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Chapter 1

It was Linette Elgin's day off, and since she was a nurse, days off rarely came two in a row. This morning she was hustling, getting ready to walk out the door, get all of her errands over with, so she could clean her apartment and do laundry later.

The day was already hot, but it was June in Jubilee, Kentucky, which meant if you wanted to stay cool, you either looked for shade or went where there was air-conditioning. She had dressed for the weather in old jeans and a lightweight gray T-shirt with the word no printed on it in bloodred ink before she headed for the elevator. When the doors finally opened, she found herself face-to-face with Cecily Michaels, one of the women who'd rudely interrupted her first date with Wiley Pope.

Cecily looked startled, and then frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Linette said, and then saw the shock spreading on Cecily's face and grinned. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

Cecily was horrified that she'd moved into the enemy's camp and still pissed that Wiley had blocked her calls. So, being the utter bitch that she was, she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"How's Wiley?" she drawled.

Linette pivoted so fast Cecily flinched, and in the sweetest voice, put her in her place.

"Bless your heart, honey. You must be the most miserable little thing to have nothing better to do with your life than interfere in someone else's, so because I am a really nice person, this is just a friendly little warning." Then she leaned forward. "Don't fuck with me."

The elevator stopped. The door opened, and then she was gone.

Cecily was in shock and just a little bit cowed. Every woman in the South knew bless your heart was code for kiss my ass , and Linette was taller and scarier up close. By the time Cecily gathered herself and got to the parking lot, Linette Elgin was nowhere in sight, and that was just fine with her.

***

Linette had already forgotten the new neighbor and was on her way to the bank. Traffic was already getting heavy, which was par for the course in a tourist town like Jubilee, and she was grateful to find a parking place. When she entered the bank lobby, she was thinking about making meat loaf later and what she needed to get at the supermarket. She had personal business to attend to and sat down in one of the chairs outside the vice president's office to wait her turn. She was reaching for her phone when she heard a sudden commotion at the front entrance.

To her horror, three men came charging into the lobby, wearing surgical masks, waving guns, and shouting. A big heavyset man wearing gray coveralls and a Texas Rangers baseball cap issued the first order.

"Everybody down! Get down on the floor now!"

People started screaming and panicking, and one lady fainted where she stood.

Texas Ranger fired a shot into the ceiling. "Shut the hell up! Next one screams is dead! Belly down on the floor and don't look up!"

There was a mutual gasp, the quick shuffling of feet as people dropped down onto the floor, and then silence.

Linette was horrified. Her phone was in her pocket, but she was belly down and couldn't move. Mr. Trotter, the vice president she'd been waiting to see, wound up lying right beside her. She could hear the rapid, shallow gasps of his breathing and knew he was as frightened as the rest of them.

Texas Ranger shouted at the two men with him. "Get the money!" Then pointed at the tellers, who'd frozen in place behind the plexiglass windows. "All of you! Empty your tills into the bags and no funny business!"

The tellers began cramming the money from their drawers into the bags they'd been given as fast as they could.

One of the gunmen, a short, skinny dude, kept pulling up his pants and dancing from one foot to the other, then trading his gun from right hand to left hand, and back again.

Linette's best guess was that he was high on something, which didn't bode well for any of them.

"Hurry up, bitch!" Skinny Dancer shouted and pounded his gun on the counter in front of the teller.

Texas Ranger shouted again. "Who's in charge?"

"That would be me," Randall Trotter said, and held up his hand.

"Then get the hell up and open the vault," Texas Ranger ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Randall said.

"Be careful," Linette whispered, as they shared a brief look.

Randall was in the act of getting up when Skinny Dancer swung around, saw Randall getting to his feet and shouted, "He told you not to move!" and shot him in the face.

Randall Trotter was dead before he hit the floor.

More screams, then moans of dismay rolled through the lobby. Linette was in a state of disbelief. Randall's body had fallen across her outstretched arms, pinning her to the floor. She was screaming inside so loud her ears felt numb, but in actuality, she was lying in frozen silence, watching the blood pooling around his head.

"God damn it!" Texas Ranger shouted. "What did you do that for? Now how the hell are we gonna get in the vault?"

The third man, who was standing lookout at the entrance, was distracted by the disruption of the killing and didn't see the cop coming in the door behind him, but Linette did, and this time, her heart nearly stopped.

