“I HOPE THAT wasn’t your ride,” Marcus said, watching the bright blue car pull away.
Addie laughed. “No, she knows I normally walk home from here.” She shouldered her purse. “She has to get going—she’s got a one-year-old and a wedding to plan.”
“Sounds...hectic.”
“Yeah. My family never does anything the normal way.” The silence stretched out. “Well, guess I’ll be heading home. Good to see you again.”
“I’ll walk with you.” He wasn’t quite ready to be alone again.
“Uh—sure.” Together, they headed toward the sidewalk.
“So, tell me more about this family of yours,” he said, falling into step with her. He’d always wondered what it would be like to have a brother, or a bunch of siblings growing up.
“It’s definitely interesting.” She walked at a leisurely pace. “Wyatt’s the oldest, but only by a couple years. He owns our granddad’s ranch west of here. My younger brother DJ helps him. He was in Afghanistan and came home wounded, so while Wyatt’s all cowboy, DJ is a begrudging one.”
Marcus laughed. “How is one a begrudging cowboy?”
“Begrudgingly?”
Her laughter echoed over the evening air, and Marcus found himself enthralled with the sweet sound. “I’ll bet your teachers just loved you.”
“Why yes, they did in fact.” Again, her laughter wrapped around him. This time, he couldn’t resist joining her.
“Okay, who else?”
“My other brother, Jason, is married to Lauren Ramsey...the world-famous ballerina. You’ve heard of her?”
“I have, though don’t tell the guys. I have a reputation to uphold.” He winked. “Actually, my sister, Anne, is a huge patron of the ballet. She’ll be green with envy when I tell her.”
“You sound like a typical brother. Let me guess, she’s older than you?”
“Good guess, considering you had a fifty-fifty chance. Tell me more.”
“Let’s see. Wyatt and DJ are both married. DJ’s wife, Tammie, is expecting their second child any day now. They got married last year. Their son, Tyler, was the best man.”
His double take must have surprised her.
“Told you, we do things a bit differently in my family.”
“You did warn me.” They walked for a bit longer before he nudged her again. “Next?”
“You met Mandy. Her fiancé is a hotshot firefighter. Like I said, they have a one-year-old son, Lucas. It’s about time Lane finally proposed.”
“Yeah. About time.” Marcus savored her obvious enjoyment at sharing the stories of her family.
“And last?”
“My baby sister, Tara, is a chef. She just opened a diner in Haskins Corners. It’s a small town near the ranch.”
“And I suppose she has a husband, too?”
“Not yet. But I’m guessing her boyfriend, Morgan, will pop the question soon. I certainly hope so.”
“Sounds like quite the family. A happy bunch.” Marcus was enthralled and a bit jealous, he had to admit. “You helped raise them all?” He recalled her comment the other night about losing her father.
“I helped Mom and Wyatt.” Her footsteps slowed. “Sometimes I think I know how to be a parent without ever really being one.”
“What about you? Ever been in love? Married? Almost married?” Why was he asking that? He told himself to stop.
Something changed with that question, and as soon as he looked in her eyes, he regretted asking. She’d been happy sharing her family life with him. Not now. Now there were shutters in her eyes that fell just as he got a glimpse of the pain. “Once upon a time,” she whispered. “I believed in the fairy tale for me.” She fell silent. He didn’t ask anything more—he didn’t want to twist the knife that she obviously felt.
They’d reached the white picket fence surrounding her yard. He almost asked how a girl who lived in a house with a white picket fence could live in it alone, but he didn’t.
“Thanks for walking with me,” she hastily said, then pushed the gate open, and just as hastily closed it between them. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She rushed into the house, not looking back, not even to wave goodbye.
Why did he feel so disappointed?
* * *
SLEEP DIDN’T COME EASY. Addie tossed and turned until well past midnight. At this rate, she would be exhausted in the morning. She knew she was in trouble when she started counting the few hours she’d get if she fell asleep right now. Four was not a lucky number.
Marcus’s simple question had no simple answer. Too many memories flooded her mind. Of that last, fateful summer. The summer of fun and love and sunshine—and Cal. His image came to mind, and even now, his smile had the power to lift her spirits. She’d been so head over heels, she’d barely known which way was up.
And she hadn’t much cared. She’d just wanted to be with him all the time. Thought they’d have forever. The life she’d planned back then, at the grand old age of eighteen, was drastically different from the one she lived now. Not that it was bad. It was good—just, she admitted to herself, lonely sometimes.
Especially now that her siblings had moved on with their lives. And they didn’t need her anymore.
Punching her pillow, she forced her eyes to stay closed. She’d keep them closed until she fell asleep. How hard could it be? She was tired, after all.
