hadn’t been home—much less near Eastwick General Hospital—in a blue moon and then some. But the structure hadn’t noticeably changed since he was a kid. He’d have known his way around even if his family hadn’t donated a wing or two over the years. Critical care was the isolated unit off the third floor in the back—the location chosen because it had a helipad on the roof.
The CC wing was quiet. The sound of machines and monitors made more noise than the patients. Lights dimmed after nine. He didn’t immediately see a nurse or doctor, so simply hiked past each glass-doored cubicle, looking for his sister. The unit held only ten beds, usually more than needed even in emergency circumstances. Six beds were filled—not one of them with his sister.
Finally he found a doctor emerging from the last door. “I’m Garrett Keating. I was told my sister, Caroline Keating-Spence—”
“Yes, Mr. Keating. She was here until late this afternoon. We just moved her a couple hours ago to a private room.”
“So she’s better.” For that instant, it was all he wanted to hear.
“You’ll need to speak with her doctor, but the nurse will tell you her room—”
More rigmarole. More running. He took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator—he’d never been good at waiting, and there wasn’t a chance he could pretend to be patient tonight. Room 201. That’s where they told him to go. A private room with a twenty-four-hour monitor. Garrett suspected the monitor meant that either his sister wasn’t out of the woods yet or that they feared she’d try suicide again.
Even the nurse hadn’t specifically used the word suicide, but Garrett immediately knew what she hadn’t said—because he knew his sister. This last year, once she’d mended the breach with her husband, Caroline had seemed solid and happy, not as fragile as she’d been for so long. Yet Garrett knew her. How the baggage of their childhood had affected her. How deeply she felt things. How fiercely she hid those feelings.
Some people would never buy the farm, but Caroline was always someone who couldn’t quite close the gate to depression.
He scraped a hand through his hair and suddenly halted outside 201. He felt as if he’d been running hell-bent for leather for hours, which was fine but not how he wanted his sister to see him. He forced himself to stand still for a few minutes, pull it all together, concentrate on pulling off an image of calm strength.
A nurse buzzed past him. Then two aides. He took a step toward the door, when suddenly a woman walked out of Caroline’s room. She almost ran straight into him—would have if he hadn’t instinctively reached out to steady her.
Her head shot up. A mane of silky dark hair fell to shoulder length, framing a cameo face—elegant bones, huge eyes bluer than violet, a pale mouth with the lipstick worn off.
Her striking looks would have ransomed his attention even if he didn’t know her…but he did.
Her name didn’t pop into his head in that second, probably because, hell, his mind was gone after these past stress-packed hours. Yet stress or no stress, he immediately remembered her eyes. He remembered kissing her. He remembered dancing in the grass at midnight, remembered laughing…the way he never seemed to laugh with other people, not then or now. But she was different. She’d made him laugh. Made him fall harder in love than a crash.
Of course, that was aeons ago.
A lifetime and more.
“Garrett,” she said gently. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Emma.” He’d known her name all along. It was just that the memories had rushed into his head faster than the prosaic facts. “You’ve been with my sister?”
“Yes. It’s past visiting hours, but…” She hesitated. “I think no one wants to leave her alone. Your parents were here until about a half hour ago. In fact, I just stayed in the hall—but I heard her talking, realized she was upset. So when I saw them leave, I went in. I didn’t know what else to do. Except try to be there for her. She’s fallen asleep now.” Again she hesitated. A wisp of a smile softened her face. “It’s good to see you.”
“Not under these circumstances.”
“No. In fact, I remember your saying you’d never come back to Eastwick if you could help it.”
He remembered that suddenly, all too well. It was why he’d broken it off with her all those years ago—because he’d rather give up anything, everything, than live in this damn town. But that was how he’d felt at twenty-one, an age when everything was an ultimatum. An age when you assumed you didn’t need anyone ever. An age when it was so amazingly easy to be self-righteous.
Now he looked at Emma and thought she’d grown into her looks. She used to be lovely, but she’d gone far beyond lovely now. She was wearing blue pants, a dark cotton sweater. Dressed comfortably for a hospital visit, nothing fancy, but her choice of clothes showed off her long, lean body. There was pride in her posture, in her eyes. A poise she’d never had as a girl.
A loneliness.
She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but then shook her head. “You’ll want to go in to see her. And I’m just leaving—”
“Emma, if you wouldn’t mind…”
She cocked her head.
“I do want to see her. Right now. But if she’s fallen asleep, could you wait just a couple minutes? I’d appreciate hearing your impression of what the situation is—”
“Her doctor can tell you the facts. I really don’t know—”
“I’ll get all that. But I’d like the opinion of a friend. That is, if you can spare the time? I realize it’s already late.”
“Of course I can spare the time,” she said.
Again she offered him a smile. A smile like a gift—that’s how he used to think of smiles and laughter from her. She’d given him so much, so freely from the heart. Every moment with her had been like discovering something he’d never known he’d missed.
Just seeing her face brought that feeling back.
But then, of course, he strode in to see his sister.
Two
Emma paced the hallway outside Room 201, glancing at her watch every few minutes, thinking that she shouldn’t stay. It wasn’t as if she were direct family, not to Garrett or Caroline. She had no real business being here. She was just a friend. And she couldn’t help feeling awkward because of her history with Garrett.
But then he stumbled out of Caroline’s room, and her breath caught just looking at him.
He wasn’t that brash, sexy boy she remembered, the one whose kisses made her knees knock, made her pulse zoom, made her feel like a woman for the first time. But damned if the look of him didn’t send a crazy rush straight to her hormones.
He’d looked like Keanu Reeves as a boy. He was still tall and lean, still had the dark hair and magnetic eyes. Wearing an Italian suit and linen shirt, he radiated sophistication—even as rumpled and exhausted as he obviously was. Even whipped,
