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To Catch A Thief
Nan Dixon
What would you do for your family?When Carolina Castillo's once vivacious mother becomes ill, she gives up her singing dreams and comes home to Savannah. She'd do anything for her Mam, even work at Fitzgerald House for the family she should have been part of. She'd even steal.Carolina's decisions make perfect sense until she comes up against the immovable rock that is gorgeous FBI agent Sage Cornell. The honorable cop sees the world in black-and-white. He would never understand the difficult choices she's had to make, the secrets she's been forced to keep close. And he could never love a woman like her. Or could he?


What would you do for your family?
When Carolina Castillo’s once vivacious mother becomes ill, she gives up her singing dreams and comes home to Savannah. She’d do anything for her Mamá, even work at Fitzgerald House for the family she should have been part of. She’d even steal.
Carolina’s decisions make perfect sense until she comes up against the immovable rock that is gorgeous FBI agent Sage Cornell. The honorable cop sees the world in black-and-white. He would never understand the difficult choices she’s had to make, the secrets she’s been forced to keep close. And he could never love a woman like her. Or could he?
NAN DIXON spent her formative years as an actress, singer, dancer and golfer. But the need to eat had her studying accounting in college. Unfortunately, being a successful financial executive didn’t feed her passion to perform. When the company she worked for was purchased, Nan got the chance of a lifetime—the opportunity to pursue a writing career. She’s an award-winning author who lives in the Midwest, is active in her local RWA chapter and on the board of a dance company. She has five children, three sons-in-law, two granddaughters, a grandson and one neurotic cat.
Also By Nan Dixon (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
Fitzgerald House
Southern Comforts
A Savannah Christmas Wish
Through a Magnolia Filter
The Other Twin
Undercover with the Heiress
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Catch a Thief
Nan Dixon


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08111-5
TO CATCH A THIEF
© 2018 Nan Dixon
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Mom and Dad always.
To my fabulous family, thank you for your love and support. And to the bright stars of my life, Lily, Harper and Isaac. I love watching you grow.
Thank you, Harlequin Superromance, for taking a chance on me. I love how you have shaped the Fitzgerald House series. You have taught me so much. Tears stream down my face as I type this. Thanks ring out to Piya Campana, Megan Long, Victoria Curran, Deirdre McCluskey and the rest of the team who bring my books to my readers. And I can’t forget to thank my hardworking, marvelous agent, Laura Bradford.
It takes so many people to craft a story. My critique group, Ann Hinnenkamp, Leanne Farella, Neroli Lacey and Kathryn Kohorst, challenge me to always dig a little deeper. And my Golden Heart sisters keep me sane—Dreamweavers, Lucky 13s, Starcatchers and the Unsinkables. And my writing community—MFW, you’re the best. Prosecco for all!
And last—to my sisters, Mo, Sue and Trish, and our fantastic trip to Savannah, which started this journey.
She settled close enough to feel the heat of his body and catch his delicious scent...
Carolina’s mouth watered, and not for the dessert in front of them.
Sage flipped open the box and grinned. A dimple blinked beside his mouth. “There’s ice cream, too.”
She wanted to be smart, to eat the dessert and send him away.
“This is incredible,” he murmured around a forkful of brownie. Then his gaze locked on hers and she froze. “Carolina,” he whispered, easing her face closer.
The scent of chocolate surrounded her. His breath carried the coolness of the ice cream. Close enough to kiss.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She hesitated, then whispered, “No.”
Because being in Sage’s arms, she wanted more. She wanted everything.
Dear Reader (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3),
When I first dreamed up the Fitzgerald House series, there were four sisters. Unfortunately, I cut sister number three out of Southern Comforts.
But the idea of four sisters stuck with me. You might not know that Beau Oliver, the Fitzgeralds’ father, was a con man. So when the chance to write a sixth Fitzgerald House book came along, so did Carolina, secret half sister to the Fitzgeralds.
From Carolina’s perspective, the Fitzgeralds are not perfect. They had everything she didn’t growing up. And just as her singing career is taking off, she returns to Tybee Island to care for her dying mother. And without telling the Fitzgeralds who she is to them, she takes a job in Abby’s newly opened restaurant.
Sage Cornell, an FBI agent, lives and breathes honor. It’s woven into the fabric of his life. He’s injured during a drug raid and while recovering, he is literally knocked off his feet by Carolina. Their immediate attraction is mutual. But as he falls for her, he must wrestle with his love and her actions, which don’t meet his honor code.
I love hearing from readers. Let me know what you think of the book. Reviews are the lifeblood of writers!
You can contact me at nandixon.com (http://www.nandixon.com). Sign up for my newsletter to keep up with my book releases. Or find me on Facebook at Facebook.com/nandixonauthor (https://Facebook.com/nandixonauthor). If you’d like to see the pictures that inspire each book, check out Pinterest.com/nandixonauthor (https://Pinterest.com/nandixonauthor).
Enjoy Savannah!
Nan Dixon
Contents
Cover (#u1e87b893-15ed-5a20-b4ef-51a8e4166190)
Back Cover Text (#u08eb2c67-4de2-57a2-87f3-4f926bc3e3cf)
About the Author (#ud52249d8-c3ae-54ff-8ca2-a92c72e9cf24)
Booklist (#ucf9a0a74-63fc-54e7-b1b4-c8222c8ff95c)
Title Page (#ua37845af-81a2-5cf3-b187-076a60453099)
Copyright (#u108406d3-5ab0-57d3-84f6-38913fa5b8dd)
Dedication (#u21ab2e52-2fb7-5d07-9a72-f61a7f8f1461)
Introduction (#ue921a3c9-d6e9-5f69-8edf-d51e2589a56e)
Dear Reader (#u5a62a5e8-7c3a-528a-a9f1-d913ebb2a27c)
CHAPTER ONE (#u92de664a-6b1b-51db-bf8d-ce099c5473a2)
CHAPTER TWO (#u5e7cb548-168f-58e0-acf2-21537516e013)
CHAPTER THREE (#uf05f012d-bca5-55d8-ac5c-fe885f0b98bc)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4e45c83d-6215-5180-afab-c482829d4081)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u94547d23-e6e0-5ad5-a599-138648085a67)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)
CAROLINA INHALED, CLOSED her eyes and poured her heart into the last eight measures of music. “Baby, baby, I’m in love with you.”
She held the note, riding the vowel. Let it crescendo with the piano.
Applause thundered through the room. People in the back stood.
Raising both arms, she finished with a flourish.
The adulation washed over her. Tonight was her best performance—ever. Each note, each phrase, had emerged exactly how she’d imagined and practiced.
Perfect timing. Her business manager, Gar, sat near the stage, two record producers at the table with him. Gar gave her a thumbs-up, making her smile.
“Good night. You’ve been a great audience.” She waved and left the stage.
In the wings, she grabbed her water, glugging down half the bottle. Then she snatched a towel and wiped under her arms. Good Lord, she hoped the audience hadn’t noticed the sweat. Between the stage lights, August in Nashville and the bar’s half-hearted air-conditioning, she’d worried she would drown in a puddle of perspiration.
“Incredible! You got a standing O!” Ella, her accompanist, pushed into the small backstage and hugged her.
“I’m soaking wet,” Carolina complained. But she hugged Ella right back.
“Stars don’t sweat, they glow.” Ella pulled away, grinning. “Now, say thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“I pretended to straighten sheet music so I could eavesdrop on Doofus and the record producers. They loved your voice. Loved you.”
“Don’t call Gar a doofus.” Carolina bit her lip to contain her grin and sneaked a peek at the audience through the wings. “They really loved it?”
“Oh, honey, yes. And Gar is a doofus.” Ella pulled a water bottle from her bag. “He’s lucky to have you as his talent.”
“He did get the producers here tonight.” Carolina headed to the closet that served as her dressing room. Or maybe it was a dressing room that doubled as a closet. “I was nervous. Thanks for covering when I missed my cue.”
“No problem.” Ella settled on a barstool tucked back with the buckets and mops. “You have to take me with you when you rocket to the top of the charts.”
“If I have anything to say, we’ll do this together.” She’d never worked with a pianist as talented as Ella. When Carolina first moved to Nashville, they’d found each other through a roommate ad. Now Ella was her best friend.
While Carolina wiped off her makeup, she turned on her phone. Three missed calls. All from Mamá. Shoot. After rehearsing this afternoon, she hadn’t turned her phone back on.
Now what? Her mother had returned from a cruise a few days ago, but they’d talked since then.
She checked the time. It was close to midnight. Back home in Tybee it would be one in the morning. She opened her voice mail, but saw no new messages. She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Ella asked.
“I’m not sure.” She checked whether her mother had left a text, but Mamá never did. She preferred conversations. “I need to call my mother.”
She waited as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Carolina!” Mamá wailed. “Thank God.”
The water in her stomach churned. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s back,” her mother sobbed. “It’s back.”
Carolina swallowed. No. “What’s back?”
But she knew. Her fingers squeezed the phone.
“The cancer. The maldito cancer.”
Mamá’s sobbing gulps had tears filling Carolina’s eyes. She bit her lip. No. No. No. “What happened?”
Ella’s fingers pressed into Carolina’s shoulder. She leaned into her friend’s strength.
“Dr. Laster says I’m dying. The cancer is killing me.”
“Breast cancer? Again?”
“In my head,” her mother wailed. “The tumors are in my head.”
Her mother’s breast cancer had metastasized.
Carolina’s joy slid away. She whispered, “Mamá.”
“I need you,” she whimpered. “Come home. I don’t have much time left. I need my baby with me.”
“Of course. Yes.” Her mind whirled. “I’ll... I’ll come home.”
She wanted to ask more questions about the diagnosis, but couldn’t force words past the lump in her throat. She choked out, “I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
“Hurry.”
Ella handed her a tissue. At Carolina’s confused look, Ella blotted Carolina’s wet face.
“I’ll... I’ll...leave tomorrow.” There was so much to do. “Get some sleep, Mamá.”
“How can I? I have no one. If only your father...”
“Mamá, think positive.” She couldn’t let her mother dwell on the past or on the wrongs Rosa Castillo felt the world had dealt to her. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”
After teary goodbyes, she dropped her phone on the makeup table. There was so much to do, but her heavy body wouldn’t move.
“I’m sorry.” Ella hugged her. “I’ll...help you pack, do whatever needs doing.”
“Thanks.”
“Great show.” Gar pushed into the tiny room.
“You need to knock,” Ella snapped. “What if we’d been changing?”
“Who cares?” Gar waved Ella’s anger aside. “Why the hell are you crying? Someone die?”
Ella gasped. “Carolina’s mother is sick.”
“She’s always sick.” Gar’s diamond ring flashed as he waved his hand. “We’ve got a meeting with the execs who were here tonight. They loved you. I need both of you. They want to hear a different set.”
“They’re interested in me?” Carolina covered her mouth.
“Of course they are. Great performance.”
“Thank you.” But Carolina couldn’t push any enthusiasm into her voice. Her mother’s cancer was back.
Gar nodded. “Tomorrow afternoon at two.”
“I... I can’t.” Her ribs squeezed against her tortured stomach. “I have to go back to Tybee.”
“What?” Gar shouted.
“I have to go home for my mother.”
“You can’t leave.” He jabbed his thumb toward the stage. “They’re looking for a new artist. They have an open slot they can fill in a heartbeat but they gave you an audition. You can’t leave.”
“My mother’s cancer is back. Can you explain that to them.” She pushed her hair off her face. “I’ll... I’ll let you know when I can get back to Nashville, but I have to go home.”
“Damn it, Carolina.” He leaned over, his face inches from hers. “I put too much energy into getting them to come listen. They won’t wait. You can’t do this to me.”
“To you?” She pulled away. “It’s my mother!”
“What was wrong the last time she begged you to come home?” His jaw clenched so tight the bone stuck out. “And the time before that? You’re a yoyo, always bouncing home at your mother’s demand.”
Was her mother crying wolf? She’d done it before. The last time had been on the anniversary of Daddy’s death. She’d been lonely. “This is different. This is cancer and it’s spreading.”
“Call her.” Gar shoved her phone at her. “Tell her this is your big break.”
Ella gnawed on her knuckle.
Carolina snatched her phone from Gar, but instead of dialing she shoved it in her purse. “I’m sorry. I’m going home.”
“This was your big break and you blew it.” Gar jerked the door open. “Find yourself a new manager.”
* * *
CAROLINA OPENED THE window as she drove down the causeway. Pungent marsh air filled the car. It was so humid, she could almost drink it in.
She was home.