When the bright light woke her, she swore she’d just finally fallen asleep. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The light was too bright. What time was it? Was she late? What day was it?
The house had been cool, thanks to the air-conditioning when she’d fallen asleep.
Now, she was soaked in sweat and the air was hot and thick.
She glanced at the alarm clock, but her eyes refused to focus. It took a minute to blink her gaze clear. Ten fifteen. She flung back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun. She sat there for several long minutes trying to regain her sense of equilibrium.
Texas was famous for the thick heat of summer, the heavy, humid air that came in from the gulf. But it was too early in the season for the worst of the heat. Still, this was unbearable.
Slowly, she stood, using the edge of the nightstand to balance, then the dresser to make her way to the vent. No cool air rushed from the metal grate. Something must be wrong with the air-conditioning unit. She’d have to call someone. Her mind grasped the problem but struggled to hold onto it.
Was it cooler outside? Surely, it had to be. She made her way to the window. The frame was stubborn. She didn’t open it often. It took her several tries, but she finally got it open. Only a slight breeze came in. It was enough for now, she thought. She hoped.
Her head hurt. Pain stabbed behind her eyes, sharp and blinding. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should do something. But what? Call someone? Who?
The men on the ranch were very careful when they were out in the sun all day. Why did that thought pop into her head now? They drank lots of water. Where was there water? Bathroom. Her thoughts were disjointed, but she knew she could get to the bathroom.
Furniture walking, she finally reached the door frame. Stepping inside, she was thankful to lean against the counter. The tile floor under her bare feet was blessedly cool, and she nearly sank down to it. Was it just the heat? Did she have a fever? Was she sick?
Nothing made sense. She looked around, trying to make her mind focus on something specific. Why was she in here? What was she doing?
She needed to get ready to go to work, didn’t she? Yes. Work.
She stripped out of her nightgown and stepped toward the shower. That would make her feel better. Reaching into the stall, she twisted the knobs, cringing when warm water cascaded over her hand. She turned it to the right. All the way. Ah, yes. Coolness. Aching to feel a chill again, she stepped underneath the spray.
She leaned against the tiled wall, her cheek resting on the smooth surface. Cool.
She half expected the water to steam around her she felt so hot. And then something shifted. She started to shiver. Hard. Body-shaking hard. Her stomach churned, and she flailed around to find the faucet. What had felt so good moments ago was too cold, like needles of ice beating against her skin. She slammed the water off and nearly fell to her knees.
Her stomach protested the movement. What was wrong with her? What was happening to her? She was alone. No one was here to help her. No one knew she wasn’t okay. No one was worrying about her.
Her teeth chattered despite the warm air of the room washing over her. She shook. She took a step away from the wall, but even that small movement made the pain in her head intensify. Made her whole body quake.
Slowly, she made herself take the two steps out of the shower stall. She struggled to keep her stomach from churning itself empty. She couldn’t afford to be sick. Her full calendar leaped into her mind. She had too much to do.
She cursed and knew she couldn’t move anymore. Not now. Not by herself. Her legs gave out, and she let herself slip to the floor. Better than falling face-first into the tile. Her knees took most of the impact. The tile was solid as the rock it had once been.
And still cold. She shivered. Where was her towel? Had she grabbed one? Her robe? It still hung on the back of the door.
Tears burned her eyes. What was she supposed to do? Defeat slipped over her.
What was that sound? Addie tried to get her brain to focus, to wake up. Her stomach churned, and she tried to focus on the sound, to take her body’s attention off the misery.
That was her phone. Where was it? She pushed up, slowly, her arms trembling from the effort. Who was calling? Why were they calling?
Her robe was on the back of the door. She managed to lift her arms up enough to pull it down and slip it on. She cringed. The fabric scraped her sensitive skin. One more discomfort.
The sound stopped, only to start up again. Where was it? She stumbled out of the bathroom, toward the bed. The ringing came from the nightstand. Oh, there it was.
“H—hello?”
“Addie, where are you?” Lindy’s voice came through the phone, loud and painful.
“I—” She looked around. “At home.” She moaned and fell into bed. It was so soft after sitting on the floor. So, inviting. “I’m sick,” she managed to get out. “Just wanna sleep.”
“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to do anything?”
“Just let me die in peace.” Not the best joke she’d ever made.
Lindy managed to chuckle anyway. “Get some rest. I’ll let Gina, and the rest of the team, know. I’ll check on you later. Okay?”
“Mmm...hmm.” Addie moaned and rolled over, thumbing off the phone and tossing it aside. She just wanted to sleep and prayed her stomach would cooperate. She’d never make it to the bathroom in time.