***

Jubilee police officer Wiley Pope was unaware of the robbery in progress, or that the silent alarm had been activated at the PD, until he entered the bank lobby. Within a heartbeat, his brain registered the customers in total panic, belly down on the floor with their arms stretched out before them.

The frantic expressions on the teller's faces.

And the three armed men in the act of robbing the bank.

Wiley was already drawing his weapon when Lookout Man finally spotted him, yelled, "Cop!" and fired off a shot.

Wiley ducked behind a pillar and fired back. Lookout Man dropped, and the other two robbers were scrambling, which gave every teller in sight the opportunity to hit the floor below the counters.

The robbers were firing off shots at Wiley as they scrambled for cover, and he returned fire in rapid succession.

Skinny Dancer dropped.

Wiley and Texas Ranger were the last men standing, and a heartbeat later, both aimed and fired.

Texas Ranger's shot hit Wiley's chest and sent him flying backward, while Wiley's shot ripped through Texas Ranger's shoulder, splattering blood all over the plexiglass window at the tellers' stations behind him.

The silence afterward was as frightening as the robbers' entry had been.

The three men were unconscious and bleeding on the floor, and Wiley was staring up at the ceiling, reeling from the impact and trying to catch his breath.

All of a sudden, people began screaming.

Tellers came running out from behind the counters, and a teenage boy was on the phone calling 911, unaware the silent alarm had already been triggered.

Wiley was still struggling to breathe and grabbing at his shirt when a woman ran into his line of vision.

Oh my God! Linette!

"Help…" Wiley gasped, trying to unsnap his shirt to get to the bulletproof vest beneath.

***

Linette was in a panic. From the moment the robbers entered the bank to when Wiley was shot, every dream she'd ever had for a happy-ever-after life flashed before her eyes. It seemed like a lifetime, but it was, in fact, mere seconds. She knew how deadly a chest wound would be and was up and running toward him when she realized he was tearing at his shirt and struggling to breathe.

Body armor! He was wearing a bulletproof vest! Thank you, God!

Without saying a word, she grabbed at the front of his shirt, knowing the vest that just saved him was now impeding his ability to catch his breath.

Wiley was fighting her, grabbing at her hands, when she grasped his wrists.

"Wiley, don't fight me! Relax. It knocked the breath from your lungs. Relax and it will come."

Even as he was struggling to breathe, her voice and her face splattered with blood shocked him out of his own panic, and then he realized she was mobile and talking, and he was not, so he leaned back against the pillar and tried not to pass out as she unsnapped his shirt and began yanking at the Velcro straps to loosen the vest.

His heart was pounding; the room was spinning. It felt like he'd just been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. And then all of a sudden, the vest was loosened, his lungs inflated, and he was finally able to inhale. The look of gratitude that passed between them was telling.

"I hear sirens," she said. "You're doing great, Wiley. My God, my God, you saved us."

"Check pulses," he mumbled.

Her voice was shaking. "I hope they're dead. All of them. They killed Randall Trotter and were fighting among themselves when you walked in."

He grabbed her wrist. "Check…please."

She cupped his cheek, then did as he asked, moving from body to body.

"They're alive," she said.

"Shit," Wiley muttered, rolled over onto his hands and knees, and finally staggered to his feet. His hand was splayed over the center of his chest, afraid to move it for fear he'd fall apart, while he waited for the room to stop spinning. Once he could breathe and stand up at the same time, he reached for his radio.

"Officer Pope reporting. Attempted robbery at Jubilee Bank. One bank employee dead. Three perps down, but still have pulses. I took a shot in the chest. Suggest haste."

Aaron Pope was on patrol when dispatch notified them of a silent alarm at the bank. As they were responding, they also heard Wiley radio in.

"Holy shit," Officer Bob Yancy said, giving his partner, Aaron, a quick glance.

Aaron's gut was in a knot. "At least he's alive and conscious enough to make the call."

***

But inside the bank, Wiley was already in containment mode, trying to get everyone away from the perps without passing out in front of them.

"What do you need? I'll do it," Linette asked.

"Move the customers to the front of the lobby."

Linette turned around and began issuing his orders, loudly and firmly.

"Can we leave?" one man asked.

"Nobody leaves," Wiley mumbled, then doubled over as a wave of pain rolled through him. He needed to get the weapons contained, but he couldn't bend over for the pain.

