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The Man Who Wouldn't Marry
Tina Beckett


Military hero – tick! Confirmed bachelor – tick! But stand-in father…? Of all the medical pilots in all the world, why-oh-why did Mark Branson have to be assigned to her hospital?It’s been years since Mark turned his deliciously muscled back on nurse Sammi Trenton and headed to the frontline. Now she’s a mum, surely Sammi’s chances of being noticed again by this determinedly single man are zero…?












Churches and weddings? Not for Mark. Not anymore.


He’d become adept at drifting from relationship to relationship, never allowing things to become too serious.

Why was he here?

A question that had nothing to do with witnessing his best friend’s wedding and everything to do with moving back to his hometown.

He glanced over at Sammi, this time finding her brown eyes staring at him, brows drawn together in worry.

Her customary braid was gone today, her long dark hair left free to spill over her bare shoulders and halfway down her back, thick and glossy. He knew firsthand how decadent those silky strands felt as they flowed across his hands… his body.

He shifted in his spot to keep from remembering too deeply, knowing this was not the time or place. Later, when he slugged back his first shot of whiskey and tried to push away the horrors of the last eight years, he could afford to nurse his regrets.

Soft clapping around him made him realize the bride and groom were now in each other’s arms, their lips locked together.

How soon could he get out of here?

Love conquers all.

Wrong.


Dear Reader

I was raised in a military family, surrounded by men whose love and bravery often led them into dangerous and difficult situations. My grandfather served in the Army, while my father was a career Navy man. Squadron numbers, ranks and the names of aircraft carriers might sound like Greek to most of the world, but to me they were a part of everyday life.

Both my dad and my grandfather relayed stories of triumph and heartache from their years in the service. But I suspect other tales remained buried, known only to them and those who served with them. My book’s hero arose from this idea. What happens when someone tries to lock away a terrible memory, only to have it resurface in unexpected ways? What must that be like for those who love him and want to help?

Thank you for joining Mark and Sammi as they reunite after years apart. As they struggle to overcome the things which drove them apart in the first place. Best of all, this special couple rekindles a love they thought was long dead. I hope you enjoy reading about their journey as much as I enjoyed writing about it!

Sincerely

Tina Beckett




About the Author


Born to a family that was always on the move, TINA BECKETT learned to pack a suitcase almost before she knew how to tie her shoes. Fortunately she met a man who also loved to travel, and she snapped him right up. Married for over twenty years, Tina has three wonderful children and has lived in gorgeous places such as Portugal and Brazil.

Living where English reading material was difficult to find had its drawbacks, however. Tina had to come up with creative ways to satisfy her love for romance novels, so she picked up her pen and tried writing one. After her tenth book she realised she was hooked. She was officially a writer.

A three-time ‘Golden Heart’ finalist, and fluent in Portuguese, Tina now divides her time between the United States and Brazil. She loves to use exotic locales as the backdrop for many of her stories. When she’s not writing you can find her either on horseback or soldering stained-glass panels for her home.

Tina loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.



Recent titles by Tina Beckett:

DOCTOR’S MILE-HIGH FLING

DOCTOR’S GUIDE TO DATING IN THE JUNGLE



These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk


The Man

Who Wouldn’t

Marry





Tina Beckett
















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CHAPTER ONE


WHY was he here?

Mark Branson’s eyes slid for the hundredth time to the small child standing beside him at the altar, the boy’s dark suit and red tie a miniature version of his own. They could almost be father and son.

But they weren’t.

His gaze automatically swept to the left, coming to rest on the bridesmaid across the aisle. The woman he’d once planned to marry in this very church, before life had intervened, and she’d married someone else.

And having her child propped against him as they waited for the wedding to begin was pure torture.

‘Do you have the rings?’

Mark blinked and switched his attention back to the priest, the man’s gold-embroidered robes and matching cape seeming as ancient as the ornate carvings inside the small Russian Orthodox Church. Candles of all shapes and sizes adorned the altar, placed on glittering stands by the people in attendance. The flickering glow added a sense of awe and mystery to the room, and also provided the only source of illumination. The absence of electric lights in the church had always seemed strange to Mark but, then again, he could count on his fingers the number of services he’d attended here.

The last time had been for his father’s memorial service. He could still remember his mother’s tears. Her grief so misplaced. Mark had never visited the man’s grave. Not once.

A throat cleared. ‘The rings?’ The concern in the priest’s tone echoed off the high ceilings. The groom shot him a look, his best friend’s brows lifting in question.

Mark cleared his own throat to make sure it came out normal. ‘I have them.’

Okay, good. The steady throbbing behind his temples hadn’t crept down to his voice box. Digging in his pocket, he located the pair of rings and handed them to the boy, who in turn trudged up the two steps to the top of the platform, giving one to the groom and the other to the bride.

The bride, a relative newcomer to the Aleutians, bent down to hug the child and watched as he skipped back down the steps. She then wrinkled her nose and smiled at her soon-to-be-husband, who gazed back at her with besotted eyes.

Mark barely restrained himself from rolling his own. His buddy had it bad.

Willing the child to go and stand beside his mother, who hadn’t met Mark’s gaze once since they’d taken their places on the steps at the front of the church, he gave an almost audible sigh of frustration. Because the boy wound up back at his side, leaning against him. The turmoil already raging within his gut turned into a firestorm of the worst kind.

Worse than his years in the military. Worse than what he’d returned home to six months ago.

‘Do you, Blake Taylor, take Molly McKinna to be your lawfully wedded wife…’

The voice droned on as a curtain of red slowly rose behind Mark’s eyelids. Could this get any worse? When his friend had asked him to be best man, he’d known it was a bad idea.

Churches and weddings?

Not for Mark. Not any more.

He’d become adept at drifting from relationship to relationship, never allowing things to become too serious. Never willing to risk the hurt that came with discovering someone you’d cared about had married someone else—had another man’s child. It was his own fault, but he’d had no choice. Not at the time.

‘Muster Mark?’ The words brought his gaze back down to the boy beside him. ‘Are we almost done? I’m thusty.’

The slight lisp sent a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before he cranked them back down. The child had to be almost six years old. A surge of hope had flashed through him the first time he’d seen the boy. Hope that he had been his son. But he had been aboard an aircraft carrier in the Arabian Sea at the time, flying missions to Afghanistan, so there was no chance.

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He’d told her to move on with her life, and she’d done exactly that. Two years after his plane had left Dutch Harbor that final time.

Which brought him back to his original question. Why was he here?

A question that had nothing to do with witnessing his best friend’s wedding and everything to do with moving back to his hometown. He swore once his dad died, he’d never come back, but his mom had seemed so…

Frail.

Terrified of being alone for the first time in her adult life. So he’d done what he’d tried to do as a young boy, protect her from the bad things in the world. He wasn’t any better at it now than he’d been all those years ago.

He glanced down at the kid, who was about the same age Mark had been when he had realized something was terribly wrong with his family. That they were different from the families of his classmates and friends. Hence the fights he’d frequently got into. The need to prove he was tougher—better than them all. It had also kept anyone from focusing on the truth behind his bruises.

Almost against his will, his hand went to the boy’s head, resting for a second on the dark silky hair—so like his mother’s. ‘A few more minutes,’ he whispered, realizing he’d never answered the child’s question.

