LITMIR.BIZ

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she was little, she’d learned excelling at something was the best way to get her father’s attention. Winning a tennis match, or a surf competition, being on the dean’s list, getting into medical school. He’d left her and her mother when Bree was ten years old to marry a high-powered lawyer, and after that she rarely saw him. He did keep in touch, though, sending her notes when she did something he approved of, or had her photo in a surf magazine. The occasional phone call from him? Those were surprising and happy moments that showed he was proud of her, and made her feel pretty proud of herself, too.

      She remembered chiming in with him many of the times he criticized her mother for focusing all her attention on her only child. Consumed with Bree’s life and her accomplishments, hovering and smothering, which drove her crazy. He’d often asked her mom why she never had any interest in actually doing something worthwhile on her own, when she easily could have done with her trust-fund money behind her, and Bree knew her mother’s lack of accomplishment and independence was why he’d left. Now that she was older and more mature, Bree felt bad that she’d gone along with her dad’s unpleasant comments, though her mother’s feelings never seemed hurt by it, thankfully.

      She shook her head fiercely. Why was she even thinking about all that now, anyway? She’d learned long ago not to care. Must just be from worrying about Sean and Emma and their mom. Feeling unsettled after such an awful day.

      Time to focus on what was important here, which was how Sean must be feeling. She knew holding him, comforting him, would rip open the wound on her heart she was trying hard to heal, but their time together in the ER today had already done that. Maybe he wouldn’t open up to her, especially considering their present relationship. Non-relationship. But she had to at least try.

      Except it was looking as if she’d never find him. The longer she looked, the bigger the worry in her gut grew. Until the aha! moment came that should have occurred to her when she first started searching. “Of course,” she whispered to herself as she pivoted toward the elevator. Part of her dreaded heading where she knew he’d be. Had avoided going there for months because she didn’t want to think about the last time she’d been there with him. To feel the deep disappointment drench her with disbelief and pain all over again.

      She stepped out onto the hospital’s rooftop, and the cool, night breeze of August soothed her sore face. To her left was the brightly lit helipad, but her attention went straight to the benches in shadow to her right. To the balcony railing that, in one direction, overlooked the twinkling lights of the city and the other, the ocean. And just as she’d expected, the unmistakably tall form of Sean Latham stood there leaning against the railing, his broad back to her.

      She stood there a moment, letting the feelings wash over her. The good ones along with the really bad ones. Thinking about the joyful times they’d spent up here celebrating a good outcome with a patient they’d worked on together. The times they’d joked and laughed about some silly, unimportant thing going on at the hospital. The times they’d held one another when things hadn’t gone so well.

      The tender times they’d just needed to get away from the hustle of the hospital and had come up here to smell the ocean breeze, to kiss and talk and connect with one another.

      As she stared at his back, the memory of the last time they’d stood here together pinched her heart. She’d been so angry, so hurt, so confused, she’d yanked off the engagement ring he’d given her and thrown it right at him. The blinding, midday sunshine had caught the diamond, sending a prism of sharp white light searing across both of them just before the ring bounced off his muscular chest, pinged along the concrete and dived right off the side of the building.

      At that moment, she hadn’t cared. Later? She’d felt a deep regret at losing that beautiful ring, and what it had meant. Or what she’d thought it meant. She wouldn’t admit it to a living soul, but for days after she’d searched the streets below, finding nothing but bits of asphalt and leaves and trash until she’d finally given up.

      Probably, though, it was all symbolic. That ring had disappeared along with the future she’d thought she and Sean would have together.

      She willed her feet to move toward him, reminding herself she wasn’t here to dredge up and rehash the past. Her goal was to be Sean’s friend tonight. To be a sympathetic ear after an unbelievably horrible day and uncertain future for Emma, not to mention the future of the baby who just might still lose his mother.

      She moved to within a few inches of Sean’s side and gripped the railing, feeling the warmth of his arm near hers. Took in the scene in front of them, thinking about the disconnect of it all. How peaceful and tranquil it seemed compared to the churning going on inside her and doubtless Sean, too. To the life-and-death battles going on that very minute inside the hospital.

      He didn’t move, didn’t speak, and she wondered if maybe he just wanted to be alone. But after looking for him the past hour, she was going to offer comfort if it killed her. Then leave if it wasn’t welcome.

      “How are you doing?” she asked.

      “Fine.”

      Okay... She drew the cool breeze into her lungs and tried again. “What do you think about Emma’s prognosis?”

      “Your guess is as good as mine. Liver laceration’s been repaired, ruptured spleen removed. C-section’s closed. Chest tube’s not draining any more blood, so they’ve removed it. Broken arm’s been put back together, and her broken ribs are going to hurt like crazy, but I imagine she’ll barely notice, considering everything else.”

      He didn’t have to say the situation could still get worse fast. Why wouldn’t he look at her so she could see his expression? His tone was flat and emotionless, giving away nothing. It reminded her too much of the way he’d sounded after she’d told him it was over between them.

      “Baby seems healthy, at least,” she said, forging on. “Remarkable, really.”

      “Yeah.”

      “Did Emma tell you what she’d decided to name him?”

      “No.”

      Not a surprise, really, since Sean had made his dismay over Emma’s life choices very clear, and she’d distanced herself from him the past months because of it.

      “She’d decided on Wilson—your mother’s maiden name. She laughed about it, saying his uncle Sean would think it was a weird first name, but she plans to call him Will. I think Will Latham has a nice sound to it, don’t you?”

      “Mom will like that.”

      At least he’d answered in more than a monosyllable, but he still didn’t turn to look at her. Guess there hadn’t been much point in her coming after all.

      “That moment in the ER when we thought we’d lost Emma. That was...” She stopped, because she couldn’t come up with a word even close to how it had felt. She knew how much he loved his sister, and pressed her hand to his warm back as she had earlier, thinking maybe that connection would help him let go and share. “That must have been incredibly hard for you.”

      “Hard?” He suddenly swung to her, and the surprise of it had her taking a step back. He grasped her arms and pulled her flat against him, practically knocking her breath from her lungs. The dark eyes staring down into hers were again fierce, anguished, his features taut granite. “Damn it, Bree. You were in that car with her. It could have been you, too. You lying there dead on that table. I could have lost all three of you at once, in one second. Might never have seen my nephew, might never have been able to give my sister grief about her choices or her life again. Might never have been able to see your beautiful face and feel so mad at you I could barely keep from going ballistic. So angry that you left me I wanted to punch something.”

      His voice cracked on some of the words before his arms wrapped tightly around her and his mouth came down hard on hers.

      Bree curled her fingers into his scrub shirt and let herself feel every emotion in his kiss. The fear, the anguish. The frustration and anger and pain. Everything she’d felt, too, from the second she’d been able to focus enough

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