A container ship headed through the channel on her left, bound for the port of Savannah. On her right, water and reeds filled the flat landscape. River channels twisted through the marshlands.
She checked the time. Five o’clock. She should have met the record people at two. If she’d stayed in Nashville, would the label have signed her?
Instead she was heading to Tybee Island, Georgia. What if Gar was right? What if her mother was faking—again? Carolina might have blown her best chance at getting a label to back her career.
She couldn’t think that way. Time to call Mamá.
“I’m almost there,” she said when her mother picked up.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t leave last night,” her mother complained.
“I had to pack.” And sleep. And cancel her other singing engagements, but she’d done that while driving. “I’ve been on the road for almost ten hours.”
“You’ll have to let yourself in. I’m at the mall, but I’ll leave now.”
Her mother was shopping? “Mall?”
Mamá hung up.
Carolina gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached. Each month she sent money to her mother. She’d eaten a lot of peanut butter and oatmeal so she could help her mother cover her expenses.
Maybe Mamá was at the grocery store? No. She’d said the mall. That meant she was in Savannah.
With her lips pinched together, Carolina slowed for the turn into the neighborhood and her grandparents’ home where she’d grown up.
Poppy had run a charter fishing boat out of Tybee. When she was little, she’d loved sitting on her grandfather’s lap as the wind tangled her hair and they flew across the waves. He’d smelled of salt, sunshine and fish. Love.
The white shells on the drive crunched under her Ford Focus’s tires. She stared at the yellow house on its white stilts. Two drives flanked the central staircase and led under the house to carports.
The trim on the windows, steps and railing needed a fresh coat of white paint. So did the porch. The two-story house wasn’t big, but her mother didn’t need more space. And Carolina had always loved the small widow’s walk off the attic. As a child, the house had looked like sunshine. At least she’d convinced her mother to put up vinyl siding so the yellow looked fresh.
Sighing, she pulled into the right-hand drive, but couldn’t park her car completely under the overhang because boxes filled the parking space.
After unloading her bags, she headed up the steps. In the screened-in porch, she found the spare key hidden in a small case under Poppy’s rocking chair.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the key and pushed open the door. A wave of cold from the air-conditioning hit her first, making the skin on her arms pebble. But then the sterile furniture her mother had bought to replace her grandparents’ warm sofas and chairs chilled her heart. Gone were the blues of the ocean and yellows of the sun. Mamá had replaced everything with black, gray and metal.
She hauled her cases to her bedroom. Even here, her mother had taken out the colorful quilt Yaya had made for her. Now a black comforter covered her bed. Carolina couldn’t hold in another shiver. “Oh, Mamá.”
She opened her suitcase but couldn’t dredge up the energy to unpack.
Down in the kitchen, she made a cup of calming tea, a box she’d bought the last time she’d visited. Then she turned up the temperature so she didn’t freeze. She tried to sit in a gray chair in the living room, but her legs stuck to the cold leather.
It was hotter than a skillet outside, but she headed to Poppy’s porch rocking chair. She flipped on the ceiling fan and waited, cuddling her mug.
A half hour slipped away. Her tea cooled. She sipped and rocked, her life on hold, waiting for her mother. Always waiting. Her eyes closed.
There was a crunch of tires on the drive and she jerked awake.
Her mother pulled up in a new car. A BMW? How could her mother afford a new car on a legal assistant’s wages? Carolina’s eight-year-old Focus looked out of place next to the sleek foreign vehicle.
“Carolina,” her mother called as she climbed out. “Help me!”
Carolina pushed open the door and hurried down the steps.
“Mamá.” She wrapped her mother in a hug. “How are you feeling? Should you be running around?”
Her mother air-kissed her cheeks. “Right now I’m fine, more than fine. I can’t believe these doctors. Always trying to scare me to death.”
Her mother’s black hair was long and curly. When it had grown back after her breast cancer treatments ten years ago, it had gotten curlier. Chemo curls. She smelled of—amber and sandalwood. Her blue eyes sparkled. There were lines around her mouth and eyes, but she was still beautiful.
And didn’t seem sick—at all. The tea churned in Carolina’s stomach. She’d run home from Nashville and missed her chance at a record contract. She bit her lip. “Is your cancer really back?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her mother waved at the bags in the back seat. “Can you grab those, dear?”
Carolina gathered the bags. “I thought you were hurting for money.”
“I deserve some joy.” Her mother’s heels clicked on the steps. “I’m dying.”
Dying. The word smashed into her diaphragm, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her mother was her only family. If she died, there would be no one. She’d be alone.
“Come on.” Her mother held the door open. “Let me show you what I bought.”
Carolina dragged the bags up the stairs and into Mamá’s colorless living room.
“I found this incredible scarf so I had to find a dress. And, of course, I needed new sandals.” Her mother tugged the bags out of Carolina’s hands.
Carolina sank into the chair for the fashion show. How many times had her mother modeled beautiful clothes—clothes she couldn’t afford. The scarf was gorgeous—and expensive. But then, so were the dress and sandals. “Can you afford all this?”
Her mother twirled. “I deserve this. After I got pregnant with you, I had to give up everything—my career, my travels, my fun. Since my cancer is back, I refuse to go out looking like a hag.”
“Mamá.” She didn’t want to hear the tirade again, the one she’d heard all her life. She wanted the time they had left to be special. “Tell me exactly what the doctor told you.”
“There’s a big word.” Her mother waved her hand. “All it means is the cancer moved from my breast to my brain.”
Carolina released a heavy breath. “Metastatic?”
“Maybe.” Her mother spun around, holding up the dress. Then stumbled.
“What does Dr. Laster want to do?”
“Oh...stuff.” Mamá staggered to the sofa. “Not again.”
Carolina pushed out of the chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Maldición.” Her mother collapsed, holding her head. Her eyes filled with tears.
Carolina shot over to her mother. “Are you all right?”
“Headache.” Blood dripped from her mother’s nose.
“Mamá!” Carolina snatched up tissues and pressed them under her nose as her mother tipped her head back.
“How often does this happen?” Carolina grabbed more tissues.
“Headaches? Daily.” Her mother pinched her nose and moaned. “Bloody noses? Off and on.”
This was bad. “What can I do?”
“Shut the blinds.” Her mother sank into the pillows, closing her eyes. “Medicine. In the bathroom.”
Carolina ran around the room, pulling the blinds. Her mother winced at each clank. Dashing up the stairs, she stared at the bottles lining the bathroom counter. One after the other, she picked them up until she found one that talked about headaches. Shaking out a pill, she took the stairs two at a time and headed to the kitchen. After sniffing the milk, she poured a glass and hurried to her mother’s side. “Here you are.”
“Milk?” her mother waved her hand at the glass. “I want water. Or better yet, wine.”
“This is better for your stomach.” She helped her mother sit, forcing her to take the pill with the milk.
Mamá sank back, her fingers pushing into her temples.
Her mother hadn’t been faking. She was sick.
* * *
“AGENT CORNELL?” someone called. “Agent Cornell?”
Sage’s foot jerked from something poking his instep. He waved his hand, hoping whomever kept waking him would go away.
His hand wouldn’t move. What the...?
He forced his eyelids open, though grit sealed them together. Light drilled behind his eyes like a steer’s horn. His head pounded with each beat of his heart. Damn. Even his teeth hurt. “Turn. Light. Off.”
“You’re back.” A woman in nausea-inducing pink scrubs patted his leg. She ignored his request. “Hopefully, for good this time. Happy Labor Day.”
“Back?” he croaked. An antiseptic smell invaded his nose. Hell. He was in a hospital. “Labor Day?”
She brought a cup with a straw to his mouth. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days.”
The water eased the dryness. Damn—two days? What had happened?
The nurse puttered near his bedside.
He lifted his hand but it wouldn’t move. “What the—?”
She unstrapped his hand. “I don’t think you need these anymore.”
“Why?” He pushed the word out. Exhaustion closed in on him like a tornado across the prairie.
“You pulled out your IV. And catheter.” She moved around the bed and released his other hand. “We couldn’t have that.” She checked his blood pressure, listened to his heart and lungs. He could barely sit up for her. And when he did, he swore his head would explode.
“Do you think you could eat?” she asked.
He wasn’t sure he could hold a fork. “Sure.” “I’ll order food.” She made notes on a computer. “There’s another agent who’s been waiting for you to wake. I’ll call him.”
Sage closed his eyes. If he didn’t move, his headache receded—a bit. He slowly raised his hand. Lifting his arm had him gritting his teeth and moaning. Bandages. Covering the left side of his head. Yet he couldn’t remember how he’d been hurt.
Shoes squeaked on the floor. “Pain?”
“Oh, yeah.” If he could call a cattle stampede in his head pain.
The nurse clicked away on a computer. “You have standing orders for meds when you wake. I’ll be right back.”
The door squeaked as it opened and closed.
He focused on the pain as it pulsed with his heartbeat. Each beat was an ice pick in his head. He counted. Got to four hundred and eighty-three before the door squeaked again. The nurse bustled back into the room, a syringe in her hand. She pushed the meds into his IV. “That should help.”
Warmth ran up his arm from the IV site. He should be asking what she’d given him. He should be asking her name. He should be asking what the hell happened. But words wouldn’t move from his brain to his lips. Too much effort.
Sage’s body melted into the thin mattress.
He must have slept, because when he cracked his eyes open, Kaden was sitting next to his bed working on a laptop.
Sage grunted.
“How’re you feeling?” Kaden asked.
He swore.
“That good?”
“What happened?” Sage shifted and the pain in his head didn’t roar to life. The meds must have taken it down a bit.
“What do you remember?” Kaden asked.
“Woods.” Sage remembered crouching in the woods. “Mosquitoes. Friggin’ sweat.” He frowned. Pain drilled behind his eyes. “They’d opened a window, so I wanted to find out how many perps. Dog. There was a dog.”
“Anything else?”
His memory was blurry. “Did the dog attack me?”
“Yeah.” Kaden got up and paced. “Bullmastiff. Over a hundred pounds.”
Sage touched his head. Two days unconscious? “This is from a dog?”
“Well, a dog and a bullet.”
“I took a bullet?” Sage cursed.
“It winged you.” Kaden’s gray eyes narrowed. “The dog smacked you into the cement block of the house. Not sure why he didn’t rip out your throat.”
Why couldn’t he remember? “Did the team get the heroin?”
“Yeah. But the one who shot you escaped.” Kaden leaned on the windowsill, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. “I told you to wait.”
“Wait?”
“I was moving to cover you, but you charged in.” Kaden paced back to the bed. “Again.”
“But we got the drugs off the street?”
Kaden set his fists on the edge of Sage’s bed. “Of the three men, one is in custody, one is in this hospital, but the leader escaped.”
Sage closed his eyes, trying to recall anything besides the memory of heat and humidity. His stomach roiled. “I... I can’t remember.”
“Rest, kid.” Kaden moved away from the bed. “Margaret’s stopping by later.”
Kid. Sage cringed at the nickname. But when Sage had joined the Savannah FBI office, Kaden had taken him under his wing. “Am I in trouble with the boss?”
“Maybe. She’d have preferred to capture all three, but one of the guys has already given up the next level.” Kaden rubbed his hand through his short hair. “And they’re new names in the drug distribution business. The hole that Bole and Salvez left when we picked them up has already been plugged.”
“I...” It took too much effort to make his words and thoughts come together.
“You’ve got to start listening, Cornell. When you have a team—use the team.”
“Uh-huh.” Unfortunately he’d heard that before. But to be effective, to be of service to his country, he needed to take risks. It was the Cornell family way.
Damn, what would his father say?
CHAPTER TWO (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)
CAROLINA GRIPPED HER mother’s hand as they waited for Mamá’s oncologist. Her fear of losing her mother was back. Mamá had had a CAT scan yesterday and they were here to review the results.
Were these the same miserable chairs they’d sat in ten years ago? Carolina had been fifteen and she’d focused all her energy on helping her mother through radiation and chemo to fight her breast cancer.
It’d been a week since she’d arrived and they were fighting the same ten-year-old battle. Maybe after Mamá received treatment, Carolina would return to Nashville and resurrect her career. Maybe Mamá could come live with her.
“Rosa. Carolina. Good to see you.” Dr. Laster, her mother’s oncologist, entered the room. “Rosa, you have some choices to make.”
Apparently, Dr. Laster was still as straightforward as Carolina remembered. The doctor turned a computer screen toward them and moved around the desk to stand between her and Mamá. “You have tumors in your brain, here and here. And a new one since your scan a month ago.”
“Wait. A month ago?” Carolina asked. When her mother had called, she’d sounded like she’d just gotten the news.
