Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

C AL TUCKED THE container of cookies under his arm, plastered on the best "I'm okay. Really" expression and stepped into the hospital. He'd figured he would see people he knew, and he was right. The seeing started almost immediately.

Jenny Bell, a longtime nurse at the hospital and his late mom's best friend, was crossing the lobby. She spotted Cal and made a beeline toward him. With each step she took, her arms opened wider, her smile broadened, and once she reached him, she gave Cal a bear hug.

"There you are," Jenny gushed. "I heard you were back in town and hoped I'd see you." She let the hug linger a few moments before she pulled back and met his eyes. Cal hoped he'd succeeded in his attempt at looking calm.

"It's good to see you, Mrs. Bell," he said.

She kept staring, kept smiling, though she did take it down a notch. "I heard about your engagement. Figured it was malarkey," Jenny added in a whisper. "But my lips are sealed. You and Charlotte did a fake-a-roo to convince old man Becker to sell his place, right?"

"My lips are sealed," Cal repeated, adding a grin that he figured would cause Jenny to giggle. It did.

"Well, it worked," Jenny went on as if he'd confirmed the fake-a-roo. "Word's all over town that Becker caved after his come-to-Jesus meeting with that bad fall he took yesterday when you and Charlotte were at his place. Is that why you're here, to see the old geezer?"

Cal nodded. "Is he allowed visitors?"

"Sure is." Jenny hooked her arm around him and got him moving toward the hall with the patients' rooms. "Not that he's had many. Only Charlotte and Sally Daughtry, who's the real estate agent."

Good. Well, not good about the few visitors, but good that things seemed to be moving along with the sale. Cal had worried that Becker might renege on his life-pact once he'd had some time to think. Twenty-four hours in a hospital bed would give him plenty of thinking time.

Of course, if Becker had waffled, Charlotte would have almost certainly let Cal know. Since the accident, Cal and she had stayed at the hospital until Becker had come out of surgery. After they'd parted ways, there'd been lots of text exchanges with Charlotte keeping him updated about the sale and Becker's condition.

There'd also been some restless hours.

On Cal's part, anyway.

He blamed those blasted fake kisses—which hadn't felt the least bit fake to him. He'd gotten lost in the last one on Becker's porch. Lost and hot. Not a good combo when it came to Charlotte.

"I was so sorry to hear about Harper," Jenny went on as they walked. "You doing okay with that?"

Figuring he couldn't pull off a convincing lie, Cal went with a sound that could have meant anything. Thankfully, Jenny didn't push him. But that didn't stop Cal from thinking about Harper. That included being reminded of the visit he had with her therapist. He checked the time: it was scheduled to be in less than a half hour. A half hour, and he'd no doubt have to hash and rehash things he wished hadn't happened. Hard to unwish through a lifetime of junk when that junk was wrapped up with all his other memories.

At least the visit wouldn't be taking place at the San Antonio facility where Harper was a patient. Cal had instead arranged to have Dr. Kentrell come to Emerald Creek. Not to the ranch. He hadn't wanted his family in on that. Instead, he was meeting Harper's therapist at Charlotte's law office. It wasn't exactly neutral ground, but since her office was closed today, it would at least give him some privacy.

"Well, if you want to talk about any of it, I'm here for you," Jenny said, stopping outside a door. Becker's name had been written on a little dry-erase board attached to the wall. "If you want to talk about Noah, too. I'm hoping he's okay with the fake-a-roo engagement?"

No need for a sound this time. Cal nodded. "He is."

Or rather he would be okay with it if he knew about it. Noah was all wrapped up in his new life but would probably applaud the pretense since it'd been put into place to allow Charlotte to start something new as well, with Port in a Storm.

"It was good to see you," Cal said, giving Jenny a hug before he knocked on Becker's door.

"If you gotta come in, do it," Becker grumbled. "But if it's not important, leave me the hell alone." Obviously, Becker was back to his usual self.