Linette slid her arm beneath his shoulder to steady him and was moving him toward a chair when the police began pouring into the lobby to contain the scene. Once they had retrieved the weapons, they gave the all clear to the EMTs. After that, Rescue moved inside in teams and did what they did, readying the wounded for transport.

Aaron came in running, headed straight to Wiley, and then knelt beside his chair. "Damn it, Brother, are you okay?"

Linette recognized him. "Your brother was our hero. He took a bullet in the chest. The body armor stopped it, but he's hurting. Steady him. He's dizzy. I'm going to get an ambulance for him." Then she passed Wiley off to Aaron without another word and ran.

"What happened?" Aaron asked as he slipped his arm beneath Wiley's shoulder.

"They killed Trotter before I got here," Wiley said, holding his hand against his chest. "Body armor saved me. Feel like I've been hit with a sledgehammer. Can't breathe. Sick to my stomach. Perps still have a pulse."

"Stop talking, buddy," Aaron said. "We'll figure it out," he added and started walking Wiley toward the door.

At that point, Linette sped back into the lobby. "The first ambulances are here. Walk him out. They're waiting to take him to the ER. I'm staying here to help."

Wiley started to thank her, but she was already gone.

Aaron helped him out of the bank and loaded him up into the back of an ambulance.

"Don't tell Mom. She'll fuss," Wiley said.

"You don't get to choose," Aaron said. "She'll kill the both of us if I don't. I'll get there as soon as I can," he said, then stepped back as they closed the doors and took off to the hospital. At that point, he called home.

***

Shirley was mopping the kitchen floor when her cell phone rang. She saw Aaron's name on caller ID, leaned the mop against the wall, wiped her hands, and then answered.

"Hello, honey. You caught me in the middle of mopping. What's up?"

"There was an attempted robbery at the bank. Wiley walked in on it. He's okay, but on the way to the ER. He was wearing his body armor but took a bullet in the chest. It never penetrated, but he's hurting. Just wanted you to know."

"Oh my God," Shirley said. "What about the bank robbers?"

"He took down all three of them, but they'd killed Mr. Trotter before he got there. The perps were all still alive when we got to the bank and are in the process of being transported to the ER. I've got to go."

"I'm leaving now," she said. "Thank you for calling me. He wasn't going to, was he?"

Aaron chuckled. "What do you think?"

Shirley sighed. "Right. Does B.J. know?"

"Not yet, but I'm calling him next," Aaron said, and disconnected.

At that point, Shirley dropped her phone in her pocket and took off through the house to Sean's office while Aaron was calling their youngest brother. He was the head pastry chef at the restaurant in the Serenity Inn, and most likely elbow-deep in sugar and flour, but he had to let him know.

***

As Aaron predicted, B.J. was in the hotel kitchen when his cell phone rang. He started to let it go to voicemail, and then noticed it was from Aaron and stepped out into a hallway to answer.

"Hey, Aaron. What's up?" he asked.

Aaron repeated everything he'd just told their mom.

B.J. was stunned. "He shot all three of them? Are they dead?"

"No. They were all still breathing when the EMTs transported them."

"Is he conscious?" B.J. asked.

"Yes, and talking once he was able to breathe again."

B.J.'s eyes welled. "All this shit was happening while I was baking bread."

"And I was sitting in a police car on patrol. And Mom was mopping the floor, and Sean is likely in his office, and that's how life works. Don't go there. We live our lives by our choices until we're done. Wiley is damn good at what he does. He saved a bunch of lives today, okay?"

B.J. took a breath. "Yes, okay. It's just overwhelming to think about. I'm not sure if I can get away. I'll call Mom first, and if he's in trouble, I'll be there. Thank you for letting me know."

"Of course. Just take a breath for Wiley, and one for yourself. I'm sure he's okay. I walked him out to the ambulance myself."

"Right," B.J. said, but the moment he disconnected, he called his mom.

***

Within minutes of receiving the message, Sean and Shirley were in the car and heading into Jubilee, with Sean behind the wheel and Shirley riding shotgun. They'd barely left the driveway when her phone rang. She glanced at caller ID and then answered.

"Hello, honey."

B.J. was shaking inside, but trying to hold it together. "Aaron just told me what happened. I'm not sure I can get away without bringing the whole pastry line to a halt. Will you tell Wiley I'm saying prayers and let me know if he's not okay?"

