“Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn it!” I pound against the steering wheel of my Range Rover until all the frustration seeps out of my bones in miserable heaps of negative energy.

“Why the fuck did she have to be there? Today of all days.” I blow out a harsh breath and lean my head on the steering wheel. Anxiety and desperation flow through me and out my fingertips with every breath.

Just when I think I’m getting over her, I see her again. Christ, she was a vision, too. Her golden hair is shorter, barely hitting her shoulders now. She had a long-sleeved shirt on, so I couldn’t see how the injury on her arm was faring, but her hand looked a little better. Her neck seemed great, the long column completely smooth. I wonder if the doctors have been able to fix the patches of burned flesh near her ribs and breast?

“Stop it, Carson. Just, stop it!” I chastise myself, pressing my fists against my eyes to relieve the instant ache.

Stop thinking about her as though you have the right to care.

Kathleen has spent the better part of three years pushing me away. Hell, that’s three times longer than I was with her, yet I can’t get the woman out of my mind. I’ve loved her since the day I first laid eyes on her. The night we met at a charity event on a blind date, set up by Gillian, sealed my fate. The moment I got my arms around her on the dance floor, her scent, essence, and very spirit seeped deep inside my soul. To this day, I have not been able to break free from it. But I have to. She’s made it clear she no longer wants me in her life.

Then why did she respond the way she did when I touched her?

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was because the lab’s receptionist had called to tell me the expedited test results would arrive via courier this afternoon. The thought of losing all freedom lit a fire within me, which had been dormant until I saw my Kathleen. And an hour from now, I’ll find out the results for good. I swallow and tighten my hands on the leather steering wheel.

How could I have fucked up so bad? Loss and grief is why. The death of the most important relationship in my entire life is what happened. Made me stupid, incapable of thinking straight. I drank too much and fucked the wrong woman.

Most of that evening over two years ago is still a total blur, except for the fight with Kathleen. The night has gone down as one of the worst of my entire life. The night I lost the woman I love forever.

---

“Carson, I don’t know how many times I have to say it. We’re over. There’s nothing you can do or say that’s ever going to change the situation. I’m not the woman for you.”

“Bullshit, Kat, and you know it as well as I do!”

Her arms are crossed over her chest protectively. A shawl hangs over her shoulders, covering the worst of her burns. She never lets the skin see the light of day. Well, not in front of me anyway. Her hair—a golden array of blond, light brown, and copper—is long, hanging down to the middle of her back and flowing all around her upper body. Her eyes are the most beautiful color, reminding me of caramel candies. The intensity within them shows determination and sadness in equal parts. Both of which I hate, because I know what that look means.

I loathe seeing this look in her eyes, knowing it’s for me. Usually, her focused stare would bring men far stronger and bigger than me down to their knees. In a single moment, she’s cut me apart, letting me bleed out until there is nothing left.

“You can’t want me to go. It’s always been you, Kathleen. Always.”

Her voice breaks into a sob. “Why can’t you leave me alone? There is no you and me. We’ve been over for a year now. Please, please, stop trying to convince me to see things your way.”

In a handful of steps, I get to her and curl a hand at her nape and the other around her hip. I don’t dare hold her by the arms.

“Kathleen Bennett, I adore you. Want to marry you. Have children with you. Grow old by your side…”

She shakes her head violently. “No. Stop. I can’t.” The tears pour down her cheeks.

“I don’t know why you insist on pushing me away. I don’t care about your scars! I don’t fucking care if you can’t stand to look at yourself, because it doesn’t matter, sweetheart. I see you. Me! The man who would do anything for you. The man falling at your feet to keep you.” I hit my knees, wrap my hands around her hips, and push my face against her abdomen.

“You have t-to g-go…” Her voice splinters as she holds on to her convictions and pushes me away.

I shake my head against her belly and rest my chin there while looking up into the most beautiful face I’ve ever known. I’ve kissed those pink lips until they were so swollen they’d turned red. I’ve nibbled that jawline, teasingly, lustfully. I’ve stared into those brown eyes and whispered my dreams for our life together. And it was heavenly. The most perfect life. I know beyond a shadow of doubt this woman is my be-all end-all. She is my fate.

“Carson…” She runs her fingers through my hair, her voice so lost I can barely hear her. “You deserve more, more than I can ever give you. I’m not me anymore. I’m not the woman you fell for.”

I close my eyes and kiss my way up the center of her chest until I have her lips. I cup both cheeks and take her lips with mine. Our tongues battle, fighting a war I am determined to win. She tastes of salty endings and the hope for new beginnings. With my heart in my hand and my lips on hers, I show her love—gut-wrenching, mind-altering, earth-shattering love.

Kathleen runs her hand up my chest, and with her scarred hand over my heart, I think maybe we can start again. But I am holding her close and she is shoving me away. Eventually, my mind clicks with my body and registers her struggles. She isn’t trying to get closer and take more. She is scratching, clawing, and pushing me away. In an instant, I let her go.

I let her go.

She stumbles back several feet, shaking her head. Her cheeks are a mess of tears and mascara. I don’t care. My Kathleen is a diamond in a sea of rocks. When she is happy, she sparkles so bright. Only, her tears are not joyful ones of reconciliation but rather distress and self-loathing.

