Making my way across town and finding the Brooks Easy Living Building was easy enough, as was riding the elevator up three flights and walking down the narrow hallway to the door marked with a chipped brass plate that reads 6C.

Another, slightly less chipped brass plate beneath the number reads Beyers. Maybe Ella just moved to this apartment and the landlord hasn’t gotten around to changing her name.

What isn’t easy is lifting my hand to knock on the cheap door. Ever since Ella called and told me she needed my help, well before that really, one horrible situation after another has been playing through my mind. It doesn’t help that it’s fueled by an overactive imagination which occasionally likes to mix reality with a little dash of horror.

As desperately as my need is to see Ella, to assure myself that’s she’s okay and in one piece, I’m equally terrified of what I’ll find on the other side of this door.

Bracing my shoulders, I lift my hand. My fingers curl into a ball. I take one more deep, steadying breath and rap on the pseudo-wood.

Stepping back, I position myself so that my face is visible through the peep hole and try not to look overly worried.

I don’t have to wait long. A few seconds after the echo of my knock fades, I hear the faint slap of feet against linoleum followed by the rattle of locks. The door opens in, revealing Ella’s pale face.

She looks like she just got out of the shower. Her damp hair soaks the over-sized plain maroon T-shirt she’s wearing. Fresh comb marks still show against her scalp, though the ends have started to dry and curl. The combination of pale skin and the dark shadows beneath them make her eyes look huge, too big for her delicate face.

One hand clutches the edge of the door. The other holds an enormous, gray, short-haired cat to her chest.

A tidal wave of relief crashes over me, nearly buckling my knees. She’s upright and mobile. So far so good.

“Jason.” Ella maintains her grip on the edge of the door but steps back, making room for me to come in. “You made it.”

I obey her silent invitation and cross the threshold into her apartment. “Whenever you call,” I tell her, “I’ll always come running. No matter what.”

Even as I say the words, I wonder if she fully understands just how true they are.

While Ella closes the door and relocks the deadbolt and fastens the security chain, I use the time to study my surroundings.

The place reminds me a lot of the apartment I shared with Daryl and two other guys my junior and senior years of college. Of course, we didn’t have a cat, and instead of childish pictures of unicorns, and butterflies, the art hanging on our refrigerator had been photos of bikini clad women. The pile of shattered ceramic on the floor is similar though. I don’t even want to think about how many dishes we managed to break.

There’s no door between the living room and kitchen. So I study that room as well. Even though the furniture looks like it was purchased at a thrift store or found on the sidewalk, the way it’s arranged gives the impression that Ella has made an effort to make the place as comfortable as possible.

What I don’t see is any sign that Ella has been attacked. Temper spikes through me. Since discovering she’s been missing, I’ve been going out of my mind with worry, scared that I’d done something wrong, that I’d frightened her into leaving me, and that in her haste she was attacked, or worse.

As grateful as I am that she’s not harmed, that she reached out to me, that relief does nothing to counterbalance the fact that she took off without a word and, when she did decide to contact me, she didn’t bother telling me what had happened, just demanded that I drop everything and rush right over here to see her.

I slowly turn to stare at her. “What do you think you’re playing at?” My voice sounds remarkably composed given how furious I am right now.

Her hold on the cat tightens. Her brow furrows. Right now she looks more like the twenty-one-year-old I met in Florida than she did yesterday or this morning. “Playing at?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised.” Temper leaks into my words. “First you lead me on this morning, then you what? Pretended to be sick just you could run away. Then what happened? You thought about everything you were missing out on and decided that you wanted to see just how much control you had on me? Decided to snap your fingers and see if I’d come running? Well, guess what sweetheart, I’m here. So, now what? What’s the next step in this little game you’ve decided to play?”

Ella’s mouth opens and closes a few times. Her eyes widen and fill with tears. Her fingers grip the cat’s fur, causing the animal to squirm in protest. She bends and places him on the floor. When she straightens, her jaw is set and her eyes are clear and dry.

“You have every right to be angry,” she says in carefully measured words, her tone revealing nothing about what’s going on inside her head or her heart right now.

“You’re fucking right I do.”

She raises a brow, as surprised by the fact that I swore, something I rarely do, as I am. Good. Maybe it will help her understand how badly she scared me…and give her an inkling of what she means to me.

“But I have my own reasons for what I’ve done. Good reasons.”

“Uh huh.”

Ella stares at me for a moment and seems to be considering something. “Wait one second,” she finally says. She doesn’t wait for me to respond before pushing past me and going into the living room.

Still seething, I turn to watch her.

She steps around a corner, moving out of my sight for a split second. When she reappears, she’s holding a small, flat item. She hands it to me.

It’s a simple silver frame, the kind you can get from Wal-Mart for just a couple of bucks. The photo inside is a pretty little girl, with pigtails on either side of her head, a heart-shaped face, and a gap-toothed smile that looks like it shines brighter than the sun. She’s lying on her belly across a swing, staring straight at the camera with very familiar eyes.

I don’t need to ask whose child she is. The smile is unfamiliar, but the eyes are one hundred percent Ella’s.

Blood roars in my ears. I hand the photo back to Ella, my hand shaking slightly. “You have a little girl.”

Ella takes the photo from me. She stares down at it, but her mouth doesn’t soften into a smile the way most parents do when they talk about their kids. Unshed tears shine in her eyes.

“I do,” she confirms, even though she doesn’t have to. “Her name is Kelsey. She loves cats, horses, stars, and science fiction. She laughs all the time.”

“Sounds like a great kid,” I mutter, still trying to process the fact that Ella is a mom. Since she hasn’t said anything and there’s not a single masculine touch in this apartment, I’m assuming she’s a single mother. But a kid! That’s a big deal. And one I haven’t planned for.

Ella sniffs. Her grip on the picture frame tightens until she’s holding onto it like she’s drowning and it’s her lifeline. “She is. But—“

I really don’t like the sound of that ‘but’.

“She’s not doing so well,” Ella continues. “She was born with a severe heart condition. The doctors didn’t think she’d live, but she beat the odds. But her heart still isn’t good. It gets checked out twice a year and each time, it’s a little worse.”

Pain lances through me. No one should have to go through life with an iffy heart, especially not a kid, and certainly not Ella’s kid.

“And seven months ago, she developed diabetes. The doctors think it’s a result of her heart condition.”

Dear God is all I can think. I bow my head and wonder how the world can be so unfair.

“Jason.” Ella touches my arm and I look up into her eyes. They’re shining strangely. “In three months, Kelsey turns seven years old.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in and a second longer for my brain to do the quick math.

“Wait a minute,” I say, my mind grappling for an answer that it’s not ready to accept. “Are you saying that…” I can’t bring myself to say the words.

I take a deep breath and try again. “Is—” I gesture to the photo in Ella’s hands. “Is she, Kelsey…” once again the words won’t come.

“Yes,” Ella says solemnly. “She’s yours. That’s what I needed to tell you, before I lost my nerve.”