Dr. Laster nodded.
“Mamá. Why are you only discussing treatment options now?”
“I took that cruise with the law firm.” Her mother waved her hand. “I didn’t want to look hideous.”
“But your health?” Carolina couldn’t believe this.
Dr. Laster squeezed Carolina’s shoulder and shook her head.
“They were just headaches. I’ve had them for months.” Her mother pushed back her hair. “Dr. Laster will make the tumors go away.”
“Rosa, I told you—” Dr. Laster took her mother’s hand “—your prognosis, even with treatment, is less than a year.”
Less than a year? Tears slipped down Carolina’s cheeks. She’d thought Mamá would be treated and survive. How could she lose her beautiful, flighty mother?
“Don’t cry, darling.” Her mother smiled. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
They laughed. Carolina’s chortle a little more watery than her mother’s or the doctor’s.
“This time is different.” Dr. Laster took Carolina’s hand, sympathy filling her eyes. “Rosa, I need to confirm that Carolina is authorized to discuss your medical care and condition with your care providers.”
“Yes. Yes.” Rosa waved her hand.
“As I said before, please work with a lawyer and create your health directives. It’s time to get your affairs in order so you don’t have to worry in the next few months.”
Health directives. Affairs. Next few months. Carolina’s head swam.
“How I wish for an affair,” her mother sighed. “But I only loved Carolina’s daddy. He’s been dead twenty years.”
Her mother sounded like she’d abstained from sex for twenty years, but that hadn’t been the case.
Carolina choked out, “What are the next steps?”
“Whole brain radiation therapy. Two weeks. This will keep you comfortable, Rosa.”
“Comfortable?” Carolina’s hands trembled. “Won’t radiation eliminate the tumors?”
Dr. Laster settled into the chair next to her mother. “If you’re lucky. But waiting has—hurt. I wish you’d come in months ago when you started having the headaches.”
Her mother waved her hand. “I know you’ll fix me.”
Her mother had ignored headaches and put off therapy for a cruise. Carolina tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was stuck.
Dr. Laster took them through the next steps. Her assistant booked appointments. Preliminary visits. Follow-up visits. Consults. Carolina wrote them down because her mother wasn’t paying attention.
When it was time to go, Carolina gathered her purse and her mother’s. Mamá left the room first.
Dr. Laster put a hand on Carolina’s arm. “I didn’t want to say this in front of your mother, but her behavior may become erratic. It’s important to make sure you have authority over her care.”
“It’s already erratic.” Since she’d arrived, Carolina had noted Mamá’s mood swings. They were more than her mother’s normal flightiness. “When the headaches hit, they’re bad.”
“Keep using her medication. Try massage if it gives her relief.” Dr. Laster handed her pamphlets and a business card. “Call me anytime. And use the nurse line, too.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry to be seeing you again.” Dr. Laster gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll make Rosa as comfortable as possible in the time she has remaining.”
Time remaining. Each phrase struck blows at her heart. “Thank you.”
She hurried into the waiting room. Her mother stared at the fish in the fish tank. “I want an aquarium.” Mamá pointed a finger at an angel fish and laughed. “I need angels watching over me.”
Carolina wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulder. “Where would we put it?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Carolina guided her to the car. Hopefully, Mamá would forget the aquarium. Her mother had had a lot of crazy ideas lately. Most of them forgotten.
She needed to talk to her mother’s attorney. Fast.
She wasn’t returning to Nashville. She was here for the duration. For Mamá.
* * *
SAGE TUCKED THE thin blanket around his waist. There was nothing heroic about lying in bed with a bare ass while his boss visited. At least the catheter was gone.
Agent-in-Charge Margaret Mason sat next to Sage’s hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Heat spread across his face. Great, now he was blushing.
She raised an eyebrow. “I was told you were having dizzy spells and headaches.”
How could he answer? “I am. They’re...better.”
“The good news is that the bust you were on netted us the next distributors up the line.”
“Good.” He nodded. Then had to cover the wince.
“The bad news.” Margaret tapped her finger on the mattress. “Kaden says you rushed in without waiting.”
“I still don’t remember him telling me to wait.” But some of his memory had returned. “Since our intel was faulty, it seemed prudent to assess the situation. We didn’t know there was a third man or a dog.”
Margaret’s eyebrow crept a little higher. “And if you’d stayed back as instructed, I might not be visiting you in the hospital.”
He swallowed. “If there hadn’t been a dog, they wouldn’t have known I was under the window.”
She nodded. “But it was unusual we had this much information. Sage, you need to listen to your partner.”
“I... I will.” Was his job on the line? Sweat raced down his spine. He was worthless without his job.
“I understand the doctor hasn’t cleared you for duty,” Margaret said.
“I’m hoping to change his mind.” Bile crept into his throat. He couldn’t spew in front of a superior. “I’m being released tomorrow.”
“That’s good news.” Margaret stood. “I want you back on the job.”
He relaxed. “That’s what I want, too.”
How else could Sage live up to his family’s code of honor? Sitting around, seeing if his vision cleared and his head stopped hurting wasn’t their way. From his father who was a Medal of Honor recipient, to his oldest brother, the fireman, who ran into burning buildings, and his other brother who was a rescue diver in the Coast Guard, he needed to make them proud.
Margaret pointed a finger at him. “Heal and follow doctor’s orders.”
“Will do.” When the door closed behind her, Sage exhaled. That ordeal was over.
Getting to his feet was iffy. This morning he’d almost taken a header just getting to the john. Second time should be easier.
He threw off the blanket, eased his legs over the side and stood. The world wobbled. He hung on, not caring that his ass was flying free. Scooting around the foot of the bed—next time he would exit the other side—he lurched to the wall, collapsing and catching his breath.
In the bathroom, he did what he needed and clutched the door and then the door frame. It was four or five steps to the bed. Easy. His head swam with each step. The last step was more a stumble. He face-planted at the foot of the bed.
Clapping came from the doorway. “Bravo.”
He tugged on the stupid gown and covered his ass. “Shut up, Farrell.”
Kaden walked into the room. “And they’re letting you go tomorrow?”
“Finally.” He wiggled to the head of the bed and flipped over, his ribs screaming in agony. “Can’t wait.”
“Who’s taking care of you?”
“I don’t need anyone.” Sage pointed a finger at Kaden. “But someone called my mom. She’s on her way.”
“You were unconscious. I did what I had to do.”
“But...” He didn’t want his mother to see him like this. She’d report back to his brothers and they’d be...ashamed.
“You can stay with me and Courtney,” Kaden suggested.
“Right.” Sage snorted. “Awkward.”
Kaden grinned. “We have this great pink princess bedroom you could sleep in.”
Sage wasn’t going to ask why Kaden was living somewhere with a princess bedroom. He changed the subject. “Margaret was here and on my case.”
Kaden took over the chair where Margaret had sat. “I told you to wait.”
Sage started to shake his head but caught himself. He was learning. “I remember needing to know how many people were in the house.”
There was a commotion outside his door, but Sage didn’t twist his head. He didn’t need the pain.
“That’s why I didn’t make a bigger deal out of you not waiting.” Kaden leaned forward. “But if you had, you might not be lying in this hospital bed.”
“Did you charge in again, little brother?” a voice called from the open doorway.
Sage slowly turned toward it. Damn it. “Jackson.”
His brother dropped a duffel bag and caught his hand, giving him a one-armed hug. “Glad to see you’re alive.”
“I...”
His mom wheeled in a suitcase right behind his brother.
She cupped his shoulders. “Sage. My baby.” Her hug ignited another pounding headache.
“Mom.” He swallowed back the burn of bile in his throat. He would not throw up.
Kaden let his mother take the chair next to the bed.
“Mom, Jackson, that’s Kaden Farrell.”
Kaden and Sage’s brother shook hands, but his Mom went in for a hug. “Thank you for calling.”
“No problem.” Kaden headed to the door. “I’ll stay in touch.”
Jackson pulled up a second chair. It screeched against the linoleum. “What’s this about you not waiting for your team?”
He was not going to review his errors with his brother. “I can’t remember much.”
“Another concussion? Your poor brain.” His mother pushed back her hair. A little more silver gleamed through the brown strands than when he’d been home at Christmas, but she was still a striking woman. With her trim figure from working the ranch and her bright green eyes, too many cowboys came sniffing around.
“We got a lot of drugs off the street.” Sage inhaled, trying to keep his lunch down.
“But you were shot.” Jackson frowned. “That seems like a failed op to me.”
Sage touched the bandage on the left side of his head. “We got intel on the next level up.”
“I would have thought your run-in with that bull would’ve stopped you from taking stupid risks.” Jackson leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg over his knee. His boot kicked the side of the bed. “When are you going to learn to stop rushing in by yourself?”
The kick on the bed jarred Sage’s head enough to have tears fill his eyes. Not that he would let his mom and brother notice. “You and Bart were egging me on.”
“Stop taunting him, Jax.” His mother glared at his brother. “I can still make you clean the barn.”
They laughed, but Sage’s was forced.
“After you were gored, Bart and I had to take your chores for months,” Jackson said.
“Because you encouraged your younger brother to do something stupid,” Mom squeezed Sage’s hand. “How are you?”
“Healing.” At least he hoped so.
“But your head hurts,” she said.
“Yeah.” He wanted to push the call button and get something for the pain, but he couldn’t do that around Jax. He already looked like a fool, lying there injured. “I thought only you were coming, Mom.”
“I wanted to see you.” Jackson’s feet dropped to the floor and he waved a hand over Sage in the hospital bed. “But not like this.”
Of course not. Sage wasn’t living up to the Cornell legacy. Why would his mother and brother even want to be here and see his failure?
His brother had the same deep green eyes and straight nose as their father. But Jackson was thirty-four. Their dad had died in Somalia at thirty-three—saving his squad by throwing his body on a grenade.
Mom and Jackson caught him up on the family and the goings-on at the ranch. But his eyes kept closing and his stomach churned.
“You rest.” Mom touched his hand.
He told them where to find his keys and the security card for his condo.
“We’ll see you in the morning.” His mother brushed a kiss on his cheek.
He sat up once too often and lost the battle with his stomach. Thank goodness his brother and mother had left before he grabbed the plastic bowl and threw up.
* * *
“MAMÁ, HOW COULD YOU?” Carolina stared at her mother’s checking account balance and then at her outstanding credit cards bills and the overdue lease payments on the BMW. Over the last three days, she’d worked her way through Mamá’s unopened mail, all of it unpaid bills.
Her mother’s small disability check wouldn’t make a dent in the balances. At least Mamá’s attorney was her ex-boss. He wasn’t charging anything for the legal documents he’d prepared.
“We should go to a spa.” Rosa swirled around the corner, the skirt of her pink sundress dancing around her knees. It was the perfect color against her olive skin and black hair.
“We can’t afford a spa.” Carolina waved her hands at the bills spread on the dining room table.
“Oh, pfft. Of course we can.”
She had to stop her mother’s spending. “Let’s go to the shore and hunt for seashells.”
Her mother pouted. “I...”
“Everyone who sees you will be jealous of this gorgeous dress.” Carolina caught Mamá’s arm. “Come on. It will be just like when I was young. We always walked the beach on Sunday.”
They were out the door and heading to the ocean before her mother could complain.
“I love this dress.” Mamá swung the full skirt. “Your father and I used to take you to the beach. I think he liked to see me in a bikini.”
“Of course, he did.” She always agreed whenever Mamá brought up her father. Otherwise an argument ensued.
“He was so handsome.” Mamá swayed like she was waltzing. “But his bitch of a wife wouldn’t give him a divorce. Beau wanted to be with us, but she kept us apart.”
“Mmm-hmm.” For years, Carolina had believed her mother. But now—she didn’t know. Carolina was the product of an affair between Mamá and a married man. She barely remembered her father.
At the end of the walkway her mother kicked off her sandals, not bothering to pick them up. By the time Carolina slipped off her flip-flops and picked up their shoes, Mamá was splashing in the waves.
Wouldn’t it be nice if her Mamá’s tumors had made her more responsible and not less?
“Don’t look sad.” Her mother ran back and caught her hand, tugging her along the beach. “Life’s too short.”
They took a half hour, until Rosa tired. “Let’s have ice cream. Your father always bought me ice cream.”
Instead of agreeing, Carolina redirected. “How did you meet Daddy?”
Rosa turned in a circle, the pink skirt and her long curly hair winging around her. “He was building condos and apartments.” She waved her hand toward the bay. “They were going to be glorious. And expensive. He would have been rich.”
