WHEN JACE HAD CALLED HIM for a pickup game of hockey, Max assumed the big guy just wanted to work out his prewedding restlessness. After all, he had roughly twenty-nine hours before he walked down that aisle and . . .

And that might put any guy in the mood to gather his buddies, slap around a puck, play hard into the boards, even without protective gear.

Marriage. A life with someone you loved. Forever.

Max tamped the sudden, unwelcome spurt of jealousy and slapped the puck to Kalen Boomer, who juked out Sam Newton, one of Jace’s old buddies and former Minnesota Wild player, sliding it between his skates and heading for the open net.

The practice arena soared above them, the sound of their sticks on the ice like gunfire. Max loved the way the breath of the ice seeped into his skin, despite the fire of a good sweat.

Kalen took the shot and it bounced off the post. Sam scooped up the rebound and shot it out to Jace. The two had a groove, and with Sam playing the role of Jace’s best man, it felt like they had history off the ice, too. Max raced down to fight for the puck, but Jace slapped it into the goal, circling behind the net, his arms raised.

“Had enough there, kiddo?” Sam said, laughing.

“I don’t know, old guy.” Max fished the puck out. Played with it, kicking it between his feet as Jace came around to steal it.

“Who you calling old?” Jace said, jabbing for the puck. “I feel like I’m seventeen again.”

“You play like you’re seventeen.” Max outsticked him, headed for the net, and scored, Jace not even giving pursuit. But his laughter filled the arena.

The ebullient joy in the air had the power to lift Max out of the dark place that threatened to pull him in, that sad place of reality reminding him of what he and Grace could never have. The camaraderie of the past two weeks, e-mailing, phone calls . . . the memories —the argument it churned inside him could sink him.

They skated into the box, and Max reached for his water.

Jace had already grabbed a towel. “By the way, I’m trying not to worry, but I do need to know you got this.”

Sam grabbed his skate guards. Kalen had taken the puck, begun to work on his stickhandling out by the red line.

Max swallowed his water. Wiped his chin with his sweater. “No worries. We reworked the entire menu. We’re roasting a pig just for you, dude. Grace hired serving staff and even prep cooks from a local culinary school, and her friend Raina is helping with the preparations. And if this is an excuse to back out, you’d better tell me right now because that pig is going in the hotbox first thing in the morning.” He reached for his towel, seeing Sam disappear to the lockers.

“Fear not; I’m not going to bolt.”

“Good. Because Grace and I put too much into this to eat all that pig alone.” He thought Jace might laugh and looked up when he didn’t.

Jace wore a solemn look. “Don’t break her heart, Max.”

He stilled.

“I’m not stupid,” Jace said. “Okay, I might be, but Eden certainly isn’t, and she told me that something happened between you and Grace in Hawaii. And I saw you holding her hand at my condo.”

“It’s nothing.” But he didn’t look at Jace when he said it, bending instead to fit on his guards.

“Right. And I suppose it was nothing in Hawaii, too? Because I saw the video of the show. That looked like flirting to me.”

Max kept his expression easy, nonchalant. “We were teammates.”

“We used to be teammates. I don’t remember you calling me nicknames. At least not the kind that sound like names of endearment.”

Max narrowed his eyes at Jace. “Okay, fine. There were sparks.” Liar. He’d call it a full-out inferno. But . . . “It doesn’t matter now. It was just a vacation thing. It’s over; I have to focus on my career.”

Jace ran a towel over his head. “Huh. I used to say that too. But the fact is, hockey is just a sport. Grace is a life. A future.”

Apparently now that Jace had turned into a coach, he thought he had the right to speak into Max’s life. Or maybe he always had. “It’s none of your business, dude.”

“When it comes to Eden’s sister, yeah, it’s my business. And frankly, Max, you’re my business too. We’re friends and that means something to me. You gotta get it through your head that someday all this is going to end. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in ten years, but you won’t have hockey anymore. And then what? If I’d had Eden in my life earlier, I might not have taken so many risks. I’d have had less to prove, maybe a longer career. I don’t know. But I know that having her on the sidelines makes winning that much sweeter. And this next season of my life . . . that was worth the wait.”

But see, Max had no next season of his life. “I’m no good for her, Jace. Trust me on this.”

Jace frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He hadn’t wanted to go there. He blew out a breath, wishing he could escape back to the ice.

But maybe that was the problem —he spent so much time playing hockey, breathing in the icy air of arenas, because it numbed him to the raw, ugly truth.

“I’m gonna die, Jace.”

Silence, and then Jace . . . laughed? A short burst of disbelief that made Max frown at him.

“We’re all going to die, Max.” Jace shook his head. “What kind of lame excuse is that —?”

“I have the faulty Huntington’s gene.”