"Of course. Sean and I are already on the way into Jubilee. Wiley was wearing his bulletproof vest. He'll be bruised and hurting, but I'm sure he's going to be fine. I'll keep you updated, okay?"

"Yes, okay. Love you," B.J. said.

"We love you, too. Go back to work, and I'll call you when I know details."

"Thanks," he said, then hung up and hurried back into the kitchen, waved at three of his sous-chefs, and pointed at the timer. "Get the pans ready. The rye dough is on its last proofing. And this time, remember to braid the loaves before you set them to rise. The dough for the baguettes is also ready, and for the love of God, delicate cuts, delicate cuts on the baguettes this time. Last time they looked like they'd been run through a guillotine. I want them as perfect as that diamond in your fiancée's engagement ring, understand?"

"Yes, Chef!" they all echoed and jumped to obey, while B.J. fretted that he was here and not there with the rest of his family.

***

By the time the ER staff had Wiley's upper body devoid of clothes, the contusion on his chest was turning a deep shade of purple, and they were moving in a portable X-ray machine to check for broken bones, followed by a CT scan to check for internal bleeding.

Blood tests on the wounded men revealed high contents of meth, which explained the manic behavior they'd exhibited. They were all still alive as they were being taken to surgery, and if they survived, they would be moved to a prison ward for recovery, then to court to face charges of attempted bank robbery, murder, and the attempted murder of a law officer. They were going nowhere fast, and the coroner was on his way to Jubilee, while outside the bank, officers were stringing crime-scene tape across the sidewalk.

***

Sean and Shirley Pope walked into the ER and straight to Wiley's exam room. His chest was bare, revealing the dark-purple contusion. They'd raised the head of the bed to make breathing easier, and Police Chief Sonny Warren was with him as they entered.

When Sonny saw Wiley's family walk in, he waved them over.

"Shirley. Sean. I was just commending Wiley for the body armor. He's going to be miserable for a few days and will need to rest. He'll also be off duty until the doctor releases him."

Shirley nodded, then walked straight to Wiley's bedside, kissed his cheek, then eyed the spreading bruise in the middle of his chest. But for the vest and the grace of God, he could have died today.

Wiley patted Shirley's arm. "I'm okay, Mom. Just a cracked rib and a bruise that hurts like hell, but as you always say, ‘This too shall pass.'"

Shirley cupped his cheek. "I honor you and the job you chose, and I'm so grateful you're okay."

"You and me both," Wiley said, then grinned at Sean. "So, I had to get shot to get you out of your cave."

Sean grinned. "I had no idea you were yearning for company, considering all those women you have on speed dial."

Wiley frowned. "They've been blocked."

Shirley's eyes widened. Something had happened, but now was not the time to ask.

Sonny Warren decided it was time to make an exit. "They're getting his release papers ready. I am assuming you will take Wiley home. Wiley, we'll get your patrol car back to the lot and your personal car back to your house. Consider yourself clocked out until further notice, and take care of yourself, Pope. I don't want to lose you."

"Thanks, Chief," Wiley said.

Moments later, Sean's wife, Amalie, appeared, wild-eyed and breathless as she hugged Sean, then hurried to Wiley's bedside. There were tears in her eyes and her voice was trembling. The bruising on his chest was shocking and the pain in his eyes was visible.

"Wiley, honey! I heard gunshots from my office. I didn't know until then that the bank was being robbed. I didn't know you were in the middle of it. Then they wouldn't let any of us out of the building until they'd cleared it for accomplices. I'm so sorry you were hurt. What can we do to help?"

Wiley patted her hand. "I'll be okay, but thanks for caring. I am one lucky dude. I have the best family."

"Do you want to come home with us for a few days?" Shirley asked. "At least until you're a little more comfortable?"

"I'll be okay, Mom, but thank you for the invitation. However, I won't say no to receiving home cooking you care to share."

Shirley smiled. "That, I will gladly do."

A short while later, Wiley was waiting for his release papers when Linette appeared in his doorway.

"Hey, you! Come talk to me," he said.

She hesitated, eyeing the family around him, then slipped past them to get to his bed.

"What's the verdict?" she asked.

"Cracked rib. Big-ass bruise. They're getting the paperwork ready to sign me out." Then he reached for her hand. "Thank you for everything. You are one cool lady under fire. Please tell me none of that blood is yours."