After Jenny wished Cal luck, he stepped in and immediately spotted Becker in the bed. Not a pretty sight. The man's head was bruised and bandaged, and his leg was in some kind of elevated sling. Cal could see the bandage there, too, that covered his surgical incision.

Becker had already opened his mouth, maybe to continue being ornery, but his expression changed, and he seemed to throttle back. Maybe because he remembered that life-pact deal.

"Donnelly," he said with a lot less venom than usual. "Charlotte told me you had Jack. How's she doing?"

"Good." And that wasn't a lie. "I took her to Saddlebrook, and she's been getting a lot of attention." Mainly from Leo, who was thrilled at having a dog to play with, but some of the ranch hands were also enjoying it.

Becker's forehead bunched up. "Well, don't give her too many treats and spoil her rotten."

"I won't." Cal set the cookie stash on the bed next to Becker. "From Maybell. Snickerdoodles. Unless maybe you think you shouldn't have too many treats, either." He reached as if to take back the cookies.

"No," Becker was quick to say, and he slid his hand over the container. "Tell Maybell I said thanks."

"I will," Cal assured him, and he tipped his head to the sling. "So what's the verdict? How long will you be in here?" Cal already knew the gist of it from Charlotte, but he wanted Becker's account of it.

Becker's forehead did more of that bunching up. "At least a week, and then they're clamoring on about moving me to a rehab center. A stupid name," he grumbled. "Makes me sound like I use drugs, and I don't. I'll be there to get physical therapy."

That meshed with what Charlotte had said. Apparently, the therapy would be needed to help him walk again, and because of Becker's age, it wouldn't necessarily be a speedy recovery. Or perhaps even a complete one.

"Well, don't worry about Jack," Cal said. "I'll take care of her as long as needed."

Becker eyed him with skepticism. "What about when your leave is up? I figured that wouldn't be more than a week or so. What happens to Jack then?"

No way did Cal want to get into the whole deal of leave and his separating from the Air Force. "My brother Blue will watch her. And Maybell." Cal tacked on that last bit not only because Maybell would indeed volunteer to help but also because he thought it would please Becker.

It did.

The man smiled a little. It was sort of creepy and looked unnatural on his craggy face, but it confirmed something Cal had suspected: Becker had a crush on Maybell. Or maybe the crush was for the woman's superior cookies.

"Closing on my place is in two weeks, maybe less. I'm not sure how I'll get my house cleared out by then," Becker went on a moment later. "Charlotte said she'd help with that, that maybe I could supervise the move by looking at her computer while everything's packed up. I don't like the sound of that, but I also don't want to delay the sale, and Lord knows when I'd be able to get back to do it myself."

"I'll help, too," Cal assured him, and then frowned. Help would likely mean more close contact with Charlotte, and his gut instinct told him he should be distancing himself from her. And he would. As soon as the sale was final.

So why did that only deepen his frown?

Because he was stupid, that's why.

"I'll use the money from the sale to pay off some stuff," Becker continued. "And I want to buy a camper trailer. I've got a cousin outside of Austin who said I can park it on his land."

Becker didn't exactly seem thrilled about that, but Cal didn't hear or see any hint of the man backing out. Good. Because the sooner the sale went through... He stopped, frowned again and didn't bother to swear to himself that he would start distancing himself from Charlotte.

And speaking of Charlotte, Cal's phone dinged, and he saw her name pop up on the screen. But this wasn't an update about the sale or Becker.

Dr. Kentrell just arrived early. No need for you to hurry. I can show her the plans for Port in a Storm to make sure it'll have what Harper needs.

Yeah, the therapist would no doubt be interested in that, but Cal didn't want Charlotte to have to entertain the doctor. It was best to get this appointment over, and then he could deal with the aftermath.

There would be an aftermath. No doubt about it.

"I have to go," Cal said after he replied to Charlotte that he was on his way. "But if you need anything, just have one of the nurses call Saddlebrook." That was a better option than leaving his number, since Becker didn't own a cell phone. "Oh, and I'll thank Maybell for the cookies."