Jace closed his mouth. His eyebrow twitched, a tiny frown creasing his forehead. “What?”

“It causes a hereditary disease where your brain starts to deteriorate. Basically, in about five —maybe ten —years, I’m going to stop being able to walk, reason, or even talk. I’ll eventually become totally reliant on someone else to take care of me. And I can’t let that person be Grace.”

Jace sank down onto the bench. “Seriously?”

“My dad died from it, and my brother and I both carry the faulty gene that causes the disease.”

“Are you sure —?”

“It’s going to happen, Jace. I can’t escape it. Unless, you know . . . I jump from a bridge or something.”

He was only half-kidding, and Jace must have seen that in his eyes. “And I thought my migraines were a bummer.”

Max lifted one side of his mouth. “Yeah, well . . . my brother runs a nonprofit organization for the research of a cure, and he wants me to be the poster boy.” He ran his hand across the air, an imaginary headline. “‘Huntington’s Doesn’t Have to Destroy Your Life.’”

“Does it?”

“You tell me. Don’t say you’re not feeling sorry for me right now.”

Jace swallowed.

“Right. You can imagine my joy when my brother said he was going to put me front and center on his foundation’s website if I won the cooking contest.”

“He did?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know the difference between salt and sugar.”

“You threw the contest.”

Max fisted his hands in his towel. “It was just a stupid local contest . . . I never thought . . .” He shook his head. “I let her down, I know. But it would be a thousand times worse if she knew the truth.”

“I’m going to have to fight you on that one. Do you seriously believe that Grace is the kind of person to walk away from someone she loves just because he might get sick?”

“Will. Full stop. I will get this disease. I will die a long, horrible death. But you’re right. I know she’s not that type of person. It’s not just about Grace’s commitment to me —it’s her future. I can’t have kids. I didn’t want to pass down the disease, so a few years ago, I went under the knife. If Grace is with me, I’d steal her hope of a family. And then she gets to watch me die. Yeah, I’m a real package.”

“So you’ll break her heart instead.”

“I already did —and trust me, it’s better left where it is. Now I just have to keep her at arm’s length until the wedding.”

“How’s that working out?”

“Not great, thanks to you.” He glanced at Jace, serious.

Jace rubbed his hands together, staring at them. “I’m not sure I should apologize. You’re good for each other. Maybe you can’t have forever or a family, but you have something rare —someone who loves you. And I can’t figure out, for the life of me, why you’d want to stop living just because someday . . . you’ll stop living.”

His words settled over Max.

“Or maybe you’ve never started.”

Max looked away, the memory of Hawaii rushing through him. Of being caught up in a world where his future didn’t touch him, where it might be only Grace, only . . . grace.

Yeah. Maybe he hadn’t started living until he’d met the one woman who made him realize that he wanted to.

Sure, he’d figured out how to hold on to his faith while staring at his bleak future. But how could he ask Grace to do the same?

“Tell her, Max. She deserves to know. Let her decide for herself.”

“And what if she decides she . . . ?”

“Doesn’t want you? That’s the problem, isn’t it? You want to reject her before she gets a chance to reject you.”

“I have nothing to give her. To give anyone. I am living a worthless life.” He gritted his teeth, looked away. “At least for anything beyond hockey.”

“I know a little about thinking your life is worthless, Max. God made you, and as long as you are on earth, your life is valuable to Him.”

Max wanted to shake his head.

And he wanted to lean into Jace’s words.

“Your life is also valuable to Grace. It could be that she needs you just as much as you need her.”

Max didn’t need her —the words nearly crossed his lips, but he bit them back. Because, yes, he did. The thought poured through him. He needed Grace like a thirsty man needed water.

What if he did tell her he loved her?

Jace must have read his mind because he clamped him on the shoulder. “I know. Facing death is one thing. But letting a girl know how you feel —that should terrify any man. Maybe we should stay right here and play more hockey.”

“Grace, you are absolutely a fairy godmother. You create magic wherever you go.” Eden walked through the open space of the warehouse they’d rented for the wedding, nearly floating with the joy on her face.

Grace looked up from where she was directing the delivery boys with their boxes of fresh fruit back to the kitchen. She put down her clipboard. “Blame Raina. She’s little Miss Tinker Bell with her twinkle-light obsession.”

Indeed, the space glittered. Raina had draped lights from the girders over the expansive eating area, and on each table, in a tall vase filled with pearly marbles, curly twigs dangled tiny pots with votive candles.

The service crew Eden rented with the space had already set the tables, covered them with deep-blue tablecloths and gold-rimmed plates. The florist had stopped by with a sample of the bouquets, a mix of orchids and the exotic birds-of-paradise, a few ginger spires. White plumeria flowers would decorate the serving line, even circle the platter on which Grace would serve . . . the pig.

