Corinna sways unsteadily in my arms. “Forty-five…days?” Her voice is so unsettled. She’s squeezing my forearms as if her life depends on it.

And right now, maybe it does.

Jason speaks up from behind Dr. Moser. “Isn’t it a bit sudden, Doctor? Typically, surgical patients have a longer time to prepare for the procedure, considering the in-depth amount of physical and psychological protocols involved.”

Dr. Moser runs his hands through already out-of-control hair. “Cori, how free am I to speak in front of all of these people?”

She lets out a deep sigh, her body molding to mine. “Pull out your cell phone, Bryan.” She waits for him to do so. “Can you flip to video?” His face flashes with understanding. “Let me know when it’s ready.”

Dr. Moser fumbles for a moment before he holds up his phone. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Stiffening her spine within my arms, Corinna announces, “My name is Corinna Freeman. I was Johns Hopkins patient”—she spits out a string of numbers—“I recently transitioned to Greenwich Hospital under the care of Dr. Bryan Moser. This video is to serve as authorization of the release and discussion of my medical care with my immediate family: Phillip Freeman-Ross, Cassidy Freeman-Lockwood, Emily Freeman, Alison Freeman, and Holly Freeman, as well as the following spouses or significant others as identified. This includes Dr. Jason Ross, Caleb Lockwood, Keene Marshall, and Colby Hunt. At the time this video is being made, I am of sound mind and in the presence of my doctor, Bryan Moser, as well as my attorney, Alison Freeman. Thank you.” Her head drops, and I hear her mutter, “I never wanted to do that here, Bryan. You could have just trusted me.”

He’s sympathetic but firm. “I’m sorry, but we’re running out of time.”

“Why?” Jason demands again. When Dr. Moser turns on him, he steps forward. “Dr. Jason Ross, emergency room trauma specialist.” The men shake hands briefly.

“Corinna’s tumor has grown to a critical point in the last few weeks. In the last MRI before the images became compromised, we observed it’s resting on both of her ICAs.”

Jason curses before he turns on his husband. “You didn’t mention that the other night.”

Phil blinks at him over Kalie’s head. “I honestly thought I did, Jace.”

Jason rounds on me. “Cori, you realize you have to have the surgery now before the tumor grows any further. It can stop your normal motor functions. You can literally…”

“I know!” she screams, shaking. “Do y’all think I don’t know this already? I’m the one who’s been living with this for so many years.” Corinna turns in my arms and lets loose a torrent of tears.

Corinna wipes her eyes and nose on my shirt, and I couldn’t care less. “Every time they slid me into those cylinders to be scanned, I prayed, Colby. I prayed so hard the results would just be the same. I could live with the monster in my head.” Her eyes fill with even more tears. “But what if I die because it has to come out?”

“This is why you have to see the psychologist, Cori. You’re not going to die,” Bryan interrupts.

“Shut up, Doctor,” I growl. I clasp her face between my hands and duck down so our eyes are level. “He’s not wrong though, baby. Even if he’s not the one you want performing the surgery anymore”—I ignore Moser’s gasp and continue—“we’ll find the right doctor for you. You’re not giving up. You’re not giving in.”

“Sometimes I feel like I deserve this.” Her head turns away from me. “If I’d just talked to you, maybe I wouldn’t be punished this way. Maybe I wouldn’t be this punished. Maybe I would be spared.”

Every word out of her mouth is a jagged-edged knife in my heart. Our separation is as much my fault as hers. It’s only because of the letters she’s blaming herself, but it was my selfish behavior that started it all. “No, princess, that’s not how this works. Cori, we’ve talked about this. Don’t let this set us back,” I plead.

“Why would you want to be with someone who you know could die?” she whispers, breaking away from my arms. Looking around the room frantically, she asks, “Why would any of you?” She stares at each of us a moment before bolting for the back door.

I’m less than a second after her.

Keene catches me around the waist. “Give her a few, man. Let her get some of it out.”

“Let me go, you asshole.” I wrench out of his hold. “You have no idea what’s happening between us.” Neither do I. All I know is that I have to be with her. Holding her. Touching her.

“Colby, she needs you to have the answers to the millions of unanswered questions going through her head. She doesn’t need another ‘I don’t know’ or platitude.” It pisses me off that he’s right.

I push out of his hold. “I’m fine. I’m okay.” I turn to a pale-faced Dr. Moser. “Hours ago, Cori was ready to start looking for a new doctor because of your attitude this week, and I can’t say I’m all that impressed right now. So, start talking about what we’re facing because we’re all in this with her.”

Keene’s hand clamps down on my shoulder in approval.

“Don’t you think we should wait for the patient?” Moser asks with a touch of superiority.

“Right now, you have a roomful of people who need their questions answered. Let’s start with the basic ones. What kind of procedure is she facing, and how long is it?”

As Dr. Moser begins discussing the type of craniotomy Corinna will need, I understand why she ran out of the room rather than face this.

