Isabel let herself fall into the music with him, again, hating that she liked dancing with this guy so much. It was hard not to; he was so good. She could sense he had something big that had happened in his life. She was so certain about it that she didn’t want to ask. It felt too heavy.

She knew how that sounded, but her therapist June would know what that meant. It meant that she was intuitive, and she could feel things about people. She’d spent the last couple of years inside her own pain. It was also the reason she hadn’t been able to be a doula after the accident.

It’d practically broken her. For so long, she’d just lain in bed. She’d gotten to the point where she could go through the motions but felt like a ghost. Finally, she’d gone back to school. It made her mad sometimes that the reason she could be so lazy, in her opinion, was because of the life insurance money. It was the reason she was here. Right now she couldn’t believe she was avoiding the single’s group by dancing with this handsome man. Not that she’d really noticed.

Cameron seemed focused on the dancing, twirling her into different moves.

Her mind wondered more about this man. What had brought him to this point?

No. No. No. She didn’t need that. Focus. This was just a dance. Her sister had told her to live in the moment, enjoy it. Yes, that’s what she would do.

They finished the song, and another came on.

Cameron paused and looked away, his hand going to the wedding ring on his finger.

A wedding ring—nervousness pulsed through her. She’d been turned so far inward she hadn’t even noticed a wedding ring! This man must be hurting pretty badly. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes turned down, and he grinned at her, his eyes misting with tears. “Nothing.”

“What?” Her heart raced, and she knew there was something she’d missed.

He hesitated before telling her the story. “I fell in love with my wife five years ago in Jackson, Wyoming. When I did, I wrote this song for her.”

She couldn’t believe it. “This song, the one playing?”

He nodded, his eyes looking more haunted.

“This is you singing it?” She couldn’t believe it.

He nodded. “Montana Crew is a friend of mine.”

She exhaled. “O-kay.”

But it was the other thing that had really gotten her attention. “Your wife.” She remembered now. She had seen it “in the media” as stupid Dave had said.

Cameron sucked in a long breath.

That same heaviness filled her, and she almost took off, but she didn’t want to leave this man who had so kindly helped her to her room last night.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Now you really know who I am, don’t you?” She thought of the snippets she’d heard here and there about the owner of the Storm and the hit and run. “I’m not really connected to the mainstream world, but I know.” You’d have to be living under a rock in Colorado not to know about the tragedy with his wife.

He let out a long breath. “Guess it’s time to be done.”

“Why?” And why was she asking him why?—her little inner voice demanded. To which she had no answer. No. No. No. She didn’t need other people’s drama.

He shook his head. “I’m not …” He trailed off, taking in another huge breath.

She understood breathing. “Yes, breathe, that’s it. Breathing is so good for you. It’s the first thing I always tell pregnant women because when they get scared, they forget to breathe, and that’s not good for them or the babies.”

Cameron seemed to study her. “You’re treating me like a pregnant woman?”

“Hey, you need help, I’m helping.” She continued taking long breaths with him.

“But you don’t help pregnant women anymore?”

“Right.”

After a few seconds, Cameron smiled. “We can stop the breathing, I’m okay now.”

She turned, feeling a bit out of sorts. This had gotten kind of intense for her. “I’m going to go.” She stumbled and the heel on her shoe broke.

Her ankle twisted, the kind of twist that yanked her tendons. She fell to the floor, crying out. “Ahh!”

Cameron was immediately beside her. “Are you okay?”

The crowd that had gathered around them was coming closer.

All she could focus on was her ankle. “I sprained it. I know I did.”

Cameron focused his eyes on her ankle and asked her, “Can I touch it?”

She nodded, forcing back tears because the pain was still flaring through her.

Gently, he put his fingers on her ankle, lightly pushing it. “Here?”

One of the cruise staff was there. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

She nodded, tears coming down her face. The kind she hated, she thought as she angrily wiped them away. “Yes.” She flinched as he touched different parts of her ankle. It was already swelling.

Cameron frowned. “It looks to be an exterior sprain. Probably needs ice and rest for a couple of days.”

“No,” she said, thinking of her list. She tried to stand, but then fell back.

“Do you want me to get the ship doctor?” one of the staff asked.