It had arrived yesterday, an entire 125-pound animal, freshly slaughtered and prepared for roasting, with the ribs split so it could lie flat on the grill that Max had delivered.

Max to the rescue again. He’d breezed in yesterday, checked her ingredients, then stuck around to help her make the dressing for the salad. And tomorrow he’d run the kitchen while she stepped out of her role as chef to play maid of honor.

This just might work.

Especially since, with the overhaul of the dinner, the menu had been simplified. In fact, the entire thing took a turn toward redneck with Jace’s allergic reaction to fish.

Scratch sushi. And anything to do with seafood. Or, for that matter, Hawaii. She and Max had reworked the entire menu to suit Jace’s palate.

The only thing that remained was the Waimanalo salad. Now the menu featured, along with the roasted pig, a gingered-mango sauce; truffle macaroni and cheese; roasted zucchini, mushrooms, and summer squash; pineapple fruit kebabs; and Hawaiian sweet bread.

Grace could finally sleep through the night.

And Max had been more than she’d expected or imagined. Not only helping her overhaul the menu, order the ingredients, and train the staff, but making her believe, once again, that she could do this. Last night he’d given her another pep talk as they washed the dishes and loaded the sauces into the refrigerator. He even helped her roll the silverware into napkins and tie them with raffia.

And watching him, sitting on the stage rolling napkins, she realized . . .

She loved him. More than her fledgling feelings from Hawaii, the fullness of her emotion took root, embedded her bones. He’d glanced at her as she struggled to swallow the realization away.

How would she possibly say good-bye to him after the wedding? Especially since he had no more reason to be in her life?

Max seemed to sense her mood because he’d gotten quiet too, and it nearly touched her lips to ask.

He’d driven her home then, pensive in the darkness, and when they pulled up to Eden’s apartment and she turned to him, the expression on his face stopped her. As if he might want to say something to her.

She waited in the silence until he looked away and said, “Call me if you need anything. I’ll drop by the venue tomorrow.”

She’d ached with the frustration of it all when she got out of the car.

“Do you think Jace will like it?” Eden asked, still surveying the room.

“Are you kidding me? He will love it,” Grace said.

“He won’t even see it. He’ll be so entranced with his bride,” Raina said, joining them. She wore her hair up, a pair of jeans and her chef’s jacket. “Grace, I finished chopping the vegetables and put them back in the cooler.”

“Perfect. Where are we with the fruit?”

“I have Ty storing it in the cooler now.”

“Sounds like you have everything under control,” Eden said. “I knew it. Has anyone seen Mom and Dad?”

“They should be getting to the hotel anytime,” Grace said. “I should go back and change for the rehearsal. I still think I was crazy to agree to be in the wedding party and the head chef —”

“Listen, that’s what you have me for,” Raina said. “You did all the hard work. We —me and Ty and the crew from the cooking school —have this.”

The smartest thing Grace had ever done was take Eden’s idea and offer the local Minneapolis Institute of Culinary Arts class a chance to help cater. Not only did she get their services cheap, but she’d met the director.

A relationship she hoped to cultivate. Maybe someday she could ask for a second chance to apply.

“Besides, if I get in over my head, Max will be here,” Raina said.

Right. Max would be here.

Grace picked up her clipboard. “I just want to go over tomorrow’s schedule with the team, and then I’ll head back to your place, Eden, and get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Grace. No one could have pulled this off but you.”

And Max —ah, there he was again, ever present. “And Raina,” Grace said, winking at her friend.

But Raina had stilled, was looking past her toward the door.

Grace turned and spied Casper standing there, holding his motorcycle helmet. “I just came by to see if I could help,” he said, his gaze landing on Raina.

Grace’s heart twisted at the hope in his expression. Once Raina had told her that Casper was not the father of her child —and had never been a candidate —the sad fate of his heart had Grace wanting to tell him the truth about Raina’s situation.

But it wasn’t her news to tell. And Raina clearly didn’t have it in her to tell him, not yet, despite Grace’s urging that Casper deserved to know. Did Raina plan on waiting until she started showing and Casper had to ask?

It didn’t help that he’d pitched in, ordered supplies, helped Grace dig up recipes, offered his suggestions as she experimented with flavors, and generally hung around her planning sessions with Raina for the last three weeks. Despite the fact that Raina barely looked at him, Casper appeared undaunted.

In the darkest part of her heart, Grace could admit that maybe, despite the hurt ahead for Casper, it would be best for him to let her go.

She hated to think that perhaps the same thing applied to her and Max.

Casper entered the room and Raina fled back to the kitchen.

Grace walked over to him, wanting to hug away the dejection on his face. “Hey.”

He forced a smile. “Mom and Dad are here. I’m headed to the hotel. Anyone need a lift?”