She glanced down at the gray shirt with the big red no and realized the word was a good statement for the hell they'd lived through.

"It's not mine. It's Mr. Trotter's."

Wiley frowned. "I'm so sorry. And this isn't how I imagined introducing you to my family, but you already know my brothers. This is my mom, Shirley Pope. Mom, this is Linette Elgin. She was in the bank, and the first one I saw coming toward me after I was shot."

Linette smiled at Shirley. "We've met. I was Sean's nurse when he was shot."

"Oh yes! I remember," Shirley said. "And here you are again, helping another one of my sons. We are so grateful."

"We're the ones who are grateful," Linette said. "He saved our lives." Then she realized Wiley was still holding her hand, and gave it a squeeze before turning loose. "I should go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I went home. Take care of yourself."

And then she was gone.

Wiley sighed. Other than the bank, this was the first time she'd spoken to him since their disastrous first date a year ago, and with family all over the place, he couldn't say what he wanted to say.

And then a nurse came in with his release papers, followed by an orderly with a wheelchair, and he was on his way home.

***

Aaron's wife, Dani, had been in Bowling Green when everything happened, and by the time Aaron found time to call her, she was already on her way home. She met him at the door when he got off work that evening, wrapped her arms around him, and held him without speaking until he could talk without choking up.

"Is he okay?" Dani asked.

"He will be. He has a big contusion on his chest and a cracked rib, and feels like shit."

"Everyone's saying he saved a lot of lives," Dani said.

"It appears so, but they killed Mr. Trotter before he even knew it was happening.

"Why was Wiley even there?" Dani asked.

"He went in to tell them someone had damaged their ATM."

She shuddered. "Go shower and get out of uniform. Supper is almost ready."

Aaron tunneled his hands through her hair and kissed her. "I won't be long," he said, and took off up the hall as Dani went back to the kitchen to finish up their meal.

***

Linette's plans for the day were over. She was on the verge of coming undone as she drove home, and as fate wasn't through ruining the day, Cecily Michaels was right behind her, loaded down with grocery bags, when she got on the elevator.

Linette saw the look of horror on Cecily's face and rolled her eyes.

"Get in. I'm not going to kill you. Someone tried to rob the bank. I was there when it happened, and I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

Cecily entered the elevator in disbelief. "Is that your blood?"

"No. It's Mr. Trotter's. He's dead," Linette said.

Cecily blinked, and then said nothing more.

Linette didn't know there were tears rolling down her face and wouldn't have cared. The doors closed. She pressed the fourth-floor button and then leaned against the wall, exhausted emotionally and physically, as the car began to rise.

She got off on her floor without looking back and headed for her apartment, but was sobbing by the time she unlocked the door. The familiarity and the silence were a blessing as she headed straight for the laundry area and stripped. She tossed everything she'd been wearing into the washing machine, then made a beeline for the bathroom.

As a nurse, she considered herself capable of setting aside emotions to deal with emergencies, but today had been different. It was going to be a long time, if ever, before she forgot the sound of the bullet ripping through Trotter's head, shattering bone and brain, then seeing Wiley lifted off his feet and falling backward from that shot in the chest.

She started to take a bath, and then opted for the shower instead and turned on the water. It ran cold before it got hot, but it didn't matter. She just needed to be clean.

Before she went to bed that night, she scrolled through her contact list, glad she hadn't deleted Wiley's number after all, and sent him a text.

I know you're hurting. Don't be a tough guy. Take the pain pills and thank you again for what you did today. You saved a lot of people's lives, including mine.

***

Sean and Shirley stayed with Wiley until they were certain he was able to get up and down on his own, and left him to rest with a promise to be back tomorrow with food.

Finally, the house was quiet, and Wiley didn't have to think or talk. The pain pill he took was kicking in when he stretched out on the bed to sleep. He woke up a couple of hours later when his phone rang.

Pain rolled through him as he reached for it, then waited for the pain to pass before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Wiley. It's me, B.J. Is your extra key still under the frog statue on your back porch?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because I'm coming over, and I don't want you to have to get up to let me in. I'll be there in about five minutes, okay?"

"Okay," Wiley said, and then laid the phone back down without noticing he had other messages.

Minutes later, he heard his brother coming in the back door, then moving through the house to his bedroom. The worry on B.J.'s face was evident as he walked in, then pulled up a chair beside the bed.