The bay condos had sat unfinished for years. Someone else had finally bought and completed them. “But how did you meet?”
“I was singing at a club here on the island. It’s closed now.” She hummed. “He drank bourbon and watched me. Those eyes.”
Married man on the prowl. How many times had Carolina been propositioned while she’d bartended or sang? Scum.
“When you met him...did you know he was married?” She’d never asked that question before.
Mamá sighed. “He didn’t wear a ring.”
And Rosa had thought he was rich. “When you told him you were pregnant, did he want me?”
Her mother’s lips pinched together. “He was Catholic. He should never have suggested...what he did. And he accused me—”
“Of what?” Trying to trap him? Carolina had heard an argument between Yaya and her mother once—something about how foolish her mother had been to think she could trap a man into marriage. Had that been what Yaya meant?
“That’s when he told me he was married. All his excuses on why he couldn’t spend time with me finally made sense. Excuses.” Mamá waved her hand like she was erasing a chalkboard. “It doesn’t matter.”
But it had mattered. Carolina had always been isolated. As a child, Mamá had forbidden her to talk about her father. At least no one had ever called her a bastard. No one knew.
“I miss my Beau.” Mamá’s steps slowed. The lines around her mouth deepened.
Carolina shouldn’t have brought up Daddy. Shouldn’t have asked questions. She knew better. Knew depression clung to her mother like a shadow. Her father hadn’t cared enough to take care of his other family.
They headed up the steps, Carolina taking Mamá’s elbow as she shuffled and almost lost her balance. Inside, Mamá collapsed on the sofa.
“Do you want anything?” Carolina asked.
“Could you get me a pill and then rub my head?” Her mother’s voice cracked with the pain.
“Of course.” After getting the pill and a glass of milk, Carolina said, “Let me know if I hurt you.”
She stood behind the sofa and kneaded her mother’s shoulders. Each day Mama’s skin changed. Her muscles were losing their bulk. Carolina didn’t press hard, just kept working them until they softened. Moving up, she pressed her thumbs into the base of her neck and worked on the taut tendons.
“Oh...oh...” her mother groaned.
Carolina ripped her hands away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. That’s...good.”
She worked her thumbs through her mother’s gorgeous thick hair. Would it fall out when the treatments started?
Carolina ended the massage by working her mother’s temples. Again, she dug in her thumbs and listened to Mamá’s groans. But this time she could tell it was from relief.
“Better?” Carolina asked.
“Yes.”
Carolina helped her mother stack pillows and settle on the sofa. Even after walking in the sunshine, there was a grayish cast to her mother’s skin. “Get some rest.”
“I will.” And she dropped off.
Carolina waited. Planned dinner. Worked on her to-do list. Then while Mamá slept, she headed to her mother’s bedroom and searched through the bags scattered on the floor. Jackpot. The bags still held the receipts and most of the clothes still had their tags.
She took the bags to her car and called the attorney. “Can I return clothes my mother bought?”
“You have power of attorney now. It shouldn’t matter if you put the credit back on your mother’s card.”
“Good.” She would find time tomorrow to take the things back, using the ruse of going to the grocery store.
The credit wouldn’t solve the debt her mother had accumulated, but it would help. Then she would call the leasing company to turn in the car.
Time to search for a job. She opened her laptop. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could find a weekend singing gig?
There were none around.
So she searched for waitressing and bartending jobs. And found a few. Only a couple on Tybee, everything else was in Savannah.
She opened job postings. There was one for a part-time bartender. At Southern Comforts, a new restaurant. Perfect. She clicked it open and read the listing. “Weekend hours. Possibility for more. Savannah.”
She winced, hating to leave her mother for that long. She scrolled to the bottom. “Apply at Fitzgerald House with Abby Fitzgerald.”
She shivered, suddenly freezing. Fitzgeralds. Her father’s real family. The ones who’d ruined her mother’s life. Her half sisters.
“What are you doing?” Rosa peered over her shoulder.
“I didn’t hear you wake. Are you hungry?” Carolina tried to close the screen.
Mamá held out her hand. “What are you doing looking at that family’s website?”
“I was looking for part-time work.” Trying to figure out how to pay off Mamá’s debts.
“Not with those bitches.” Mamá pointed a finger at the screen. “Work for anyone but them.”
Carolina patted her mother’s hand. “I know.”
Rosa sank into the dining room chair, holding her head. “Could you make me some tea?”
“Sure.”
Carolina would apply for the waitress and bartending positions listed on Tybee Island. She pulled out the tea a nurse recommended for Mamá’s headaches, making two mugs. She’d had a headache since she’d added up Mamá’s bills.
“Shall we take this to the porch?” she asked.
Her mother stared at the job posting on Carolina’s laptop, her nails clicking against the wooden table. “Maybe. Maybe.”
Carolina headed to the porch, wishing she’d shut the computer before she’d fixed her mother’s tea. Even talking about the Fitzgeralds made her mother rant.
“I was thinking we could have fish tacos tonight.” Carolina pushed open the door.
Her mother stared at the screen.
“Mamá?”
Her mother’s head jerked. “What?”
“I thought we’d have our tea out on the porch.”
Her mother’s eyes didn’t focus as she walked outside. She sat in a chair and Carolina took the rocker.
“I think you should do it,” Mamá blurted out.
“Do what?”
“Apply for the job with the bitches.”
Carolina choked on her tea. “I don’t want to meet them.”
Her half sisters wallowed in wealth while she and Mamá struggled to survive.
Her mother’s dark eyebrows came together. “I want to know what they’re up to. I want you to see the birthright they kept from you.”
Carolina clenched her fists. “I don’t.”
Her mother bounced out of her chair. “You could be a...a spy.”
Was this her mother’s obsession with the Fitzgeralds talking or her brain tumors? Every muscle in Carolina’s body tensed. “I don’t want to spy.”
“It would be for me. For your mother.” She clasped her hands against her chest and swayed. “For all the things I couldn’t give you. You deserve this. We deserve this.”
“Mamá, sit.” Carolina eased her back into a chair. “I need a job closer to home.”
Maybe if Carolina never brought up the job again, her mother would forget.
Please let Mamá forget.
* * *
“MOM, I’LL BE all right.” Sage said for the tenth time that morning. He sat at the kitchen table and sipped his coffee. He sure would miss Mom’s coffee, but he hated having her hover.
“You’re still as rocky on your feet as a newborn calf.” She brushed back his hair. “I wish Jackson could have stayed longer.”
Sage didn’t. Jax had stayed for three days, his presence a constant reminder Sage had screwed up. Not that Jax or Mom ever said anything. It was their looks of concern and disappointment. He’d failed to live up to the Cornell image. Honor before everything. “Jackson had to get back to saving lives.”
Mom crossed her arms, staring down at him. “Your head still aches.”
“I’ll handle it. You’ve been here a week. Go home to the ranch.” He wanted quiet. He hadn’t had true peace since he’d awakened in the hospital.
He liked people, he really did, but he needed space. And he wanted to get back to work. “I’m okay. Besides, the ranch needs you.”
“Uncle Dale is running the ranch.” His mother frowned.
“He’s almost eighty.”
“And sharp as a tack.” She pointed a finger at him. “Managing the ranch makes him feel useful.”
“I’ll be fine.” Another headache brewed, but he couldn’t tell his mom. She’d cancel her flight and stay another week. His River Street warehouse condominium was too small for the two of them.
“Then you’d better answer my calls. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be back.” His mother softened the order with a kiss on his cheek. “I worry about my baby.”
“I’m twenty-nine.” He grinned. “I don’t need burping.”
“Ha ha.” She sat next to him and squeezed his hand. “I worry about all my boys.”
“Why would you need to worry about Jax and Bart?” They were heroes.
“Because they’re my sons.”
“But every breath they take honors Dad.”
Mom closed her eyes and shook her head. “I know you idolize your brothers and father, but...they’re still mortal.”
Cornell men were supposed to be more. Sage needed to live a life so heroic, his father and brothers would be proud of him. It was all he wanted in life. “You raised two very special men.”
“Three.” She cupped his cheek and stared him in the eyes.
He tried not to blink, not wanting her to examine his soul.
He was the weakest Cornell. Would his father have let a dog keep him from his mission? Would his brothers have ended up wounded, suffering massive headaches and dizzy spells?
No. Because that wasn’t the Cornell way.
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
“If you have problems, you’ll call?” his mother asked.
He made a cross over his heart. “Absolutely.”
She listed the food she’d made and frozen. Then attached the list with the cooking directions to the freezer. “I popped over to the store, so you’re good for milk and other staples.”
“Thank you.”
She checked the time. “Cab should be here in a few minutes.”
He started to stand.
“You stay here.” She rolled her bag to the door.
“I’ll walk you down.” He tried to keep the growl from his voice. “You’re my mother. I want to know that you’re safe.”
“You are your father’s son.” She sighed. “Come on.”
They took the freight elevator to the main floor. He’d never noticed how much it rocked. He leaned into the corner so his mother didn’t see him wobble.
Keeping a hand on the wall for support, he led her to the entry. When had they put a bench outside the building? Excellent. He sat and waited with his mother. “Thank you for coming. For making all that food. For just being—you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s what a mother does.”
When the cab pulled up, he pushed off the bench and opened the door. Luckily, the driver loaded the luggage. He wasn’t sure he could lift her case. “Safe travels. I love you. Say hello to Jax and Bart.”
“I will. Love you to the moon and back,” she whispered.
Sage chuckled as the cab pulled away. He tipped his head and the sun shot into his eyes.
Mistake. Pain stabbed his brain. His eyes watered but he refused to let the tears drop. He was a Cornell. Stumbling to the bench, he collapsed.
He had to gather his strength before conquering the trip back to his condo. He took in a deep breath. Another mistake. His cracked ribs ached from the damn mastiff. That pain took a back seat to his blooming headache. Apparently hitting the cement foundation of the house and taking a bullet hadn’t knocked sense into him; it had knocked something loose.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the brick wall, listening. The Savannah River lapped the seawall next to the condo. Pedestrians filled River Street. The sounds of conversations and laughter washed over him.
“You all right?”
Damn. Sage jerked and the headache that had eased roared back. He’d actually fallen asleep. He opened his eyes. “Kaden? What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” Kaden crossed his arms and his gaze took in too much. “Are you okay?”
“I...just saw my mother off.”
Kaden looked at his phone. “An hour ago.”
“What?” He’d sat here for an hour?
“She texted me.” Kaden flipped his phone so Sage could see the message.
Unfortunately the numbers and letters swam. “What are you doing texting my mother?”
“I agreed to check on you.”
“Not necessary.” Sage took a breath and pushed up off the bench.
“I promised.”
Kaden kept pace as Sage used his keycard and headed inside the building.
“Are you escorting me to my door?” Sage snarled.
“Keeping a promise.” Kaden looked sideways at Sage. “How are the headaches?”
Sage grunted. Talking and walking wasn’t easy.
He punched the elevator button and leaned on the wall. “What’s the latest on the third man from the raid?”
“He was spotted in Five Points so the Atlanta Bureau is keeping watch.”
They stepped into the elevator.
“Margaret must hate that,” Sage muttered.
Margaret and Roger, the Atlanta agent-in-charge, didn’t play well together. Their divorce had been bitter. And Margaret had stolen Kaden from her ex when he’d worked a case in Savannah and fallen in love with Courtney. “I gather you were the liaison to broker that deal.”
Kaden snorted. “Yeah. Those two need to learn to separate business from their animosity.”
It took all of Sage’s concentration to walk from the elevator to his condo. When he arrived at his door, he pointed. “This is me.”
Kaden didn’t take the hint and leave. Sage dug for his key and opened the door. Somehow the hallway from his door to the kitchen had grown. He let his shoulder brush the wall to keep from stumbling. He couldn’t show weakness in front of his mentor. Kaden might report that he wasn’t able to work. “I’d offer you a beer, but I’m not sure if I have any.”
“Still on the pain meds?” Kaden asked.
Sage shrugged. Let him guess the answer. If he was unbalanced now, what would happen mixing meds and alcohol? “Check the fridge. Mom stocked it yesterday.”
Kaden headed to the fridge and didn’t witness Sage collapsing onto a kitchen chair.
“Found one,” Kaden said.
“Opener’s in that drawer.” Sage pointed. He had a water bottle from earlier. It wouldn’t look weird if he didn’t move.
Kaden took the seat across from him. He tipped his beer bottle. “Here’s to your successful recovery.”
Sage held up his water bottle. “I can drink to that.”
They talked Bureau business. Cases. Sage kept up, but all he wanted to do was nap.