“No. Carson, no. I’m done.”

I grip the roots of my hair tightly, wanting to feel the sting of pain as I pace her apartment. “This isn’t over.”

Her voice breaks. “It is. Forever.”

I stop and suck in a harsh breath. “Look me in my face and tell me you don’t love me.”

A torturous grimace falls across her features. She opens her mouth and then closes it again.

“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll go,” I roar, rushing to her.

She bites her lip as tears run in a river over her cheeks. “I can’t ever say that.”

“Exactly,” I grate through clenched teeth. “Then we’re not done. One day soon, you’re going to regret this decision. You’re going to think back to the one man who adores everything about you.” I point at her heart. “You.”

“I’m not me anymore.”

My lips hurt from pinching them together so tightly. “If you keep telling yourself that, you’re never going to find her. Maybe you don’t want to. You seem happy to hole yourself up in this dark apartment, never letting the light in.”

“There is no sunshine anymore.”

“Open your eyes, Kat.” I cup her cheeks. “Open your fucking eyes. Let in the light. It’s there, waiting for you. I’m standing in it, holding my arms open for you, baby. Let me help you get there,” I plead.

Jesus, I’d strip myself of everything I know, jump into the fiery pits of hell, if she’d give me half a chance. The golden-caramel color in her stare fades, darkens, and with it, the glimmer of hope flickers out. I know she’s made her decision.

“Be happy, Carson. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. Find someone to share your life with. Let me go.” Her words are a whisper, but they could have been shouted through a bullhorn for the way they smash into me.

I take one last look at her and touch my mouth to hers. I will never forget the taste of sorrow on her lips.

“You’re going to regret this.”

She closes her eyes, distancing herself even more. “I already do. Now go.”

“You love me, Kathleen.” My own voice is so rough I wouldn’t be able to recognize it as my own if played back to me on a recorder.

Her eyes remain closed, her black lashes long and wet, tears still clinging to them.

“I know. Sometimes, Carson, love isn’t enough. Please…go,” she begs, desperation so thick in her tone it slices a fissure in my heart.

---

The woman I love had chosen to be dead to me, and there was nothing more I could do to bring her back. Even two years later, it hurts as much as if it had happened yesterday.

I shake my head as I drive through downtown San Francisco, leave the city, and head toward my beachfront home located on a ranch bordered on one side by the Pacific. Visions of the bar I went to when I left Kat’s apartment after our fight flash across my vision as I drive back to my place.

---

Six shots of whiskey, lined up one after another on the table in front of me.

A blond waitress with pretty brown eyes hitting on me.

The blonde leading me across the street to a hotel.

Paying for a room.

Falling back on a bed. Kathleen stripped naked on top of me.

Not Kathleen…the waitress.

The blonde riding my cock, my fingers digging into her hips.

I need the release so bad.

Wanting the pain to go away.

Pounding into the wet heat of my Kathleen from behind.

Blond head tipping back, screaming out in pleasure. Hair the wrong shade.

Grinding my hips and pumping my release into her.

Falling back on the bed.

Waking up alone and hungover.

---

I had no idea that night had the power to get any worse. For over two years I’d pined over Kathleen. Sure, I saw a few women. Mostly to scratch a sexual itch. No one can go forever cut off from physical touch. Unless that person is Kathleen Bennett.

Chase tells me she’s not so much as dated a man since breaking it off with me six months after her first rounds of burn treatments. Back then I still had hope. And then, all of a sudden, I see her again. I haven’t laid eyes on my girl in what feels like forever. And she responded like the old Kat would have. Shy, sweet, unafraid of my touch. Yearning for it, even.

It took everything I had not to get stiff seeing her again, smelling her, feeling the softness of her skin at her nape. I’d always loved the way she smelled, especially near the hairline behind her ear. My secret spot and an erogenous zone on her. I wanted so badly to kiss, lick, and nibble that patch of skin, sink my teeth in and never let go.

Fuck, my dick is getting hard thinking about it. I even touched her scarred hand. She stiffened, but she didn’t run away. The first time in years she hasn’t run away. There were no tears, no harsh words, almost as though a peacefulness had come over her. Much like the woman I once knew and loved. Still love, even after these last couple of years. Seeing her again…

Christ. What the hell am I going to do?

Nothing.

Until I find out the results of the DNA tests, there is nothing I can do. But what a thrill it was to see her respond to me. Kissing her, even briefly, brought back everything I’d ever felt for the woman. Years later, and she’s still capable of bringing me to my knees. If Chase and Gillian hadn’t been there, I would have pushed harder. Thank God I didn’t. I have no idea what’s going on in my own life right now. At least I know she’s doing well.

Chase has begrudgingly kept me apprised of her life—otherwise, I wouldn’t know a thing. Bastard. He’s become close to her. At first, per my request. I made him promise he’d take care of my girl. I even went old school and made him spit in his hand and shake on it. We’ve always been more than cousins. More like brothers. When he came to live with us at such a young age, his mother in a coma, my mother having just died, we bonded on a brotherly level that could never be broken. Now he’s the only link I have to her. If I’d been able to say those three fucking words, maybe things would be different.

