Morgan bent at the waist, her lips pressed so tightly together she couldn’t feel them. Air moved in and out of her constricted lungs. Her eyes burned. Her ears thundered. She rocked, stemming the flood of agony that accompanied Brandon’s diagnosis. It was what Morgan had feared: an embolism.
The silent, unpredictable side effect of intensive chemotherapy had struck without warning or remorse.
How was it that, standing amidst the family she’d created, surrounded by her father and Angela, Nico, Drew, and Gina, Morgan felt utterly and completely alone?
Part of her was missing. No, not missing. Carved out, hollowed. Gone.
“How long?” Angela’s voice broke. “How long do we have with him?”
“That’s up to you,” the doctor said in that I’m-so–sorry-but-I-really-have-no-hope-for-you tone Morgan hated beyond reason. “Brandon’s as comfortable as we can make him, so now the decision is in your hands.”
Decision. The decision.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Nico wrapped an arm around Angela’s shoulders and drew her over to the waiting area that consisted of two laughingly conceived of sofas and a coffee table that looked as if it had been time-warped in from the not-so-fashionable seventies.
“We’ll, um, we’ll sit with him for a while,” Gina said, blinking back tears. She clutched Morgan’s arm, but Morgan couldn’t stop staring at the floor. If she moved, she’d shatter. If she breathed, she’d shatter. If she did nothing—
Jackson drew her to him, wrapped his arms around her until she couldn’t help but clutch at him. “I never knew,” she whispered as he shushed and hushed her sobs that grew painful as she tried to contain them. “I never knew how much losing Colin hurt you.”
“I’d give anything if you didn’t.” He tucked her against him the same way he used to when she was little. Before she knew the world could be a painful and horribly unfair place. Brandon. Her Brandon.
“How?” She pounded a fist against her chest as if she could restart her broken heart. “How did you?”
“We had you and Sheila and Nathan, and I had your mother.”
“Mom,” Morgan choked. “God. This explains so much.”
“You will get through this,” Jackson told her. “I promise we’ll help you get through this, and then one day, while the pain will still be there, it won’t cut as deep. One day, instead of remembering the loss, you’ll remember his life.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. For everything. I never meant—”
He pushed her away from him, clasped her face in his hands, and forced her tear-stained face up so she had no choice but to look at him. “I’ve never been so proud of you as I was today in that interview room. Admitting your mistakes, knowing what it might cost you—”
“I embarrassed the family. Put the foundation, the center at risk.”
“You did what your mother always taught you to do, Morgan Elizabeth Tremayne. You followed your heart.” His own eyes filled with tears as he smiled at her. “You saved Colin. Maybe not our Colin, but one is alive who might not be otherwise, and for that I thank you.”
“Gage will never forgive me.” She tried to stop the tears, to regain control, but there was no fighting it anymore. “I’ve lost him.”
“I know it feels that way.” Jackson pulled her into his chest again, rocked her, stroked her hair. “But Gage is a good man. I think he just needs time.”
Morgan wanted that to be true. She also wanted Brandon healthy, laughing, spinning in circles in the backyard as he threw water balloons at her head. She wanted another broken washing machine. She wanted to fix the garbage disposal again or have to rewire the toaster or anything. She’d never complain about it again. For as long as she lived. But time wouldn’t heal the wounds she’d inflicted on Gage.
She’d betrayed him. Lied to him. Deceived him.
How could she expect him to forgive her when she couldn’t forgive herself?
***
“I can’t believe you arrested that beautiful girl.”
Gage let out a long breath and dropped his head against the lawn chair in his parent’s backyard. On the one hand he’d come for some peace and quiet. On the other, if he’d wanted peace and quiet he should have gone home. To his empty house. His empty, quiet house.
He’d grown accustomed to the noise children made, to their laughter and arguing, to their constant running and crying and bantering. To the chaos of water fights, and in the center of it all, Morgan.
Morgan.
“Have another beer.” His father handed him a bottle, took the chair beside him as the sun settled into the sea.
“I’m driving.” Gage set it on the grass, rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “Christ, what a day.”