Kaden finished his beer. His steel-blue eyes stared into Sage’s. “Why don’t you stay at my place? You’d have people keeping track of your recovery.”
Sage hadn’t fooled him. Would he report to Margaret that he wasn’t able to work? “I’m good here.”
“At least come to dinner tonight.”
He could barely walk. How would he get to Kaden’s apartment? “My mother put together a bunch of meals. I think I’ll stay in.”
“Okay. Thanks for the beer.” Kaden found the recycling and dropped the bottle in. “I’ll keep asking. I have to keep my word to your mother.”
Sage grinned. At least he hoped it was a grin and not a grimace. “When I run out of food, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” A goofy smile covered Kaden’s face. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”
Sage started to nod but the pain cranked up. “I can’t wait.”
He dug up enough energy to walk to the door.
After Kaden left, he threw the locks and grabbed the wall to stay upright. He’d gotten rid of his mother, but he couldn’t escape Kaden’s watchful eye.
CHAPTER THREE (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)
“MAMÁ, MRS. HALVORSEN is bringing over sweet tea and cookies.” Their neighbor promised to visit with her mother while Carolina drove to Savannah.
“Is this the interview with the witch?” her mother asked.
Carolina inhaled. Her mother was losing her filters. “It’s with Abby Fitzgerald.”
“She’s probably as uppity as her mother.” Mamá’s lips pursed as tight as if she’d eaten a lemon.
“Then why did you hound me to apply for the job?” Frustration filled Carolina’s voice.
“Because I want you to find out what those Fitzgeralds are up to.” Her mother’s blue eyes narrowed. “I want you to see where we should have been living if your father hadn’t died so young.”
“I didn’t have to apply for a job to do that.”
Her mother wrapped an arm around Carolina’s waist. “But if you get into the house, you could...pick up something for me.”
“What?”
“A...souvenir.” Her mother’s voice rose. “Something small.”
“I can’t.” A shiver ran down Carolina’s spine. Her mother’s cancer was making her irrational.
“For your mother?” Tears dripped from Mamá’s eyes.
“I’m not a thief.” Had her mother stopped distinguishing right from wrong? “Why would you ask me to do this?”
“Beau promised we’d live there.” Mamá paced to the window and back. “How could it be stealing if we should have lived in the house?”
“Because we don’t.” Carolina’s voice was small.
“Something little. Something they won’t miss.” Mamá’s words spit out so fast, they ran together. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“I... I...this is an interview.”
Mamá’s eyes were bright with tears. “I’m dying.”
Pain swept through Carolina’s body like a crashing wave. A knock on the door kept her from agreeing. How could Mamá ask this of her?
On the drive into Savannah she rehearsed how she would tell her mother she’d never had a chance to do what she’d asked. I was never alone. I was in the restaurant not the house.
Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe her mother would forget their conversation.
But for the last three days, all Mamá had talked about was Fitzgerald House. Carolina had finally applied for the job to stop her haranguing.
She drove by the four-story mansion. Fitzgerald House. Resentment that her half sisters lived in such grandeur and wealth had her gritting her teeth. Why hadn’t her father taken care of her and her mother? Why hadn’t he acknowledged Carolina as his child?
After parking in the back, she exhaled. She didn’t want this job. And she didn’t want to meet her half sisters.
But bartending was the best-paying job she’d found and they needed the money. It would allow her to work the fewest hours and spend more time with Mamá.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t get the job. Great attitude for an interview.
Carolina found a path that lead around the house and headed up wide, wooden steps. The double door was bright blue. She stepped into a soaring foyer and her heels clicked on the green-and-gold marble. In the middle of the space on an ornate round table sat a huge vase filled with flowers. Could that be Waterford? If she sold the vase, it might make her car payment for two months.
“Can I help you?” A woman with strawberry blond hair stood next to a small desk. “Are you checking in?”
“Oh, no.” Carolina chewed her lip. “I have an interview for the Southern Comforts’ bartending position. I was told to come here.”
“Carolina Castillo?”
She nodded.
The woman held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Abby Fitzgerald.”
Carolina stared. Her half sister. With Abby’s pale skin and her reddish-blond hair, they didn’t look alike. Were there any similarities between them?
She was a few seconds too slow shaking Abby’s hand. “Hi.”
“Let me find someone to cover the desk.” Abby moved down a hallway.
Carolina took in a breath. This was a mistake. But she needed a job that paid more than minimum wage. Her mother’s credit card companies were demanding payment.
“All handled.” Abby carried a tray with a sweating pitcher and glasses filled with ice. She led the way to a small parlor. “I brought some sweet tea.”
Carolina sat. Abby poured a glass and Carolina took a polite sip. “O-oh. This is good.”
“It’s my version of sweet tea with tweaks.” Abby winked. “And I don’t give away secrets.”
Carolina froze. Did Abby know her secret?
No way. If Abby knew they were related, Carolina wouldn’t be sitting there. “I understand the position is for a newly opened restaurant.”
“We thought we could get away with only one bartender each night, but we need two.”
“Congratulations,” Carolina said. Would Abby catch the sarcasm in her voice? Of course, Abby’s restaurant would be a success. Everything the Fitzgeralds touched turned to gold.
“Why did you leave Nashville?” Abby asked.
Carolina kept it simple. “My mother is sick. I needed to come home.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby touched Carolina’s hand. “I understand. My family means everything to me.”
“Thank you.” Family? Abby had no clue.
How could her half sister understand? She had everything. Sisters. Mother. She’d had their father.
Carolina had gotten stolen moments with Daddy. Now her mother was dying and she would end up alone.
“Tell me about your work history?” Abby asked.
“In Nashville, I worked at the Silo and Garett’s Bar and Grill.”
“So why haven’t you done any bartending for a year?” Abby asked.
“I was able to get a full-time singing job, so I quit bartending.”
“Oh.” Abby asked questions about her experiences and Carolina relaxed and answered.
A bell rang.
“I called your references,” Abby said. “They were very complimentary about your work ethic.”
“I think it’s important to do what you say you will do.” Unlike the father they shared.
“I like—” The bell rang again. Abby frowned. “I’ll be right back.”
She slipped through the pocket door, pulling it shut.
Carolina stretched and walked to the window, staring across the street. In the square people either strolled or sat on the benches. Veils of Spanish moss hung from the oaks, shading the crowds. Her mother would love the view.
She leaned against the windowsill and knocked over a small porcelain bird. A cardinal. There were four of them scattered on the sill. Four.
She swallowed. It was so little. She picked it up. It couldn’t be worth much. Her fingers squeezed the bird.
No. What her mother had asked her to do was wrong.
Footsteps echoed outside the door. She hurried back to her chair. Blast. She still had the cardinal. She jammed it in her purse as the door slid open. She would put it back before she left. She snatched up her tea and sipped. Maybe the cool drink would chill the fire blazing across her face.
When the door opened, Abby waved her over. “Would you like to see the restaurant?”
“Yes.” Because she wanted to leave. Wanted to stuff the bird under the sofa cushion.
But Abby never took her eye off Carolina as she joined her in the entry.
Carolina couldn’t breathe. She’d have to...drop the bird somewhere.
Abby walked next to her, spouting the B and B history. Carolina chewed on her lip. If Abby quizzed her, she wouldn’t be able to repeat anything she’d been told.
They walked through a kitchen.
“Is this the restaurant?” It was large, but there was a big table tucked in an alcove and a sitting area around a fireplace.
“This is the B and B kitchen, for Fitzgerald and Carleton House.” Abby held open an outside door. “We remodeled the carriage house for Southern Comforts.”
The heat and humidity weren’t the only reasons Carolina started to sweat through her shirt. The bird in her purse weighed on her shoulder like an anvil.
Abby dealt with the restaurant door locks and Carolina walked into a gorgeous room. A wall of windows looked over the gardens they’d just walked through. Outside were tables. “Do these windows open to the patio?”
“Aren’t they fabulous?” Abby tapped her chin. “I might eventually add a bar out there.”
Right now the green umbrellas were closed, but Carolina could imagine them open and the iron tables filled with happy diners while soft music played.
“This is our main bar.” Abby led her to the side of the dining room.
Again, Carolina was overwhelmed. Her heeled sandals clicked across sand-colored tiles. The tables all had flowers and the tablecloths weren’t just white, but brought in the colors of the gardens: greens, pale pinks, reds, even lavender. It should have looked—garish. But the colors made her smile.
The top of the bar was old wood covered with a thick layer of polyurethane. Brass hardware under the bar top sparkled.
“Those were the carriage house doors,” Abby said. “Nathan used them for the countertop.”
“It’s beautiful.” She ducked under the pass-through. It was the normal bar setup—taps, fridges, glassware hanging above and high-end liquor gleaming against a mirrored back wall. Two or three people could easily work back here. “This is a good setup.”
“Because we’ve been so busy, the servers are waiting too long for their drink orders.”
“That’s not good.” Shouldn’t there be people lingering over a glass of wine or having an early cocktail right now? “You don’t serve lunch?”
“We do, but we’re closed on Mondays.”
Carolina nodded. She wasn’t sure what day it was. Since she’d returned to Tybee, the days all blended together.
“I have one more interview this evening,” Abby said, “but I want to make this decision fast. How soon could you start?”
Carolina moved to the other side of the bar. “As soon as you need me.”
Abby touched her shoulder. “Wonderful.”
After discussing the pay, they left the restaurant.
Carolina’s phone rang. “I’m so sorry.” Her face flamed. “I thought I shut it off.”
“Take the call, we’re done. It was nice to meet you.” Abby shook her hand and headed back to Fitzgerald House.
Carolina pulled out her phone. The cursed bird rattled against the case. “Mamá? Are you all right?”
“I wanted to hear about your interview.”
“It was good. And the pay is better than any job I’ve found.” Carolina sat at the nearest table. “Is Mrs. Halvorsen still there?”
“She’s boring. I sent her home.” Her mother’s voice turned low and sly. “Did you get something for me?”
“Mamá!” How was she going to put the small bird back?
“They have everything!”
“But...”
Her mother sniffled. “I thought you loved me.”
“You know I love you.” Carolina’s words rushed out. “You’re all I have.”
“Then why are you only thinking of yourself? I thought I’d brought you up better. I guess not.” The phone clicked off.
Carolina’s phone clattered to the table. How could her mother ask this of her? As much as she hated the idea of working for her half sister, this was the best job around and her mother wanted to jeopardize it for a...a souvenir.
She laid her head on her arms. Could she leave the bird on a courtyard table? No. Leaving it there might implicate her. And Abby might be vindictive.
Somehow she had to get it back into Fitzgerald House.
* * *
SAGE COULDN’T PUT it off another day. Kaden had hounded him to come for dinner.
He glanced at his list of accomplishments posted on the fridge.
Walk around condo:
5 mins.
10 mins.
20 mins.
Go outside
Walk down River Street
Get up to Bay Street
Okay, he’d taken the elevator up to Bay, but he’d stumbled around after that.
All this training was preparation for his little stroll to Kaden’s.
After donning his sunglasses, he walked to the elevator by city hall and took it up to the Bay Street level. Next week he’d hopefully add “Climb Steps to Bay” to his Done list.
By the time he got to Broughton, he was sweating. After just two weeks, he was out of shape. He wanted to return to work. He wanted his life back.
He flagged a cab and headed to the address Kaden had given him. Where was this carriage house? Taking a chance, he headed around the B and B and entered a courtyard through the back gate. Now what?
Instead of wasting precious energy wandering, he dialed Kaden. “I’m in a courtyard. Where do I go now?”
Kaden laughed. “Hang on. I’ll be down in...ten minutes. I’ll find you.”
Easy for him to laugh. Laughing hurt Sage’s head and ribs. He looked for a place to rest.
A woman with gorgeous black hair had her head down on her arms. Beyond her was a small bench. He passed behind her, not wanting to disturb her nap.
Shoving her chair back, she slammed it into him. He went down like a roped calf.
“Oh, my God!” the woman cried.
His head rang. Pain stabbed behind his eyes.
“Are you okay?” She snatched his hand, trying to pull him to his feet.
“Wait.” He would fall over or faint if he moved too soon. “Wait.”
She crouched next to him. “I didn’t mean to knock you down.”
“S’okay.” He took deep breaths. “I just need...”
“What? How can I help?”
He tried to get his feet under him but stumbled.
“Let me.” She supported his elbow.
He clawed his way to his feet and finally looked at the woman who’d knocked him down like he was a bowling pin.
She was beautiful. Her dark blue eyes looked almost black and her skin was a luscious golden-olive color. And her hair? Black, curly and long enough to play peekaboo with her breasts. He swiped at his chin to make sure he wasn’t drooling.
