Chapter 1
1
F irefighter and paramedic Hawke Wilson rarely took a day off. He worked with the Aegis Network if he wasn’t on duty at the fire station. He never once regretted leaving the Air Force. He still got to fight fires and work as a paramedic. Helping people was all he’d ever wanted to do. And he still worked with the best team imaginable. The first year or two after he’d left had been rough, but only because his mind constantly drifted to the past.
Something that still happened. Every damn day. He couldn’t rid himself of it, and he tried. For years, he buried himself in women who meant nothing to him in hopes of forgetting both the one he loved.
And the one he destroyed.
But all that did was remind him he was an asshole.
So, he shifted gears and focused on work. That’s all he did. All he cared about. His career and the men and women on his team. However, that dynamic had changed a lot over the last ten years.
His brother, Colt, while insanely proud of him, had always been a little disappointed he hadn’t joined the Army and Delta Force where they could work side by side. The thought had been appealing, especially when he’d go visit and hang out with Colt’s friends.
What a motley crew they were.
Hawke especially enjoyed Clark and Mike, but Peter had a special place in Hawke’s heart, having grown up down the street from him. Hawke especially liked his tattoo, which said:
I will honor my brothers-in-arms.
Freedom isn’t free and I will defend it with my life.
It is the quiet professional that rules the day.
Colt and Peter were six years older than Hawke. He’d looked up to the two of them his entire life and ended up having these words tattooed across his back:
I will honor my brothers-in-arms along with their loved ones.
Freedom isn’t free and I will defend it with my life.
It is the quiet professional that rules the day.
He stood in front of the microwave at the station house, only a few miles from his home near the beach. It had been a busy day of calls. Today, as on most days, he worked as a paramedic, so he only went out when the ambulance did, and today, it had gone out five times. He checked the blinking digital clock flashing before him while his dinner heated.
Five thirty.
He wouldn’t be off until seven in the morning. Not that he had anything he needed to do.
“What are you going to do during our vacation? There’s going to be a big party on Rex’s boat to kick things off,” Duncan said.
“I don’t plan on attending,” Hawke said, wincing. He and Duncan went way back. At one time, they were glued together at the hip. They’d go out on a Friday night, drink, shoot a little pool, and Duncan would enjoy watching Hawke try to pick up women.
Or better yet, they’d both hang back and watch Garth act like a big goof around the ladies.
But all that had changed, like so many other things.
“Too many kids and not enough single women?” Duncan asked with an arched brow. “It’s got to be weird being the only single guy left on the crew.”
Hawke laughed. Technically, he’d been single for the last ten years. Any woman he’d taken out during that time never lasted more than a month or two. He no longer had the patience or the tolerance to deal with a relationship. “There won’t be any single women on that boat, and I’m certainly not looking. Not worth the trouble. I adore all of your kids and could hang with them all day, so that’s not the issue.”
Damn his captain, Arthur. Or maybe his lieutenant, Rex. It didn’t matter. But to require him to take a week off work had been the kiss of death. They even had the nerve to call Timothy at the Aegis Network, informing him of their decision to force Hawke into a so-called much-needed break. Otherwise, he would be spending this week working any and every mission the Aegis Network could throw at him instead of twiddling his thumbs.
Seven days of doing nothing might be some people’s idea of heaven.
For Hawke, it only gave him time to think and contemplate his life decisions, and it was during those idle times that she would creep into his waking thoughts. It was hard enough that she haunted his dreams on a nightly basis. He had thought the more time and space between them, the more he’d be able to forget.
But he never could.
Just like he could never forgive himself for what happened in the past.
“Then why aren’t you coming?” Duncan asked. “This is starting to become a habit with you, and I have to say that Chastity and I are starting to take it personally.”
“No offense, but I’m just not in the mood to hang around a bunch of married people and all the stuff that comes with it while trapped on a yacht,” Hawke answered honestly.
“That’s why I’ll be fishing during the day and barhopping at night. Care to join me?” Zach asked, joining him in the kitchen. Zach was a new recruit and a swing on their team when someone was on vacation. Today, it was Buddy, who had to head home to take his wife to a doctor’s appointment.
Zach was a good firefighter and a nice kid. Emphasis on kid .
“I might just do that,” Hawke said.