"Wipe that look off your face. I'm okay. At least I will be," Wiley said.

B.J. leaned back in the chair, managed to smile, and then shook his head. "Huff and puff all you like. I'm staying the night with you."

Wiley frowned. "What the hell for?"

"For the hell of it," B.J. countered. "And I brought food."

"Well, all right then," Wiley said, but he was secretly glad not to be on his own. He didn't like being helpless, but he was close to it. "What time is it?"

"After six," B.J. said. "And I'll be leaving early in the a.m., so I won't mess up your beauty sleep, and be glad it's me and not Mom. She was already fretting until I told her I was coming. She would have been up every hour, on the hour, feeling your forehead for a temperature."

Wiley chuckled, and then groaned as he reached for his chest. "Shit. Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"I know how to be an asshole. It's the least I can do," B.J. said.

Wiley stifled another laugh and groaned again. "Evidently," he muttered, and eased himself upright, then swung his legs off the side of the bed.

"Where are you going? What do you need?" B.J. asked.

"I'm going to wash up and eat what you brought. I'm starved, and I'm not supposed to be taking the pain pills on an empty stomach."

B.J. helped Wiley stand. "Are you okay to get around on your own?"

Wiley nodded.

"Then I'll be in the kitchen," B.J. said.

The food was good, but the brotherhood was better. B.J. was still the same little brother inside, who now towered over all of them in height. He didn't pry. He also didn't comment over the fact that Wiley had shot three men today, or that he was also the hero of the hour.

Instead, he served up a second bowl of gumbo to Wiley, along with another hot crusty slice of a buttered baguette for dipping.

Finally, Wiley put down his spoon and put a hand on his chest as he leaned back in the chair. The cracked rib was as painful as the contusion area from the impact of the bullet, but his belly was full, and the room had quit spinning.

"Thank you, little brother. That was so good. I guess I should have said a prayer of thanksgiving before I ate, but I have too many drugs in me to think straight right now."

"Today, I am most thankful for the person who invented body armor," B.J. said. "The rest goes without saying."

Wiley grinned. "I have a question."

"What?" B.J. asked.

"Are you as big a wiseass in the kitchen as you are off the leash?"

B.J. shrugged. "I hated being yelled at when I was a sous-chef. I never saw the point in being loud, or being a jackass to people. So, I don't yell. I don't curse. But I have been known to point out the error of their ways in terms that illustrate my disgust or dismay, without hurting their feelings."

"Like how?" Wiley asked.

"Oh, I don't know…like the sous-chef that showed up last month. First day on the job, he's cutting off pieces of dough for French baguettes, and rolling them to size to set in the baguette pans to proof. They were abysmal, and I walked over to where he was working and quietly told him they looked like limp dicks and were never leaving my kitchen."

Wiley burst out laughing, then grabbed his chest and his stomach at the same time.

"Oh lord, that hurt, but the laugh was worth it! What did he do?"

"He just whispered, ‘Yes, Chef,' without looking up, pulled the dough out of the pan, and the rest of them turned out fine. Now, I think you've been up enough for today. I'll help you in and out of the shower, then into bed. If you want to watch TV, you can do in lying down."

Wiley didn't argue. "You sound like Mom."

"We all still answer to her, and I don't want to be on her bad side. I promised I'd take care of you, and you're going to have to deal with it."

"Understood, and I'm too miserable to argue."

A short while later, Wiley was stretched out in bed again, fresh from a shower and satiated from the food in his belly. He'd taken another pain pill and B.J. pulled up the covers and handed him the TV remote.

"I'll be across the hall in the pink room," B.J. said.

Wiley grinned. "It was already pink when I moved in. Mom offered to decorate, and I didn't want to, so that's what she picked out, and I'm fine with it."

"It's all good. I was just teasing you," B.J. said. "Besides, I've never slept in such a girlie room in my life. Maybe it will speak to my feminine side."

"So says my Harley-riding brother who spent all of high school in silver-studded black leather and Wrangler jeans with the knees worn out."

B.J. shrugged. "It was a phase. Sleep well, and give a shout if you need me. I'm leaving the doors open between us." He headed out of the room, then paused in the doorway. "I am so very glad you're still alive, Brother," he said, then turned off the light and walked out.

Wiley closed his eyes. Moments later, tears rolled from the corners and onto the pillow beneath his head. All he could think was, So am I .

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