Becker opened his mouth again, but then he waved off whatever he'd been about to say.

"I'll also tell Jack you said hello," Cal said on a guess, and judging from the man's nod, he'd hit the nail on the head.

Cal smiled at Becker's obvious devotion to his dog, muttered a goodbye and headed out. Charlotte's law office wasn't far, only about six blocks away, but Cal didn't want to risk being stopped for chats along the way, so he intended to drive straight there. His plan went south, however, when he went into the parking lot and saw a man waiting by his truck.

Harper's dad, Paul.

Hell, Cal had figured this meeting would happen sooner or later, but it wasn't the best time. Then again, maybe no time was best, and it was long overdue.

"Mr. Johansen," Cal greeted him.

The man didn't respond, not verbally anyway, but he kept his hard stare on Cal. "Got your note you left on my door," he finally said. "I'd been meaning to call you or something, but I just didn't get around to it. I got an appointment for a checkup in a few minutes, but when I saw you coming out of the hospital, I decided now was as good a time as any for us to talk."

Cal didn't pick up on any immediate bitterness, but it had to be there. Paul had essentially lost the version of his daughter that he'd tried to shape and mold. Of course, the shaping and molding had never been a high enough standard for the man, but that wouldn't matter. He had lost his daughter, and he probably wanted someone to blame.

Cal was more than willing to take that blame.

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to Harper," Cal stated, and despite Paul's indecipherable body language, Cal went closer. If Paul punched him, then he'd take that, too. In fact, it might feel damn good if Paul took out his anger on him.

"Yeah," Paul said, his tone still not conveying a whole lot. But then, he glanced away, fixing his gaze on the roof of the hospital. "Have you seen her since she made this mess of herself?"

"Briefly," he muttered, repeating the response he'd given Charlotte.

He considered telling Paul that he was on his way to see Harper's therapist and that might end up with an arrangement for Cal to see her, but he didn't want Paul horning in on that meeting. Especially since Cal wasn't sure what the therapist wanted to say to him.

"You've seen her?" Cal asked.

Paul grunted in a way that confirmed it. "She can't talk. Can't walk. Hell, she can hardly move, and she just stares off into space when I tell her she shouldn't..."

He stopped, waved that off, and it seemed to take him a couple of seconds to regroup. "Nothing I say gets through to her, but that's my problem, not yours. I just wanted to let you know that I got your note. And thanks for saying you're sorry for my daughter's screwup," he muttered. With that, he turned and walked away.

Cal didn't even consider going after him since he was reasonably sure there was nothing he could say to the man that would help. Nothing he could do. And with that dismal thought racing through his head, he got in his truck and made the drive to the law office.

Since the drive was indeed a short one, he didn't have much time for his body to settle from the impromptu meeting, but he figured that wasn't the last he'd see of Paul. After all, they lived in the same small town. During those future meetings, Cal was certain he'd be doling out more apologies, and while they'd be heartfelt and would slice him to the core, his words wouldn't help.

A mountain of apologies wouldn't get Paul back his daughter and wouldn't fix Harper the way Paul wanted. But maybe Harper could be fixed in other ways, and that's why this meeting with the therapist was so important.

He parked behind a sleek silver Audi that was in turn behind Charlotte's Fusion. The moment he stepped out, he spotted the Sorry, We're Closed sign on the door, and through the window, he saw Charlotte and a tall brunette woman peering at the plans that Charlotte had on her desk.

He stepped in, the jangling bell alerting the women, who both turned in his direction. The mood for the day was apparently uneasiness since both had that in their expressions. Cal figured there was plenty of it in his, too.

"Dr. Kentrell," Cal greeted, and he shook her hand when she extended it to him.

"Lieutenant Colonel Donnelly," she greeted right back.

"Cal," he offered, though part of him wanted to keep this strictly professional. She must have as well, because she didn't offer her given name. "Thanks for agreeing to this meeting in Emerald Creek."