“I’ll text you tomorrow afternoon. There’s a great band at Roady’s. The guitarist is phenomenal.” Zach smiled. If the man was more than twenty-five, it would be a fucking miracle. What the hell did he have in common with a kid that young?
“Sounds like a plan.” Hawke didn’t spend too much time with anyone but preferred the single men over the married ones these days. Not because he didn’t like the men on his team who had spouses or children but because it just reminded him of everything he walked away from.
The only problem with that was those men he was avoiding were like family and it made for a lonely existence.
“Do you need me to pick you up?” Zach asked.
“Nope. Got Marthy back yesterday. The shop did a bang-up paint job. Thanks for the recommendation.”
“That’s the dumbest name for a vehicle I’ve ever heard. Normal people name them Betty or Betsy or Beast or something.” Zach slapped him on the back. “But you’re not normal.”
“Neither are you,” Duncan said.
Zach laughed as he strolled into the common room.
“That kid is a party animal,” Duncan said. “What’s cooking?”
“Ravioli.” Hawke tapped his fingers on the counter.
“From a can, no doubt.” Duncan shook his head. “You eat like shit.”
Hawke wasn’t about to argue that point, but who didn’t like Chef Boyardee? Okay, the stuff tasted like cardboard doused in ketchup, but it had calories, and it would stop his stomach from growling.
“Did you hear about Wendel Lawerence?” Duncan asked.
Hawke’s body tensed. “That fire still has my gut twisted. No way was it an accident and I don’t believe the bullshit he’s spewing.” Hawke didn’t know Wendel well. Only in passing. But he was one cop that Hawke didn’t like. He was new to the force, fresh out of the Air Force, and his reputation was shit. “What’s he up to now?”
“He’s been suspended,” Duncan said.
“No shit,” Hawke said. “Did Kaelie finally nail him for setting the fire to his house?”
Duncan shook his head. “It’s real hush-hush. But it has to do with the rape and murder of three women. I’m not sure of the details because Rusty wasn’t talking. All he said was that he thinks the guy’s a prick and does shitty police work. Honestly, he and Kaelie are being a little secretive about both investigations.”
“That’s intriguing in a bad way.”
“Kaelie has Arthur, Rex, and Kent going over every detail of that fire and I hear Wendel is demanding we close it. He thinks we’re stalling.”
“Are we?” Hawke asked.
“No one will give me a straight answer, not even my wife, who still works part-time in Kaelie’s office, so my educated guess is yes.”
No sooner was dinner ready than the alarm went off. Quickly, he covered his plate and shoved it back in the fridge before making a beeline for the garage.
“We’ve got a jumper with a therapist sitting on the ledge with him,” Chastity Booker, the dispatcher and Duncan’s wife, said. “The therapist has herself strapped to the jumper.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Hawke’s heart sank. This was the one call that made him question his choice in careers. They didn’t happen often, but once was too many, and he’d seen a few dozen too many.
“It gets better. The jumper is an airman.” Chastity cocked a brow. “We might not be military anymore, but you can’t beat that out of our blood, and we take care of our own.”
“That we do.” Hawke snagged the ambulance keys from the desk and settled in behind the steering wheel.
“I got the address; let’s roll.” Noah Hale, a fellow paramedic, hopped into the passenger seat. He’d been working with the team for the last four years and fit in nicely. Arthur had recruited him through the Air Force. Noah had a story, as they all did, but Hawke didn’t know what it was. Immediately, Noah strapped himself in, then went for the GPS.
Rex Jordan jogged in front of the ambulance, tapping the hood with his helmet before shoving it on his head. “Move out,” he commanded.
Hawke hit the sirens and pulled out onto the street.
“Only five miles away,” Noah said. “I’d rather go help a six-hundred-pound person up off the floor or help them get out of bed than sit and cross my fingers that someone doesn’t decide to go splat on the pavement.”
Hawke cringed. Noah had no way of knowing his ex-girlfriend had died by suicide. The rest of his crew did and they wouldn’t have dared say anything like that to him, but he’d give Noah a pass. He did what he could to bury the memories of that part of his life, but they always found him.
He headed south, following Arthur in the ladder truck and Rex in the engine.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Noah said.