The kid blinked up at him, eyes trusting. Innocent.

Hell, he hoped Sammi knew enough to protect that at all costs.

He glanced over at her again, this time finding her brown eyes staring at him, brows drawn together in worry. He had a feeling if she could snatch her child away from him without causing a scene, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

Mark removed his hand from the boy’s head, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring back at her in defiance. She jerked her attention away and faced the bride and the groom, her teeth digging into her soft bottom lip.

Her customary braid was gone today, her long dark hair left free to spill over her bare shoulders and halfway down her back. Thick and glossy, he knew firsthand how decadent those silky strands felt as they flowed across his hands… his body.

He shifted in his spot to keep from remembering too deeply, knowing this was not the time or place. Later, when he slugged back his first shot of whiskey and tried to push away the horrors of the last eight years, he could afford to nurse his regrets.

But he wouldn’t go back and change how he’d done things. It had been the right thing to do under the circumstances. The only thing. His father had made sure of that when he’d cracked open the tiny velvet box and discovered Mark’s secret.

Well, well, boy. What have we here? The slow, ugly smile that had made Mark’s insides tighten with dread had appeared. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the girlie is given a proper Branson welcome.

He’d left for Anchorage the next day, the engagement ring tucked into the pocket of his jeans, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He’d shown up at the first recruitment station he could find… and the rest was history.

Soft clapping around him made him realize the bride and groom were now in each other’s arms, their lips locked together.

He couldn’t bring himself to applaud, so he dropped his hands to his sides. When his gaze wandered back to Sammi, he noted that she was standing as still as a stone, her knuckles showing white as she clenched the stems of her bouquet.

How soon could he get out of there?

There was no reception planned, which was a big relief. He didn’t have to mingle and make small talk about how great it was that the bride and groom had finally gotten hitched. Or how wonderful it was that they were moving permanently to Anchorage. Mark had never thought his buddy, of all people, would ever leave the island.

Love conquers all.

Wrong.

Sometimes love just turned you into a victim.

His friend’s desertion, though, meant it was now Sammi… and him… doing the island’s medevacs. Why he’d agreed to take the job, he had no idea. He should have said no, that he was strictly a tourist pilot, sticking to a fluffy job that required nothing more than a smile and a canned speech. Nothing like the life-and-death missions he’d flown in the military—or the terrible images that still invaded his thoughts and woke him in the night. But it was either that or stand in the way of his buddy’s happiness.

And his friend knew how to lay on the guilt. He always had.

The pair at the front of the church broke apart amidst laughter. They pivoted towards the small assembly and started down the aisle to the pipe organ’s piercing rendition of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’, drawing more chuckles from friends and family. The groom put his arms around his bride and pulled her close, stopping for another kiss before they’d gone a half-dozen steps.

All Mark wanted to do was escape.

The rest of the wedding party—he, Sammi, and Sammi’s son—turned to follow suit. He started to hold out his elbow for Sammi as he’d been instructed by his friend—under threat of death—but found her boy’s fingers grabbing his hand instead.

Sammi shot him a glare that could have scalded milk and swept in front of him, perfectly rounded curves showcased by her snug emerald dress. The thing actually shimmered with each angry swish of her hips. It took several seconds and a tug at his hand before he realized he was still standing there, rooted in place, as Sammi drew further and further away.

He forced himself to move, having to dial back on the length of his strides to match the kid’s. By the time they caught up with her, she was standing in the reception line by the front doors of the church, and he was once again trying to figure out why he was there.

Samantha Grey Trenton sucked down a deep breath and tried not to let her rising panic overwhelm her. Her son Toby’s sudden fascination with Mark was nothing more than the fact that he was tall and dark like his father, her ex-husband. Despite the physical resemblance, though, Mark was not the kind of person she wanted her son hanging around. The kind that led you on for as long as it suited him and then left with barely a word.

‘I think I have something of yours.’ Low and deep, the murmured words slid over her, his breath ruffling her hair.

She swallowed, then turned to face him, realizing with relief he was talking about Toby and not some sentimental relic from the past. That thought caused a warning prickle behind her eyelids that she forced back with a single harsh blink.

Mark’s hand came out, her son’s small fingers still gripping it like a lamprey. No choice. Her only hope was to try to take possession of him without touching anything but Toby.

Except it ended up being impossible.

In order to take her son’s hand, she was forced to wriggle her fingertips between their palms. Mark’s warm skin sizzled against her icy flesh, and for a split second all three of their hands were sealed together: Hers, Toby’s, and a stranger’s.

The prickle reappeared. Oh, God, she was going to lose it. Right here in front of all these people.

The image of the funny, laid-back boy who’d asked her to be his date for their senior prom—whose desperate kisses had awoken something deep inside her—appeared in the back of her mind. But that person was gone for ever, destroyed when he had announced he was going into the military. That shocking decree had come just weeks after he’d professed his love for her, his face turning a charming shade of red as he’d said the words.

It had all been a lie, however. A way to get her into his bed, because there’d been no promise of a future when he’d left. Just a few tight-jawed words spoken at the front door of her house. Then he had gone. The remembered humiliation of that night still had the power to crush her heart in a giant fist.

The tall, rugged man who’d returned to Dutch Harbor eight years later was indeed a stranger. Flippant, arrogant and who now chased anyone in a skirt.

Anyone but her.

With a start, she realized Mark was now eyeing her, their hands still joined together. She gulped and with a quick move, prised Toby’s hand free. She moved a few steps forward in line, needing to put some distance between her and Mark.

Please let me get through this in one piece.

That tiny prayer seemed doomed the second she sensed the heat from Mark’s body close behind her. Too close.

Ignore him. You’ve done it for the last six months. You can do it now.

Not so easy this time as Toby had twisted around to look, a contented sigh lifting his thin chest. She listened for the warning wheeze, but it didn’t happen. A dose of self-righteous anger whipped up at the deadly charisma her former beau gave off in waves. She would not let him hurt her son the way he’d hurt her.

She leaned down. ‘Just a few more minutes.’ She realized too late those were almost the exact words she’d heard Mark whisper to him earlier.

Thank heavens she hadn’t waited around for Mark’s return. Because he now barely gave her the time of day. And she wasn’t much better. She avoided him whenever she could—not an easy feat on an island like Dutch Harbor—and the only times he’d appeared at the clinic over these last months had been to deliver a tourist who’d gotten a scrape or a bruise.

Her turn to offer her congratulations to the happy couple. Finally!

She pasted on a smile as she reached out her free hand to Blake, the groom. ‘So you went and did it.’ She tried to keep her voice light, but it betrayed her by shaking just the tiniest bit. She pushed on, anyway. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving the island and taking Molly with you.’ Blake, Mark, and Sammi had joined forces during their childhood days, becoming a kind of mod squad—inseparable and lifelong friends. Those strands were now tattered and worn—she doubted they could ever be woven together again.

Blake laughed, evidently not noticing the strain she was under. ‘I think if Molly had a choice, she’d never leave Dutch Harbor.’

Molly had worked as a doctor at the tiny clinic with Sammi for the last year until her funding had dried up, forcing her to move back to Anchorage. She and Blake had met while doing medevacs and, after a rocky start, realized they were meant for each other. Once she left, Sammi would be stuck doing medical evacuations with Mark, not something she was looking forward to.