She knew who that anyone meant. “I’m headed back to Eden’s in a bit, but Raina might need . . .”

Her voice trailed off as Max came in behind Casper.

He could stun a girl by just the way he walked, a sort of easy swagger, as if he held the world in his hand. Now he wore black jeans, a black- and gray-striped button-down shirt, a pair of cowboy boots. His hair had grown, and it looked fresh from a shower, spiky on top.

He even smelled good, a spicy aftershave mixed with soap.

“Hey,” he said.

Grace probably wore the same pitiful, hopeful expression as Casper. “Hi.”

Casper turned. “Hey. You’re Maxwell Sharpe. I remember you. Owen’s friend, right?”

Poor Max. For a second, he looked wrecked. Then he met Casper’s outstretched hand. “Yeah. Uh . . . remind me . . .”

“Casper. I’m the middle brother.”

Max pumped his hand. “Nice to meet you. I came to give your sister a ride to the rehearsal dinner.”

And although her brain screamed at her to say no . . . “Sure, that sounds great.” She glanced at Casper. “Raina can drive my car back to Eden’s place.” Sorry, Bro.

She gave the room a once-over, then went to the kitchen to drop off her schedule, talk through tomorrow’s events with the staff, and retrieve her purse.

When she came back, Max stood in the middle of the room, looking at the grandeur. “It’s really pretty, Grace.”

“Thanks.”

“You know how to take something ugly and turn it beautiful.”

“Well, I wouldn’t actually call the space ugly —”

“It’s a warehouse with brick walls and a cement floor and big metal doors. It was ugly. Now it’s breathtaking.”

Oh.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded, and to her surprise, he held out his hand.

She took it, lacing her fingers with his, feeling the warmth. His thumb curled over her hand, caressing tiny circles, sending tingles up her arm.

When they got to the car, he walked around to hold the door open. He’d taken the top down, but the heat of the day lingered. The late-afternoon sun spilled gold around the buildings, glinting on the windows of the warehouse across the street.

Grace got in and watched as Max circled the car, climbed in.

He seemed . . . different. Like the Max she’d seen that last night before the competition in Hawaii. He glanced at her, and she thought she saw something sweet, even hopeful, in his eyes.

He drove them out of the warehouse district, down Hiawatha, but kept going past Eden’s street, heading southeast.

All the way to Minnehaha Park. He parked in the lot and got out.

“Max?”

“I need to talk to you, Grace. And this seemed to be the prettiest place I could find.” He came around to her side, opened the car door. “Will you take a walk with me?”

This was where he told her that they could only be friends. That she needed to get the thoughts about him out of her —

He took her hand again.

They walked along a path lined with towering oaks and elms, cottonwoods that shivered with the wind. Behind it all, the roar of the falls reminded her of Hawaii.

He gripped her hand tighter.

“Are you okay?”

He said nothing, his face suddenly grim.

“You’re scaring me, Max.”

“Sorry.” He took a breath and stopped. The pathway overlooked the falls, the spray rising up to capture the late-afternoon sun. He released her hand.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to tell you something and I know that you’ll want to make it better, but you can’t and it’s going to . . . Well, I wouldn’t even tell you at all, but you deserve to know.”

She rubbed her arms, chilled despite the heat. She should head him off before he made this more awkward for both of them. “Max, if you’re going to tell me that we can’t have anything past right now, I get that. And it’s okay. You always said that you weren’t looking for a relationship. I should have believed you. I know what happened in Hawaii was a mistake. And yeah, I was hurt. I was really hurt.”

“I’m so sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean to hurt you —”

“I know. You had to get back to your real life. It was a fairy tale in Hawaii, and being with you on vacation changed my life. See, when you left me there, something happened.”

He looked at her fast, a crease in his brow.

“Nothing bad. In fact, it was all good. I realized that . . . well, I’d gone to Hawaii looking for something. It wasn’t until you left that I realized the thing I was looking for wasn’t you. It was God. I want more out of life than just . . . just staying where my fears trap me. I want to know all that God has for me —His love, His power, His grace. And it wasn’t until I gave up everything I was holding on to and reached out for Him that I realized it was right there, waiting for me. I’d just missed it because I thought I could find it in you.”

He seemed worried, even hurt, so she touched his cheek. “You are an amazing man, Max. You are brave and patient, and you can cook circles around me. But I am going to be okay without you.”

His eyes glistened and his expression broke, something desperate in it. “But I don’t think I’ll be okay without you.” He took her face in his hands. “I love you, Grace. Wow, I want to love you. I want you in my life. I want to grow old with you and have babies with you —”

She kissed him. Just rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

She tasted salt in his touch, and it only whetted her heart for him. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulled him closer.