“You’ve had better,” Daniel agreed, cringing when he heard Theresa banging dishes in the kitchen. “Took your life in your hands coming here tonight.”
“Maybe I thought she’d end my misery.”
“My future daughter-in-law.” Theresa’s voice blasted through the open patio door. “What on earth goes through that boy’s head?”
“I was doing my job,” Gage yelled and then, “Wait, your future what?”
“Your job sucks.” Theresa’s proclamation echoed that of her daughter from hours before. Hours. Had it only been hours since he’d had to arrest Morgan? Since he’d questioned Morgan? Treated her like a common criminal? Good God, what had he done?
“At least the D.A. won’t be pressing charges,” Daniel said. “Saw the news conference a while ago. That Agent Dyson was very complimentary of you and your team.”
“Damage control,” Gage muttered. “But yeah. My team did great.” His team. “Dyson was kind to credit Morgan, the foundation, and even Nemesis with providing evidence to bring down the Benetiz Cartel. Nothing like thanking a criminal for committing a crime that exposed an even bigger one.” The fact that an arrest warrant had been issued for James Van Keltin upon his return to the States took the sting out of the day’s events.
“Nemesis has been your target for a long time.” Daniel took a long drink. “Your focus.”
Nemesis. Gage never wanted to hear the name again. He’d destroyed too much. Cost Gage too much. At one time that might have made him even more determined to find him.
Instead, he wanted to forget that the case, and the criminal, existed. Before Gage ended up in the grave next to Brady Malloy.
“You have considered that if it wasn’t for Nemesis, you never would have met Morgan.” Theresa stormed up behind them.
“Actually, no.” Gage frowned. “No, I figured that was—”
“I raised an idiot.” Theresa waved her wooden spoon in the air as if it would help her take off.
“We raised him, dear. I have to agree with your mother,” Daniel told him. “Not to mention the fact that what Morgan did, she did for a good reason.”
“There’s never a good reason for breaking the law.” Except, knowing what she’d done, why she’d done it—was he wrong? Maybe he was wrong about a lot of things.
“Told you,” Theresa shouted. “Idiot.” The front door slammed, indicating Gina’s arrival since Liza was staying the night at the Fiorellis’ to help Sheila with the kids. But instead of the normal greeting yelled out by either twin, silence followed. “Gina?” Theresa asked. “Baby, what is it?”
The sound of his sister’s sobs forced Gage’s eyes closed as grief landed on his chest like a pouncing bear. His father’s chair creaked as he got up, leaving Gage alone in the yard. Gage’s ears echoed with the broken words his sister could get out. “Matter of time. Gone. Machines. Dying.”
Dying.
He got up, walked slowly at first, and then picked up speed as he headed for the back gate.
“Gage. Where are you going?” his father called, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Because the second he did, he might just break.
***
“I’m looking for Brandon Monroe’s room.” Gage flashed his Inspector’s badge at the nurse’s station.
“I’m sorry, Inspector, but if you aren’t family—”
“Gage?” Judging from the look on Angela’s face, she must be thinking he’d come to take Morgan into custody again. “It’s okay, Thelma. He’s a friend of the family. Morgan’s downstairs getting coffee. I’m sure she’ll be back in a few minutes if you want—”
“Can I see him?” It was all he could manage.
“Of course.” Angela guided him inside. “Nico took Drew home. He’s bringing all the kids by tomorrow so we can—” She didn’t finish.
As much as he tried to prepare himself, the sight of the frail little boy lying so still in the center of a too-big bed, the respirator pumping air into his lungs, would have driven Gage to his knees if he hadn’t been holding on to the wall.
It hurt to breathe. The tears that tightened his throat made his head go light. “Does he . . . ? Is he . . . ?”
“No way to know for sure.” Angela gripped his arm, rubbed his back. “Would you mind staying with him while I check in at home? Morgan promised him he’d never be alone.”
He remembered. He’d always remember and be haunted by Morgan’s protest at the house when he’d prevented her from getting in the ambulance.
And then Angela was gone.
What did he say? What did he do? How was he supposed to act when a child lay dying in front of him?
