“Can I get you anything?” asked Dalton, hoping Tiny would say yes. If only she’d show an interest in something. Anything. At this point, he’d even pour her a glass of whisky if she asked for it.

Tiny shook her head. Her therapy was done for the day, and now she was slumped in an armchair in the house Dalton had bought for them. From her chair, she had a good view of Sydney Harbor, but Tiny obviously wasn’t enjoying the view. Her eyes were as dull as her expression.

They’d been in Sydney for ten days, and Tiny was on a rigorous schedule. Though Dalton was realistic about how long her recovery might take, and how much better she’d get, it was heartening to see she was already making great progress. Though her words were still slurred, she was articulating herself better, using longer sentences and forgetting words less often.

She also cried even more than she had in Lantana, and she talked to him a lot less.

He sunk into the chair opposite her. The last thing he wanted to do was act happy when all he could do every damn minute was think about Rosa. But for Tiny’s sake, he needed to pretend everything was fine, so he forced a note of cheer into his voice. “I spoke to Doctor Cooper again today and he’s finally agreed to meet with me. He’s the best, the one I told you about who’s been doing amazing things. I’m wearing him down, and I’m pretty sure I can get him to take you on as a patient.”

Tiny gave no sign she’d heard him, but stared straight ahead with a glazed look in her eyes. He couldn’t stand that look. It made him want to shake her.

His phone rang and he tugged it out of his pocket with a feeling of relief. Between Tiny’s misery and missing Rosa, he’d take any distraction he could get.

“Frank,” he said when he answered it. “Did it all go through?” The last few days, he’d spent every waking minute managing the company takeover. Today, Frank should have banked the profits.

“A hundred percent.” His company manager laughed. “Check the bank account, then open the champagne. It’s time to celebrate.”

Sure enough, when Dalton pulled up his company’s accounts, the number of zeros was impressive. He stared at the numbers, waiting for a sense of joy, or accomplishment, or… well, anything. Frank had sounded happy. So why did Dalton feel empty?

He glanced up at Tiny. Truth was, right now he’d give away the whole damn lot if it would put one real smile on his sister’s face.

In his email was a notification of another transfer that had gone through today. Another impressive amount he’d had wired directly into his sister’s account.

“Payment came through for the resort,” he said to Tiny. “You’re a rich woman.”

Her gaze flicked to him, but her voice was toneless. “That’s your money.”

“No, it’s yours. You’re the one who ran the resort all those years. I don’t want a penny of it.”

She blinked and for the first time, he saw a flicker of interest in her eyes. “Okay. Then I’ll buy a ticket back to Lantana.”

“What?” He shook his head. “Tiny, you know you can’t go back. You’re getting better here. Your neurologist says he’s seeing results, and you must be happy to be walking so much easier.

She sucked in a loud breath, then let it out again, slumping even further as though the effort had exhausted her. “Let me go.” Her voice was soft, but her gaze was fixed on his.

His heart contracted and he sat forward with a jerk, his hands fisting on the arms of his chair. “What do you mean?”

“Let me go home.”

“Oh.” He sighed the word. His hands relaxed a little, but his heart was still beating too fast. “Shit,” he murmured. “You scared me. For a moment I thought you meant… something else.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid…” He hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell her. But they couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change. “I can’t let you end up like Dad,” he said, his voice tight. “But the more I try to stop it, the more it’s happening, right in front of my eyes.” He swallowed, his throat thick. “Dammit, Tiny, I can’t let it happen to you.”

She frowned. “Like Dad?” she repeated.

“Maybe you were too young to see how bad he was. Those months after the storm, when he didn’t talk, or eat, or help the team that came to rebuild the resort. He didn’t even want to touch us.” Dalton heard the bitterness in his voice, and was a little surprised that the memory still hurt so much after all these years. “Then he sent us away, so we wouldn’t get in the way of him drinking himself to death. All he cared about was killing the pain.” His fingers were digging into the arms of the chair, Dalton realized. Just thinking about his father made him want to punch something.

“I’m not him,” said Tiny. For the first time since they’d got to Sydney, her voice didn’t sound flat and emotionless.

“Damn right, you’re not going to be anything like him. I’m going to get Doctor Cooper to take you on, and he’ll make your right arm work again. He’ll make it so you can paint again.” He shouldn’t promise her something that might be impossible, but the words tumbled from him anyway. “I’ll fix everything, Tiny, you’ll see. I’ll give you your life back and make you happy again.”

Tiny leaned forward in her chair, her useless right arm in her lap. At least her eyes held a spark now. “It’s not up to you. This is my life. You don’t get to fix it.”

“But Tiny, I need to—”

“No.” She all but shouted the word. “I’m not Dad. I’m not going to kill myself.”

