Walker did the dog and pony press show with pictures of the wedding party. To his surprise, everyone was there. Even Kurt and Marissa.

Grant stood on the edges of the party, his hands in his pockets, alert. It felt like he was ready to fight if Walker needed backup, and Walker appreciated that.

Sure, after the big blowout last night, Walker had taken a run. How long had he run? Who knew—five, ten miles? He just ran until he could deal with it all. At the end of the run, he knew what he would do: complete the mission and be gone forever.

This morning, there had been no interaction with Scarlett. He’d put on his soldier face and pretty much ignored her, except for posing for the pictures. Who cared about this? Who cared about how much he’d actually cared for this woman? He hadn’t really been falling for her. No, he’d been infatuated. That was it. She’d been his time filler. Now, he would get a nice and tidy deed for the lake house and go back and row.

The thought didn’t sound so appealing anymore.

Last night, Walker had had a million dreams about Scarlett. About being in the helicopter with her, about laughing and riding the Ferris wheel, about building sandcastles on the beach. The worst dream had been the one in which he’d been on the beach of her lake house, barbecuing with all of his brothers and their families. He’d been at the grill, but this time, when she’d wrapped her arms around his back, she’d felt different.

When she’d turned to face him, she’d been pregnant. Happiness had surged through him. He’d lifted her and twirled her, and she’d laughed. Then he’d kissed her, and it’d felt like the most true and real and wonderful thing he could ever imagine.

He’d woken up abruptly and lay there, staring at the ceiling of the cabin as emptiness swallowed him up again. He’d remembered her saying it had all been fake.

So he would finish the mission. He would finish this, and he would be done. He would go back to … what?

Presently, he did a pose, holding the best man by his feet. All of the groomsmen put on fake happy expressions.

Yep, this was what this life was. This was what everything had been the past few days—fake.

After the pictures, he left the group, not bothering to look at Scarlett, who had been nothing but an “actress” all morning.

He and Grant walked toward the area where all the chairs were set up for the ceremony on the beach. It wouldn’t be long before this was finished. This whole thing would be over.

Grant gestured to the resort restaurant. “Let’s go chill and talk for a bit. It’s going to be an hour before it starts.”

Walker stood with Grant at the bar by the dock, and Grant got them two waters. Both of them drank deeply. The day was already hot, and this tuxedo didn’t help.

Grant leaned on the bar next to him. His dreadlocks brushed against Walker’s shoulder. He was focused, analyzing him. “What are you doing to do?”

Walker let out an annoyed laugh. “I’m going to stay for the ceremony, get a dance, then I’m going to walk away.”

Grant sized him up. “Look, I don’t know what happened the past couple of days between the two of you, but I know you were pretty upset she called it fake last night.”

Walker turned and looked at the ocean. He let out a long breath. “You gonna give me some advice, bro? You gonna tell me some eternal wisdom you think I need to hear from you?” Sure, he was being a jerk, but he didn’t care.

Grant shook his head. “Nope.”

“Good,” Walker said quickly, hating all this anger he felt. Hating how hurt he felt. Hating that he’d had that stupid dream last night.

“I talked to her last night,” Grant said quietly, staring out at the ocean.

Walker didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know. But he had to know. It was a need. “So what?”

Grant scoffed and took another sip. “O-kay.”

Both of them stood there for a few more moments, not speaking.

Finally, Walker finished the water and plunked the ball onto the counter hard. “You better start talking before I slam that pretty face into the wall and you can’t act anymore.”

A small smile played at the edges of Grant’s lips.

Walker shoved him in the shoulder. “Speak!” It was what they’d always done to each other since they were little and had a dog and laughed at how the dog would bark when they said it.

Grant still smiled. “You really want to know?”

The one quality he hated about Grant was his smugness. “If you don’t tell me what the heck she said, your butt will be on the ground in T minus zero seconds.”

Grant laughed. “Touchy, bro. Hmm, it seems you might care more about Scarlett than you’re letting on.”

Walker could feel his blood boiling, and he thought how good it would feel to introduce his fist to his brother’s face.

“Fine.” Grant threw his hands up. He cleared his throat and looked both ways before leaning in. “She was a wreck last night. When I went to her room, she spilled her guts about everything between you guys—the carnival and soap carving.” Another smile played at his lips.

Walker wasn’t in the mood for the teasing. He glared at him.

“She said she fell for you. She fell hard. But the cancer’s back, and she needs another surgery.”

Stumbling back, Walker braced himself on the bar. He’d heard them say she had cancer, but he hadn’t processed she would need another surgery.

Grant stepped to him, putting a hand of support on his shoulder. “Shh, bro, don’t freak out. She’s okay. She’s fine. The doctor just expected all the cells to be gone, but they’re not. So …”

It was like all the air had whooshed out of Walker. He couldn’t breathe for a second. He couldn’t speak. He—

“Breathe!” his brother commanded him.

He sucked in a breath and knew he was spiraling. “Get me out of here,” he whispered.

Grant took him by the arm, swiftly moving out of the opening by the dock, and rushed him toward his cabin. “What the hell is happening, bro? Do we need to go to the doctor?”

“No!” Walker’s brain was fuzzy, and it felt like bricks were stacking on the center of his chest. “Just get me to my cabin.”