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forward, into the whirlwind, flower petals beating at her body in silken slices that cut her skin. Left her with scars on her body and soul.

      The deeper she pushed, the more the realization seeped in through those cuts. The painful truth sank in deep inside her. Her mother was gone. The cancerous hurricane had taken her mom, her grandmother, her aunt, leaving Fiona alone. The world rattled around her, the flap of petals, the crackle of newspapers, the roar of screaming denial.

      Water dripped down her cheeks. Tears? Or rain? She didn’t know. It didn’t matter because it didn’t change the ache of loss.

      The garden shifted from her childhood home to the historic house she shared with Henri. Grandpa Leon sat in a wrought-iron chair, his fading memory darkening the storm clouds slowly into night. No matter how much time passed, she felt the pain of her shrinking family. The pain of so many losses. The loss of her unborn children. All of her failed attempts at stability and happiness paraded down the pathway. Losing her mother young, her aunt and grandmother, too, until there were no motherly figures left to steer her through her shaky marriage. Hopelessness pushed at her, wound her up as the darkness of the windswept garden became too oppressive. She catapulted herself forward, sitting upright in her bed.

      It took a moment for Fiona to gain her bearings and to realize she was in New Orleans.

      Sleep was anything but peaceful these days.

      Taking a deep breath, she considered calling her father. They’d never been close and it had been a while since they’d spoken. But still, the nightmare had left her completely rattled. All of the pressures of her current situation were bubbling over.

      She had to leave, sooner rather than later. She realized that even though she’d been protecting herself from the pain of having Henri stay with her out of pity, she was also protecting him from watching her fade away if the worst happened.

      Her dad had never been the same after her mother died. The loss of her mother had shattered him. Though there was distance between Fiona and Henri, she still cared about him.

      It was best to walk away. It was simpler to walk away than get more attached.

      * * *

      Morning runs had a way of clearing Henri’s mind. And man, did he need some perspective after last night.

      Sweat cooled on his neck as he pulled into his driveway, the muggy, verdant air mixing with the funk of his own need of a shower. He’d driven to the Hurricanes’ workout facility and ran harder than he had in weeks. There was a renewed energy in his steps. Something that felt a bit like hope. Which was exactly why he was back at their restored Garden District house now. He’d been in such a rush to make it home before Fiona woke up that he hadn’t even bothered with a shower. He’d simply discarded his sweaty clothes in favor of a clean T-shirt and basketball shorts.

      Deep down, he knew he had to focus on the upcoming home game. It was huge for the team in a year that could net them a championship. But everything that was going on in his personal life was taking his head out of this season.

      Henri shoved out of his car, waving at the security guards who were on duty. The two nondescript but well-trained men responded with a curt nod as he entered the old home through the back entrance.

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