“I’m so sorry.” She led him to the chair she’d abandoned. “I wasn’t paying any attention.”
“I thought you were sleeping.” A shard of pain slammed into him. He grasped his head and couldn’t contain the groan.
“You hurt your head.” Her fingers explored his skull.
The bump she was going to find was old, but her touch was cool and soothing.
“Is this the spot?” she asked.
“Yeah, but you didn’t cause it.” He swallowed back the nausea that always accompanied his headaches. “I was hurt a—” he couldn’t remember how long ago he’d been hurt “—while ago. I get headaches.”
“So does my mother.” She kneaded his shoulders, working her fingers up the tendons of his neck. “Does this help?”
“Yes.” He groaned. “That’s...good.”
“I do this for Mamá a couple times a day.” She worked her fingers into his temples.
He didn’t talk, just enjoyed the release of pain.
“Oh, damnation! I need to get back to Mamá.”
He caught her wrist and tugged her so she stood next to him. He squinted up into her face. Her glorious skin was tinged pink. “What’s your name?”
“This is embarrassing. We’re strangers. I shouldn’t have touched you.” She wrung her magical hands. “I’m so sorry. It’s...my mother.”
“No. This is the best I’ve felt since my accident.” He couldn’t tell a stranger he’d been shot. “Thank you.”
“But I knocked you down.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“You didn’t hurt me. Unless you count my being embarrassed because I fell at the feet of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right.”
He wasn’t kidding. “Who are you?”
“Carolina.”
“I’m Sage. Sage Cornell.” He took her hand. “Thank you.”
She settled into the chair next to him, leaving her hand in his.
“Are you a guest?” he asked. Please don’t be here on your honeymoon.
“Don’t I wish. I just applied for a job.”
“You live around here?”
“Tybee.” Darkness shadowed her eyes. She pulled her hand away and linked her fingers in her lap. “Are you a guest?”
“Visiting someone I work with. He lives here.”
Her eyebrows crunched together. “A Fitzgerald?”
“No.” He grimaced and the sting of pain reminded him to relax his face. “I don’t know why he’s living here. His fiancée’s last name is Smythe.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I think Abby’s married to a Smythe.”
“I don’t suppose I could have your phone number.” Way to be confident. “That is, I’d like your phone number.”
“I... I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Between taking care of my mother and searching for a job, I don’t have much time.
“You don’t have time to talk?” He wouldn’t give up.
Her eyes swam with unshed tears. “I might not be a great conversationalist.”
“What can it hurt?” He pulled out his phone, raising his eyebrows. Cornells pushed through to meet their goals. “Like I said, I’m Sage Cornell.”
She sighed. “Carolina. Castillo.”
He wanted to do a fist pump, but that wouldn’t impress her. He handed her his phone, not sure his eyes would let him enter her digits correctly. Damn this injury.
“There.” She handed his phone back to him.
“Let’s try it.” He wasn’t stupid. She could have put in a fake number.
A phone rang in her purse. She pulled it out, shut off the ringer and created a contact. “I really have to get back to my mother.”
“Thank you for helping with my headache.” He grinned. “If I call tonight, would that be too soon?”
“I’d...like that.” She laughed as she walked away.
He waited until she’d stepped into the parking lot, then pumped both fists. “Yes!”
“What was that for?” Kaden’s voice came from behind him.
“I just met the most gorgeous woman.” Sage steadied himself before he pushed up from the table. “And got her number.”
Kaden shook his head. “A guest?”
“Nope. She applied for a job.” And if she got the job, he planned to spend a lot more time with Kaden. Excellent. He’d keep his partner happy—and maybe himself, too.
* * *
I’M A THIEF! What had she been thinking?
Carolina parked in their driveway and wanted to pound her head on the steering wheel.
Not only was she a thief, she’d touched a stranger. Just started rubbing his head. Sage must think she was the stupidest, most forward, craziest woman in the world.
It’s just—he’d been hurting. His headache had been so much like her mother’s, she hadn’t been able to stand by and let it eat at him. Even though he’d said it wasn’t her fault, it had been. If she’d paid attention, she wouldn’t have made him fall.
Worst of all, because she’d been so flustered, she’d walked away with the bird. She’d planned to stop in the B and B and return the darn cardinal.
But Sage had started flirting and she’d forgotten. A small zing had her straightening her shoulders. Would he call? Did she want him to? Time was her enemy—she didn’t have any to spare.
Shoving her hair off her face, she caught a whiff of something delicious. She sniffed her hand. Chocolate and citrus. Sage’s scent. Was this his shampoo? She’d had her fingers buried in his thick, gold-streaked brown hair. And his eyes matched his name—a sage-green filled with so much pain she’d needed to ease his distress.
She stared at her mother’s house. It was time to do the same for Mamá.
The door was unlocked so she pushed inside and set her purse on the coffee table. “You forgot to lock the door, Mamá.”
Her mother came out of the dark kitchen and stumbled, grabbing the archway. “What did you bring me?”
Carolina shouldn’t.
“You brought me something, right?” Her mother touched her hand to her temple and closed her eyes. “Nothing?”
Carolina didn’t answer her mother’s question. “Do you have a headache?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Her mother clutched at the doorway, as if she couldn’t stand. “My happiness doesn’t matter. My pain doesn’t matter.”
“Mamá. It does.” Carolina helped her to the sofa. “Would you like to sit outside and watch the sunset?”
“No.” A tear slipped down her mother’s cheek as she curled her legs under her.
She massaged her mother’s shoulders but Mamá pushed her hands away.
“I just wanted a token,” her mother whispered.
Would it hurt to give her the cardinal? Carolina twisted her hands. How many more days did she have with her mother? The headaches were getting worse.
She knelt in front of her mother and dug into her purse. “It was in the front parlor.”
Her mother’s eyes went wide. She turned the bird over. “How much is it worth?”
“Worth?”
“Yes!” Animation filled her mother’s face. “A lot?”
“I don’t think so.” Was that what this was about? Money?
“Maybe I should have it appraised.” Her mother turned the small bird over and over, then hugged it to her chest.
“They wouldn’t leave valuable things just sitting on a windowsill.”
“Of course they would.” Mamá’s eyes narrowed. “They’re greedy and selfish.”
“There were three other birds.”
“Why didn’t you take them all?” Rosa’s voice was as discordant as an out-of-tune piano.
“I couldn’t. I...wasn’t alone that long.”
“Next time.” Mamá admired the bird.
There wouldn’t be a next time. Carolina would ramp up her job search on the island. She wouldn’t steal for her mother again.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)
“MAMÁ, ARE YOU HUNGRY?” Carolina asked two nights later from the kitchen entryway.
Her mother plucked at the pleat in her pants, staring out into the distance.
“Mamá?” Carolina hurried to her side.
She knelt, trying to look her mother in the eye. “Talk to me.”
Mamá stared right through her. No response.
This wasn’t normal. She pulled out her phone. Blank screen. Damn it. She’d forgotten to the charge the battery after Sage had called that afternoon.
“I’ll be right back.” She dashed to her bedroom for her charging cord. On the way back downstairs, she heard a thump. “Mamá?”
Her mother lay facedown on the floor.
“No!” She ran and rolled her mother over.
Rosa shook so hard, her head banged the floor.
Seizure. Dr. Laster said this could happen and had given Carolina some basic first aid.
She pulled a pillow off the sofa and tucked it under her mother’s head. “Mamá, I’m here.”
What else?
Check the time. 7:32.
Stay calm. Carolina’s breaths heaved in and out. She forced them to slow.
Make sure she can breathe. How? She closed her eyes. What had the pamphlet said?
Turn her on her side. Shoving her hands under her mother’s convulsing body, she rolled her. Then readjusted the pillow.
Snatching up her mother’s cell phone, she punched in 9-1-1. “It’s my mother,” she cried, interrupting the operator. “She’s having a seizure.”
“Is she safe?” The woman’s voice was so calm.
“I guess.” How could she be safe if this was happening?
“Is she still seizing?”
“Yes. Maybe not as bad as before. She has brain tumors. Cancer.” The words spilled out of her, along with tears.
“How long has she been seizing?”
Carolina checked the clock: 7:36. “Four or five minutes?”
“Paramedics are on their way.” The operator confirmed the address.
Her mother’s body stopped jerking.
Carolina pulled a throw from the sofa and covered her, and then clasped her mother’s clammy hand. “Mamá, can you hear me?”
Even though her mother’s eyes were open, she didn’t answer.
“Please be all right.” She stroked Mamá’s hair and rested her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I love you.”
Red and blue emergency lights flashed on the street. “The paramedics are here. I’ll be right back.”
She shoved open the door. “In here.”
Uniformed men and women filled the room.
“Patient’s name?” someone asked.
“Rosa Castillo.”
Carolina was shuttled to the side and a paramedic took her mother’s blood pressure and checked her pupils. Another installed an IV.
“What’s that for?” she asked, biting her lip.
“In case we need to administer medication.” They worked and talked, but not to Carolina. And that was fine. She wanted their full attention on Mamá.
She wrapped her arms around her belly, a chill settling deep in her bones.
Mamá groaned.
“Ma’am?” the female EMT asked. “Can you tell us your name?”
Mamá didn’t answer.
Please be okay. Don’t leave me. Please be okay. I’ll get you anything you want. If I have to steal or go into debt, just don’t leave me. She repeated the mantra over and over.
A gurney clattered up the steps. The paramedics gently lifted Mamá onto the flat surface. With precise movements, they strapped her in place. The gurney clacked as they hoisted it up.
“We’re taking her to Memorial University,” the female paramedic said. “Do you want to ride with her?”
Ride with her. Carolina held her head to keep her thoughts from spinning out of control. If Mamá was going to Savannah, she needed her car. She didn’t have anyone to pick her up or drop her off. “I’ll... I’ll drive.”
The woman EMT touched her arm. “Are you sure you can?”
“I...yes.” She didn’t have a choice. Without her mother, she was alone.
* * *
CAROLINA SET DOWN her overloaded tote in the ER waiting room. She’d grabbed her mother’s wallet, both their cell phones, her charging cord and her mother’s makeup. Mamá didn’t go anywhere without makeup.
Next to a chair, she plugged in her phone. The ER was quiet. Two people sat on the opposite side of the room. One had a bloody bandage around her arm.
She wanted to pace. Wanted to cry. Wanted to see her mother. Was she conscious? What was happening?
She headed back to the receptionist. “I don’t think I told anyone who my mother’s oncologist is. It’s Dr. Laster.”
“Let me update the record.” The woman clacked away at the keyboard. “Patient’s name?”
“Rosa Castillo.”
“And her oncologist is Dr. Laster. Got it.”
Carolina’s stomach dived and banked. “Do you know anything? Can I see my mother?”
“A nurse will call when you can go back.”
“Thank you.” Carolina wanted to look over the woman’s shoulder to see what was in her mother’s record. She’d been waiting at least thirty minutes. What were they doing? She headed back to her chair.
Lord. She was losing it. She’d left her purse, bag and phone just sitting on the table.
She picked up a magazine. Threw it down. Stared at the news playing silently on the flat screen.
A nurse came to the door and called, “Ms. Calarion?”
The two people waved. The man supported the injured woman while the nurse led them away. At least they had each other.
Carolina paced. When Mamá had been diagnosed with breast cancer, they’d never ended up in the ER. Her mother had chosen a lumpectomy and everything had been outpatient. But Carolina had spent months helping her mother through her chemo. Holding her hair back as she’d thrown up.
Mamá had been in remission for so many years. Why now?
Her phone rang and she answered without looking at the screen.
“Hi, Carolina.”
“Sage?”
“I know we just talked this afternoon.” He laughed. “I wanted to hear your voice again. I’m not a stalker. Really.”
Stalker? “I don’t think you’re...” She broke down and sobbed.
“What’s wrong?”
“My...my mother,” she blubbered.
“Take a deep breath.” His voice soothed her like a warm blanket. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Mamá had a seizure.” She pressed her lips together so she didn’t cry. “I’m at the hospital. They won’t tell me how she is.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was that sick.”
She hadn’t wanted to focus on her mother’s cancer during their conversations over the last two days. “This is her first—I think.”
“That’s hard,” he said. “Who’s at the hospital with you?”
He was so sweet. “No one.”
“You’re alone?” he asked. “Where are you?”
“Memorial.”
“I’m on my way.”
“What? You don’t—” But he’d hung up.
She should call Sage back. Tell him not to come. He was healing from his own injury.
But she was selfish. She didn’t want to be alone.