“I hate these calls too.” Hawke loved his job more than anything. When he’d first enlisted in the Air Force, he had no idea he’d end up as a firefighter, but he took to it like he’d been born with a hose in his hand. Arthur was the one who pushed him to become an EMT. Arthur needed a good combat medic on his team and wanted Hawke.
He’d been honored and signed up for the training the next day.
Gilmans Road was blocked off. Only emergency vehicles were allowed.
A local policeman moved the barricade and waved Hawke through. He parked the ambulance. As soon as his feet hit the concrete, he glanced up. The building was ten stories tall, and two people stood at the very top. He couldn’t make them out, but he saw two silhouettes as clear as day.
He snagged one of the emergency bags and went to where the rest of the team stood at the street corner.
“Do we know who’s up there?” Hawke asked.
Zach handed him a pair of binoculars.
“No fucking way,” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, but that didn’t change the fact that the woman standing on the ledge next to a young man who wanted to end his life was none other than Calista Alba. Her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She wore dark slacks and a yellow blouse. Thank God she’d taken off her shoes, because knowing her, she’d be wearing at least three-inch heels.
When she was dressed for work, she loved those damn fuck-me pumps. Hell, he used to love them too. But right about now, he was glad to see her toes.
Hawke clutched his chest as his fellow teammates, Garth, Kent, and Buddy, were busy opening up the chute that could potentially save Calista and her jumper. While those things served a purpose, he hated them. He’d used them more than once. And he’d been grateful for them every single time, but that didn’t change all the thoughts that ran through his mind.
The biggest one was Calista had to be fucking crazy to attach herself to a jumper like that.
“Arthur. Rex. Send me up,” Hawke said, standing before his boss and lieutenant. “I want to go talk to them.”
“We need you down here if this goes bad.” Arthur motioned to a few other firefighters.
All firemen were equipped with more than basic knowledge of first aid, but his training went way beyond that as a combat medic. He understood what his role could potentially be in this situation.
But no fucking way was he going to let Calista stand on the edge of that building a second longer.
“He’s got a gun,” Rex said, pointing toward the ledge with one hand while the other rested against his ear, keeping in communication with the locals on the roof. “Not only did the therapist hook herself to the young man, but now he’s threatening to kill her if we use the chute.”
“That’s Calista Alba,” Hawke said.
“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s a name from the past.” Rex kept his focus on the top of the building.
“Arthur, you’ve got to let me up there,” Hawke pleaded.
“If she were the jumper, I’d say yes. But she’s not. So you’re staying down here,” Arthur said.
“But I can help. You know what Calista and I went through. You know the drill. Come on, man, I can’t stand down here and watch this shit while she’s up there attached to God only knows what.” Hawke paused, taking in a deep breath and swallowing the thick lump of memories that bombarded every part of his mind, body, and soul. “Together, maybe we can talk him down. She’s good at her job, and I know the military.”
Arthur shook his head. “I’m going up. Once I get there and assess the situation, if I think you’ll be helpful, I’ll let you know.”
“Come on, Arthur. You can’t honestly expect me to stand here and watch and wait.”
But Arthur was his boss, and he called the shots. He was a smart man, and Hawke trusted him with his life.
He could trust him with Calista’s.
I will honor my brothers-in-arms along with their loved ones.
Calista wasn’t his woman, but she didn’t deserve to die, even if she was stupid enough to strap herself to the jumper.
Hawke jogged back to the ambulance and helped Noah with the necessary medical supplies they might need. Keeping his hand over his earpiece, he leaned against the vehicle and did his best to keep from losing his shit.
He folded his arms.
Then unfolded them.
He pushed himself from the cold metal and started to pace. He’d take five steps, stop, turn, and look up.
Repeat.
“Jesus Christ, will you stop?” Noah asked. “You’re making me nuts.”
Hawke checked his watch. They’d only been there for ten minutes.
“Jumper’s name is Brad Jonson,” Arthur’s voice crackled over the speaker. “He spent six months in the Middle East, saw some shit, hasn’t been the same since, and to pour some major salt on that wound, his girlfriend dumped him for someone else the moment he got back.”
“What does he want?” Hawke covered his eyes, keeping the sun’s glare from obstructing his view.
Brad held the gun in his right hand while the left one was curled around Calista’s wrist. He waved the weapon in the air.
“Things look heated up there,” Hawke added.