Who was she kidding? She was dreading it.

Pausing to gather her thoughts, she tried to keep her mind on the happy couple and off her own problems. ‘Treat her right, Blake. Or I’ll come and find you.’

‘I intend to.’

While Blake squatted to talk to Toby, Sammi moved over to embrace the bride. ‘Be happy,’ she whispered.

‘You too.’

If only it were that easy.

She sensed Blake rise to his feet to greet Mark. At the sound of awkward male hugs—complete with palms delivering a few resounding smacks to the other’s back—she had to fight back a smile.

She tried to tune out their words, but Mark’s ‘You caved, bro’ caught her attention, the wry tone as flip as ever.

The bride’s voice brought her back to the present. ‘Okay, you two, I’m tired and starving.’ She crinkled her nose. ‘And I still have a three-hour flight to Anchorage to get through.’

That drew a laugh from Sammi. Her friend had married a pilot, yet she didn’t like to fly. At all. Talk about opposites attracting. She gave Molly another quick hug. ‘You’ll be fine.’

Molly smiled. ‘I know I will. I just like the extra handholding it gets me.’

Those words made Sammi’s heart ache. Although she was over the moon that her two friends had found each other, she was sad she’d never found that same perfect happiness. Her ex-husband had done his best, but in the end they’d both known it wasn’t meant to be. When Toby had been one, they’d separated. They’d finalized their divorce two weeks before Toby’s second birthday. Her ex, now living in Anchorage, had remarried and was, to all appearances, blissfully happy with his second wife. Even Toby liked her.

A throat cleared behind her, making her jump. She realized she was holding up the line and that Mark couldn’t get around her in the narrow gap between the door and the newly married couple without touching her. Again. The thought made her quake inside. She squeaked out a quick ‘Sorry’.

Then she grabbed Toby’s hand and did the only thing she could think of.

She fled.




CHAPTER TWO


SAMMI pumped the inhaler twice and waited.

Toby, still half-asleep, lay on his back propped in a nest of pillows. The terrifying rattle in his chest slowly eased as the albuterol flooded his lungs, widening his breathing passages to allow more air flow.

As Community Health Aide for the island, she knew better than to panic, but when it was your own son… She closed her eyes. Who could maintain any kind of objectivity under those circumstances?

Not that she had much of that anyway. Molly had continually fussed at her for rushing from one house to another to check on patients she’d just seen the day before.

‘You’re going to wear yourself out this way’ had been the rebuke du jour.

Her friend was right, but she hadn’t been able to stop.

Now that Molly was gone and with only one other physician’s assistant on staff at the clinic, she wouldn’t have the luxury of taking off at any hour of day to check on her patients. And either she or the PA would now have to accompany any medevac flights headed to Anchorage. The good part was that she’d be able to meet up with Molly periodically. The bad part was that she was stuck flying with Mark—although Blake could still handle cases that weren’t life or death and who could wait the three hours it took him to reach Dutch Harbor.

‘Better?’ she asked her son, his breathing now almost back to normal.

He nodded sleepily, trying to squinch his way back into his cocoon of warm covers.

‘Not so fast, bud. Let’s just wait another minute or two.’

His impatient sigh made her smile. Okay, if he could do that, instead of gasping for each breath, she could afford to let him go back to sleep. She tucked him in and stood over his bed, watching him for a second. Before putting the inhaler back on the book-packed nightstand beside his bed, she shook it to see how much of the medicine remained.

Were they going through it faster than normal?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Toby’s attacks were coming more frequently than in the past.

Checking the child monitor before she clicked the lights off, she headed back to her own room, hoping she could squeeze her eyelids shut long enough to turn off her brain. She needed the sleep, or tomorrow promised to be a long, exhausting day.

‘Mrs. Litchfield is in room one. One of her joints is swollen to almost twice its size.’ The receptionist handed Sammi a file folder.

She tossed her braid over her shoulder, catching a movement outside the front plate-glass window as she did.

Mark. He was striding by on his way to the airport, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his leather bomber jacket, long, loose limbs moving in a way that drew the eye. Not quite a swagger, his stride gave off an air of easy confidence that said he didn’t care what the world thought of him.

And unlike Sammi, who couldn’t seem to look away, the man didn’t spare a glance at the clinic, or at her. With a sigh, she forced herself to turn away and head to the exam room.

As soon as she arrived, all thoughts of Mark evaporated when Barbara Litchfield, a woman in her mid-fifties, climbed to her feet and greeted her.

‘Sorry to come back so soon,’ she said, the regret in her voice unmistakable.

‘What are you talking about? I told you to get back in here at the first hint of trouble. Arthritis is nothing to play around with. I know you need those fingers whole and strong.’

A retired orchestral pianist, Barbara had moved to the Aleutians with her husband when he’d retired from a corporate job a couple of years ago. At a time when most retirees sought refuge in the south, hoping for warm, sunny days of golfing and fun, the Litchfields had bucked the trend, fitting right into the harsh landscape of Dutch Harbor. Barbara taught piano lessons—free of charge—to a few of the local kids. It meant a lot to both the former pianist and the kids she worked with. Those fingers were important, and not just for her physical health.

Sammi snapped on a pair of gloves. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’

Taking the other woman’s hands in hers, she spotted the affected joint immediately. Swollen and angry red, her left ring finger didn’t look happy, and for good reason. Molly frowned when she noted the woman’s wedding band. ‘Why is that still on?’

‘I tried to get it off this morning when I realized how bad it was, but it wouldn’t budge, and when I tried to force it…’ Her voice trailed away.

‘It’s okay. The base of your finger isn’t swollen at the moment, but if it begins to swell, we may need to cut the ring off.’ She put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. ‘We won’t unless it’s absolutely necessary, okay? In the meantime, I’m going to give you a shot of cortisone in the joint. Then I really want you to see a rheumatologist in Anchorage. I’ll make a phone call and get you in as soon as possible.’

‘I can’t just keep taking Advil?’

Sammy shook her head. ‘That used to be how we treated arthritis, thinking if we could get the inflammation under control, we could preserve the joint. But newer research suggests the real damage happens much earlier in the disease, even before it shows up on X-rays.’

Just like the damage to Sammi and Mark’s relationship. Just as their feelings for each other started to gain a foothold, unseen currents swirled around them, eating away at the foundation. By the time she’d realized just how deeply she’d fallen for him, the mysterious corrosive agent had done its job. The silver cord joining them had snapped and Mark had bolted.

So why did seeing him walk down the street this morning still tug at something inside her? And why had seeing her son’s hand enveloped in his at the wedding a week ago turned her heart inside out?

She shook off the questions. It didn’t matter. She’d gotten married, had a child with someone else. Mark had dated plenty of other women since his return.

There was nothing between them any more.

‘Let me make a quick phone call then I’ll give you the injection.’ Sammi scribbled a couple of notes down on the chart. ‘I’ll be right back.’

The phone call took less than five minutes. A bit of arm twisting on her end, the promise of a jar of home-made salmonberry jam when the season rolled around, and Barbara had her appointment. Two weeks from today, record time for that kind of specialist. But she and Chris Masters went way back. One of the few islanders who’d gone to medical school and left the Aleutians, he was now a highly sought-after rheumatologist. Appointments with him could take months.