“Yes,” Cameron said, waving him off. “Have the doctor go to room two eighteen.”

The staff guy ran off.

Cameron frowned and asked her, “Can I carry you to your room?”

“No.” Sweat had broken out on her forehead, and she tried to push herself up, again. This time she kicked off her other heel.

Cameron tried to support her, but she pushed him away. “No.”

She got her balance and tried to walk. After one step, she crumpled again and would have fallen from the pain, but Cameron was there, stabilizing her.

“I’m fine,” she said, more tears leaking out. She waited.

“Dang, woman.” Cameron bent, and before she could protest, he swooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the dining hall like she weighed nothing and he was some kind of prince.

It was all new and distracting—the feel of strong arms carrying her, the smell of something she’d noticed earlier, something expensive she imagined. It smelled spicy like cinnamon and pine, and attraction pulsed through her.

“What?” he asked, staring down at her.

His lips were close. Kissably close, and she felt a tension. “Nothing,” she said, not sure if she was happy or not that he was carrying her to her room.

He didn’t ask if she was happy or not. He was just efficient. He rushed down the deck, down the flight of stairs, and down the hallway to her suite.

“Code?”

“1518.”

He punched it in and pushed the door open.

When he got inside, she said, “You can just put me down.”

He was already setting her gently on her bed.

She leaned back, grateful she hadn’t had to walk on it.

“I’ll be right back.” He rushed out.

She watched him go and wanted to call out to him and ask what he was doing.

In less than ten minutes, he was back with ice, wraps, ice packs, and a doctor.

“I brought him so he could assess you properly,” Cam said, taking off his dinner jacket.

He wore a white button-down shirt, and she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in it. She focused on the doctor.

He was an older gentleman. “My name is Dr. George Foreman.” He put up a hand. “No need to make any jokes.”

She wouldn’t have, but then she thought of the infomercial of the actual George Foreman selling his grill thing.

Cameron glanced at her and a smirk washed over his face but was gone quickly.

She resisted smiling. It made her feel like they were sharing an inside joke. “Thank you for coming.”

The doctor nodded and moved to her ankle, inspecting it. “Too much dancing I hear.”

She nodded. “No, I was clumsy.”

“I should have caught you,” Cameron said.

“No, I was the clumsy one.” Why was he trying to take the blame?

The doctor assessed her and nodded. “Sprained. Possibly a tendon tear.” He let out a breath and put his things away. “I think ice, compression, and elevation. It looks like your man here has it handled.”

Simultaneously, they both tried to disagree about the man comment.

“He’s not my man,” she said quickly.

“I’m not …” Cam said, trailing.

The doctor shrugged and started out. “Got other emergencies, but I’ll check back on you tomorrow.”

Cameron didn’t wait for her to say anything. He took one of the towels from the bathroom and put it on her ankle, adding ice and compression.

Stupid, annoying tears fell down her cheeks. No. No. No. She was here to do these excursions. She couldn’t be stuck inside.

After Cameron finished, he turned to her. “Why are you crying?” It was said with a bit of confusion. “You’re going to be just fine,” he reassured her in a light tone.

She couldn’t stay in here. She had the list to think about. “Please leave.”

Cameron didn’t move for a bit, and she stared out the window, which only showed part of her balcony and the sky. The sun was starting to set. “You’ll be fine. It isn’t permanent.”

She didn’t answer him.

He turned to face her. “This isn’t something to cry about. I would think you would get that after losing—”

But he caught himself and didn’t say anything else.

“Go!” she shouted at him. “You don’t understand anything! I have a list of excursions to complete, and you just don’t get it!”

For a second he didn’t move, then he threw a hand into the air. “I don’t understand, so explain it.”

“Go! Just go!”

Cameron froze.

She looked at his face, and his eyes were laser-like focused on her, and she knew she probably looked crazy. She felt crazy in this moment.

He still didn’t budge.

“Please,” she said. It came out like a whisper. She leaned back, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just … please just go.”

He didn’t leave immediately. In fact, she wasn’t sure how long he stood there, seeming to be in some kind of trance before he walked out, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Lying back into the pillows, she slammed her fists into the bed and wished, for the thousandth time, that she had been the one to die.