Rusty had been to Vegas a million times...but most of his memories there were fueled by an alcohol-induced haze. He rented a car at the airport and drove down the neon lit strip to the highway. From there he headed north toward the state line where Celia lived and worked. He'd been over this a thousand times in his head already. He even almost convinced himself to just mail the letter. But Saint was right...no matter how long it had been since she'd seen him, or how things ended between them...she had loved him, and she deserved someone sitting down with her face to face and telling her about his last days and handing her his last words...he was sick to his stomach at the thought of it, but he'd made a promise to his friend and he planned on keeping it.

He pressed in the address Hunter gave him into his GPS and followed the directions once he got off the freeway to a small little strip of residential homes not far from one of Las Vegas's largest shopping outlets. It was quiet though and lined with big shade trees. The homes were mostly small, two or three-bedroom, older homes. They looked like they'd probably been built in the forties or fifties, but they were all well-maintained. The weather was so different from Massachusetts. It was warm in Vegas, almost too warm and there were people out walking their dogs and children playing in their front yards. It was late afternoon, so people were home from work and kids home from school...it looked like a nice place to live and Rusty thought Saint would have been happy to know Celia lived there.

He saw the house and the lady and little girl in front of it before he saw the address. It was blue, with white trim and there was a big, green yard in front. A middle-aged woman sat in a lawn chair near the front steps that led up to the door and a tiny little blonde-haired girl in a bathing suit was dashing in and out of the sprinkler. The woman wasn't Celia...and Hunter hadn't said anything about her having kids, but the address was right, so he pulled up to the curb in front of the house anyways. As soon as he got out of the car, the woman called the little girl up to her.

Rusty smiled as he approached them and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. They were just both watching him curiously, but neither of them looked worried or frightened. “Hi, can I help you?” the woman asked.

“Hi there. My name is Rusty Daniels. I was looking for Celia...”

“Mommy's at work,” the little girl said, drawing an exasperated look from the woman.

“Maddie, why don't you go inside and get a snack while I talk to the nice man, okay?”

“Okay!” The little girl dashed up the steps and into the house, slamming the screen door behind her. When she was gone the woman said,

“I'm her Aunt Lisa, and yes, she's at work. Can I give her a message for you?” Again, the little voice in his head almost convinced him to just take the coward's way out and leave the letter. But something about that little girl's brown eyes told Rusty that Celia might still think about Saint even more than they would have suspected.

“Well, I really need to talk to her. Do you have any idea when she'll be back?”

“No, but you can leave your number...” The woman's eyes went toward the narrow driveway where a white mini-van was pulling up. She frowned as the woman driving it stepped out. Rusty recognized her from the picture Hunter had given him...it was Celia. “Is this about the mortgage? They told her she had until Monday...” Celia was looking at him curiously as she approached and Rusty's eyes were on her, but before she got within earshot Rusty said,

“No ma'am. I don't want anything from her, I promise.”

“Hi there,” the pretty lady said when she got close. She was petite, with soft brown hair that came to her shoulders and hazel eyes that were mostly green. She had on a casual business suit and she was carrying a large purse or briefcase.

“Hi. Celia?”

“Yes...?” She looked at her aunt questioningly. The older woman shrugged, and Celia said, “Where's Maddie?”

“In the house getting a snack.”

“Celia, I'm Rusty Daniels. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes. It's about Saint.” As soon as he said Saint, her face went pale and she dropped the bag she was holding. Her aunt stood up and looked at Rusty.

“She doesn't need to hear anything about him...!”

“Aunt Lisa,” Celia said in a soft voice, “it's okay, really. Will you go in with Maddie...keep her in the house...”

“Celia...”

“Please.” The older woman gave Rusty a glare and then looked at her niece with an almost pleading one. Saint was definitely not a dead issue in this house. Rusty wasn't sure that was a good thing though, judging by their reactions. Celia watched her aunt go inside and then picked up her bag and said, “Let's walk around by the garage, there are some chairs there.” Rusty followed her and they came to a cheery little area on the side of the house where there was a picnic table, a lot of little girl toys and a bird feeder. Celia sat down on a bench on one side of the table and invited Rusty to sit down on the other. Once they both sat she said, “Saint sent you?”

Rusty nodded. “Yes. He asked me to bring you this letter...” he pulled it out of his pocket as she said,

“Why? I mean, why would he send a letter with you if he knew where I lived? Why didn't he come himself, or mail the letter or...” Rusty wasn't good at controlling his facial expressions and before Celia finished talking, she must have seen what was written on his face. “Did something happen to him?”