And then, with a tiny groan that escaped from deep inside him, he kissed her back. His arms went around her, and he pulled her to himself, into his strong arms, kissing her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He touched his lips to her eyes, her cheeks, returning finally to her mouth.

Max. She slowed his pace, running her thumbs down his cheekbones.

Sweet Max was crying.

He pulled back and tried to smile, but it was lopsided. He opened his mouth, but nothing emerged.

She’d rendered him speechless. I love you, too. The words were bubbling up, ready to burst from her, when his phone rang.

He stared at his pocket as if it might contain a bomb.

Grace laughed. “Get it, Max.”

“Uh —”

“Seriously. I’m not going anywhere.”

He held her hand, though, as he glanced at the screen, then frowned and answered the phone. “Yeah?”

He listened for a bit, his face growing darker. “I’ll have to call you back.” He hung up, pocketed the phone.

She asked, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s probably nothing. I need to get you home so you can change for the rehearsal dinner.”

Oh. She couldn’t deny the boulder that landed on her chest. He held her hand all the way to the car, tight, as if he couldn’t bear to let the moment go either. But they’d have more. At the wedding tomorrow and then . . .

Then . . . ?

It was on her lips to ask, but it felt so vulnerable and raw. Maybe she’d wait until she told him she loved him. Maybe then they could talk about a future.

He glanced at her now and again, squeezing her hand as he drove. But when they pulled up to Eden’s house, he didn’t get out.

Didn’t kiss her good-bye.

He just drove off, and she had the strangest sense, like she did in Hawaii, that she might not see him again.

Silly, right?

At night, it became easier to forget her mistakes. Her appetite returned, her stomach stopped betraying her, and Raina felt normal.

At least as normal as she could muster, given the fact that her life seemed to be unraveling before her eyes. Her plans to stay in Deep Haven, to become a part of Casper’s life, his family, were all a gnarled, sad mess.

In a way she was a part of the family, except she wasn’t going to show up on the Christiansens’ doorstep with Owen’s child in her arms, like an episode of All My Children.

No. Any hope of being a part of that family Owen had stolen from her. Maybe she’d stolen it, too, but regardless, she could never return to Deep Haven. To the Christiansens.

If only her car hadn’t quit on her earlier this week, she could leave. But maybe as soon as the reception finished, she’d get on a bus, head west. Maybe to . . .

It didn’t matter. Anywhere but where her memories might find her.

Raina stood in front of the sink, letting the steam rise as she finished washing the last of the butcher knives. She’d already prepped the salad and vegetables for tomorrow, already looked over the schedule, already been assured that everything would hum along as planned, the vegetables roasting, the pig on the grill. She’d sent home the kitchen assistants and then taken a final walk through the venue.

The beautifully decorated warehouse did capture the romance of the event, with the lights glittering, reflecting the joy awaiting Jace and Eden. Raina had stared at the dance floor too long, remembering her hopes for dancing under the stars with Casper.

How stupid she’d been to think that there might be a happily ever after waiting for her. That happened to other people, with lives that made sense.

She plunged her hand back into the hot, sudsy water, feeling around for a knife handle. The slick blade ran across the meat of her middle finger, burning even as she pulled back. Blood ran down her arm.

She grabbed a towel, pressed it against her finger.

“Are you okay?”

The voice jerked her around, and she saw Casper advancing into the kitchen.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He wore his leather jacket over a white shirt and tie, a pair of dress pants, but his five o’clock shadow added a rugged appeal.

The kind of appeal that might make a girl forget her woes and jump on the back of his motorcycle.

Which, frankly, was how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place.

“I know better than to put a knife in the sink. I just got absentminded. It’s nothing, though —a small cut.” She should have expected him to show up —he’d seemed to be hovering the last few weeks, close enough to hear if she decided to call out, to need him.

Oh, how she needed him. But shame kept her mute. Now she watched, her heart bleeding out even as he came over, took her arm, inspected her wound. “It’s not deep —probably doesn’t need stitches. Do you have a first aid kit?”

She pointed toward the kit attached to the wall, and he went to retrieve it.

“What are you doing here?”

He found a Band-Aid, a cotton ball, antiseptic, some antibiotic cream, and returned to her, moving her to the table. He patted it, and she slid onto the smooth surface. “The rehearsal dinner’s over, and I didn’t see you. I thought maybe you needed help with something, so I swung by, saw the lights, decided to make sure you were okay.”

Of course he did. Because that was Casper, the guy who showed up. Who stuck around even when she’d done everything she could to push him away. She watched as he cleaned her wound, then doctored it with the ointment and Band-Aid.

He wrapped the wound, then lifted her finger to his lips and sweetly kissed it.

Her face heated. “Casper . . .”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Raina. But if you let me, maybe I can fix it.”

She sighed, pulled her hand away, and slid off the table. “I don’t think you can fix this.” She returned to the sink, but he moved her aside.