Satisfied, she made a note to herself that her debt to fellow doctors was now up to ten pints of jam and a pie. Not to mention her son, who’d made her promise on her life not to give all their jelly away again this year.

Speaking of Toby…

She jogged back to the reception area. ‘What time is it?’

Lynn’s raised brows told her even before she spoke. ‘Two o’clock, and you’ve missed lunch again.’

‘Right. I’ll eat as soon as I’m done with Mrs. Litchfield. Promise.’

‘You’d better. I’ve already locked the front door, just in case.’

Sammi laughed. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’m going to start heating your food in the microwave, so don’t take long.’ She paused. ‘I’m heating mine too.’

In other words, if Sammi delayed, her receptionist would also go hungry. ‘I’ll be there by the time you pour the coffee.’

The injection was given and Sammi unlatched the front door to let Barbara out—a sheaf of papers and instructions clutched in her hands. She pushed the door closed again, twisting her head around when Lynn’s threat reached her ears. ‘Coffee’s going into the mugs.’

‘I’ll be right—’

The front door started to blow open, probably a result of the gusty conditions today. Sammi was leaning her entire weight onto it to force it shut when a harsh yelp, a colorful string of words and something squishy stopped her in her tracks.

Eyes wide, she turned to look. The doorway she’d sworn was empty a second ago was now filled with Mark, and that squishy thing…

Yikes, she’d just crunched his hand in the door!

‘Coffee’s getting cold.’ Lynn’s warning was drowned by the realization of what she’d just done.

She jerked the door wide. ‘Oh, God, Mark. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were there. Or I’d have never…’

‘Never what? Slammed the door on me?’ He shook his injured hand, the graveled accusation bringing back the fact that she’d done exactly that once upon a time. When he’d announced his intention of moving away to join the armed forces, she’d slammed the door in his face with a ‘Don’t bother coming by before you leave’.

But that was all in the past, where it would stay.

‘Come in so I can look at that hand.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Seriously. It could be broken.’

He gave a wry laugh. ‘You really think I’d let you set it if it were? I’d probably end up with permanently crooked fingers.’

‘I can think of at least one finger I’d like to fix permanently.’ The one he showed to the world. Not a visible gesture, but one he exuded with his attitude.

In answer to her statement, he laughed. A genuine chuckle that moved from his stomach to his mouth… to his gorgeous green eyes. It took her breath away, and she had to force herself not to gasp.

‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ His brows went up.

Worse. The word came and went without her uttering a single sound.

Before she could give him an actual answer, Lynn peeked out from the other room, her mouth rounding in a perfect ‘O’ as she realized who was standing there. She’d grown up on the island, knew about Sammi and Mark’s infamous past.

‘You’re going to have to start without me,’ Sammi said. ‘Mark’s gotten an… injury that should probably be checked out.’

Mark grinned in the receptionist’s direction and the woman’s color immediately deepened to an ill-looking salmon, before she nodded and withdrew.

Damn him. How could he have that effect on every woman he encountered? And why had she been so stupid to fall for it herself all those years ago? Well, no danger of that now. She’d found a cure, and that was her son. She’d protect him from being hurt at all costs. And Mark could do exactly that with very little effort.

Jaw tight, she led the way to one of the exam rooms. ‘Hop up on the table.’

He leaned against it instead. ‘Don’t I get a gown?’

‘Don’t push your luck.’ Despite her irritation, the man still had the power to make her lips curve from the inside out. She pressed them together so he wouldn’t see as she started toward the dispenser on the wall.

Gloves? Really?

Yes.

Wearing them would give her a measure of protection that had nothing to do with disease and everything to do with self-preservation. She glanced into his face. Would he know the reason?

Yep. It was there in the brow that lifted a quarter of a centimeter.

Forget it. She wouldn’t let him know how terrified she was of touching him or how taking her son’s hand from his had twisted her heart and left it raw and vulnerable.

She stopped in front of him and tilted her head to meet his gaze. ‘Where does it hurt?’

‘Seriously?’

‘No more games, Mark. You could have broken something.’

His cocky smile disappeared and something dark and scary passed through his eyes. ‘Did I, Sam? Break something?’

For the longest moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her gaze from his. No one ever called her Sam.

No one, except Mark.

And she had the distinct impression the broken thing he was asking about had nothing to do with his hand and everything to do with her. No, that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t cared one iota about the damage he’d caused when he’d taken off without so much as a ‘Why?’.

She shook her head, but had to avert her eyes as she did. ‘Let me see your hand.’

He held it out, and she winced at the long diagonal stripe of discoloration already showing up just below his metacarpophalangeal joints. He must have had his hand wrapped around the frame of the door when she’d leaned against it. ‘Wiggle your fingers.’

He obliged, and Sammi watched for a reaction as he curled his fingers into a loose fist and released them. Only there was no reaction. ‘It doesn’t hurt?’

‘It was slammed in a door. What do you think?’

The amused sarcasm was back in place. She decided not to rise to the bait this time. ‘Palm up.’

It was only when he turned his hand over that she realized she was avoiding touching him. But she was going to have to eventually. She’d have to X-ray his hand at the very least.

Suck it up, Sammi.

Sliding her fingertips beneath the back of his hand and desperately wishing she’d gone for the gloves after all, she tested the swelling on his palm with her thumb. ‘I don’t think anything is broken, but I do want to take an X-ray.’

She glanced up, surprised to find a muscle tic in his jaw. ‘That bad?’ she asked.

‘You have no idea.’

‘Hmm…’ She looked closer at his hand, turning it gently. Maybe there was more damage than she’d thought. ‘Follow me.’

Leading him into the tiny X-ray room, she fitted him with a lead apron, forbidding herself from thinking about exactly what she was protecting. She lined up his hand on the table and used the flexible arm on the X-ray tube to pull it down over the injured area, glad to be able to keep her mind on the job. ‘I should be able to get this all on one frame, but if not, we’ll take a couple more. Hold still for a second.’

She went into the control booth and took the first film, then rejoined him, swinging the tube away from his hand. ‘All done. Let’s see what we’ve got.’ A thought occurred to her as she pressed buttons on the computer to call up the image. ‘Why did you come to the clinic anyway? Are you sick?’

The correct X-ray flashed up, and Sammi zeroed in on the injured portion, not seeing any obvious breaks. Before she could heave a sigh of relief, though, several areas of calcification on his middle phalanges caught her attention. Fractures. Each apparently healed and running across his hand in a line. If not for the location of the bruise from where she’d slammed the door, Sammi would swear she was looking at his current injury. Except these were old. Already fused together.

As she stared, trying to work out how he could have broken a succession of bones like that, Mark’s voice came through. ‘I’m not sick. I came by to tell you I’m…’

His voice faded away as her eyes met his, horrified realization sweeping through her chest. ‘Oh, my God, Mark. Did your father do this to you?’




CHAPTER THREE


IT TOOK a second or two for Sammi’s words to filter through his head and another few to register the horror in her eyes. How had she…?

His gaze went to the X-ray still displayed on the computer screen, and he knew what she’d seen. Hell, the days of his father’s anger were long gone, replaced by things that were a whole lot worse. And the last thing he wanted now was her—or anyone’s—pity. ‘Is the damn thing broken or not?’