He stared at her, shocked. There it was, out in the open. His worst fear stripped bare. Technically, their father hadn’t actually killed himself, but that’s exactly what he’d done. Just because it had taken a few years didn’t mean it wasn’t suicide.

Maybe he should deny that he was terrified Tiny might do something drastic to end her pain. But he couldn’t say a word.

Tiny’s expression softened. “You love me, I know. But you need to back off.” She grabbed her limp right hand with her left one, picked it up, then let it flop. “I hate this. But I’ll get through it. Let me do it on my own.”

Finally, he found his voice. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

“Yeah.” Her lips twitched, and amazingly enough, she gave him a glimpse of her uneven smile. “So, stop pushing me around.”

Dalton let out his breath, his chest loosening. That was the first smile he’d seen from her since they’d arrived in Sydney. God, what an idiot he was. He’d been so sure she’d be happy once she was here and had some hope of being able to use her arm again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to take her good hand in his. “I wanted to do the right thing. I thought if you stopped fighting me, you’d see this was the only place you’re safe.”

“I’ll never stop fighting.”

Dalton mouth twisted ruefully. “You’re almost as stubborn as…” He hesitated.

“As Rosa?”

Hearing Rosa’s name made Dalton’s heart jump. He could see her in his mind’s eye. Training on the beach, the way she’d attacked him with such fierce determination. He was twice her size, but she’d got mad with him when she’d suspected he was holding back.

And Tiny had that same fire, didn’t she? At least, she used to. If his sister fought like that, nothing could beat her.

Thinking about Rosa, his expression must have changed, because Tiny squeezed his hand. “You should talk to her.”

He’d been wanting to talk to Rosa since he left Fiji. But he shook his head. “That would only make things worse.” Rosa was happy on Lantana, working for the resort’s new owner. She was safe there, away from her stalker, and the last thing he’d do was bring her to Sydney if it meant putting her in harm’s way.

Besides, he couldn’t ask her to give up Lantana for him. She’d called him selfish, and maybe he was. But he’d seen how much she loved her new life on the island. Asking her to leave wouldn’t be fair.

His cellphone rang. The number flashed on the screen. An international number. It was Fiji. Rosa.

He snatched up the phone and walked quickly away from Tiny to have a little privacy on the call. Despite all his good intentions, his pulse was beating a quick, hopeful rhythm. “Hello?”

As soon as he heard an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line, his hope faded. Not Rosa.

“Mr. Knight? This is Dorothy calling from the Nadi Animal Rescue Center. Have you got a moment to talk?”

“Sure.” He swallowed his disappointment. “It’s about Crusoe? Have you found someone to adopt him?”

She hesitated. “I’m afraid we haven’t. And we simply can’t keep him any longer. When you brought him in, did the person you spoke to explain that older cats are harder to find homes for? Unfortunately, people usually want kittens because they’re so cute, and the older cats get left—”

“What exactly are you planning to do with Crusoe?” Dalton interrupted.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. Occasionally the people who brought an animal in have better luck in finding a home for them. So, we wanted to give you a little bit of notice in case you want to ask around, check whether any friends or family members will take him. You understand that we don’t like to euthanize unwanted animals, but if neither of us can find a permanent home for your cat…”

Dalton closed his eyes. “How long has he got?”

“A week today.”

“And if I donate to your shelter? Can I extend that time?”

“Donations are always welcome, of course. But the problem is that Crusoe isn’t coping well with being caged. He must have been running wild for a while, and older cats can find it harder to adjust. He’s barely eating and we’re worried about his health.”

Shit. “Then here’s what I want you to do. Next time a nice, kind person comes in looking for a pet, tell them I’ll give them five thousand dollars to adopt Crusoe.”

The woman hesitated. “Okay,” she said finally. “We could try that. But the kind of person who’d take a cat for the money might not be the kind of person who’ll look after him the way you want.”

Dammit, the woman was determined to make this as difficult as it could be. What use were all those zeros in his bank account if they couldn’t fix a problem like this?

“Don’t put him to sleep.” Dalton’s tone was reinforced with steel. “Give me a little time to find a solution.”

“All right. But if his condition gets any worse, we’ll have no choice.”

After he’d hung up, Dalton stared at the phone for a long time. What could he do? Fly Crusoe to Sydney? But he’d brought Tiny a penthouse apartment, completely impractical for a cat used to the wilds of Lantana.

It would have been easier if the woman had never called. Then he could have imagined the cat had been adopted and was with a loving family.

Having to leave Crusoe felt almost as bad as leaving Rosa, but for a different reason. It was agonizing to know Crusoe was suffering when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Leaving Rosa behind had meant he was the one who was suffering.

Just once, he’d like there to be an easy answer. Was that too much to ask for?