“I’ll finish this.”

She picked up a towel as he shucked off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and plunged his hands into the water, gingerly feeling around for the knife. He found it, washed it with a rag, and handed it to her, handle first.

She dried it as he pulled the plug, letting the water drain. She put the knife away.

Then she stood in the quiet kitchen with him as he wiped his hands on a towel. He was such a handsome man, his eyes so blue it seemed she could fall into them, never surface.

“Casper, I . . .”

But she had no words because he took two steps toward her, caught her face in his hands. She didn’t have a bone in her body to resist when he leaned down and kissed her.

It was gentle, like before, but with a firmness, a resolute strength that made her lean into him. He smelled like freedom and tasted sweet and gingery. She pressed her hands to his chest, felt the frame of his work-hardened body.

How was she supposed to say good-bye to a man who kept showing up in her life? But if you let me, maybe I can fix it.

What if he could? What if —? No, it was crazy to think he’d still want her after knowing . . . knowing . . .

She pushed him away, her eyes filling. “I’m sorry, Casper.”

He stared at her, breathing hard. “Tell me what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything! It’s not you. I’m . . . I’m leaving Deep Haven.”

“What? Why?”

“I . . . I need . . .” Shoot, once upon a time, lies had come so easily. “I can’t be with you. I did something I shouldn’t have and . . .”

He closed the gap between them, took her hands, his voice earnest. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Listen, sometimes life just . . . it blindsides you. And for a while, you’re lost.” He leaned into her. “I came home from college because . . . I hated it. And my grades showed it. I’m not cut out for college. But the worst part was, for the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been hiding in Deep Haven —and then I met you and I realized I was supposed to be there. With you. I thought that coming home was failure, but don’t you see? It was victory. You are my victory, Raina. You and I —we can be happy there.”

Tears burned their way down her cheeks. Oh, how she wanted to grab ahold of his words.

But it didn’t in the least compare to her failures. “What about your trip to Roatán? Your pirate’s treasure?”

“I already decided that I am staying in Deep Haven. No more treasure hunting for me —I found my treasure right here.” He cupped his hand to her cheek. “I think I’m in love with you, Raina.”

She tore her hand away, choking back a sob. Then she pushed past him and headed toward the door.

“Raina!”

“I’m not in love with you, Casper!”

There, she said it, and she didn’t slow as the words emptied out of her. Just ran past the tables toward the exit.

“Raina!”

No, no, no! But her eyes were blurry and she couldn’t see where she was going and —“I’m sorry; I’m so sorry.”

Arms caught her. “Sorry for what, baby?”

She looked up and, with a cry, pushed herself away.

Owen seemed almost the spitting image of Casper, with his dark pants, jean jacket, his blond hair windblown. He looked past her to Casper, concern on his face. “What’s going on here? You okay? My brother giving you trouble?”

“Stay away from me, Owen,” she said softly.

“Whoa. I guess you’re still sore at me.”

She wanted to slap him. Instead, she cast a desperate look at Casper.

Casper stared at his brother, stricken. “Raina?”

She had the surreal sense of her world shattering, right there in the middle of the twinkle-lit dance floor.

With a sob, she pushed past Owen, out into the night.

She had no illusions; she’d finally managed to cut Casper out of her life.

Please, Lord, let me not be too late.

The desperation in Max’s prayer made him lean forward into his steering wheel, look heavenward.

He hadn’t talked to God much in the past ten years, not wanting to bother God too much before he really needed Him, but . . . today, right now, he needed the Almighty to look his direction. To care. To stop Brendon from doing something stupid.

His headlights cut a swath over the dark, twisted highway of northern Wisconsin, illuminating shaggy evergreen, the forest thick with birch, oak, and poplar.

He’d already nearly hit two deer, and now his gaze darted from one side of the road to the other. He glanced at his cell phone, then back to the road, wishing he could pick it up, call again.

But his phone had died an hour ago, and in his rush to leave, he’d forgotten his charger on the counter.

At least he’d called Jace, left a message, cryptic though it was. Jace, I think my brother’s in trouble. Tell Grace I’m sorry.

Coward that he was, he couldn’t face her.

“Brendon’s missing.” The two words spoken by Lizzy, her voice trembling, had cut off every word he’d wanted to say to Grace.

Every apology, every stupid admission of emotion —all gone. What was he doing, declaring his love for her, telling her he wanted a future with her? He could bang his head on the steering wheel with the memory of it, the stupidity of his actions.

His conversation with her hadn’t in the least gone the direction he’d planned. He’d wanted to sit her down on the rock wall and tell her the truth. I sabotaged our contest.

He imagined her expression, raw, hurt, the question emanating from her: Why?