‘Not this time, but—’

‘That’s all I needed to hear.’ He did not want to relive the moment when reining in his temper—and being too stubborn to run—had resulted in a steel-toed boot crunching down on his hand, snapping four of the teenage bones with little effort. Sammi had asked about his father once in high school, and he’d blown her off—just like he had everyone. ‘As I was saying, I came by because I’m flying some customers back to Anchorage this afternoon. I thought I’d see if the clinic needed me to pick up any supplies from Alaska Regional while I’m there. I didn’t realize… I thought today was Hannah’s day to work.’

He swore at himself the second the words had left his mouth. There was no reason to let her know he’d been avoiding her or that the need to stay as far away from her as possible had grown since enduring Blake’s wedding. He’d caught a glimpse of what his life could’ve been like had things been different. If he’d given Sammi that ring.

But he hadn’t.

So he’d keep doing what had worked for him over the past eight years: put one foot in front of the other. No reason to think it wouldn’t keep on working. In fact, he was due for his weekly trip to the local watering hole. Since he was going to Anchorage anyway, he could kill two birds with one stone. And hopefully stave off the nightmares, which had come back with a vengeance after holding Toby’s hand that evening in church.

‘Hannah went to Akutan for the day. I offered to fill in for her.’ Sammi’s words were accompanied by a tilt of her chin, but he could swear a tiny glimmer of hurt appeared in her eyes before it winked back out.

He swore silently. This was exactly why he needed to stay away from her at all costs. She could knot his insides into a big ball of guilt without even trying. ‘Right. So, can you think of anything you—the clinic, that is—needs?’

She stood to her feet. ‘Nope. I—and the clinic—have everything we could possibly need.’

Well, that certainly put him in his place. Sammi had just let him know, in no uncertain terms, that the last thing she needed was him.

The state ferry chugged through the dark waters of the Gulf of Alaska, the rumble of its engines sending subtle vibrations along the length of the vessel. The noise was familiar, comforting. She’d made the trip from Unalaska to Anchorage hundreds of times over the years—the intricate tangle of the Alaska Marine Highway routes burned into her subconscious.

Elbows propped against the railing, Sammi glanced down at Toby. ‘Are you cold?’ Worried that the chilled air might irritate his bronchial tubes, her gloved hand went to the pocket of her down jacket for the hundredth time, making sure the precious inhaler was within close reach. It was one of the reasons she always reserved a cabin onboard for the two-day trip—despite the extra cost—rather than pitch a tent on the deck like other travelers often did. Especially as the summer air gave way to the frigid gusts of late fall.

‘I like being out here.’ Toby’s words were muffled by the scarf Sammi had draped across his nose and mouth in an effort to keep the air as warm as possible.

The trip to see Toby’s father was one she always dreaded. Not only because she hated to be away from her son but because the trip meant she wouldn’t have access to her clinic or a hospital during the time it took to get from one place to the other. And flying was an expense she couldn’t afford. Toby’s father was footing the bill for the trip by water as it was.

You could have asked Mark to take you.

Right. After he’d stalked from the clinic two weeks ago?

She had been wrong to bring up his father, but the words had flown from her mouth before she’d been able to stop them. She doubted many people knew what he’d gone through as a kid, and he’d never openly admitted it to anyone. Even when they’d been together, Mark had avoided talking about his dad. But she’d seen little clues here and there, and she knew in her heart of hearts her hunch was right.

But to say the words out loud…

She cringed. If things between them had been bad before her outburst, they were a hundred times worse now.

The figurative arctic freeze they’d retreated into was more palpable than the real thing—on the open deck of the ferry. If anyone was going to break that frosty silence, it would be him. Not that there was much of a chance of cracking through all those layers without some kind of major thaw. And after more than eight years of icy accumulation, Sammi didn’t see that happening.

Her thoughts went back to the X-ray and her initial horror at seeing those old breaks. Once the shock had faded, though, her brain had clicked into gear and worked through some other possibilities. He could have broken his hand in any number of ways. Like having it slammed in a door in a similar fashion to what had happened at the clinic. Only she would have expected one bone to have cracked in that case. Not four. The X-ray she’d taken had been merely a precaution.

Had he gotten them as a result of his military service? Because he hadn’t come to the clinic with any injuries since he’d returned to Dutch Harbor—and she didn’t remember seeing a cast on him during that time.

He’d never spoken of those years in the navy to anyone on the island, or word would have gotten back to her. Surely Blake knew something. They’d served in the military at the same time. But Blake seemed just as close-mouthed about that period in his life as Mark did. They’d both been pilots in Afghanistan, dangerous work, but Mark had never once bragged, even to impress any of the local girls, which shocked her. She couldn’t think of a better way to pick up women than to present yourself as a bad-boy hero who thrived on danger.

In fact, he didn’t mention his past at all, something she found a little strange, now that she thought about it. She’d talked about the stuff that had happened in her life on a regular basis, from cute childhood moments to embarrassing tales of teen stupidity. Even her father’s history of running around on her mother was common knowledge on the island, much to her mom’s keen embarrassment.

‘Will it be snowing at the zoo?’

Sammi’s mind switched back to the present, and she smiled down at her son, her heart swelling with love. ‘I hope not.’ Doubly so because Toby’s father had always seemed slightly irritated at the limitations placed on their son due to his asthma. A die-hard sports fan, Brad often hinted that Toby’s condition wouldn’t be as bad if Sammi didn’t coddle him so much.

But she didn’t. At least, she didn’t think she did. What else was she supposed to do when he was gasping and wheezing for breath? Tell him to ‘man up’ and deal with it?

It was another reason she’d always accompanied Toby on these trips, rather than just ask Brad to come to the island and pick him up. It’s not like her ex didn’t have the money to fly over for their bi-weekly visits. Neither did she begrudge Toby the time with his father. Brad was a good man, and a decent father—at least he’d never begged off having Toby come and see him—but Sammi also wanted to be somewhere close, in case something went terribly wrong. So she’d sit in a hotel room all day while Brad, along with his new wife and daughter, took Toby on their usual one-day jaunt. She’d stare at her cellphone and will it not to ring. But Toby had always been dropped off at the end of the day healthy, happy, and singularly untraumatized. He never knew his mother went to hell and back until he was delivered safely into her care once again.

At least she and Molly—who’d come back from her honeymoon a week ago—could go out and enjoy a meal. If her friend was off duty for the day. And if she could drag herself away from Blake long enough for them to get in some girl time.

‘There it is, Mom!’

Sure enough, off in the distance was a pinpoint strip of land that could only signal they were getting close to docking. ‘Do you have all your stuff?’

Toby glanced down at his wheeled backpack. ‘I think so. I’m coming back to the hotel room tonight, right? Or am I staying with Daddy?’

‘Nope. It’s you and me, popcorn and a movie.’ She tucked the tail of his scarf into his coat a little better. ‘What do you want to see?’

‘How about something scary? With zombies and stuff.’

Her brows went up. ‘Try again. This time come down a couple of ratings to something within the PG range.’

‘Awww, Mom…’

It was a familiar fight, but Sammi wasn’t irritated. She knew it was part of Toby’s search for independence, but she also knew that at six, he still needed limits. Lots of them. She could be his friend when he was an adult. Until then, she was fully prepared to be the bad guy.

‘Hmm… How about that penguin movie you love so much?’

‘We’ve seen that like six thousand times.’

