After a five hour flight, Cam met his private car at the Denver airport. It was ten in the morning when Cam walked into the morgue with his P.I., Stone Kenney.

“I arranged for them to let you see the body, Mr. Cruz, but I don’t know what you think seeing the body will accomplish.”

Cam pushed away the sick feeling in the lower pit of his gut. That nauseated feeling he’d had the whole way back to Denver.

His sister had tried to call countless times. Then he’d seen a new number calling, which he’d ignored.

He’d gotten a text that said, ‘It’s Isabel, will you talk to me?’

He hadn’t responded.

No, that life, the one on the cruise ship had been a fantasy. Unreal. Nothing like his life. Nothing like … emotion surged through him, and all of a sudden, he was back to that night. Police surrounding him. He’d instantly gone to her side and ignored all the protestations that he not tamper with a crime scene. He’d held her, the blood from the gash on her head feeling sticky in her hair, on his hands. Then all over him as he cradled her body to his chest and died inside.

Stone checked them in, and they were on their way back to see the body when Cam got full-on sick. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Luckily, the worker pointed to a room right by them.

Cam burst into the bathroom and lost the toast and coffee that he’d eaten this morning. Ironically, he’d only eaten it to settle his stomach.

He cursed, going to the sink and rinsing his mouth and face off.

Staring up in the mirror, he saw exactly the thing Isabel had been telling him the whole time. His hollow looking eyes.

Dang, he’d aged ten years since Kat had passed.

Except, he distinctly remembered Christmas Day, looking at himself before he’d gone to the dining room and thinking that the cruise had been good for him, that helping Isabel had been really good for his mental health.

Wincing, he closed his eyes and thought about going in there and seeing the body of the man who had killed Kat. Of finally looking the killer in the face.

Annoyingly, anger and a mix of other emotions seared through him, and he punched the paper towel dispenser.

“Everything all right in there?” Stone knocked on the door.

Feeling like he needed some space, he yanked open the door and rushed back toward the front of the morgue. “Wait, I need some air. Just a sec.”

As he burst out of the front door, he was shocked to see Isabel getting out of an Uber.

Her eyes met his, and he couldn’t believe she was here.

“What are you doing?”

The center of her brow pulled together. “You can’t face this alone, Cam.” She had that no-nonsense tone at the moment. The one she’d used to take over when Karen had her baby and the doctor fell apart.

The sickness hit him again, and he was hot and cold and legitimately felt ill. Rushing to the side of the building, he dry heaved again, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

She was there next to him immediately.

“Go away!” he yelled, hating that she was seeing him this way. Hating being this way. Nothing had come up, and he turned to the wall, turning and facing it.

True to Isabel form, when she didn’t want to leave, she wasn’t going to. Abruptly, her hand was on his back. “No, Cam. I’m not leaving you.”

Emotion burst through him. All of his anger turned to pain and sorrow.

Her arms went around his waist, her face pressing into his back. “Let it go, Cam. Let it go.”

He felt himself cry, really cry for the first time since losing Kat.

He stayed against the wall, and she stayed holding his back. Then she slipped around him, bear hugging him.

More tears, more sorrow—all the pent up grief from the past year was now coming in messy, snot-nosed, awful sobs.

“I can’t.” He tried to wipe his face and push her away.

She just held on. “No, dang it, Cam. You deserve to cry, to weep, to mourn.”

She was like a vice grip around him. Finally, he just held her and blubbering like a baby.

After he didn’t know how long, he calmed down, and she pulled back. He was not surprised to see her face was tear stained too.

Gently, he put his hand on her cheek.

They stared into each other’s eyes.

Pulling back, she took his hand. “Let’s do this.”

Feeling jittery, he walked beside her into the morgue and down the hall where Stone and the attendant were still waiting.

Stone gave him a strange look, but he ignored it, knowing he probably looked awful. “She’s with me.”

The attendant opened the door and scanned the wall of metal doors, then turned a lock and slid the body out. A sheet was laid over the boday, just like on the television shows. Cam thought feeling like this was surreal.

The attendant hesitated, giving Cameron a compassionate look. “Are you ready, sir?”

Cam nodded, holding Isabel’s hand tighter. Still not sure why he was here, all he knew was that he was going to see this through.

The worker pulled back a sheet, and Cam saw a corpse. The guy looked different than he had in the picture from the P.I. Of course he did. It was kind of like how he imagined all dead bodies looked, but Cam sucked in and then released his breath. “Let me see his wrist.”

The worker pulled the sheet down to the wrist.

The star. The star he’d stared at on the footage a million times.

Isabel suddenly turned to Stone and the attendant. “Could we get a minute?”

“No,” Cam said quickly.

“Yes,” Isabel said, giving Stone and the worker a waving gesture toward the door.

“No problem,” Stone agreed.

“That’s fine,” the attendant said.

The men walked out.

Cam stared at the tattoo and the guy, and he felt dead.

Isabel stood next to him. “A good friend of mine told me that sometimes, when things are trapped in your head and you feel like you’re going in circles, it helps to talk it out.”

Cam’s heart raced as he turned to her. “Wh-at?” This was ridiculous.

Isabel pointed to the door. “Yell, cry, talk—I wouldn’t recommend beating a dead body, but you’re a billionaire, so you might be able to get away with it.”

Unable to stop it, a faint smile played at his lips. “Always back to the billionaire comments.”

She squeezed his hand. “No, it’s back to you. Just you and what you need right now.”

He met her eyes. This beautiful woman was … a true friend.

“You deserve some closure, Cam. It might be time to allow it.” Then she let go, and she walked out.

Cam sucked in a breath, feeling so many emotions … already exhausted by them.

His mind went over two words his sister had said to him that he’d felt were ridiculous. “Forgive him.”

Traitorous tears filled his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, wrestling with his emotions. Finally, he let out a breath. “I hate you, but I don’t know you.” He looked at the man’s face. He could see wrinkles and scratch marks. He wondered so many things about this man that he didn’t want to wonder. There were fifty years of life in that face that Cam knew nothing about.

“I’m afraid hating you has caused so much pain for my sister, for me.” Tears washed down his face, and he sniffed and thought of Isabel’s mom’s words.

Out loud he said, “A little bit of grace indeed.”

Warmth filled him, and more tears came as he stared at the man. “You see, I hate it, but I think the only way back to what Kat would have wanted for me is to forgive your sorry butt.” He clenched a fist and turned away. “And I hate that!” Thoughts of what he could have done to the guy if he would have been alive. Thoughts of beating him senseless, then seeing him thrown into a cell with no key. Thoughts he’d had for a long time.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted, weighed down under a year’s worth of those thoughts. He released a breath. “Kat. I’m sorry, baby.” Tears spilled. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t go with you. I didn’t protect you.” He was crying, covering his face. “I should have been there. I should have protected our baby. Lord, please forgive me. Please, help me.” He crumbled to his knees, tears washing down his face.

Immediately, a rush of warmth filled him. A burning inside of him. He was overwhelmed with the grace of God. He had no doubt that’s what the new feeling was.

It released more emotion. He let go, knowing that this was the dam of emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Finally, he pulled back, exhausted and knowing what he had to do. Standing, he looked down at the man and said, “I forgive you.”