“They are. He’s demanding we back off and if Dr. Alba doesn’t step back inside in the next few minutes, he’s taking her with him. Hawke, get your ass up here,” Arthur said. “We need you to talk the good doctor into backing away. She was a little more than shocked to see me and I’m not getting through to her.”
“I bet she was, and she’s incredibly stubborn. On my way up.” Hawke wasted no time as he raced inside the building. He punched the elevator button a dozen times. Not that it would make it come down any faster, but it gave him something to do.
The doors slid open, and there stood Arthur. “I thought I’d bring the elevator down to you.”
“Thanks. Does she know I’m here?”
“Not yet, but since she saw me and Rex, it’s a good guess you’re on the agenda.”
“She’ll find out soon enough.” Hawke scratched the side of his face. The memory of her palm connecting with his cheek burned his skin.
No regrets.
Right. No matter how many times he pushed that mantra down his own throat, he choked on it. The only thing he didn’t regret was leaving the Air Force and following Arthur to Jacksonville, Florida.
He rolled his neck, flexing his biceps, preparing for… he had no idea. A half dozen first responders were gathered near a broken window. He took a quick glance around, wondering if this was Calista’s office. He had no idea what she’d done with her life. Not once had he returned to his hometown or Dover. There had been no reason to since his parents had passed. And he never looked her up.
Calista sent him a letter or two to his brother’s house every year, and Hawke put them in a box.
Unopened.
Unread.
He dared not even look at the return address, always covering it with his thumb. Why he kept the damn things, he had no idea. Then again, he didn’t know why he had kept a copy of Courtney’s suicide note, other than to read it every once in a while, reminding him of what he’d caused.
His brother constantly told him to read Calista’s letters and reach out. That he’d been a total prick for how he left.
He’d always respond with, Tell me something I don’t know.
“Two minutes, Dr. Alba,” a male voice commanded. “Don’t make me do this.”
Hawke had seen more than one person take their own life. Thankfully, he went on more calls that didn’t end with death, but he’d come to learn to recognize when a person was serious, and this man would kill Calista, no doubt about that.
“I’m not making you do anything. I’m asking you to come inside and try for one more day.” Calista’s voice ignited a flash of heat that rippled over his body. Anger and love collided as if in a high-speed crash, leaving no survivors.
“I do that, and these assholes will arrest me. I’m not spending any more time in a cage. I’m done,” the man said.
“I don’t blame you,” Hawke said as he stuck his head out the window.
Calista turned, and her jaw dropped open. Her eyes widened with shock but quickly narrowed into tiny, angry slits.
He couldn’t blame her either.
“Who the fuck are you?” Brad pushed the gun against Calista’s temple.
“I’m an old friend of your therapist.” All he needed to do was ensure that Brad’s gaze was stuck on him and not on what was going on below. “I’m here to beg her to step back inside so you can go about doing whatever you want to do with your life.”
“I’m not going to let you jump,” Calista said. “And you’re not a killer.”
“Yes, I am,” Brad said.
“Combat doesn’t count,” Calista said.
“Actually, it does.” Hawke’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t want his kind to die. He understood what war could do to a man, and there was hope.
There was always hope.
Something Courtney refused to consider.
Calista glared.
“But this would be different than what you had to do for this country. Calista is only trying to help you, something you pay her to do.”
“What the hell do you know about war?” Brad asked.
“I did three tours in the Middle East when I was in the Air Force. I still have nightmares sometimes, but the need to lock myself in a closet so I can cry like a baby is long gone. Calista, undo the belt, please.”
“I can’t just let him?—”
“You’re not. We’re trading places. Military take care of their own.” He stepped out on the ledge, even though Arthur and Rex were yelling at him through the earpiece. “Do it, Calista. Now.”
The men below had the chute ready, just in case.
Calista released the belt with a shaking hand, holding her to Brad. She placed her hand in Hawke’s.
Pop!
“No!”
Hawke grabbed hold of Calista and shoved her through the window, right into Arthur’s arms. Tightly holding on to the side of the building, he glanced toward the pavement. His team had caught Brad in the chute, and Noah was kneeling over him, checking for vitals.
“We’ve got a pulse,” Noah’s voice boomed in Hawke’s ear.
“I’ve got to get back down there.” He stepped off the ledge and stopped in front of Calista. He reached out and brushed a chunk of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. “He’s still alive.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Just doing my job.”