I want to do the same.

An hour later, I drive back to Corinna’s, where the lights are blazing in every room of the house. I look up and see her moving back and forth in her bedroom carrying armloads of clothes.

Shit.

Jumping out of the Jeep, I walk up and try the door. Locked. Of course. I immediately ring the bell and wait. Then I ring it again. While I’m waiting, I send a ping to Keene. Should have let me come after her, you dick. Now I’m locked out.

His reply of Shit does nothing to ease my concern.

I call Corinna’s cell phone. Direct to voicemail.

Suddenly, I get pissed. We spent the afternoon mending the cracks between us, so why is she running scared? Why is she running at all?

I look for the simplest point of entry. I could quickly throw a rock through one of the massive windows in the back of her house. Effective, but a pain in the ass to clean up. Scanning the exterior, I glimpse the fixed awning covering her front door. Following its line over the metal roofing, I realize while the pitch is steep, the rivets will give me enough foothold to use the open segments in her clapboard to get to the Juliet balcony outside her bedroom.

I immediately text Keene. She’s packing to run. Need you to come light it up. I’m breaching the perimeter.

There’s a pause, followed by, Be right there.

Satisfied, I slip my phone in my pocket and go around back for the Metolius gloves I keep in my car’s emergency kit. Rolling my shoulder to stretch it a bit, I’m glad I recently had a scan to know my shoulder isn’t going to give out in the middle of this. Like I’ll admit that to my bosses, I think ruefully.

After slipping on the gloves, I move over to the post supporting Corinna’s awning and jump up. Pulling myself up is simple. I swing my legs over, and then my belly, and wait a few moments to make sure the canopy can support my weight when I see lights come down the drive. I turn my head away so I don’t look directly into them.

A door opens and closes. “Any issues with the shoulder?” Keene calls out.

“None so far,” I reply. I make my way over to the main roof pitch and carefully move over each of the lock-and-groove metal roofing tiles. Fifty-year roofs are fantastic for ensuring no leaks come into a home, but are a bitch when your feet are large and you’re trying to be sneaky.

Keene shines a Maglite up when I reach the edge. “You’re about four feet out,” he calls.

“Got it.” My adrenaline is pumping, not only from the climb but from how pissed I’m becoming.

Shut me out? After everything we finally worked through? Not for long.

Carefully, I reach out and grip with the tips of my fingers in the grooves between the clapboard. I swing my body out. The toes of my boots find purchase farther down. I hear Keene’s voice cautioning me. “Easy, brother. You’ve got about ten feet to the balcony.”

Right. I inch my fingers along, gritting my teeth at the upper-body strength required for me to shimmy across this roof due to Corinna’s stubbornness. My feet slide across as I make slow but steady progress. Keene calls out, “Three. Two. I think you can swing over now, Hunt.”

Gripping hard on the wall of Corinna’s house, I kick my boots away from the wall, using the momentum to catch one leg against the rail. Having hooked it, I slide my hand so I can let go with the other. I latch on, gratefully. My fingers aren’t used to this kind of climbing anymore.

“Do you have it from here so I can go home?” Keene asks from twenty feet below.

“Yeah, because if she doesn’t open this door, I’m breaking it in,” I call down.

“I’ll warn the monitoring center on shift at the office. Call me if you need a rope.” Keene slides back into his vehicle and backs out of the driveway.

Corinna’s Juliet balcony doors are made of thin paned glass. I start pounding on them.

There’s no response.

Pulling out my phone, I start sending a text. I’m standing at your balcony door. Open them. Now.

Before I can press Send, they swing open. “Jesus Christ, Colby, are you insane? What the hell are you doing?” I stalk into her bedroom. Jesus, it’s worse than I thought. There are piles of clothes all over her bed.

Swiveling around, I declare, “You’re not going anywhere, Corinna. You’re not running away.”

“I know?” Her voice holds a note of confusion.

“You know?” I say slowly. “Then why the hell didn’t you answer your door?” I bellow.

She pulls the earbuds from her pocket. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Suddenly, my fury coalesces. “And why didn’t you answer your cell?” It’s in her hands for fuck’s sake.

She blushes before admitting, “I put it on Do Not Disturb. The only person who can get through in that case is Holly. I needed some time to think, so I came home and started cleaning.”

“When did Holly ping you?” She holds out the phone just as I reach her.

Holly: Hey. Figure you want to be alone, but Ali just pinged me. Apparently, Colby’s gone off his rocker and thinks you’re going to run. Idiot. Can you let him in your balcony door? He apparently scaled your house.

Corinna starts stammering. “I-I was putting away l-laundry, Colby. I wasn’t leaving. I truly didn’t hear you at the door. I forgot you’re not on my breakthrough list and I—"

There’s only one way I can think of to shut her up right now and alleviate the panic and fury inside of me.

I kiss her.