Tears burned her eyes. She missed her mom. Addie remembered taking care of her siblings when they were sick, but Mom had always taken care of her. What was she supposed to do, now? Defeat slipped over her along with the dark silence.
* * *
“DAD!” RYAN SCREAMED AT the top of his lungs. Marcus saw him come through the rear gate, his backpack smacking the latch with a solid crack. “Dad!” he screamed again. “We gotta help her!”
The kitchen door flew open, hitting the counter nearly as hard as the gate. “Whoa. What’s the matter?”
Fear filled Ryan’s eyes, fear that Marcus had thought they’d chased away. He gulped in air from his run. “Why aren’t you at practice?”
“She’s sick.” Ryan dropped his backpack, not even bothering to notice where it landed. “She wasn’t at school. And I went by her house. I saw her in the window, lying on the couch. But she didn’t wake up when I knocked. Dad, help her.” A sob broke from his son’s throat, and Marcus’s heart hurt.
He knew who “she”—Addie—was, and his own fear ratcheted up. Watching Carolyn’s slow death had left a permanent scar on them both. The idea of losing Addie, either of them losing her, was painful to even think about.
Yet it could happen. Life had no guarantees. “Why didn’t you call me?” He followed his son to the door.
Ryan still tried to catch his breath as he headed to the door. “Dex and I were using it too much.” They both headed to the door. “Battery’s dead. Come on. We gotta check on her!” The urgency in Ryan’s voice hurt Marcus to hear.
His heart pounded in his chest as they sprinted across the yard to the driveway. The open sides of the Jeep made it easy to climb in, and it started right up. Why did it feel like hours before they pulled up in front of Addie’s house?
He swung into the driveway, nearly kissing the garage door with his bumper as he slammed on the brakes. Ryan was out of the Jeep before he’d even come to a complete halt.
“The front door’s locked,” Ryan said, heading for the back door. “Maybe this one’s open.”
“Ryan, hold on. You don’t live here.” The drive had calmed him a bit. Ryan was probably overreacting. For all he knew, Addie could be the world’s soundest sleeper. Last thing they needed was to scare her into calling the cops.
* * *
ADDIE STARED AT the wide window. Had someone been out there? Were they still out there? The nagging sense of helplessness irritated her. She’d lived on her own long enough to have a healthy sense of caution. Glancing at the door, she confirmed it was locked and secure.
The air moved, the breeze came in the open kitchen windows, clanged the pots on the rack over the cooktop together. Her head was still fuzzy and ached. All day she’d been here alone, her head full of fog and pain. Even now, she wondered if she’d be able to make it to the couch. She certainly wasn’t going to make it up the stairs to her bedroom. She’d probably fall if she even tried.
Turning, she aimed herself toward the living room, but stopped at the end of the counter. Exhaustion tugged at her. She needed to lie down. Her head spun again. She grasped the edge of the counter, trying to catch her balance. Still, the world spun.
She couldn’t begin to think. Her head felt like a knife hacked against it. She sank onto the kitchen chair, the smooth, modern chair she’d bought with the rest of the set, not the familiar chair that still sat in the corner, safe and apart.
Like her, she realized.
Unable to think or move, she laid her head on the tabletop and let her entire body relax. The wood felt cool against her cheek.
What was that sound? Pounding? Was there someone at the door? Why? Why did she care? She coughed, the sound loud as it bounced off the hard surface where her head rested.
“Addie?” A male voice came out of the darkness somewhere. A familiar voice, but not too familiar. “Addie?” the man called again. She tried to sift through the repertoire of voices in her memory. Not Wyatt. Besides, he had a key. Not either of her other brothers. DJ and Jason had deep, warm voices, but even they didn’t speak in that mellow baritone.
Not Lane, or Morgan. “Who—” She tried to focus, tried to open her eyes and see.
She couldn’t move, realizing she could barely even breathe.
“Is she...?” A young, familiar, pain-filled voice cut through her agony, and she wanted so badly to comfort Ryan. But she could barely breathe, or move.
“No. But we need to get her to a doctor,” the deep voice said, the timbre sliding over her skin, soothing, smoothing, comfortable. Marcus.
Something warm, solid, slid around her. Arms. His arms. She wanted to open her eyes, wanted to protest the touch she hadn’t invited, wanted to take in the comfortable sense of belonging it gave her.
“Get the door, Ryan,” he commanded in his deep voice, making her shiver. Then she couldn’t seem to stop the shivering. The arms, strong and solid, tightened around her, pulling her close to a warm, solid body that should have stopped her trembling.