"No problem," she said. "Thanks for seeing me."

The politeness didn't settle Cal's nerves one bit. The same for Charlotte, who fluttered her fingers toward an office. "You two can talk in private in there if you like."

The doctor glanced at both of them. "It might be beneficial for you to hear what I have to say. I mean, since I know Harper and you are friends."

Charlotte shrugged. "We were when we were kids, but we grew apart after high school. Actually before that," she admitted. "My dad ran off with Harper's mom when we were sixteen. We didn't exactly avoid each other after that, but we quit connecting."

"I think that's possibly true for all of Harper's friends," Dr. Kentrell admitted. "And that's part of the problem. Normally, I like to involve a client's family and friends in the therapy, but so far, the only person who's come to see her has been her father." Her mouth tightened a little. "I'd like for her to have visits that are of a more positive nature."

Cal groaned. Apparently, Paul was at it again, and those bullying tactics wouldn't help. In fact, they could hurt.

"I'm not sure a visit from me would be a positive-nature thing," Cal pointed out to the doctor.

"On the surface, it wouldn't be," she agreed. "I can't get into the specifics of Harper's diagnosis, but I'll give you the broad strokes. I believe her anger is impeding her recovery of her mental state and of her speech and mobility, and that she needs to start facing some of that anger." She looked directly at Cal. "Just seeing you could be the jump start she needs."

"Or it could set her back," he quickly countered.

The doctor sighed. "Possibly. But I don't think so. Her recovery has stalled. In fact, there's regression in some areas."

That gave him another gut punch. From everything he'd heard, Harper had a long, hard road ahead of her, and even with stellar care, she might not ever have a normal life. Then again, she hadn't had much normalcy before driving off that bridge.

"Uh, can Harper even communicate?" Charlotte asked. "I understand her vocal cords were damaged."

Dr. Kentrell nodded. "She doesn't speak, but she has use of several fingers on her right hand and can type out vocal responses either on the computer or as a text. She's also been able to draw some things with a stylus in an art app we use for some clients." She paused and took out her phone. "I took photos of some of what she's drawn, but I'm not sure what they mean, and she won't explain. I was hoping you'd be able to help."

The doctor held up the photo for Cal to see, and he instantly recognized it even though it was a crude drawing. "It's the cockpit of an F-22."

But he also saw something else. Harper had drawn it at an angle so it looked as if the fighter jet was in a nosedive. The pilot's helmet had the call sign on the back instead of the front.

" Lone Wolf ," he muttered. "That's Harper's call sign." Not exactly a flattering one since the perception was that she wasn't a team player. Then again, plenty of call signs weren't flattering. Cal's included.

"Am I mistaken, or did she draw the jet about to crash?" the doctor asked.

"You're not mistaken," Cal verified.

She nodded and pulled up the next photo. Another F-22 cockpit, this one on a steady course, though, and Cal groaned when he saw the call sign on this particular helmet. " Halo ," he said. "That's mine."

Both Charlotte and the doctor lifted eyebrows, clearly questioning it.

"Can't do any wrong," he provided. "Trust me, in that context, it's not a compliment."

Cal figured his early promotions had caused some resentment. That, and he'd had sort of a golden career. Well, he had before Harper had tried to end her life. And then there was Audrey. No one in his current squadron was going to forget that his stepmother was a two-star general with her own golden career that came with lots of pull.

"So in your picture, all is well, and in hers, she's crashing," the doctor summarized. She met his gaze. "I see that as positive. Harper's not aiming any ill will at you."

Cal wished he could agree with that. Or that the insight made him feel better. It didn't. Then again, there wasn't a lot that was going to make him feel good at the moment.

"There's a third picture," the doctor continued, pulling it up, and she showed it to both Charlotte and him.

Again, the drawing was crude, but Cal picked out four sticklike figures, trees and some water. Since one of the stick figures was sprawled in the water and had tears or some kind of drops spewing out of his eyes, this was probably a depiction of the incident at the creek when they were kids.

