Page 234 of Boyfriend of the Hour

I didn’t totally understand everything that was wrong with him, but caught some critical words. “Blunt force trauma” was one phrase. “Substantial internal bleeding” was another.“Exploratory laparotomy” was the last, which Nathan said basically meant they were cutting into Mike’s stomach to figure out what was wrong and hopefully fix it.

Several hours later, the rest of my family arrived via helicopters from New York and Boston. Nathan and I were both dressed in the hospital’s best scrubs (he looked a whole lot more at home in them than I did), and everyone was equally exhausted and terrified as we continued to wait.

I had barely been able to speak to Lea. Or maybe had been too scared. This was my fault, she was going to say. Had I never been involved with these people, her husband would be safe and sound in his bed right now. We’d all be home, right where we belonged, were it not for my stupidity.

“Joni?”

I looked up from where I had unknowingly cowered into Nathan’s shoulder. My man glanced between us, then gently unwrapped me from his arms.

“All right?” he murmured as I sat up.

I swallowed, still looking at Lea.

My sister nodded. There was nothing angry in her features. Nothing to be scared of.

And even if there were…I was going to take it. I owed her at least that much.

“It’s fine,” I told Nathan. “We just need a minute.”

“I’ll get some more waters, then.”

He left, and Lea came to sit down beside me.

“Mattie told me what happened on the boat,” she said.

I nodded. As soon as we arrived at the hospital, there had been several police waiting for us to take statements. Gunshot wounds—even ones going straight through a shoulder—required it.

Carrick had made himself scarce as soon as his statement was on record, but I was glad he had stayed if only to providecorroborating evidence. My brother, the former prosecutor, had apparently already gotten access to the statements and given the rest of the family our story so that I didn’t have to.

Lea shook her head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“You’resorry?” I gawked. “Lea, it’s my fault. It’s just like you said—if I hadn’t gotten involved with those guys, they wouldn’t have come after Mike, and?—”

“Joni, stop,” Lea said. “I read the report. I know that’s not true. Just like I know this thing goes beyond Mike and a few stolen cars. Or even beyond Mattie’s old job. These are bad men, and bad men do bad things. We were just unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire. And maybe brave enough to stand up to them.” She took my hand and squeezed. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you either. And by that, I mean that Mike would actuallybedead, and so would you, and…oh,God.”

Suddenly overcome, Lea shoved a hand over her face and sucked in a few pending tears. My sister never cried. Once for each of her children. Maybe a mild sheen at a wedding. But that was it.

“Even if—” She glanced over her shoulder at Tommy, who was now playing a game on her phone, then continued in a lowered voice. “Even if the worst happens, I just want you to know. It’s not your fault. I never should have blamed any of this on you. And I love you. You’re a good sister, Jo. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that more.”

Now it was my tears that were fighting to the surface. I didn’t bother to stop them as I pulled Lea to me.

“I love you too,” I whispered fiercely. “Always.”

“Mrs. Scarrone?”

We broke apart, and everyone turned to the doctor who had just entered the room, his surgeon’s cap still on. His facelooked haggard and drawn, as did the young woman next to him carrying a clipboard.

A pit formed in my stomach.No.

Lea stood. “Yes?”

I stood with her, keeping her hand tightly in mine.

The doctor approached. “Mrs. Scarrone, I’m Dr. Mitchell, the surgeon who handled your husband’s laparotomy. His injuries proved too extensive, and he unfortunately died during surgery. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Lea let out a wail that filled the entire room, and she immediately fell on my shoulder. I pulled her close, wrapping my sister with whatever strength I could, letting her cry into my hair, my arms, whatever she needed as she succumbed to the loss of her husband.

Her person.