CHAPTER 9

The call came at 2:17 a.m. I answered on the second ring because my brother was the only person left who could still reach me in the dark. "Rosie."

His voice was weak. I was already sitting up. "What happened?"

"They're moving me to ICU."

My feet hit the floor. "Why?"

"They changed something in the treatment protocol. My numbers dropped too fast."

I grabbed the first shirt I could find. "I'm coming."

"There's something else."

I stopped. "The trust."

My hand tightened around the phone. "What about it?"

"They said the upgraded treatment is covered, but the authorization needs to be renewed."

"By who?"

Silence. I already knew. "Sheriff," Liam whispered.

I closed my eyes. The man I had spent days trying not to think about was suddenly standing between my brother and the treatment he needed. "I'll handle it."

"Rosie…"

"I said I'll handle it."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said softly, "You don't have to forgive him just because he helps me."

My throat tightened. "I know."

I hung up.

By the time I reached the clinic, the sun was beginning to rise. Sheriff was already there. He stood at the nurses' station in a dark sweater, sleeves pushed to his elbows, signing papers. He looked up. Our eyes met. Neither of us spoke.

I walked straight toward him. "Is the authorization done?"

He nodded. "They're starting the new protocol."

"Good."

I turned to leave. "Rosalie."

I stopped. "I didn't come here to talk about us."

"I know."

"Then don't."

He lowered his eyes. "I won't."

I walked away. For the first time since our marriage ended, he did exactly what I asked. And somehow, that hurt more than if he had argued.

Liam looked smaller when I entered his room. The machines around him seemed too large for his body. I sat beside him and took his hand. His eyes opened slowly. "You look terrible."

I stared at him. "You're in intensive care and you're insulting me?"

His lips lifted. "You're still my sister."

I laughed under my breath. "Unfortunately."

He squeezed my fingers. For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. Then he looked toward the door. "He's here?"

I nodded. "Did you talk to him?"

"No."

"Good."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because you're angry."

"I have every right to be."

"I know."

He looked at me. "But don't make decisions about your whole life while you're bleeding inside."

My chest tightened. "You're supposed to be the sick one."

"Exactly. So listen to me while I still have the strength to be annoying."

A weak laugh escaped me. Then his expression softened. "Rosie…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the trust."

I shook my head. "Don't."

"If it wasn't for my treatment—"

"Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened to my marriage."

His eyes became wet. "I know you gave up a lot for me."

I squeezed his hand. "You're my brother. I would do it again."

"But would you?"

The question caught me off guard. He looked at me carefully. "Would you really?"

I didn't answer. Because I didn't know. I had sacrificed my career. My independence. My marriage. And somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that sacrificing everything was what love looked like. Maybe that had been my mistake.

The door opened. A doctor stepped inside. "The new treatment is responding."

My entire body loosened. "His numbers are improving?"

"Yes."

I closed my eyes. For the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe. When I opened them again, Sheriff was standing in the hallway. He wasn't looking at me. He was speaking quietly with the doctor.

I watched him for a moment. Then I looked away. I didn't want to care what he was doing. But when the doctor returned a few minutes later, she handed me a folder. "Mr. Vance has authorized continued emergency coverage for the remainder of the trust period."

I stared at her. "He did?"

"Yes."

"Does he need my signature?"

"No."

"Then why are you telling me?"

The doctor smiled gently. "Because your brother is stable now, and I thought you'd want to know."

I looked toward the hallway. Sheriff was gone. Of course he was. He had helped without waiting for gratitude. That should have made it easier to hate him. Instead, it made everything harder.

I stayed with Liam until he fell asleep. Then I walked outside. Sheriff was standing near the entrance. Waiting. Not approaching. Just waiting. I stopped several feet away. "You renewed the authorization."

"Yes."

"You didn't have to."

"I did."

"No."

He looked at me. "You didn't have to do anything for me."

"I wasn't doing it for you."

The answer surprised me. He continued quietly. "Your brother needs the treatment."

I looked away. "Thank you."

The words felt strange coming from my mouth. He nodded. I turned to leave. "Rosalie."

I stopped. "I know thank you doesn't mean anything else."

I looked back at him. "It doesn't."

"I know."

There was no anger in his voice. No attempt to change my mind. Just acceptance. I walked away. But halfway across the parking lot, I stopped.

For three years, I had wanted him to choose me. Now he was finally choosing to do the right thing. And I hated that I could feel the difference. That night, I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser. The silver lotus pendant was still inside the box. I picked it up.

The metal rested cold against my palm. I remembered being seventeen. A frightened boy. A promise. A future I had once believed was waiting for me. Then I remembered the hospital. His voice. Marie in his arms. My hand reaching after him.

I closed my fingers around the pendant. For one moment, I wanted to put it back where it belonged. Not in the drawer. Around my neck. I almost did. Then I remembered why I had taken it off.

I placed it back in the box. Not because I hated him. That would have been easier. Because I still loved the man I had believed he was. And that was far more dangerous.

I closed the drawer. My brother was alive. My career was coming back. My life was finally becoming mine again. But tonight I understood the real cost of looking back. Sometimes the hardest person to leave behind wasn't the person who hurt you. It was the person you had once believed would never hurt you.

I turned off the light. And for the first time, I didn't ask myself whether Sheriff still loved me. I asked myself something far more frightening. If he changed now, would I still be able to walk away?