"That one must be me," Charlotte offered, tapping the stick figure with the long hair. "That's Noah." He was reaching out to Cal.

The fourth figure with short hair was likely Harper, and she was standing back as if observing. Cal couldn't recall if that's what she'd done that day, but he doubted it. It seemed to him that all three of his friends had come rushing to save him.

"When we were eight, I nearly drowned at the creek," Cal explained, tapping each stick figure and identifying them.

"Interesting," the doctor murmured. "Was this an incident Harper talked about a lot?"

Cal had to shake his head. Charlotte did the same. "I don't remember Harper ever mentioning it," Charlotte provided. "So why would she draw it?"

"That's what I need to find out," Dr. Kentrell concluded. "If you two agree to visit Harper, I'd like for you to bring up that incident. It's possible she drew this because she wants to reconnect with you or because she saw this as some kind of important moment in her life."

Cal still wasn't convinced. "Has Harper actually agreed to us visiting?" he came out and asked.

"No." She tapped the photos. "But you're clearly on her mind. It takes a lot of effort for her to draw or do anything with her fingers. It would have been painful for her to do these, and yet here they are."

The doctor put her phone away. "I told Harper I was coming here to talk to you today and that I was going to encourage you and Charlotte to go see her. She didn't respond to that, but now that I know what the photos mean, I'll talk to her about them and then try to arrange a visit. If you're both willing to do it, that is?"

"Of course," Charlotte murmured.

Cal made a barely audible sound of agreement, but he followed it up with a firm nod. If his seeing Harper might possibly help her, then he'd do it. No matter how hard it would be. He sure as hell hadn't helped her before, but he would now.

"Good," Dr. Kentrell concluded. She shifted her attention to Charlotte. "And thank you for showing me the plans for Port in a Storm. When it's up and running, I think it'll be the right place for Harper."

"Good," Charlotte said. "If you think her room needs any modifications I haven't added, just let me know."

"I will," the doctor assured her. "Harper can physically take care of a lot of her personal needs. Showering and such. But will there be someone around if she needs help?"

"Yes," Charlotte verified. "I'll have some LVNs and nursing assistants. There'll also be a therapist on call and a personal trainer who has experience working with traumatic injuries. Do you think Harper will need more than that?"

"Maybe. But if anything comes up that you or your staff can't handle, then let me know, and I'll try to arrange for it."

The doctor seemed to want to say more. Maybe more about exactly what kind of long-term care would be needed, but that would probably get into too much of Harper's condition.

"I think we all just want the best for Harper, and that's a good start," Dr. Kentrell added.

With that, the doctor said her goodbyes and walked out. Cal and Charlotte stood there, watching as Dr. Kentrell got into her car, and Cal figured Charlotte was doing exactly what he was: trying to process what they'd just learned. Trying to figure out what Harper had meant when she'd drawn that picture of the creek.

Harper had certainly known about the life-pact between him and Noah. Was the drawing about the pact itself, or was she secretly wishing that Cal had died that day? If it was the latter, Harper hadn't voiced that over the years. Well, not until the suicide note, anyway.

"You okay?" Charlotte asked after some long moments of silence.

Cal didn't bother with a lie. "Not really." His mind was whirling, the thoughts crashing into each other. Thoughts of how Harper had been when they were kids. Thoughts of the person she'd become.

"Yeah," Charlotte muttered, and at that moment the sunlight caused the ring she was wearing to flash. "Oh, before I forget, you should get this back to your grandmother since we don't need it anymore. Please thank her for me again."

Cal looked at the ring, and sighing, he tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans.

She slipped her arm around his waist, drawing him closer until they were side to side while they continued to stare out the window. "You've got a lot to deal with right now."

"Not nearly as much as Harper," he whispered.

She made a sound to indicate she didn't quite agree with that. "If the doctor drove all the way out here, she must be devoted to helping Harper. It's only been a month, so maybe she'll end up recovering more than her initial prognosis."

