Brett yawned and he turned the fan on the air conditioner higher, hoping the cold air would keep him awake. What he should've done when he'd gotten home was grab a nap, but demons had been chasing his heels since he'd left Cassandra by the pond at the hotel.

He got her message when he landed and switched his phone back on. It didn't take a genius to know the moment she picked up his call, she'd berate him. Yeah, he deserved it. He'd run and hadn't bothered to leave her a note.

The whole flight back to Colorado he'd fought sleep, knowing if he succumbed, he'd have nightmares. He was pretty sure the other occupants of the plane didn't want to hear him crying when he relived the moment he’d woken up in his wrecked car, the engine hissing, Naomi moaning and nothing but silence, deathly silence coming from the occupant of the passenger seat.

Brett’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Early on a Sunday morning, the roads were clear. He should be getting to the turn off where Naomi lived soon. He’d have to wait for official visiting hours and would have time to take a little nap then.

He approached the turn off and his palms got sweaty. They always did when he visited Naomi. Taking a deep breath, he slowed and turned into the driveway. The trees on either side stretched across the road, branches touching, creating a cave-like feeling.

The large red brick building loomed in the distance, coming closer with every rotation of the tires. Apprehension rode through him as he pulled to a stop and turned the engine off. Visiting Naomi was never easy. It was so hard not to compare the girl he knew then to the one he saw in front of him now. Her body aged. Her mind never did.

Brett parked the car and reclined his seat, hoping his mind would settle enough to rest before he went inside. God, he was tired. All he wanted was to lose himself in the sweet oblivion of sleep. Only sleep was elusive. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the look of hurt and confusion on Cassandra’s pretty face as he walked away from her at the hotel.

In hindsight, he’d acted rashly. Given his past, her questioning him if he’d done something wrong was reasonable. Two months ago, he probably would’ve gone out and caused trouble to generate a headline. It was his usual M.O., create a diversion to take his mind off his past. So it surprised the heck out of him he didn’t want to do that anymore. How was it possible to change the way he acted all because of one person? Could he really place his actions at Cassandra’s feet? Or was he totally exhausted at always creating headlines?

It was a question he couldn’t easily come up with an answer for. Although a drink did sound like a good idea, it was way too early and he was too far away from a liquor store.

Sitting in the car and moping wasn’t going to help or make the time go any quicker. Brett flung the door open and got out, breathing in the crisp morning mountain air. A chill coursed through him. He rounded to the back of his car and extracted a jacket from his luggage. In minutes, he was sitting on a park bench overlooking the creek that ran along the perimeter of the building. The sun peeked through the trees. He lifted his face toward the beam of light, his arms lying across the top of the bench. His legs stretched out in front of him. Lethargy seeped into his bones, weighing him down like an anchor as the chill faded away under the warmth of the early morning sun. Time faded as his head drooped to his chest and he drifted into a light sleep.

The sharp squawk of a bird jolted him awake. He groaned, moving his head from left to right in an attempt to ease the crick in his neck from falling asleep.

The sun had moved higher, burning away the dawn chill. He stood and bent to touch his toes, stretching his back. A quick look toward the building showed he’d slept for a while. Several staff members were setting up some tables on the back grassed area for some sort of activity, while others placed white wicker chairs and couches in random patterns for visitors to sit and chat with the patients. He and Naomi always sat in the wicker chairs, a small glass table between them. Normally, he brought something for them to eat. Today his focus had been on putting as much distance between him and Cassandra as possible. Not that she would have any idea where he was so it didn’t matter.

Shaking off the remnants of his nap, Brett made his way to the entrance. He walked into the warm building. The faint scent of antiseptic tickled his nose. He knew the facility tried hard to make it seem less like a hospital, but no amount of fresh flowers or furniture polish could mask the fact it was a medical facility. Keeping the patients healthy required them taking all the usual precautions to prevent the spread of illness.

Brett smiled at the receptionist. Being such a regular visitor, he knew most of the staff. He made his way down to Naomi’s room and paused outside of her door. The nerves currently sailing through him annoyed him. They were unnecessary and he pushed them away.

The rapping of his knuckles on the bright red wood echoed around him.

A few seconds passed before the door slowly opened. “Hello? Who’s there?” His heart broke a little at the timid tone of Naomi’s voice.