“You didn’t have to?—”
“Yeah. I did. We’re taking him to the local hospital. My boss here will fill you in and you can follow us, if he survives.” He let out a puff of air. “That was insanely stupid what you did. That man could have killed you.”
She poked his chest. “This is my job. I know what I’m doing.”
“No. This is my job. Your job is to sit on that sofa over there and listen to people. Not walk out on a ledge and offer to die with them.”
“Oh, that’s rich. Isn’t that what you were doing when you decided to switch places?”
“My team was inflating the chute. Besides, my role was to get your ass back inside and deal with him once that was done.” He raked his hand through his hair. “What you did was reckless and stupid.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the office and, hopefully, right out of her life again.
Calista raced through the halls of the hospital. She wouldn’t let Hawke run off again like they had nothing to discuss.
Not until she had a chance to tell him what a fucking asshole he was and that he’d never, ever see his son. She didn’t give a shit about what he’d said in her office. Or that he’d insulted her in front of his colleagues. She couldn’t care less what he thought about her actions. It was his that were questionable.
She slowed to a snail’s pace as she pushed open the bay doors where the ambulances brought patients. The humid Florida heat smacked her face like scalding hot water.
Did she really want to confront him? She’d sent him letters and pictures every year. He had every chance to meet his son and be a part of his life, but he chose not to.
How she could have ever loved him was a mystery.
Why she still loved him was insanity.
The ambulance he’d driven was still parked in the lot to the side of the drop-off circle. He sat on the back edge, his phone in his hands, finger tapping away on the screen.
Jerk hadn’t changed a bit. His sandy-brown hair had been cut short, just like his military days, but his five o’clock shadow had already started to dot his face. She’d always found that to be sexy. He’d been fit ten years ago, but damn, his biceps looked like they were hard as a rock and so much more defined than before.
And those bright, piercing blue eyes stole her breath.
Her heels clicked on the pavement. The noise must have caught his attention since he lifted his head.
He stood, waving his cell out in front of him. “I was just trying to find your contact information off the internet. You’re not an easy person to find. You don’t seem to be listed anywhere. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Right. Or maybe you just wanted to ream me a new asshole again.” She nearly choked on her laugh. “You knew I was in the hospital. You could have just come in and found me.” Tension kneaded its ugly fingers into her shoulders and jaw.
He scratched at the side of his face. “Last time I saw you, you left a handprint, and I didn’t want to risk it, especially after what I said, which was in the heat of the moment. I shouldn’t have said all that and I’m sorry.”
“Well, the good news is I’m not going to slap you, but I do get to call you a douchebag to your face.”
To his credit, he stood there like a man, staring her in the eye. Something he hadn’t done ten years ago.
“I’ve been called worse.” He nodded.
“How could you?” she asked.
“How could I what? Leave you ten years ago? I think I explained myself at Courtney’s grave.”
“Not what I’m talking about and you know it.” She planted her hands on her hips. God, hitting him right now would feel so good. This wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. His anger lifted off his skin like steam from a hot spring. The therapist in her knew he still carried every ounce of guilt he felt all those years ago. It had to be slowly killing him, and a tiny piece of her wanted to help him.
The rest of her, however, wanted to hurt him like no one else ever has so he could feel just a little bit of what it’s been like for her and her son for the last ten years. Wilson constantly asked questions about his father, and she was running out of lies.
He raised his palms toward the sky. “Calista, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. But since we’re standing here, I’m sorry I was a prick. I shouldn’t have left that way. If I could go back in time, I’d change how I called it quits.”
“Seriously? You’re going to apologize for that, of all things? I know you got my letters. Your brother told me he sends every single one.” She couldn’t care less about how he broke up with her.
“I didn’t read them.”
“What?” Tears welled in her eyes. Her stomach clenched and twisted, threatening to regurgitate what she’d eaten for lunch, which wasn’t so good going down, so she could only imagine what it would be like coming up. “What did you do with them? Throw them away?” Instinctively, she clutched her locket, thumbing the silver clasp that held the picture of Wilson Hawke Alba. All these years, she believed Hawke had wanted nothing to do with his son. Only it was her he was running from. He had never cared enough for her, even to open one damn letter.