"Maybe," he echoed, also echoing Charlotte's previous skeptical sound. Harper would have to want recovery, and Cal wasn't sure she did. After all, she'd drawn herself in the nose-diving F-22.

Charlotte kept her arm around him but turned to face him. No more side to side. This was body to body, and it didn't seem to matter that their centers weren't actually touching. Didn't seem to matter, either, that they were dealing with an emotionally heavy moment. Nope. Parts of him reacted. Parts of him felt the heat.

Parts of him—well, his mouth, anyway—wanted to kiss her.

"You know, this has all the makings of a rebound disaster," he spelled out.

She gave a quick nod. "It could ruin our friendship and complicate things that are already too complicated. Added to that, neither of us has time for sex and stuff."

Again, parts of him reacted. Specifically, one part that wanted to seriously disagree about them not having time for sex. His dick seemed to think it was an amazing idea.

It wasn't.

Still, Cal didn't move away from her. He just stood there like the idiot he was and continued to stare at her mouth. Obviously, over the years he hadn't felt this heat bath of lust when he'd looked at her. There'd been an attraction. No way could he deny that. Charlotte was a stunner with a good heart. A bad combo for him. In fact, it was his exact type, he had to admit.

"When you were with Noah, I didn't have these thoughts about you," Cal admitted.

"Ditto," she confessed right back, and Charlotte continued to stare at his mouth, too.

The tapping sound had them flying apart, and they both whirled toward the window to see a familiar face pressed against the glass.

Remi.

Cal groaned. Not his usual reaction when he saw his sister. Normally, seeing her would give him a jolt of joy that she was safe and home. He got a jolt of a different kind this time because Remi was giving him a What the hell are you doing? look. Unfortunately, Cal didn't have an acceptable answer.

"Remi," Charlotte called out, and she hurried to the door to open it. The moment his sister stepped in, the women gave each other hugs. All the while Remi kept her gaze on Cal.

"I didn't know you were coming home," Charlotte said.

"My deployment was delayed, so I decided to come and check on my brother." She volleyed glances at Charlotte and him. "Should I ask why you two were within a breath of kissing each other's lights out?"

"No," Cal was quick to say. He pulled Remi into a hug as well and held on for a couple of moments.

Remi chuckled when she eased back. "I heard about the pretend engagement, so I'll just assume the two of you were practicing so you'd be a convincing couple."

Neither Charlotte nor he jumped to agree. Or deny it.

That brought on a shrug from Remi, and her attention settled on Charlotte. "I was on my way to the ranch but decided to drop by here first to check on you." She paused. "Noah asked me to check on you," Remi amended.

"You've seen him?" Charlotte asked.

"For a couple of minutes." And Remi left it at that.

Since both she and Noah were Combat Rescue Officers, it was possible they'd been heading on the same now delayed deployment. Remi had chosen to spend the delay at home, but Cal suspected Noah was with Elise.

"Are you handling the breakup okay?" Remi wanted to know.

"It was a long time coming," Charlotte was quick to say, and Cal hoped that she truly did feel that way. It was possible, however, that she was shoving down her true feelings because she didn't want to deal with the pain. "Uh, how's Noah?"

"I'm not sure," Remi answered. "I only saw him for those couple of minutes after the debriefing."

Cal studied his sister's expression to determine if she knew about Elise. She did. But he didn't press her for any further info.

"So, care to guess why I decided to come home?" Remi added, looking at Cal now.

No guess required. "You heard I'm getting out of the military."

Apparently, that was enough for Charlotte to decide this was a private conversation. "I've got some calls to make about the renovations at the ranch." She didn't give them a chance to object to that. Charlotte hurried into her office, the one that Cal knew she didn't use, and she shut the door.

"Why?" Remi immediately pressed.

He figured a picture was worth a thousand words, and he took out his phone to show her the note that Harper had left. He watched as Remi read it.

Cal, the playing field is all yours now. I'm bowing out of this shitshow. No more looking over my shoulder and worrying about you besting me. No more losing to you. You win .