‘That’s a lot. I had no idea.’ She gave him a mock roll of her eyes. ‘We can decide once you get back to the hotel, then.’

The next half-hour was spent making sure they weren’t forgetting anything on board before the ferry drew up at the docking. When Toby acted like he was going to bolt toward the exit, she took his arm. ‘Wait.’ She didn’t particularly want to be trampled on the way out. So they hung back, allowing the bulk of the passengers to disembark before making their own getaway.

Brad and his family met them in the parking area. There were so many people around that they didn’t have to worry about making small talk or about whether or not Sammi should invite them inside her hotel room. She wanted to keep things as cordial as possible, for Toby’s sake.

A small pang of envy went through her as Brad bent down and wrapped his son in a big hug. His wife also knelt to say hello, their four-year-old daughter holding tightly to her hand. Sammi wanted to dislike the woman, especially since they’d started their own family almost before the ink had been dry on the divorce papers, but she couldn’t. Maribel had never been anything but nice to her, and she seemed to really like Toby. That was all that mattered. That her son was happy and well taken care of.

Brad stood, keeping hold of Toby’s hand. ‘Do you want to do this like we usually do? We can bring him to the hotel room around eight or nine?’

Something about the way he said it made Sammi fidget. Yes, that was their normal arrangement, so it wasn’t like she could suddenly say Toby couldn’t go. She just had a funny feeling. The weather had been iffy for the two-day trip on the ferry, but nothing in the forecast seemed to predict anything unusual for a day in mid-October. ‘That sounds fine.’

No one asked which hotel, because she always stayed at the same place. And she was always alone when they arrived.

Alone. What an awful-sounding word.

Maybe she needed to put herself back on the market. Toby was growing up quickly. And Brad seemed to have gone on with his life. So why hadn’t she?

Certainly not because she was still in love with Brad. She’d been fond of him—had convinced herself he was the stable, steady presence she craved in a husband. Not like her father or Mark who had been there one minute and gone the next. But, in the end, stable and steady hadn’t been enough to make the marriage work.

She leaned down and kissed Toby, making sure his backpack was zipped up tight. ‘I guess you’re all set.’

‘Ready for the zoo?’ Brad asked his wife and daughter. Little squeals went up from both the girls, while Toby stood motionless.

Strange. A little while ago he’d been excited about the prospect of being with his dad. Maybe he’d sensed her mood, which he seemed to have an uncanny knack of doing. She hoped not. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil his outing.

‘Oh, wait.’ Lord, she couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out Toby’s inhaler and handed it to her ex. The skin between Brad’s brows puckered a bit, but he said nothing. Instead, he shoved the small canister into the pocket of his own jacket. Her trepidation grew. Brad wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Toby. He was his son as well. And they’d been through this same routine for the last four years without a hint of trouble.

They turned to go, and Sammi waved them off with a smile that she hoped hid the kernel of sadness that appeared whenever she watched her son walk away from her. She then trudged over to the car rental place, anxious to get to the hotel and kick back and relax.

Right. Kick back and mope was more like it.

Lucky for her, Molly was home when she called and was currently husbandless, since Blake was off on a flight. Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as she feared. Molly swung by the hotel and picked Sammi up, refusing to let her drive all the way out to the house.

‘It was on the way to the restaurant,’ her friend insisted, once they sat at the table of a popular seafood place.

The aroma of garlic and fresh fish swirled around the foyer, and Sammi gave an appreciative sniff, beginning to relax a little. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been out to eat.’

It was true. Normally on these jaunts she simply grabbed some Chinese takeout and carried it back to the room, as it felt pathetic to sit at a table all by herself. But with Molly there, things seemed a little more festive, a little less sad.

Once they were seated, she cracked open the menu and tried not to wince at the prices. Maybe this was why she didn’t go out to eat that much. But she’d earned this respite. Toby was safe, and she wouldn’t get that many chances to see Molly now that she was back in Anchorage. ‘How’s Blake?’

‘He’s fine. In fact, he’s more than fine.’ Molly leaned forward, her glance darting around the room before coming back to rest on Sammi with a smile. ‘Okay, so we weren’t going to tell anyone yet, but… I’m pregnant.’

‘What?’ So this was why her friend had been practically glowing when she’d arrived at the hotel. ‘Holy cow. Are you serious?’

‘I am. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to squeeze into my wedding gown.’ She laughed. ‘But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Blake and I wanted to announce it together once the pregnancy was further along. But you’re so far away… and I wanted you to be the first to know.’

Sammi’s eyes pricked unexpectedly, remembering her own excitement when she’d discovered she was pregnant with Toby. ‘Oh, Molly, I’m so happy for you. You’re going to make a wonderful mother.’

‘You think so? I wasn’t actually sure I wanted to have children, but…’ She laid her menu down. ‘Here we are.’

‘You’re going to love it. Having Toby changed my life. For the better,’ she was quick to add. ‘You’ll be exhausted and frustrated and scared… and you’ll love every second of it.’

Molly reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you. I may be calling you for advice at some point.’

The waiter came and took their order, leaving them to chat. About halfway through the meal, Blake strode into the restaurant, his eyes fastening immediately on Molly, who bit her lip and stood as he reached them. ‘I thought you said you’d be gone until tomorrow.’

He grinned and dropped a kiss on her mouth, then hugged Sammi. Pulling up a chair next to his wife’s, he looped an arm around her shoulders. ‘I missed you and decided to come back early. So what have you girls been talking about?’

Molly’s cheeks immediately turned pink, causing Blake to lean back in his chair, brows raised. ‘I thought so.’

‘I know we decided not to tell anyone, but… Sammi is family.’

Blake’s mouth quirked. ‘Yeah, kind of like an annoying little sister.’

Sammi, although the same age as Blake, had been the runt of the class during their childhood days. He’d never let her forget it, even though she was now five feet seven.

Sammi leaned across the table and swatted his arm. ‘Molly doesn’t seem to think so.’ She paused, letting her eyes convey her true thoughts. ‘Seriously, though. Congratulations.’

‘Thanks.’

Molly smiled up at him. ‘Do you want to order something?’

He plucked a huge battered shrimp from her plate, munching it before he answered. ‘No, I ate on the way. I’m stuffed.’

‘I can tell,’ she said, when he snagged a second piece.

He laughed. ‘I’m meeting a friend for drinks later, anyway, so I can’t stay. I just wanted to see you first.’

‘I see. And just who is this friend?’

Sammi’s phone buzzed, indicating she was getting a text. She scrunched her nose. ‘Sorry guys, I know it’s not polite, but I told Brad to let me know if their plans were going to change. Do you mind?’

‘It’s fine.’ Molly waved her fork.

Retrieving the phone from her handbag, she pressed a button to retrieve the message. The low lighting in the restaurant caused her to squint as she tried to make out the letters, but once she did, she gasped, her heart dropping. ‘Oh, God, I have to go.’ She threw her napkin on the table and stood.

Alarmed, her friends got to their feet as well. ‘What is it?’

She stuffed her phone back in her purse. Her voice shook as she tried to get the words out. ‘They’re rushing Toby to the hospital.’




CHAPTER FOUR


SAMMI raced through the doors of the emergency room, while Molly parked the car. They’d left Blake at the restaurant to pay the bill and follow in his own vehicle.