Selfish asshole.
And her son had paid the price.
Hawke glanced over his shoulder before catching her gaze. He held her stare for a long minute. His facial muscles didn’t flinch at all.
She hated not being able to read him. Not even his ice-blue eyes gave anything away.
“I have them.” His voice remained flat, unemotional, and undetached, much like he had ten years ago. It was as if Courtney had taken him to the grave with her. “I’ve just never wanted to read them. I can’t go back to that time and we really don’t have anything left to say to one another. I’m sorry.”
Dropping her hands to her sides, she sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to go back.” She dug her hand into her cross-body purse and pulled out a business card. “I want nothing from you. I feel nothing for you anymore. That all died the day we buried Courtney and you chose a different path. One that didn’t include me.” She hadn’t said that name in years, and it tripped over her tongue and tumbled out of her mouth in a freefall. She cleared her throat and held up a finger. “I have one thing to ask of you. Just one. And it’s really fucking important, so I need you to do it.”
“What’s that?”
“Read the letters. I’ve sent you a couple a year for the last ten. They aren’t long, except the first one. You don’t need to call me or ever speak to me again, but do me the favor of taking the time?—”
“Why don’t you just tell me what’s in them or what’s so important that you had to keep writing.”
She shook her head. The nerve of that man. She’d given him the choice, but he hadn’t bothered to even peek in one envelope.
No way could she handle looking him in the eye and telling him he had an almost ten-year-old son. He’d either be devastated he’d lost ten years of his boy’s life or angry that she even thought he’d care. Either way, she didn’t want to be beside him when he found out. Besides, he lost that privilege when he dodged her right before he left the military. Odd that they both ended up in the same city and didn’t know it.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I have a million reasons, but the biggest one is you lost the right to ask anything of me the second you chose to walk out of my life. Read the letters, and then we’ll talk. Or don’t read the letters. That’s your choice. I’ve got to go.” She turned on her heel.
Thick, long fingers curled around her arm. The familiar sensation of his warmth sent her down a road she thought she’d long forgotten. Hot blood pumped through her veins, reminding her of a love so great that no man has ever been able to fill it.
“Now who’s walking away?”
She jerked, trying to yank herself free from his tight grasp so she could rid herself of all the emotions she tried to tell herself had been crushed the day he left her standing over Courtney’s coffin.
“Just tell me.” His nostrils flared like a frustrated bull waiting to charge. “What’s the big deal if I read it or hear it.”
She swiped at her cheeks, resenting the waterfall pouring from her eyes. Her life had never been easy. Her father had died in jail when she’d been in high school, and her mother died of a drug overdose about the same time she started dating Hawke. He’d lost his mother to cancer, and his father died in the line of duty right after he’d graduated from the Air Force Academy, so he understood some of what she went through. He’d been so kind to her all through school, knowing what her home life was like where the rest of the kids shunned her.
“What’s in the letters?” His strong hands rested on her shoulders.
“You asked me not to chase after you, and other than one time, I respected that. However, I took the time to write you. You can take the time to read them. Like I said, we never have to see each other again if that is what you want.”
His calloused hands ran up and down her arms five times before he dropped them to his sides. “When I saw you on the ledge of that building, my heart sank. I couldn’t believe that you were risking your life that way. It reminded me of the time we found Courtney with a handful of pills, and it brought everything back, and I couldn’t push it away. Maybe we could have lunch sometime so we can talk, something we should have done before I left.”
All of this was a little too late, yet she owed it to her son to give Hawke a chance. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words to his face.
Or maybe she wanted to torture him.
Either way, before they had an in-depth conversation about the subject, she needed him to accept what he’d turned his back on. “I’ll meet you for lunch, but only if you read the letters.” She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger to taste his salty skin. “My number is in those letters.”
“You look good. Real good,” he said as his lips curled into a smile.
“You look like you’ve spent a lifetime running from the past, but it looks like the past just caught up with you. Deal with it, or you’ll end up a very lonely, sad man.” She suspected he was already there; he just hadn’t accepted it. “I hope I hear from you.”
“I’m on duty until tomorrow morning, so I won’t be able to read them until after I get off work.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” With her heart hammering in her chest, she turned and made her way back into the hospital.
Wilson was either going to have his father.
Or she was going to have to break her son’s heart.