* * *
SAGE FIRED UP the Uber app and entered the information. Twice. The numbers and letters kept bouncing around. Great. Five minutes away. He was pushing out the door when the SUV arrived. “Memorial University Hospital. ER please.”
The driver frowned at him through the rearview mirror. “You aren’t bleeding on my upholstery, right?”
“No. Just—helping a friend.” He patted his pocket, checking for a pain pill. He wasn’t sure if a headache would erupt. He knew some of the triggers—bright lights, forgetting to eat—but he didn’t know what else might ignite the jackhammers in his head.
Talking to Carolina over the last two days had been the highlight of his week. Somehow listening to her voice soothed his aches. He’d known she’d come back to Tybee because of her mother, but he hadn’t known her mother was this sick. Carolina shouldn’t be alone at the hospital. He could sit with her, help her.
The image of him in a white cowboy hat riding Mac, his Appaloosa, to her rescue stuck in his brain like barbed wire. Would his father think this was heroic? It was about all he could do until he could get back on the job.
The SUV pulled up to the ER doors. “Thanks.”
He spotted Carolina in the ER waiting room. She stared at her hands, not noticing him walking toward her.
Slipping into the chair next to her, he said, “Carolina?”
“You came,” she whispered. The relief in her drenched blue eyes made him want to earn that white hat.
There was something so lost about her that he took her hands, needing to touch her. “What can I do for you?”
Her mouth dropped open. “For me?”
He ripped his gaze off her pink lips. This wasn’t the time to think about kissing her. “The medical staff is taking care of your mother. I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.” The muscles in her body softened. “They won’t tell me what’s going on.”
He wanted to hold her. To tuck her safely into his arms. “Let me check.”
Sage never used his job to get information, but for Carolina, he headed to the receptionist desk and snapped out his badge. “What is the status of...?” Damn. He didn’t know the mother’s name. “Mrs. Castillo?”
The receptionist’s eyes widened at the sight of his FBI credentials. “Is there an ongoing case?”
Hell, Sage was on medical leave until his headaches and vision were normal. He just stood there, letting the woman draw her own conclusions.
“Mrs. Castillo is stabilized. They’re giving her fluids for dehydration. She’s scheduled for a MRI.”
“So why can’t her daughter see her?” Sage raised his eyebrows, even though there was a warning tick that if he kept this up, those jackhammers behind his eyes were going to start drilling.
“We had car accident victims come in. They’re pretty busy.” The receptionist stood. “But let me check.”
“Thanks.” He headed back to Carolina and asked, “Did they tell you she was dehydrated?”
“They haven’t talked to me.”
“They’re working on that and she’s scheduled for an MRI.”
Carolina took a deep breath, her tank top molding to her very nice chest. Damn, he was scum.
“They probably want to check her brain tumors.” Carolina’s voice was so soft he leaned closer to hear her.
“Brain tumors?” Guess they hadn’t fully discussed her mother’s diagnosis. “I’m sorry.”
A nurse waved to them from the door. “Miss Castillo, you can come back now.”
Carolina stuffed things into a big bag. She turned to him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Will you come with me?”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”
* * *
“HAS SHE REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS?” Carolina asked the nurse, taking Mamá’s hand.
“Still unconscious, but she’s made some sounds.” The nurse smiled. “That’s not a bad thing. I’ll get the doctor. He can tell you more.”
The nurse slipped out the doorway. Sage’s fingers squeezed her shoulder.
Her mother’s skin was as pale as the industrial-white sheets covering her. Carolina was used to her mother’s warm golden skin tone. The blue veins in Mamá’s arms and hands stood out. Without her dancing eyes and animated face, her mother looked fragile.
Sage leaned over. “You look like her.”
“That’s what people say.” Her mother was more beautiful than Carolina would ever be.
“Sit.” Sage pushed a chair next to the bed. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Food?”
“I guess. I didn’t get a chance to eat.” She stroked Mamá’s hand. “Crackers and water?”
He grimaced. “How about a sandwich?”
She shrugged.
“I’m on it.” He patted her back and his chocolate-and-citrusy scent cut through the hospital disinfectant. “I’ll be right back.”
It should be—weird. But having Sage here wasn’t awkward or strange.
“Mamá.” She lay her head next to her mother’s. “I want you to get better. Don’t leave me alone.”
She held her breath, hoping Mamá would squeeze her hand.
Nothing. Carolina’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled.
“You have to get better. The gown you have on is not in your color wheel.” She smiled at her reference to The Blind Side. She and Mamá had watched it the other night and laughed at the line.
Carolina couldn’t stand the silence. “I met a very nice man when I interviewed at Fitzgerald House. We’ve talked every day since we met. When he heard I was at the hospital, he rushed down to help us. Isn’t that sweet? His name is Sage. His eyes are green—like his name.”
She stroked her mother’s hair. “He has headaches, too. I don’t know the cause, we haven’t known each other that long. He’s getting me some water. Isn’t that nice?”
Footsteps stopped at her mother’s doorway. Carolina brushed away the tears that wouldn’t stop.
“Hi, Carolina,” Dr. Laster whispered. She moved in and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry to see you again so soon.”
“Me, too.” Carolina’s response was watery.
“Tell me what happened.”
Once again Carolina went through her mother’s seizure. As she finished, Sage came in. Dr. Laster raised her eyebrows.
Carolina said, “This is my friend Sage.”
He handed Carolina an open bottle of water and a sandwich. “Would you like me to leave?”
“Just for her examination,” Dr. Laster said.
Sage and Carolina waited outside the door. “Thank you,” she said, taking a bite of the sandwich.
“I didn’t know what you liked.” He smiled. “I thought ham and cheese would be better than tuna fish out of a vending machine.”
“It’s fine.” She couldn’t taste anything anyway.
“You can come back in,” Dr. Laster said from the doorway.
Sage settled her in the chair and stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.
“Here’s the plan,” Dr. Laster said. “She’ll have an MRI. Once she’s conscious, I want a neurologist to see her.”
Carolina nodded. “Will she be able to go home?”
“We’ll see.” Dr. Laster patted Mamá’s hand and headed out the door.
Carolina and Sage waited. And talked. When her mother was wheeled down for her MRI, they walked along the quiet corridors behind her gurney. Each time they passed under a bright light, he winced.
She asked, “How’s your head?”
“My head?”
“You’re hurting.”
He started to nod but grimaced and stopped. “I’ve got my meds if it gets too bad.”
Even though she wanted him to stay, she said, “You should go home.”
“I’m good.” He took her hand and laced their fingers together. “I want to help you.”
“Thank you for being here,” she said.
“It’s no big deal.”
But it was to her. She wasn’t alone. She had someone to lean on. She wouldn’t mind him holding her until her mother was better.
The tech directed them to a small waiting room. They sat next to each other on the sofa.
“This will go down as my most unusual first date ever,” he said.
“Date?” She looked up at him and got lost in his green gaze. “I like you, but because of my mother, I don’t think I have time to date.”
“I know we don’t know each other very well, but I want that to change.” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “No pressure. I’m here to help.”
He tugged her so her head rested on his shoulder. “Any help or comfort you need, I’m your guy.”
Her body melted into his.
When her mother had first gone through breast cancer treatment, Carolina had been alone. Could she accept his help?
A different tech, female this time, walked in. “Agent Cornell?”
Agent?
Sage straightened but kept his arm around Carolina. “Yes?”
“How are you doing?” The blonde put a hand on his arm.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
The tech giggled. Giggled! “I did your MRI—twice. Just a couple of weeks ago.”
He’d had MRIs? Carolina’s breath rushed out. Did he have cancer, too?
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
“Of course you don’t.” The tech still hadn’t removed her hand from Sage’s biceps. “How are the headaches?”
Sage didn’t answer. “Are you here to tell Ms. Castillo about her mother?”
“Oh, yes.” The tech straightened, her hand dropping away. “She’ll be done in a few minutes. Then they’ll compare this scan to her last one. You can wait in her exam room.”
“Did she wake?” Carolina asked.
“I thought she had for a moment, but she’s not conscious now. The good news is that she hasn’t had another seizure.”
Well, that was something.
The tech smiled at Sage. “If you want to know anything about your scan, you can ask for me—Amara.”
“Thanks. I talked to my doctor.” Sage laced his hand with Carolina’s.
She and Sage headed back toward her mother’s room.
Instead of asking why he’d had two MRIs, she asked, “Did you recognize her?”
“No.”
“Why did she call you ‘agent’?”
“That’s what I am.” He hesitated. “I work for the FBI.”
An FBI agent? She swallowed. Yesterday she’d started to ask what he did for a living, but Mamá had needed her medicine. She and Sage hadn’t gotten back to that conversation.
“Why did you need MRIs?” she asked.
He shifted, no longer touching her. “I was hit.”
“In the head?”
“Yeah.”
At least he didn’t have cancer. “That’s why you’re having headaches?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t volunteering information. They reached her mother’s room. The distance between them was bigger than the hallway. “Thank you for coming. It’s probably better if you leave.”
“What? Why?”
Was he clueless? “You were injured. You shouldn’t be taking care of me while you’re still healing.”
“Hey.” Sage stepped closer. “I want to be here. I...hate sitting around.”
“How exactly were you injured?”
“I hit my head and a bullet winged me.”
Her legs wobbled. “You were shot?”
“Winged.” He led her to the chair and pulled over a rolling stool, sitting in front of her. “I don’t remember much.”
She cupped his cheek. He’d been shot and he’d still come to the hospital—for her. “Will you be all right?”
“Absolutely.” His gaze dropped to the floor.
Was he lying?
Her mother was wheeled back into the room and a nurse followed in her wake, so she couldn’t press him.
“Dr. Laster is admitting your mother,” the nurse said. “We’re working on the paperwork.”
“When will she wake up?” Carolina wanted her mother back.
“She mumbled on the way back to the room. That’s good.”
Carolina took her mother’s hand. “Hey, Mamá. I’m here.” She leaned closer. “Come back to me.”
There was weak pressure on her fingers.
“Mamá?” Carolina squeezed again. Hope coursed through her body like a shot of adrenaline. “She squeezed my fingers.”
“That’s great,” Sage said, smiling.
Carolina held her mother’s hand until an orderly came to take her to Intensive Care. “Thank you,” she said to the nurse.
“You bet, honey. I hope your mama wakes up soon.”
Sage took her hand as they followed her mother’s gurney down the hall. His touch whisked away the worst of her stress.
A nurse met them at Intensive Care. “You can wait there.” She pointed out a small waiting room. “We’ll get her checked in. Then I’ll come get you.”
“That’s the way of hospitals. So much waiting.” Sage headed to the small coffee maker. “Do you want coffee or tea? There’s decaf.”
“Sure.” She picked out a tea bag and poured hot water. He poured a cup of coffee.
“Can you drink coffee this late at night?” she asked, tossing her tea bag.
“The caffeine helps with the headaches.”
“Are they back?”
“They don’t ever leave.”
This was something she could do. She pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
“Okay?”
She began with his shoulders.
He put a hand on hers. “You don’t have to do this.”
“It will take my mind off my mother.”
“And I get the benefit.” He leaned forward, giving her better access to his neck and shoulders. “It seems wrong.”
She let her mind go blank as her fingers dug into his muscles and tendons. His groans guided her hands. “I do this for my mother, too.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one.” Without her mother, she’d have no family.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Sage’s words were loose and ran together.
“Just me.”
“Dad?”
“Dead.” Her pain cranked up. She pushed too hard and he stiffened.
“I’m sorry. My dad died when I was five.”
“I was five, too.” Not that it was a competition. “Do you have more family?”
“My mother—she’s a rock. And two older brothers.”
“You’re lucky.” If something happened to his mother, he’d still have his brothers. “Where do they live?” she asked.
“Texas.”
“Texas? You don’t have an accent.”
“My dad was in the army. We lived on different bases. After my dad died, we moved to my grandparents’ ranch.”
“A ranch.” She moved in front of him and massaged his temples, glad his eyes were closed. “I can’t imagine that.”
“It was great.” His face softened as he smiled. Under her fingers, the tension in his face eased. “I like being around the steers.”
“But you joined the FBI.” And left his family. “Why didn’t you stay to run the ranch?”
He cringed again.
“Sorry.”
“No.” He touched her hands. “It’s... All the men in the family are heroes. I want to be just like my dad and my brothers. Being on the ranch...” He shrugged.
“Heroes?” What did that mean?
“My dad’s a Medal of Honor recipient. Posthumously.”
“I’m so sorry.”
The nurse waved from the doorway. “She’s all settled.”