He forced himself to see the rest. The part where he told her about his disease, his fear of leaving someone behind, of . . .

Of watching her walk away.

Instead, he’d skipped over the essentials of that conversation to the happy ending. The part where he held her in his arms, kissed her —no, inhaled her —pulling her to himself until he felt whole and loved and healed.

He should be grateful for Lizzy’s call, the reminder in two words of exactly why he needed to walk away.

He kept dancing around the truth, like a moth around a flame, when he should have listened to his head instead of his heart.

But Brendon was different. He had a wife. A child.

A brother who needed him.

Max hit the brakes, slowing as he passed through the tiny resort town on the edge of Diamond Lake. This late at night he didn’t expect to see lights on, and he rolled by the darkened gas station, the library, the coffee hut, the bait and tackle shop, the long, low motel flickering a Vacancy light in neon red.

Impatience swilled through his veins as he accelerated back onto the highway toward the family cabin.

Please —

He’d called Lizzy the moment he got back to his apartment and found out that she’d come home to a note on the counter. Gone fishing. Lizzy might have believed him except for the prognosis Brendon received from the doctor last week. The one that showed his disease progressing faster than average, as if catching up to Brendon after its years of leniency.

“His cognitive test showed a severe decrease in his memory, and the psychomotor test, where they combine memory and writing, was twice as bad. It’s coming on, and fast.” The tremble at the end of her voice told Max the truth.

She knew about the pact.

“I’ll find him.”

His promise now sat like an ember under his skin.

He slowed, looking for the signage to their road, then turned onto the gravel drive. The road threaded through thick forest toward the lake.

He drove up to the house, turned off the car, and got out.

The rush of wind in the trees, the faintest sound of bullfrogs along the shore, the rich fragrance of pine swept over him, an attempt to calm his racing heart.

But there in the driveway sat his brother’s economy Nissan. And beside it, his uncle Norm’s old truck.

His uncle wouldn’t have . . .

But Uncle Norm had experienced the devastation of watching his siblings’ disease advance through them, destroying them from the inside out. Dealt with the aftermath, filling in the gaps their deaths left behind.

Yeah, maybe.

Max went in the side door, flicked on the light. It bathed the kitchen and the main room that overlooked the lake.

“Brendon!” His voice boomed through the house and carried the edge of panic cultivated during the five-hour drive. “Where are you?”

He cut through the kitchen, down the hall. “Brendon!”

“Sheesh, you’re going to wake all of Wisconsin! What’s going on?” Brendon appeared at the door to one of the guest rooms, bare-chested, wearing a pair of pajama pants, his hair askew. “Is Lizzy okay?” He braced his arm on the jamb, blinking into the light.

Max didn’t know whether to hug him or deck him. Instead he turned and hit the wall, everything inside him spilling out hard and fast.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” Max rounded on him. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

Brendon held up a hand. “Chill, Bro. It never rang. You know we get spotty service out here —”

Max let out a blue word, something that brought his uncle Norm to his door. “Max!”

He turned to his uncle, still hot. “Uncle Norm, seriously —Brendon takes off, leaves a note for Lizzy saying he’s gone fishing, and —”

“And we’re fishing, son. You should see the freezer. Brendon landed an eight-pound walleye.”

Max wanted to hit something again as he stared at his uncle, his brother. But he turned away, stalking down the hall, his hand to his head.

He sank into the old recliner, scraping his hands down his face. Fishing. He could still taste his heart in his mouth, despite his efforts to swallow it down.

He heard the floor creak and looked up to find the duo staring at him like he might be the crazy one.

Then the realization clicked on Brendon’s face. “Oh . . . wow,” he said, sinking onto the tweed sofa. “You thought . . .”

“What was I supposed to think?” Max might never flush the anger from his voice at this decibel. He took a breath, schooled it into something less threatening. Something that contained the horror he felt. “Lizzy told me about the tests.”

Brendon flinched one eye and looked away.

His uncle sat next to him on the sofa. “What tests?”

Max shook his head, wishing it all away. Wishing he’d had the courage to stand beside his big brother and raise the money to fight this. Wishing his mom didn’t have to go through this again. Wishing . . .

Wishing he were back with Grace, caught in a place where he could forget . . . or at least hang on to someone a little stronger than himself.

And there she was, her words in his head. I want more out of life than just . . . just staying where my fears trap me. I want to know all that God has for me —His love, His power, His grace.

Yeah, he wanted it too. More than wanted it —he hungered for it.

Grace. Power. Especially courage.

Uncle Norm turned to Brendon. “How bad is it?”

Brendon’s hands shook and he stretched them out, swallowed. “It’s bad. It’s progressing faster than I’d —we’d hoped. But it’s not so bad that you needed to drive here, Max, and stop me from . . .” He shook his head. “I love Lizzy and Ava and I want every second I can have with them. I’m not going to do it.”