Even at the risk of losing her, I still couldn’t say them.

I love you.

I love you, Kat.

I love you, Kathleen.

Over and over I tried to tell her. Proved it every day with my actions. Bent over backward to help her heal, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted those three words, and I couldn’t give them to her. Every single time I’d attempted to utter them, move the breath past my lips, I’d remembered the last time I said them, and the pain and heartache would come back, stealing the words from me once again.

After all this, I’m not sure it would have mattered. If I’d said them that night, maybe… She’d asked time and time again if I loved her. And of course I’d tell her I did, but she wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear it. All the time, I made her tell me. Needed it from her, but what she gave, I couldn’t give back. Maybe that was the nail in the coffin of our relationship. Still, it was hard to fathom it would end the way it did.

I treated her well, like the goddamned goddess I thought she was. Nevertheless, once the fire happened, she lost something. As if the fire had taken away her ability to live. She gave up. Nothing seemed to work to pull her out of her funk, and with each painful treatment it got worse. A little bit more of the woman I loved withered away until I could hardly recognize what was left.

I pull up to my house and the massive black wrought-iron gate begins to glide open. As I’m waiting, a white LabCorp Genetics minivan pulls up behind me.

Seeing the van makes the skin on my arms prickle, and a layer of sweat coats my pits and forms at my hairline. I take a long, slow breath and get out of the car. Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it. One step at a time.

The driver is a young college-age kid. Couldn’t be more than twenty years old. He’s wearing his company hat backward on his head and his unbuttoned shirt reveals a tie-dyed shirt underneath.

“Hey, man, how goes it?” the courier asks, ruffling through a big bag.

“Fine. You got something for me?” I ask.

“Totally, dude.” He pulls out a nine-by-twelve-inch envelope. “Here you go!” He slaps the envelope into my hand with more exuberance than the situation warrants. At least he likes his job.

“Thanks,” I mumble under my breath.

“Yo! Wait up. Need your signature, or my boss will have my balls. And she’s a total tight-ass wench.” He grimaces.

I chuckle, remembering the days when I had to answer to someone. Owning my own business affords me the luxury to come and go as I please and work when I want to. I’ll never go back to working for someone else.

The kid holds out a clipboard. I scrawl my name across it and give a salute before I make my way up the steps.

He zooms out of the circular drive, off to deliver someone else’s bad news, I imagine. I shake my head and move through my house.

It’s huge. Not as big as the mansion estate I grew up in, but way too much for a single man. I’d hoped to one day move Kat in here, marry her, have a few kids. Growing up, I knew I wanted a big family. Had I not had my brothers, sister, and Chase, losing my mother would have been even more devastating. Because I had them, there was always something or someone to keep the tone in the house a little lighter. Push the darkness away.

Once I reach the bar, I pour three fingers of scotch. I’m going to need it to get through whatever this report says.

Taking my time, I go out back and keep walking. Past my pool and the horse stables and directly out to my ocean-view patio. When I bought the land, I had a deck built near the back of the cliffs, the ocean still a safe distance away but with a perfect open view. I’d even piped out speakers, lighting, and built a gazebo so that I could enjoy the ocean no matter what the weather was like. Today the sun was bright and the temperature a perfect seventy degrees. If only my heart was as light.

Sipping my drink, I watch the waves crash against the shore and wonder what it would be like if Kathleen had never been in the fire. Too many times I’ve recounted ways I could have changed the outcome of that evening. She was supposed to have been with me, except her work ethic wouldn’t let her leave until the finishing touches were complete on the last piece she’d been working on.

I should have pushed her to be with me. Told her I needed her. Fuck, I always needed her. She was everything to me. All women paled in comparison to her beauty, heart, and talent. I remember watching her work in her tiny apartment until late in the evening. Heck, sometimes I’d fuck her until we both passed out, and then I’d wake in the middle of the night to the sound of the sewing machine whirring. When I’d find her, she’d be working on something magnificent.

Since then, I’ve heard she’s been designing clothes, working in partnership with my sister, Chloe.

Now my sister is a sore motherfucking subject. She refuses, absolutely refuses to talk about Kat in any way. Even work-wise. Says it’s putting her in the middle and making her choose family over her work and her friendships, and she won’t do either. Truth be told, it’s put a huge wrench in our relationship. One I should fix, since I’m the one constantly pissed off at her.

I flip the envelope back and forth until I finally rip the seal and open it. I pull out the report. It’s several pages, most of it black boxes lined up along other black boxes. My name is on the left and Cora Duncan’s is on the right.

While I scan the documents, so many emotions rush through me, beating me to a pulp the same way the waves are battering the sand. It’s all a bunch of garbled scientific nonsense until I get to the last page.

A letter from my college buddy, Bradley Grover, who owns LabCorp Genetics, rounds out the packet explaining exactly what I need to know.

Fuck me. I’m someone’s father. I have a child. A daughter.

Cora Duncan.

Even her first name starts with a “C,” as is tradition in my family.

What the hell do I do now?