He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Saint died, a week ago today.”

He saw her grit her teeth together and set her jaw before she said, “How?”

“It was his liver, it failed.”

She let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and a cry and he watched her eyes fill with tears. It took her several minutes to compose herself and Rusty sat quietly until she did. At last she said, “His drinking, right?”

Rusty nodded again. “I'm sorry I didn't know about you before he passed, or I would have contacted you sooner...”

“For what? So I could go see a man who completely rejected me five years ago?”

“I'm sorry,” he said again, unsure if he should try to tell her the things Saint said about her, or if he should just let her read it in the letter. He held it out and when she didn't take it, he lay it down on the table in front of her and said, “He asked me to give this to you.”

She looked at it like it was something poison and she was afraid it would bite her. Finally, she said, “What is it?”

“A letter. He had a lot that he wanted to say to you.”

“And why didn't he say it to me himself while he was still alive?”

“He had someone looking for you since he found out how sick he was...”

“No, not after he got sick, before. He had almost six years. Why didn't he reach out in all that time? Was he too busy making love to a bottle?”

Rusty knew she had every right to be angry but hearing her talk about Saint that way and seeing how angry she was with him actually hurt his heart. “He had problems with alcohol, Celia. He was the first to admit that. But he also had a lot of regrets and from what he told me before he died, you were the biggest regret of all.”

She swallowed hard and blinked back the tears in her eyes. Rusty could tell that she was genuinely angry...but, she was sad too. She was trying to fight that part, but she was losing the battle. “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with any of this.”

“Neither am I,” Rusty said. “I'm truly sorry to be the one to tell you this. I know it's been a long time since you've seen him, and things didn't end well...but if it helps any at all, you were on his mind right up to the end. He missed you, and he regretted letting you go.”

“He broke me,” she said with a tear sliding down her face. “I wasn't sure that I would ever be normal again after he left. I loved him with every fiber of my being, and he just walked away. He chose his lifestyle over me and...” She stopped there and when she didn't go on Rusty said,

“Is your little girl...is she Saint's daughter?”

She wiped at her face, angrily pushing the tears away. “Yeah. She is. She looks just like him too, and I have been haunted by his face every day of her life. I love her more than I've ever loved anything or anyone...and I'm angry with him not just for breaking my heart, but for causing that perfect child to have to grow up without a father.”

“Do you mind if I ask...did Saint know about her?” Rusty had a hard-enough time imagining Saint walking away from Celia after listening to him talk about how much he loved her. What he really couldn't imagine was Saint walking away from his child, or any child for that matter. He'd been so good to Blue and she had loved him like a big brother.

Celia sighed. “No,” she said, fingering the envelope in front of her. “I didn't want her to grow up with an alcoholic for a father who was either in her life out of guilt or shame...or not in her life out of selfishness. If he didn't want a steady girlfriend, or a wife...I'm sure he didn't want a child either.” Rusty's head was teeming with “what if's” that he almost let spill out through his mouth. But thankfully he caught himself. He knew the “what if's” were probably occurring to her already and probably had been for the past six years. All she could do now was move on and he hoped that the letter would help her, and not make it that much harder.

“Well, I guess I should get out of your way, I'm sure you want to go in and see your little girl. I'm really sorry we had to meet this way.”

She looked up at him as he stood up. “Thank you for bringing this to me. I really loved him...I still do.”

“He loved you too.” Rusty regretted that as soon as he said it because it sent her into another torrent of tears. He stood rooted to his spot, unsure if he should try to comfort her, or leave her there alone. Finally, he chose the latter, giving her shoulder a little squeeze as he walked away. When he got to the rental car and put the key in the ignition, something her aunt said suddenly came to him. “Is this about the mortgage?”

He took out his phone and called Hunter. The bounty hunting biker answered on the first ring. “Hey Rusty, problems finding her?”

“No,” he said. His voice was still thick. “I found her. I was wondering if I could ask you one more favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you find out for me who holds the mortgage on her house?”

“Absolutely, that'll be easy.”

“And how much she owes?”

“Okay, that one is a little more difficult, but give me a few hours.”

“Okay, thanks.” Rusty reached up and touched the cross hanging from around his neck. He closed his eyes for a second and whispered, “No worries, buddy. I'll take care of them, I promise.”