I woke wrapped around Ana’s body. Her brown hair fanned out across my chest. It was funny how life had come full circle. This was Sparrow’s room. The same room where she’d insisted I play dolls. I’d refused until she let me bring GI Joe over to be Barbie’s husband.

It had started out the same every time. She would insist that we get married, or at least our dolls would. I kept reminding her that my “doll” was an action figure, and he’d never do anything as sissy as get married. She always told me that I was wrong and someday I would marry her.

In all honesty, I probably would have never married Sparrow—she was too strong-willed and stubborn—but even at eight years old, I liked that she wanted me.

I rubbed Ana’s back and wondered what kind of life Sparrow would have had if she’d survived to be Ana’s age. Would she be married? Would she have children? The could-have-beens filled me with regret. Regret that I had to let go if I were to have a life of my own or share my life with another.

Mona was right; I had to let it go. I had to forgive myself, and I had to forgive a four-year-old girl who couldn’t have known what would happen when she followed me into the garage.

I slipped from beneath Ana’s body. The poor thing was exhausted. Standing above her, I looked down at her beauty and perfection. Ana Barrett was perfect for me, and I planned to let her know that every day of my life.

An hour later, I was sitting at the edge of Mona’s bed. She was threatening mutiny if they didn’t release her soon, but her doctor believed another day of observation would be wise. Not only had she sprained her ankle, but she’d also taken a good hit to the head.

“I had the weirdest dreams,” she said. “Sparrow was here holding my hand and talking about cannolis.”

“That was Ana and Grace talking about cannolis, and they turned out to be amazing.”

Mona sat forward too fast and grabbed her head. It was confirmation that another night in the hospital was wise. “You had cannolis and didn’t bring me one? I taught you better.”

I pulled a Snickers bar out of the breast pocket of my flannel shirt. It wasn’t a cannoli, but it was what I had to offer. Mona had a sweet tooth, and I’d stopped at the vending machine on my way in. “I didn’t come empty-handed. I brought you this.” I held the candy bar out like an olive branch hoping that she’d take it as a consolation prize.

Mona lifted her hand to my cheek. “You’re a good one, Ryker. I don’t care what anyone says.” Gone was the strong woman I’d always visited, and in her place was a frail old woman I didn’t recognize. This Mona had to get better, so the Mona I knew could go home.

“I thought everyone sang my praises.”

“There are a few.” She looked toward the door like she was hiding something, then tore the wrapper to the candy bar and took a bite.

“Snickers for breakfast?”

“I had to eat this. You were all out of cannolis.” The ornery Mona I knew was back. “Where is Ana?”

I thought back to her lying on my chest this morning. How had I gotten to that point with her so quickly? One moment I was telling everyone who would listen that I didn’t do relationships, and the next I was spending every minute with the woman.

“I left her asleep in bed. She was exhausted.”

“Youth … wasted on the young. If I woke up to a yummy thing like you in bed, I’d never be able to sleep. Show me those abs.” She poked a finger into my stomach.

“You’re such a cougar. How did you stay single all these years?” Mona had been quite attractive when she was younger. Pictures hung in her house showed a pretty girl with light hair and big eyes. By the time we’d met, she was in her fifties but still attractive. I imagined if I were a geriatric man looking for love, she’d be at the top of my list.

“I always thought differently than most. My generation was all about getting married and having babies. I went into one of the few professions women were allowed to enter without getting looked down upon.” She licked the melted chocolate off her fingers. “I guess you could call me a forward thinker. I wanted more than marriage and babies.”

“Do you ever regret not marrying or having children?”

“Yes and no.”

I moved from the edge of the bed to the chair next to it. “Explain.”

“I regret not having children because it gets lonely, and you’re not around to tease all the time. I don’t regret not getting married. It’s not because I don’t believe in marriage—I do, but I believe life should be savored, and I couldn’t decide on one flavor, so I tried them all over and over again.” She waggled her almost white brows. “Variety, they say, is the spice of life. Let’s just say that I refused to limit myself to one bite when I could enjoy a veritable buffet.”

“Mona,” I said with mock shock, “were you a ho?”

