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Silence cocoons us. Need and deep, penetrating loss rise in my veins. A thousand wishful memories pass through my mind.

Leo.

Sunday mornings in bed. Teaching him how to surf. Coffee and croissants at my favorite Venice Beach café. Private smiles and wordless glances full of meaning. Walking our dog. Because of course we’d have a dog. Fights and forgiveness and hunting for the perfect surprise birthday present for his son.

Loving him. Being loved.

These last thoughts are the ones to break the camel’s back. A sob tears free; long-suppressed emotion hurls forth. The hunter becomes prey as fear barrels through me. Fear for my father, Jameson, and myself. For Kinsey, Callum, Nix, Tiffany, Preston, Declan. For our futures, for our precarious, precious lives.

I feel it. All of it. I know it’s fear because of the metallic taste in my mouth. Because I remember tasting it when Jameson and I opened the door that rainy night to two police officers.

Leo holds me tighter, harder, his arms a wall of false hope. My heart breaks again. More. Differently. Because I gave Leo Chastain what I’ve given no man before him—the unmitigated truth of myself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly, fiercely. “If I could have found you in another time, another place…”

Is he saying…?

Hope soars.

Then it plummets.

“I’ll miss you,” he finishes. “Please be happy. Your heart is too big and beautiful to be hidden away.”

The words are said with finality.

A farewell.

PART 2

THE FLIGHT

28

NEW WORLD

“So, uh, you looked pretty cozy with your therapist in the car. You guys were all whispers and cuddles most of the drive.”

I ignore Jameson and focus on the electric buzz of a nearby vending machine. My head feels like it’s been through the blender, pounding out retribution for sobbing all over Leo. As much as I would have welcomed them, there were no cuddles or whispers. At least none in line with what Jameson’s probing for. Leo was Leo—professional, kind yet fierce, and brutally honest.

“No more accidents or stunts, Amelia. When you feel overwhelmed, remember that feelings aren’t facts. The storm will pass. Always. Find something that brings you happiness and give it all your passion.”

No suggestion of seeing me again, no asking for my phone number or slipping me his. No response other than platonic, doctorly affection. I almost hate him for his superhuman ability to ignore what happened between us.

Almost.

What’s really strange is I don’t feel the urge to jump off a cliff or out of an airplane right now. I don’t feel like maxing out a credit card or surfing big waves or skipping town for life as a beach bum in Puerto Vallarta. I actually did that once, and it wasn’t nearly as glamorous as I’d imagined.

“Are you going to talk to me or just stare at the wall?”

“Stare at the wall.”

“It speaks! Hallelujah!”

My lips twitch, too tired to smile. The fluorescents are starting to get to me, pulsing in my periphery, as is the long day of waiting around the hospital. We’ve been in our dad’s room off and on over the last hours. He’s on a lot of drugs and not really conscious, but he did open his eyes long enough to see us and smile.

“Thank you, Jaybird,” I whisper, dragging my eyes from the vending machine to his face. “For shipping me to that place. I’m sorry for everything I put you through. Especially the last couple of years.”

He nods, scanning my features. “You’re welcome. Dr. Chastain didn’t tell me much, but he did say you remembered everything.”