Was this how Morgan felt every day of her life? How did she bear it?
The thought of no new paintings on the wall, no more water fights, no more broken sinks or experimental disfigurement of DVDs . . . How had this happened? One day he’d been happy, healthy, and exploding with energy, and now—
In a few short weeks this child had awakened a part of Gage he didn’t know existed. Not just this child. All the children. Not just the children.
Morgan awakened him.
Gage walked over to the bed, took a hold of Brandon’s cool hand, and bent down. He held the tiny fingers against his cheek as the sound of the respirator echoed in his ears.
Watching this life fade was more torturous than the bullet that had passed through his body, more excruciating than dealing with the death of a fellow officer. Yet Morgan did it, time after time, beginning with her brother. And instead of turning away as most people would, she embraced the sickness, the struggle. The child.
All those years, all those children. Making sure every sick child she came across was given every chance at life.
A chance at love.
She was the strongest person he’d ever met.
Gage smoothed Brandon’s thin blond hair from his face. What he wouldn’t give to see those big blue eyes of his again, to see that smile.
Gage placed Brandon’s hand back on the bed and kissed his forehead. “Thank you, little man.” Gage squeezed his eyes around the tears, unable to stop them from splashing onto Brandon’s cheek.
Gage pulled his ID out of his pocket, the badge Evan had given him the day Gage had accepted the inspector job. When he’d accepted it, he’d hoped it would put his life right again—that he’d find his purpose.
He slid the hook of the badge over the top edge of Brandon’s gown. He pressed his hand over it for a moment, then, when Angela returned, he left without saying another word.
***
At noon the next day, Morgan sat at Brandon’s bedside, her hand holding his as the machine beeped his heart rate. Slow. Slow. Slow.
She let the tears fall unchecked, looking down at the frail body that continued to house a beautiful, strong soul.
“Morgan?”
Morgan wiped the tears away as she saw Kelley in the doorway, with Angela and Nico, who carried Lydia, behind her. “Oh, hi.” She sniffed, let go of Brandon’s hand, and opened her arms to the little girl.
Kelley ran to her, threw her arms around her neck, and began to cry, her body shaking in Morgan’s grasp.
“It’s okay,” Morgan whispered brokenly, cupping the back of Kelley’s head and rocking her gently. “He doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Angela pressed a hand to her throat, the question in her eyes.
Morgan could only shake her head before her eyes blurred again. She didn’t know if she’d ever stop crying. The pain felt endless.
“Time to say good-bye.” Nico set Lydia beside Brandon on the bed so she could tuck one of her stuffed bears under Brandon’s arm.
“You always liked Mr. Bundle. Take him to heaven, okay? Maybe you can give him to my mom.”
Morgan shifted Kelley in her lap as Nico picked up Lydia again. She linked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
“Can he hear us?” Lydia asked.
“I hope so,” Morgan said.
Angela and Nico took turns, coming over to Brandon, bending down and whispered their good-byes.
The monitor beeped. Slower. Slower.
“I don’t want him to go,” Kelley cried. “I want him here, with me.”
“I know, baby. So do I.” Morgan didn’t think she could withstand the pain. Hers was bad enough, but the kids’ . . . “He can’t stay. His body’s just too sick.”
“You can make him better. You made me better. You make everyone else better.”
“Kelley.”
Drew stood in the doorway, his own face wet with tears that came from defiant eyes. “Brandon’s body can’t fight anymore. It’s time to let him go. We need to tell him it’s okay to let go.”
Morgan sobbed, then covered her mouth as Drew came into the room. She held out her hand.
“I told him I’d stay,” Drew told her as he took it. “The other night he asked if I’d made up my mind and he told me to say yes only if I could promise. I don’t break my promises.”
Morgan gave him a sad smile. “I’m glad you’re staying.” Beep. Beep. Beep.
Morgan took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “It’s okay to let go, Brandon. We’ll be all right now.”
Nico, still holding Lydia, sat on one side of the bed, Angela the other. Drew stood sentry still behind Morgan as they waited for Brandon to leave them.
Kelley continued to cry as his heartbeat slowed until, finally, he went still.