Her voice went straight to teacher mode, and that I’m-sending-you-to-the-principal’s-office look crossed her face. “Do I need to ring the nurses’ station and ask them to bring me a bar of soap to wash out your dirty little mouth?”

Leaning forward in my chair, I said, “No, do I need to ask the doctor to come in and give you a penicillin shot just in case you contracted a venereal disease while you were tasting all the flavors?”

Mona curled in her lips between her teeth to stifle a laugh. “Call me uncharacteristically cool for an old broad. Now tell me about you and Ana. Is it serious?” Her look went from teasing and playful to thoughtful.

It was hard to define what Ana meant to me. “I’d say it’s about as serious as a guy like me can get.”

“You mean a wonderful, kind, and giving man like yourself?” She laid her hand over mine and squeezed. “Ryker, don’t sell yourself short. You have so much to offer her. Just open your heart and let her in.”

“I have, and it terrifies me.” I dropped my head, not wanting her to see the fear in my eyes. Loving Ana was the riskiest thing I could do in my life. She had the power to eviscerate me because she had filled my empty heart. What would happen if she vacated that space? Would it shrivel up and die again, and if so, would I die with it?

“Never be afraid to love, Ryker. Love is the most powerful emotion. Let it wash over you and fill you with its healing powers. Nothing can conquer love. Not hate. Not anger. Nothing.”

I hung on to those last words. Somewhere deep inside, I knew she was right that love could conquer everything.

After another thirty minutes of chitchat, I told Mona that Nate and I had a lunch date and left.

When I arrived at the hardware store, Nate wasn’t there, which was weird because Nate was always at work in the family business. I approached his father at the cash register and asked him where I could find his son.

“I sent him out to Bob Tucker’s place an hour ago to deliver the new barbecue igniter switch Bob had ordered, but he hasn’t returned. I’m getting worried.”

“I’ll take a ride out there and see what’s got him hung up.” It wasn’t unusual to get caught at old man Tucker’s. He had about a thousand war stories in his eighty-year-old head waiting for a listener, and Nate was too nice to tell him no. I was near certain I’d find him on the porch drinking cold coffee while listening to the old man tell him about the good ole days.

When I turned onto County Road 19, my certainty tanked. Up ahead were the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. Lots of them.

The closer I got, the heavier my chest became. I hated the flashing lights of the ambulance. I’d seen enough of those in my lifetime. It was when I saw Nate’s motorcycle all smashed up and twisted around a tree that I really started to panic.

Lying on a gurney in a bloody mess was my best friend. I raced to him, but the paramedics pushed me away. They were yelling out vital signs and pushing a needle into his arm.

“Will he be okay?” The words choked out of me like a guttural cry. The next voice I heard made my blood boil.

“That’s what happens when you drink and drive.” Officer Stuart stood next to me chewing on a toothpick. “That boy surged past me going way too fast. His bike was all over the road. I saw the whole thing. One minute he was on the bike, and the next, he was wrapped around the tree.”

The one thing I knew about Nate was that he’d never be drinking and driving. Hell, the man rarely drank, and if he had more than one, he always called a cab. This was no accident, and this son of a bitch had something to do with it.

“I hope he makes it,” the sheriff said, but I wasn’t sure the concern in his voice was genuine. “It would be such a tragedy for you to lose someone you care about.”

There was a message there for me. One I got loud and clear. Junior blamed me for his father’s death. He’d been waiting for years for a payback. “You asshole.” I turned and gripped the sheriff’s shoulders and pushed him backwards. “You fucking ran him off the road, didn’t you?”

By the sinister smile that took over his ugly face, I was certain I was right: He hated me enough to hurt Nate. “Boy, get your hands off of me, or I’ll take you in.” He shrugged out of my grip and walked to his squad car. “Your energy is best spent praying for your friend and looking after that pretty little woman you have fooled. I hear accidents are contagious.” The sheriff climbed inside his vehicle and turned off his emergency lights as if his job was finished.

The wail of the sirens split the air around me. I raced to my car and followed the ambulance to the hospital, hoping and praying the entire time that Nate would survive.