”

He didn’t smile, and she missed the bright, positive glow he used to exude.

“All you’ve ever done as long as I can remember is work and take care of me.”

“You’re my brother. I wanted you to follow your dreams, to go to college and have the things we didn’t have growing up.”

“And you did it, sis. I was finally on my own. You could finally, for the first time in your life, chase your own dreams. Now you can’t.”

“You’re the only thing that matters to me, Chance. Nothing else is important.”

“Ace was. You loved him ‘Risa, and he loved you.”

“He loved his liquor more.” But for a while, she’d thought he loved her as much as she’d loved him. She’d dreamed big, just as Chance said. And oh, the searing agony of loss, a double loss when he’d betrayed that love in such a tragic manner.

“You were happy. At long last, you had plans for you, for your future instead of mine. Now, you’re trapped again. Only this time, forever.”

“Don’t think that. I’m not trapped. I’m not.”

Her brother’s soulful eyes said he saw right through the protests.