"Well, I can see how that would be a kick to the balls," Remi muttered.

"It was," he assured her.

She handed him back his phone but continued to study him. "And you don't think you can get past this?"

"No. This isn't something you get past."

Remi nodded. Shrugged. "You believe getting out of the Air Force will help you better deal with it?"

There was no snark or admonishment in her tone or expression, but like everyone else in their family, she was probably trying to work out how giving up his career would fix this.

It wouldn't.

"I just can't face going back to the cockpit," he spelled out. "I'm spent, Remi."

She nodded. Hugged him again. "Then, maybe you just need some time off. Or are you one hundred percent sure you want to throw it all in?"

Yesterday, he'd been positive. But today, there was doubt. And Dr. Kentrell's visit was the reason for it. She'd given Cal a sliver of hope that Harper might recover. Of course, her recovery shouldn't be the catalyst for what he did or didn't do with his career, but Cal thought he might be able to climb out of this dark hole if Harper started showing signs of getting better.

"All right, change of subject," Remi said when he didn't respond. "Want to tell me what's going on between you and Charlotte?" Now there was a smidge of snark.

Cal's initial reaction was to return the snark, but Remi would just keep digging until she got to the truth. "We've been doing the lovey-dovey act. Spending time together, touching, a chaste kiss," he spelled out.

She raised an eyebrow. "Judging from your expression, I'm guessing it wasn't chaste enough?"

Nail, hit right on the head. "Anything that could happen now would just be a rebound, and I don't want to put Charlotte through that." Didn't want to put himself through it, either.

"You're sure about that?" his sister pressed. "When I saw you two through the window, that didn't look very reboundy to me."

Cal looked her straight in the eyes and tried to make sure there were no visible doubts. "Think it through. In the town's eyes, Charlotte will always be Noah's. She'd have to live with daily gossip if she stepped out with me."

"And yet she's dealing with daily gossip now because of the fake engagement," Remi was quick to point out. "Is Charlotte getting a lot of objections about that? Are there people clamoring for her to get back with the scum-butt cheating Noah, who was too chickenshit to do his own breakup with her?"

Cal's stare turned to a flat look. "I suspect most people know the engagement is a sham. And as for clamoring, well, Izzie certainly voiced her objection to the breakup."

Remi groaned. "Izzie wants the fairy-tale image of her and Charlotte's wedding to Taggert and Noah. Image ," she emphasized. "Izzie's up for reelection, and there are some who are not so happy about her snooty ways."

Izzie could indeed have some snootiness, but Cal hadn't heard anything about her waning in the polls. Especially since the woman had run unopposed for the past two elections.

"The pitiful mayor whose husband deserted her, marrying the long-suffering widower rancher," Remi went on, "while her daughter is marrying the special forces military hero." She put the last word in air quotes. "The fairy tale loses some punch when said daughter instead has a fling with the hero's crestfallen best friend. By the way, do Izzie and Taggert know the truth about Noah?"

Cal had been about to address the crestfallen remark, but he nodded in response to the question she'd tacked onto that. "They know, but I don't think Izzie fully believes that it's over between Noah and Charlotte."

And that led Cal to another thought. He wasn't sure he believed it was over. That's why he was disgusted with these urges to kiss Charlotte. It was possible, if Noah came waltzing back into her life and asked her to forgive him and reconcile, that Charlotte would do just that. Yes, she was hurt and angry over what Noah had done, but she and Noah had been a couple for a very long time, and even the hurt and anger might not be enough for her to throw that away.

All right, now he was indeed crestfallen. And what a stupid word that was. He would have cursed that word and his rock-bottom mood, but his phone dinged with a text. It wasn't a saved-by-the-bell moment, however. Cal realized that when he saw San Antonio Rehabilitation Center on the screen.

And when he saw the message.

Harper here. The shrink said you might visit. Well, don't waste your time. I'm not worth saving, Cal, so just give the hell up.