Brad met her in the reception area, his wife and daughter nowhere to be seen. ‘Where is he?’ she demanded, her breath rushing from her lungs.

‘Calm down. He’s with one of the doctors.’

‘Then why the hell are you out here, instead of back there with him?’ Toby had to be frightened out of his wits.

Her ex’s eyes narrowed in warning. ‘I did go with him. But I didn’t want you to hear what happened from some stranger.’

‘Sorry.’ Her anger deflated. ‘Was it his asthma?’

‘Yes.’ He stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘He’s never had an attack while with us. I thought it wasn’t really that serious… that he’d be okay.’

She remembered his face when she’d handed over the inhaler. He’d thought she was just babying Toby yet again. ‘You left his medicine in the car, didn’t you?’

‘Not on purpose. I had it in my pocket when we left, then asked Toby to put it in his backpack for safekeeping. When we got to the zoo… well, I didn’t want him lugging the pack with him all day.’

‘I’m going back there to see him.’

By that time, Molly had joined them. ‘I’ll see where he is.’

‘Why didn’t you just go and get his inhaler once you realized he was having trouble?’

‘It came on so fast. He couldn’t get enough air.’ His lips tightened. ‘I didn’t know how long it would take to work. I—I panicked, Sammi.’

She touched his arm, compassion sweeping over her. She knew how frightening Toby’s attacks could be. ‘You did the right thing getting him here as fast as possible.’

Molly returned. ‘He’s okay. I’ll take you back to him.’

‘Thank you.’ She glanced at Brad. ‘Are you coming?’

‘I’ll wait for Maribel. She’s dropping Jessie off at the sitter’s.’

Molly led her back to an exam room, where her son sat on a table holding a nebulizer mask over his mouth and nose. Hurrying over to him, she leaned down and looked into his face. She raised her brows in the wordless question they’d devised to communicate during these times. He answered with a thumbs-up sign, although his breathing still sounded a little ragged to her ears. His color looked good, so Brad had told the truth about not wasting any time getting him here. She pressed her lips to his forehead, then checked the amount of medication remaining in the nebulizer cup. The treatment was about half-finished.

‘Did you talk to the doctor?’ She glanced at Molly, who was standing by the door.

Molly nodded. ‘It was serious…’ she glanced toward Toby as if unsure how much to say in front of him ‘… but manageable. They want to observe him for a couple of hours before they discharge him. They’ve got a call in to the pulmonologist, who should be here in a few minutes.’

‘I—I don’t know if Brad still has his inhaler. Can I get a new prescription just in case?’

‘I’m sure we’ve got some extras here at the hospital. I’ll give you one to take home with you. Albuterol, right?’

‘Yes.’ Sammi hopped up onto the bed beside Toby and put her arms around him, a surge of love and thankfulness going through her. She kissed the top of his head. ‘I’m going to leave in a minute or two to give Daddy a chance to see you, okay? He’s pretty worried.’

Toby pulled the mask down. ‘I want to go home.’

‘We will.’ She put her hand over his, steering the mask back into place. ‘As soon as the doctor says it’s safe. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.’

Molly touched her arm and nodded toward the door. ‘The doctor’s in the hall.’

‘I’m going with Aunt Molly for a minute. I’ll be right outside that door, if you need me.’ She gave him one last kiss and slid off the table.

Going into the hallway with Molly, she was able to speak with the doctor who’d treated her son. He assured her Toby was going to be fine. His breathing was already better, but they wanted to do a pulmonary function test as soon as he finished with the nebulizer.

Sammi smiled. ‘That’s Toby’s favorite part of any hospital visit.’ She sighed. ‘Actually, that’s the only part he likes. It’s like a challenge to see if he can beat his last set of results.’

‘It’s my favorite part too.’ Dr. Donnelly’s kind blue eyes twinkled, helping to reassure her. ‘Believe me, I want our buddy in there to ace that test as much as you do.’

‘Thanks for everything you’ve done. I’m going to run and get his father, okay?’

‘Of course,’ he answered.

Sammi wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a hint of interest in the man’s look at her. The doctor was attractive enough, his dark, conservatively cut hair falling neatly over his forehead. Nothing like Mark’s slightly shaggy locks that seemed as loose and free as the rest of him.

Why had she thought of him, of all people?

Besides, despite her earlier thoughts about putting herself back on the market, now was not the time. Not with her son sitting in that room fighting for each breath. ‘I’ll go and get his father.’

She headed for the waiting room. Brad, his back to her, stood at one of the large windows, staring outside. Maribel had arrived and was leaning against him, whispering in his ear. Sammi hesitated before touching his arm. ‘You can see him now. He’s better.’

‘Thank God.’ He turned part way around and met her eyes. ‘I think I’ll keep an extra inhaler or two on hand from now on. Can you help me get them?’

‘I think that’s a great idea. Molly’s going to see if she can find a couple.’ She dropped her hand to her side. ‘Go ahead. He’s waiting for you.’

Brad and his wife walked away, pushing through the double doors that led to the various exam rooms. She stood there for a few moments, her arms wrapped around her waist, trying to convince herself things were going to be all right. It was a losing battle.

‘How is he?’ The sudden question raised the hair on her neck. Actually, it wasn’t the question itself but the familiar voice behind it. Low and mellow, the tone slid over her like warm honey.

Sammi whirled around to find Mark standing there, both hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. She could have sworn he wasn’t there a second ago. ‘How—? What are you doing—?’

‘I dropped off some clients this afternoon and was supposed to meet up with Blake later for drinks. He called my cell on his way to the hospital.’

So this was the friend Blake had mentioned meeting earlier. ‘He did? Why?’

‘He wanted to let me know he might be late.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Don’t worry. He wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.’

‘I didn’t think that.’

So what had she thought? That Mark wouldn’t care one way or the other what happened to her or her son? Yep. But trying to explain that in a way that didn’t sound bitter—or like she was stuck in some sad version of the past—was impossible. So she decided to answer his original question instead. ‘Toby’s better. Brad’s with him now.’

‘I know. I saw him when I came in.’

There’d never been any love lost between the two men, although she wasn’t quite sure why. In school they’d all run in different circles. She’d been a geek, while Mark had hung out with the rougher crowd. Brad had been firmly in the jock camp—the all-American-hero type. Her ex had always kind of looked down on Mark when they’d been kids. Maybe Mark had sensed that.

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Did you see Blake? He should be here by now.’

‘He’s waiting for Molly in the cafeteria. We decided to cancel our plans.’

Uh-oh. She’d assumed he was killing time until Blake arrived. Maybe she should start looking for an exit. ‘Are you going back to the island tomorrow?’

‘If Toby is released by then.’

She blinked, not sure what that had to do with anything. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Are they planning to hold him overnight?’

Was she missing something? ‘No, just observe him for a couple more hours to make sure the attack is over.’

‘Good. We should be able to leave in the morning, then.’

‘We?’

Okay, there was something strange going on. Where exactly were they going?

‘I’m flying you back to the island.’

‘We bought round trip tickets for the ferry, we can…’

The words died in her throat when he took a step closer, brushing back a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. ‘There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take that ferry back to the island. Not with Toby sick.’