“Hey Naomi, it’s me, Brett.” He kept his tone deliberately quiet so as not to frighten her. After the accident, she’d regressed back to being nine years old. He hadn’t known Dean well back then, so she wasn’t familiar with him. He’d visited frequently over the last seven years. She’d gotten used to him, but this was how she always answered the door.

“Brett? I don’t know anybody named Brett.”

He sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

---

Three hours later, Brett pulled into a different driveway—his own. He couldn’t wait to shower and have something to eat.

His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. When he wasn’t feeling so raw, he’d call Cassandra back. He couldn’t deal with her berating him for leaving before their scheduled flight. There was no denying he deserved her censure, but he needed to regroup.

Naomi had seemed agitated again and he didn’t know what caused it. She hadn’t been that way for years. No matter what he said or how he tried to engage her, she’d kept wringing her hands together and asking for her parents and Dean.

How could he tell her they were all gone? Their parents had died in a skiing accident in Europe about eight months before the car accident that took Dean. So much tragedy in her life and he’d caused a major part of it.

Brett parked his car and headed toward his front door.

“I was beginning to get worried.”

The clatter of his keys falling to the pavement confirmed he hadn’t imagined the voice. A look at the front porch showed Cassandra sat in one of the two deck chairs placed there to take in the view of the park he lived across the road from.

“Cassandra? What are you doing here?”

She rose from the chair and walked toward him. “I came to make sure you were all right after you did your disappearing act last night.”

He then noticed the suitcase sitting on the ground by her chair. “You came straight from the airport?”

“Obviously. You checked out of the hotel without telling me or anyone else. You weren’t answering my calls or texts. What was I supposed to think?”

“That I needed some space?”

“If you weren’t a client, I’d write you off, but you are, so I can’t. On top of that, Dan is a friend of Frank’s, so I have my boss breathing down my neck to make sure I do a good job.”

A light pink hue highlighted her cheekbones and her eyes sparkled in anger. As inappropriate as it was, his flesh tightened and he fought the urge to pull her close and sample her lips again.

Insane, but oh so tempting. Do it.

Not this time. He wasn’t going to listen to that voice again.

“I’m sorry I worried you. As you can see, I’m fine so you can go home now.”

“Why were you at Spring Mountain Nursing Home?”

His blood chilled. How the heck did she know the name of the place?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He faked a yawn and stuck his key in the lock. “If you don’t mind, I’m really tired. All I want to do is have a shower and then grab some sleep.”

Brett hoped she’d take the hint and walk away. But this was Cassandra and after spending time with her, he knew if he didn’t ask her in, she wouldn’t leave.

“What are you hiding?”

He sighed and opened the door. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” She turned to get her suitcase, but he beat her to it. Their fingers touched. They both froze as the usual electric current sizzled between them.

The need to connect with her was too much to ignore. Groaning, he reached out and cupped her face. His thumb traced her bottom lip. Without giving it further thought, he leaned in and kissed her, completely forgetting they stood on his front porch in front of anyone who could be looking out their window or walking down the street.

He didn’t know what it was about Cassandra that made him want to treat her like spun glass. Instinctively, he knew she would hate that. She was an independent woman who had a career, and from what he’d observed, one she enjoyed.

Her sigh whispered through him. He adjusted his stance so he could slip his arms around her, tightening his hold. Their mouths moved slowly together, in perfect harmony. Warmth from the kiss chased away the chill that had enveloped him since he’d landed in Colorado—and it wasn’t from the cooler temperature. The coolness was from his overwhelming sense of loneliness.

The sound of a distant police siren pierced his consciousness. Reluctantly, he ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

Cassandra pulled out of his hold. “You have got to stop kissing me.”

No, he didn’t think that would happen anytime soon. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to keep doing it. “Why? You respond to me, Cass. You enjoy kissing me as much as I like kissing you.”

Her cheeks flushed an even deeper pink, telling him he’d scored a point with his remarks. “It doesn’t matter if I enjoy it or not. It’s not appropriate for me to be kissing a client.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Shit. Why’d I say that out loud? If he was trying to prove he was taking things seriously, this wasn’t the way to show Cassandra that.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Her voicing his exact thoughts didn’t make him feel any better.

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, tired and frustrated. He wanted to start the last couple of days over again. They were still standing on his front porch. It wasn’t the place to be having this type of conversation. “Look, I’m sorry. Come inside and we can talk. Please.”

Talking wasn’t what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to face the questions he knew were coming his way. All he knew was, he needed to make sure he protected Naomi. Whatever the cost.