“Nick, please understand . . .” She trailed off. What could she say, he thought snidely.

“I should have your credentials revoked,” he snapped.

Her eyes widened and a new fear entered her eyes. He knew what her career meant to her, knew how much time and effort she’d put into it. It was a low blow, but he was pissed.

“Please don’t do that. I never once tried to impede your care,” she told him.

“What about my mental health? Does that mean nothing to you?” he growled. He took a threatening step toward her. She stood her ground and took the lashing almost as if she felt she deserved it. Maybe she did―maybe she didn’t. He couldn’t think clearly enough to know the difference.

“Yes, of course. But I didn’t know. I was hurting, too. It was my brother on that helicopter with you,” she said with a hiccup.

“And don’t you think I question myself every single day?” he yelled. “Don’t you think I miss my crew? I would have gladly sacrificed my life if it would have meant bringing back my team.”

“I know that now. But at the time I didn’t,” she sobbed.

“You could have asked me. You could have taken the time to talk to me, instead of making your damn assumptions. Now, we all lose and the memories of my crew were drug through the damn mud because of your family vendetta.”

He took a step back, afraid he was going to reach out and shake her. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this anymore. The past week had put him through the ringer, and he was done with it all.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Just go, Chloe. Get the hell out of my life.”

He turned and walked away, her sobs almost in tune with his steps. When he made it around the corner, he punched the wall, blood instantly leaking out of his knuckles from the force of his hit.

“That’s not going to help.”

The quiet voice made him spin around. His thunderous expression did nothing to intimidate his uncle, who was looking at him with bemusement.

“This isn’t the right time to talk to me, Sherman,” he snapped.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, boy,” Sherman told him, steel running through his voice.

Nick instantly backed down. He loved his uncle, and no matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t take it out on him. Not after everything Sherman had done for him and his brothers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, some of his anger draining. He could feel blood dripping from his fingers. He didn’t care. He’d rather feel physical pain than the suffocating pressure pinching his heart. “I just thought she was different. I actually thought she might be the one,” he admitted.

“I think she is,” Sherman told him.

Nick looked up in shock. “How can you say that after what her family did to me―after what she did to me?” he asked.

Sherman smiled at him, that secret smile that showed a wisdom that could only come to a person through time and patience. He stepped closer to Nick and patted his shoulder.

“Have you ever made a mistake, Nick?” he asked, raising his brows.

Nick wanted to say, hell no, but he nodded his head. “Of course I’ve made mistakes, but I haven’t made ones so epic that I dragged a person’s name through the mud, a person who I professed to care about,” he said.

“Chloe didn’t know you, didn’t know our family. All she knew was that your grandfather was an evil man who put her family through hell. Then she lost her brother while you were flying the helicopter. She didn’t know her father had talked that man into lying. She thought he was speaking the truth. What if it had been one of your brothers who had died, and to your knowledge a person’s reckless actions were responsible?” Sherman pointed out. “Would you rest until the guilty paid?”

Nick hung his head as a whole new rage flew through him. “If someone were responsible for the death of one of my brothers, I would tear them apart with my own hands,” he said through clenched teeth.

“So with the information Chloe had, don’t you think she acted accordingly?” he asked.

The rage instantly died as Nick felt hopelessness filling him. He didn’t know how to respond to that question.

“I don’t think I can forgive her,” Nick admitted.

“Do you love her?” Sherman asked him.

Nick looked into his uncle’s eyes before he turned away. His memories flashed over the past six weeks, over the laughter and tears, over the moments of just the two of them, over his need to be with her, noticing her smile, her laugh, wanting to bring those two things out more in her.

“I really thought I was falling in love with her,” he said.

Sherman was quiet for several moments. People passed them, but no one said a word, they just went on their way. Nick was grateful for that. He wasn’t in the mood to make polite conversation or be congratulated on his hearing.

“There are people out there who think I was drunk, who think I killed my crew. Even if I was developing feelings for her, she tried to ruin me,” he said.

“Oh, posh,” Sherman said with the wave of his hand.

Nick looked at him with confusion. “It’s not something to brush off,” Nick insisted.

“No one believes you did anything wrong. They know what happened. They know a grieving family was trying to find a reason they would never see their boy again. Over time, this will all go away. As for the girl . . . she will go away, too. You have to figure out what you feel, because if you don’t stop this, she will be gone forever, and the love of the right woman doesn’t come around too often.”