“Why is she shaking, Dad?” The boy’s voice broke, full of fear. Addie ached to comfort him. He sounded so frightened.
“She’s got a fever.” She felt movement, heard the familiar squeal of the back door’s hinges, then the brush of the air on her skin. She should be afraid of being out of control, should be fighting his touch and the fact that he was taking her away from her home, away from her safety. But she couldn’t move. She could barely stay awake.
And then his arms were gone, or were they? She was floating through the breeze. She wasn’t walking. He must still be holding her. Something was. Shouldn’t she open her eyes? She suddenly wanted to so badly, but her eyelids were so heavy, so weak.
Light snuck under her slitted lids after a minute, stabbing at her brain. She moaned in pain.
“Hang in there,” Marcus said softly, smooth against her ear. “We’re almost to the car.”
Car? What car? His? Hers? Something else?
Something smooth and soft cocooned her, and she leaned her head back and thought she smiled. The warm, comfortable arms slid away, leaving a cold shiver in their place.
“No,” she managed to say. But that was all she was able to say, or even think as the warmth vanished and the darkness took her away from him.
* * *
MARCUS SAT ON the hard vinyl seat in the hospital’s waiting room. His gut clenched, and he closed his eyes. He was heartily sick of hospitals and waiting rooms—the antiseptic smell they tried to cover with sweet scents. The sound of rushing feet and rubber wheels from gurneys and wheelchairs on the vinyl floor. They could make it look like wood, but it was still a hospital underneath all the fake decor.
Ryan sat staring at his phone as if the mysteries of the universe were buried in the screen. Maybe they were. Marcus hadn’t gotten sucked into the social media craze; he was too busy burying himself in grading papers and the books that went with his research.
“How did you know where Ms. Hawkins lived?” Marcus asked carefully. He didn’t want to upset his son, but something seemed out of sync.
“Dex’s mom knows her. He told me.”
“But you’d never go there uninvited, right?” Marcus knew that Ryan missed his mother. Since the funeral, he’d been drawn to teachers and to Marcus’s sister, Anne.
“Uh-huh.”
Marcus looked at his boy now, not sure why he’d started to gravitate to other women. Before she’d gotten sick, Ryan hadn’t been overly close to Carolyn—no more so than was normal for a boy and his mom. Carolyn would know. But she couldn’t tell him now, and Ryan wasn’t volunteering any information.
Now wasn’t the time to push the point, but he needed to remember later. Just then, a nurse in bright blue scrubs approached. “Mr. Skylar?”
“Yes?” He stood.
“We need some information, and the patient isn’t able to provide it. Can you help with that?”
He stared wide-eyed at the woman. “Uh, no.”
She frowned.
“She’s the principal at my son’s school and our neighbor.” He shrugged.
“Are you her family?” The woman seemed to just realize they had minimal connection to her patient.
“We don’t know her family. I just knew she was really sick.”
“She is.” The woman tapped her pen on the clipboard, looking frustrated. “Do you know anything?” She looked between him and Ryan. “Did you bring her purse, or her ID with you?” She tried to sound hopeful.
“Uh, no.” For someone who prided himself on his organizational skills, he was sure blowing that now. He racked his brain for the information she’d shared about her siblings. “She has several siblings in the area.” But he couldn’t remember any of their names.
“Her brother owns a ranch outside of town,” Ryan offered. The phone made an obnoxious noise, and Ryan hit the button to darken the screen. “Bet he’d know stuff.”
“Where’d you learn that?”
Ryan shrugged. “We talked when I was in detention.”
“Do you know his name?” the nurse asked.
Ryan shook his head. “Nope. But the ranch is same as her last name. Hawkins.”
“That’s a little help.” The woman turned toward the doors. “Let me see what I can find out.”
She disappeared behind the doors and Marcus sat, this time staring at his son. “I guess we can head home. They’ll take care of her.”
“We can’t go!” Ryan screeched. “We can’t leave her all alone.”
Marcus got the impression he needed to tread carefully. “She doesn’t even know we’re here.”
“She knows we’re here.” Ryan mutinously glared at him. “I know she does. She knew we brought her here.” He crossed his arms in a gesture Marcus remembered him making as early as a year of age. Stubbornness. “I’m not leaving.”
Marcus sighed. The past couple of years had been so hard on Ryan. Not that it had been so good for Marcus, either. He’d refrained from punishment so many times since Carolyn’s death.
The nurse came out, a small smile on her face. “We just got a hold of her brother Wyatt. He’s on his way here.” She put her hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You were a big help.”
Ryan smiled, and Marcus knew they weren’t going anywhere. The relief and something else—pride—on Ryan’s face was the best thing he’d seen in months.