His fingers were warm against her skin, and she wanted more than anything to lean into his palm, to hand over a tiny portion of her burden. But she didn’t dare. Mark had proved he could—and would—walk away without a backward glance. That’s not what she wanted for her son. He was already enamored with Mark as it was. Watching him pilot a plane would only make it worse. The thought made her stiffen against his touch. ‘We’ll be okay.’

‘You’re right. You will.’ His hand dropped to her shoulder. ‘Because you’re flying back with me. Both of you.’

Driving Toby and Sammi back to the hotel, Mark wasn’t quite sure why she’d seemed so averse to flying with him. Being out in that frigid air couldn’t be good for Toby’s lungs. Not right after an attack that had landed him in the hospital. And especially not after the way she’d angled her face toward his hand for a second as he’d brushed his fingers across her cheek in the emergency room. His breath had caught, memories of her doing that very same thing in the past sweeping over him.

But neither of them were the kids they’d once been. And Sammi evidently had an easier time accepting that than he did, because she’d pulled away. He, on the other hand, had been lost the moment he’d touched her. All he’d wanted to do was press his lips to hers and feel the response that used to set his world on fire.

He’d told Molly and Blake he’d make sure Sammi got back to the hotel, as her rental car was still there. She hadn’t seemed very happy about that either, although she’d kept silent. Glancing over at her as she stared out the passenger window, he wondered if he’d done the right thing in demanding she accept his offer. But she couldn’t take Toby on that ferry, dammit. Even she had to see that.

‘You doing okay back there, buddy?’ He peered into the rear-view mirror to find Toby leaning against the window in the back, eyes shut, mouth open. A thrill of anxiety went through him, along with a flashing image of a different boy—blood everywhere as the medics worked on the horrific wounds covering his small body. The same child who inhabited many of his current nightmares.

But Toby wasn’t that boy. And he wasn’t injured, just asleep. Mark forced his hands to ease their grip on the wheel, and thankfully the memory faded away.

He glanced at Sammi to make sure she hadn’t noticed anything. ‘He’s out.’

‘I’m sure he’s exhausted.’ Sammi twisted around in her seat to look, her dark braid looped over her left shoulder. He’d teased her about that long length of hair in high school, tugging on it repeatedly. Those had been during the light times, when they’d just been good friends. Later, when they’d been more than friends, he could remember wrapping that braid around his hand to hold her in place as he kissed her. Or removing the band and unwinding those thick lustrous strands so that they could fall loose and free.

This was a mistake, and he knew it. Being around her and Toby was reawakening the very things he’d tried to wipe from his mind. But he had no choice. It was time he thought about someone other than himself.

He was. He had been. It’s why he’d left Dutch Harbor all those years ago.

So why had he moved back to his hometown? Why hadn’t he just stayed away?

Because his mother needed him. At least that’s what he told himself.

Soon they were parked in front of the hotel’s check-in area. ‘Which room?’

‘Four-oh-two.’ Sammi’s voice remained soft. ‘Thank you, Mark. I know I didn’t seem very grateful back at the hospital, but you’re right. It’s better for Toby if we fly back. We’re not taking you away from a customer?’

It wouldn’t matter if they were. This was more important than a tourist. ‘Nope. I don’t have another charter trip on the docket until Tuesday, and that’s just a quick little island hop.’

Mark found the room number and pulled up in front of it. ‘I’ll help you get him inside, then I’ll check in. I’ll call you with my room number.’

‘Wait. Weren’t you going to stay with Blake and Molly?’ In the dark, he could just make out her frown.

‘I thought it might be easier to leave first thing if I stayed here. They’re forecasting sleet in the morning, and I’d like to be in the air before it hits.’ He hesitated. ‘And if something happens, you might need someone nearby.’

His chest tightened at the thought.

She unbuckled her seat belt then shoved her arms through the sleeves of her down jacket. She didn’t say anything as she clicked open the door and stepped from the car, so Mark had no idea if she was happy or furious that he was staying at the hotel. It didn’t matter either way. It was the right thing to do.

Getting out of the car as well, he pulled Toby’s door open and carefully released the latch on the seat belt. Then he slid his arms under the boy’s shoulders and knees and eased him from the car, thankful the kid’s jacket was still buttoned up tight. He was light. Almost as light as the boy he’d once carried to his chopper. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Had it only been a year?

It’s over. Done. You can’t undo the past.

Mark used his own body to block the wind, backing towards the door that Sammi had already opened.

‘He likes the far bed,’ she whispered as they went past.

‘His backpack is still in the car.’ Mark walked toward the bed, glancing down at the child’s slack face and dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks. A shard of loss went through his chest, and he suddenly had trouble catching his breath.

After setting the boy down on the blue bedspread, he carefully unzipped his coat, thankful the heat had been left on in the room. The weather conditions had turned frigid outside. So different from the stifling heat of Afghanistan and its twin scents of blood and fear that would often sweep through their camp like a dust storm, coating everything in sight. Even now it stung his nostrils, filled his lungs—

‘Mark?’

He jerked upright, turning toward her. ‘Yes?’

‘I—I wanted to thank you for what you’re doing. It means a lot to me.’ Before he could prepare himself, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his cheek. The touch was as light as a feather, but it was as if something in his heart clicked back on. Fear—and something much stronger—began racing through his veins.

He had to take a step back before he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her into his arms, hoping her very presence could banish the memories he’d locked deep inside himself. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’d do the same for anyone.’

Something flared behind her eyes, and he damned himself for not thinking before he opened his big mouth. Yes, he’d do it for anyone, but the suggestion had been so much more than the casual offer from one stranger to another.

As she said goodbye and closed the door on him, he had his first inkling that he might be headed on a dangerous course. He couldn’t save the world, he’d already proved that to himself and everyone around him. He’d left Dutch Harbor eight years ago a scared and messed-up kid. He’d returned an even more screwed-up man. One who could barely take care of himself, much less anyone else. He’d do well to keep that in mind before making any other big promises he couldn’t keep.

Like promising a little boy he’d be fine? That he wouldn’t die like his mother and father had?

Mark set off for the lobby, a wave of exhaustion going through him. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that promises were the stuff of fairy-tales—not worth more than the hot air used to voice them. He’d broken one too many of them over the course of his life.

But not any more.

He pulled off his clothes and slid beneath the bulky covers of his bed, the chill from the sheets clinging to skin like the ice that sometimes coated the props on his plane.

No more promises from him. Not to Toby. And especially not to Sammi.

Mark frowned as he peered over the steaming surface of the desert. The wind from his chopper’s rotors whipped a woman’s dark hair around her face as she pushed toward the aircraft. Even from a hundred yards away, something about her looked familiar.

The wife of their translator, who was now dead at the hands of insurgents. His eyes went to the bundle she carried in her arms.

A bomb!

The thought scrabbled through his mind, sending fear spiking through his veins.

The medics had just raced to help several downed soldiers who’d gotten caught in the crossfire, leaving Mark alone.

She moved a few yards closer. Mark motioned for her to stay away that it was too dangerous for her to be here, but she shook her head, taking another step. The swirling currents caused the cloth to fall away from the top portion of the object, allowing Mark to catch a glimpse of what was inside. Instead of a hardwired mass of explosives, a small face appeared, a vicious smear of red across his temple… his cheek.

Ahmed, her child!

Without thinking, he shoved open his door and hopped down to her level, blocking the wind with his body like he’d done with Toby earlier.




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