“Do what?” Uncle Norm asked.

Max took a breath. He couldn’t —

“We made a pact after Dad died,” Brendon said softly. “It was stupid, my idea. But I was scared and angry and . . .”

“We agreed to help each other end our lives once we started showing symptoms,” Max said quietly. “Either by not stopping each other or . . . assisting.” Now he couldn’t look at his uncle, at the disbelief, the horror on his face. “I’m sorry, Uncle Norm. But you don’t know what it’s like, looking ahead, knowing —”

“Yeah, I do, son. Your dad came to me when you were born. He told me how, when he married your mother, he told her he had the gene. She knew she’d lose him, and she married him anyway. That took him apart, but he lived with the specter of the disease so far out in front of him, he didn’t consider how it might touch him until you were born, Max. See, they planned Brendon. And then they found out he had the faulty gene, and they vowed not to have another child. Suddenly it became real, and your dad started to panic. He started to think like you, and the idea of him suffering and then passing that along to his son undid him. He went through a terrible darkness.”

Uncle Norm shook his head. “I feared for his life. And then . . . then you came along. Surprise.”

Max knew that, had resigned himself to the fact that he was a mistake. His entire life from beginning to end —worthless.

“But that’s when everything changed. Having you is what kept your father sane as long as it did. He was already showing signs of the disease when your mother got pregnant, and then you were born and something changed inside him. You were a gift to him during his darkest moments and a gift that your mother held on to long after he left this earth.” He smiled as if caught in memory. “Oh, how he loved to watch you play hockey. He’d call me and we’d go to your games.”

“He used to go to my practices. I remember him sitting there in the bleachers, early in the morning, wrapped in a blanket, shivering.”

“He wanted to capture every moment with you, just like he had with Brendon. You made his life rich, right up to the end. And it made him realize that any life, no matter how short or long, was worth living.”

Now Max’s eyes burned. “I don’t understand a God who would give life, only to have us suffer. It’s not fair.”

“Everyone dies. It’s a surety. You could die tomorrow, and despite the horror of this disease, the days of health are that much more precious because we know what lies ahead.” His uncle’s voice thickened. “I miss my brother every single day. Frankly, sometimes I feel like it’s unfair that out of all my siblings, I’m the one who escaped. We all suffer with this disease. But suffering can either destroy you or it can save you. Because without suffering, we don’t need more; we have enough. But when we suffer, we can’t help but reach out. It forces us into God’s arms, and that’s where we find not only what we need, but more than we can imagine. We find Him.”

He clamped a hand on Brendon’s shoulder, squeezed. “Your dad discovered this, and you will too, Brendon.” His eyes glistened. “And I will too, all over again.”

Max couldn’t bear it. He looked away, clenched his jaw.

“Your dad loved being married to your mother, Max. She was joy in his life, and she told me at his funeral that it gave her joy to walk her husband into the arms of heaven. It’s the greatest privilege a spouse can have.”

Brendon cupped his hand over his eyes. His shoulders shook.

“You will make it through this, boys. Your mother raised strong men, knowing you’d have to have the courage of your father. And you will, if you don’t let the suffering steal the richness of living. Focus on life.”

Max got up, went to the window, stared out at the lake. The sky arched above it, starlight dappling the water’s surface like tiny eyes cast into the darkness.

Focus on life. That’s what Grace had done for him. Helped him see life, embrace life. Want life.

And maybe if he hung on to that, God just might help him —and Grace —face death.

Brendon came up behind him. “Let’s make a new pact.”

Max turned.

“Let’s end well.” Brendon stuck out his hand.

Max ignored it, pulling Brendon into an embrace. “You got it.” He blinked, turned away, ran his palm across his cheek.

His uncle rose from the sofa. “Now if it’s all right with you, I need some shut-eye if I’m going to face the fish at 5 a.m.” He ruffled Max’s hair as if he were ten years old. “I think there’s a walleye with your name on it.”

Max laughed, but . . . wait. “Oh no. I have a wedding to put on.”

Both Brendon and his uncle stared at him.

“Okay, long story, but I promised Grace that I’d help her cater her sister’s wedding, and she’s counting on me.”

“Grace?” Uncle Norm asked.

“Grace,” Brendon said. “You know . . . Grace.”

“Right. The salt-in-the-mousse girl.”

Oh . . . “Actually, that was me. I sabotaged the competition because I —”

“Didn’t want to go public. I wondered about that, but I realized I shouldn’t have been pressuring you.”

“Except you were right. I shouldn’t let fear keep me from doing what’s right.”

“Only when you’re ready, Max,” Brendon said. “But more importantly . . . Grace? Are you two together?”

“Not if I don’t get back for this wedding.”