The hallways lights had dimmed since they’d followed her mother’s gurney up to the floor. If it wasn’t for the beeping monitors and the IV tubing, her sleeping mother would look peaceful.
“She’s in good hands.” The nurse patted Carolina’s shoulder. “You should go home and get some sleep.”
“What if something happens during the night?” Carolina chewed her thumbnail. “I’m twenty minutes away without traffic.”
“We’ll call.” The nurse walked to a whiteboard. “What’s your phone number?”
Carolina recited it.
There was nothing more to do but say good-night. She brushed a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mamá.”
She wouldn’t cry. Mamá needed her to be strong. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
Sage had held back, letting her say goodbye. Now he took her hand. “Are you okay to drive?”
She nodded. But she wasn’t sure.
“I wish I could take you home.” He guided her to the elevator. “But I’m not cleared to drive.”
“How did you get here?”
“Uber.”
He’d made an effort to help her. She swallowed back the gratitude filling her throat like a river. “Thank you. Let me drive you home.”
“Not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.” She pointed the direction to her car. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s your mother in the hospital. How are you?”
She frowned. “You’re avoiding my question.”
Sage waited for her to unlock the car. Then he slid into the passenger seat. “It’s always there. The headache. But your magic hands pushed the pain back. Thanks.”
“What do the doctors say?”
“My brain needs to heal.” He slammed the seat belt together. “I’m not good at waiting and I can’t stand sitting around.”
Who could? But Carolina knew there was going to be a lot of sitting and waiting in her future. “I hope coming to the hospital didn’t set you back.”
“That’s more walking than I’ve done in a while,” he said. “But it’s good since I can’t work out.”
“Let me know if I can do anything for you.” She would make the time for Sage. “Where am I going?”
“River Street.” He fired off directions, since she’d never driven these one-way streets before.
As she parked in front of a warehouse condominium, he unbuckled his seat belt. “I’d like to invite you to up to my place.”
“I can’t.” But she didn’t want to leave him, either. He kept her—calm. “I really appreciate you coming to the hospital.” How many times had she said that already?
He slid closer. “I want to see you again.”
She could see the kiss coming.
He stopped inches from her face and asked, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.” Her single word was a whisper.
His lips were gentle. Sweet. Light pressure with a little scrape from his stubble.
“Nice,” he murmured, brushing kisses on her cheeks and eyes.
“Yes.” Her hands rested against his chest. “Really nice.”
Sage leaned in. His tongue licked the seam of her lips, seeking entrance.
She opened and stroked his tongue with hers. He tasted of coffee and mint and something dark and sexy. His chocolate-citrus scent made her want to sip at his lips, kiss his eyelids and nibble on his collarbone. She gripped his shoulders, the muscles hot under her hands.
He tipped her head and buried his fingers in her hair.
She fell hard into their kiss, wanting to explore the firm body beneath her fingers. “Sage.”
He pulled her closer.
Pain slashed her chest as her seat belt locked in place. “Ooh.”
They laughed.
He cupped her cheek. “I guess your car is trying to tell us something.”
That she should take him up on his offer to come up to his apartment?
“I can meet you at the hospital in the morning,” Sage suggested. “Maybe we could have breakfast nearby?”
Guilt had her sitting back behind the wheel. While kissing Sage, she’d forgotten about her mother. “I’ll have to see what’s happening.”
“Sure. Sure.” He brushed another kiss on her lips, this one sweet and soft. “Will you let me know when you get home? I don’t want to worry that you didn’t make it.”
Had anyone ever cared if she got home safely? Not even her mother. Mamá had always been worried about how her arrivals and departures affected her own life.
She couldn’t think that way. Her mother was dying.
She touched Sage’s cheek. “I’ll call you.”
* * *
CAROLINA HADN’T CALLED. Sage had fallen asleep when he’d hit the bed, but this morning there hadn’t been any calls or texts in his log. And she hadn’t answered his phone call this morning, either. Damn.
He’d moved too fast. Shouldn’t have kissed her. What had he been thinking?
He’d been thinking she was—incredible. He wanted to spend time with her. Find out what made her smile or cry. And he wanted to help her. Because sometimes she seemed lost.
It was after one in the afternoon. He shut his laptop. Even five minutes looking at the screen had his head pounding. The letters danced and doubled if he looked too long.
Picking up his phone, he scrolled to Carolina’s number. But her last words had been I’ll call you.
He tossed his phone on the coffee table. There had to be something he could do. Sitting around was driving him as crazy as a rattlesnake in a stampede.
Since reading intensified his headache, he pushed up from the sofa and headed to the window. For now, the sun glinting off the river didn’t shoot shards of glass into his brain. He slipped open the slider and stepped outside. The Savannah heat and humidity was a shock. His body kept expecting the dry Texas prairie winds.
Next week he had an appointment with his doctor. Maybe by then he’d be able to get back to work. Sitting around was more painful than his headaches.
Muffled laughter floated up to him from brave people sitting on restaurant patios along River Street. How could they stand the heat? A woman waved from the deck of a boat as it motored down the Savannah River.
This sucked. He went back for his phone. He would call Carolina. All she had to do was tell him she couldn’t be bothered. That the kiss they’d shared last night had been a fluke.
It hadn’t been a fluke for him. Finding Carolina was like finding a long-lost friend. ’Course when he touched her, he wasn’t thinking friendly thoughts. Not with all the gorgeous hair and those eyes that carried so much sadness. He wanted to wrap her up and tuck her away from the pain of her mother’s cancer.
He hit Dial.
“Sage?”
“I thought I would check on you.” He corrected himself. “Did you...have any trouble getting home?”
“Oh, shoot. I promised to call.” Carolina sounded upset.
He waited.
“My phone was dead when I got home. And I fell asleep before I could access your number.”
“No problem.” At least she hadn’t blown him off. “How’s your mother?”
“The hospital woke me early. She’s conscious, but she had two more seizures during the night.”
Now he felt like a heel. “Is she okay?”
“She wants to go home.” He heard her sigh over the phone. “We’re waiting on her oncologist for a family conference.”
That didn’t sound good. “Is there anything you need? Food? Clothes?”
“That’s so sweet.”
Sweet? He wanted heroic. He rolled his eyes. Pain made him regret the action.
“I think I’m good. Ever since they called, I’ve been on the run and haven’t looked at my phone.”
“If you’re there through dinner, I could bring you food.” What restaurants were near the hospital? Or there must be a cafeteria.
“I... I guess I’m hoping I can bring Mamá home today.”
“Of course you are.” Idiot.
“Could I call you after we meet with the doctor?” Was her voice trembling? “Would that be okay? Unless something else comes up for you.”
“That’s perfect.” The words flew out of his mouth. He didn’t want her changing her mind.
“I’ll do that. The doctor’s supposed to be here in the next half hour.”
He sure hoped she wasn’t putting him off. “I’ll wait for your call.”
* * *
CAROLINA COULDN’T KEEP the smile off her face. Sage was the one good thing that had happened since she’d arrived home. She was about to the tuck the phone back in her purse, but noticed the voice-mail icon. Shoot, it had come in last night.
She poured hot water over her tea bag. As long as she was in the waiting room, she’d listen to the call.
“Hi. This is Abby Fitzgerald. I’d like to offer you the job. Give me a call when you get a chance. I was hoping you could work a short shift on Thursday for training.”
Carolina stared at her phone. She’d gotten the job.
No! She didn’t want to work for Abby.
With Mamá ill, it was too long a drive between Savannah and Tybee. Her mother needed her.
She started to hit the call button but Dr. Laster entered the lounge.
“Hi,” Carolina said.
“Hey.” The doctor poured a cup of coffee. “Looks like we had the same idea. Shall we head to your mother’s room?”
“Sure.” She tucked her phone away. She would call Abby and turn down the job after she took Mamá home.
“How are you, Rosa?” Dr. Laster asked as they walked into the hospital room.
“I’m so tired.” Mamá pushed the button on the bed and sat up. “What happened?”
“You had seizures last night and this morning.”
“Seizures?” Her mother frowned.
Carolina’s chest tightened. She and Mamá had already talked about this.
“It’s okay if you don’t remember.” Dr. Laster patted her mother’s leg. “The neurologist has prescribed medication, but we’ll need to monitor you. I’d like to keep you in the hospital while we do that. We can begin your first treatments here.”
“In the hospital?” Rosa grabbed Carolina’s hand. “Can’t I go home?”
“You’re safer here. I’d rather you didn’t have to come back via ambulance.”
Carolina wanted her mother to be safe. “What if you fall or have a seizure and I’m not around?”
“But...” Rosa closed her eyes and inhaled. “I hate hospitals.”
“Who doesn’t?” Dr. Laster smiled.
“I’ll bring your pretty robe and whatever you need from home.” Carolina forced a cheerful tone into her voice. “We can make the room nice.”
“Nice?” Her mother snorted.
Yikes. Her mother didn’t snort.
“We can. Flowers will brighten up the room.” Carolina should have brought her mother flowers.
“I want my bird.” Her mother pointed her finger at Carolina. “Don’t forget my bird.”
Carolina would like to purge the bird from Mamá’s memory. She didn’t want stolen property sitting in her mother’s hospital room for all to see. Why was the bird the one thing Mamá wouldn’t forget? “Sure.”
“Staying here is best for you, Rosa,” Dr. Laster insisted.
“It won’t be for long, will it?” Rosa asked.
“A couple of weeks. Maybe more. I’d want to make sure the medication stops the seizures before you start the radiation treatments. Then...we’ll see how it goes.” The doctor glanced at Carolina.
A chill ran through Carolina’s body. We’ll see how it goes? She tucked her trembling hands under her thighs. With her mother listening, she couldn’t ask Dr. Laster whether Mamá would ever go home.
Dr. Laster talked about lab work, medication and getting her mother’s weight up before treatment started. Carolina should be taking notes.
Her mother nodded off.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Carolina asked as she and the doctor headed out of the room.
Dr. Laster nodded. “I know this is a lot to take in.”
“You didn’t sound certain that my mother would leave in a week or two.” Carolina stared into Dr. Laster’s kind blue eyes.
“Honey, I don’t know that she will get out very soon. We have to stop the seizures. Then we can start treatments.”
“And she has to gain weight.”
Dr. Laster nodded. “She’ll need reserves.”
“So this might be three or four weeks?”
The doctor nodded.
Her plan to turn down Abby’s job offer faded like the final note in a sad song. If she took the bartending job, she could spend the day with her mother and then head to work.
She didn’t have to like it. She just had to make money. Because a long hospital stay was going to hurt—financially.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)
“I’M BORED,” CAROLINA’S mother complained. “I hate it here.”
“I know, but staying in the hospital is for your safety.” Carolina tucked a black tank top into her black skirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mamá closed her eyes. “I want to go home.”
She brushed a kiss on her mother’s fragile cheek. “Don’t you remember, you had another seizure this morning?”
And two last night. The neurologist was still trying to stabilize the dosage on her mother’s meds. It was already Thursday. Why couldn’t the doctors fix this?
“I don’t remember those...episodes.” Mamá refused to say “seizure.”
“It’s okay.” Carolina remembered for both of them. “I need to get to work. First night, remember?”
Her hands clenched into fists. She hated the idea of working for Abby, but she was counting on making great tips. Even after getting rid of her mother’s car lease, the credit card balances were staggering.
Mamá’s eyes went sly. “Bring me back something.”
“It’s a restaurant.” Carolina chose to misunderstand her. “Do you want a dessert or something else?”
The nursing staff had encouraged her to bring in treats, anything to get Mamá to eat.
“I want all the birds.” Rosa stroked the cardinal Carolina had brought to the hospital.
“Mamá.” She glanced around, but no one would understand what they were talking about. “I can’t.”
Her mother pouted. “I’m in the hospital.”
“I won’t be in the house,” Carolina whispered.
“But the restaurant’s on the property.” Her blue eyes drilled into Carolina’s. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to go.”
At the nursing station, one of the nurses stamped her parking pass. At least she didn’t have that added expense.
As she headed to Southern Comforts, her body was as tight as a piano string. Every bump on the street made her vibrate. She hadn’t worked behind a bar in almost a year. Hopefully the customers wouldn’t ask for a cocktail she couldn’t make.
In the parking lot, Carolina wedged her small car between two SUVs. When she entered the restaurant’s kitchen door, it wasn’t quite three o’clock. A few people were in the kitchen, but it was a blonde woman who looked up and asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’m Carolina Castillo. The new bartender.”
“Cheryl Forester. Abby asked me to get you set up.” She held up dough-covered hands. “I’d shake your hand...”

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