Chapter 1

I had returned to the night my wife brought Stefan Pryce and his son through the door.

The boy hid behind Colette Harmon, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "The school's doing a parents' day, and I need a mom. Dad says I'm just a kid with no mom."

I got up without a word and went to the closet to pack a suitcase. "Have the driver take you. I already put outfits together."

On our wedding anniversary, Emmett Pryce spiked a sudden fever. Colette rushed out in the middle of dinner while our son was holding up his cake, ready to blow out the candles.

I steadied his trembling hands. "Your mom had to go. I'll make a wish with you."

The guests praised my generosity and called me a model husband. No one saw the bruises on my son's palms from pressing them against the table.

After the party cleared out, I crouched down to straighten Felix Cavell's crooked bow tie. He tilted his face up, calm in a way no child his age should have been. "Dad, Mom can't be with us again today, can she?"

I looked at him. "If you want to cry, go ahead. You don't have to hold it together for her."

He shook his head, and his small hand reached up to touch my cheek. "If you're not crying, I won't cry."

That was when I realized my own face was already streaked with tears.

The memories from my past life clung to me like a second skin.

That year, it had been Felix's birthday too. Stefan had shown up in tears, saying Emmett was having nightmares and would only fall asleep with Colette beside him. I lost my temper and threw them both out.

Colette screamed that I was impossible, slammed the door, and went after them. She did not come home that night.

The next day, Felix collapsed at school. His heart had given out. By the time he reached the hospital, it was too late.

The doctors said they could have saved him if it had been caught sooner, if he had undergone surgery in time.

Meanwhile, Colette had been at the amusement park with Stefan and Emmett. She would not even answer her phone. When I could not cover the cost of surgery, I knelt outside her office building and begged. She sent security to drag me away.

"All this groveling and you still can't hold a candle to Stefan."

The day Felix died, Dunmore was buried under a blizzard. I held his cold little body and sat in the hospital corridor through the night, until I had no tears left and nothing left inside me.

I sold everything I owned. Then, I went to the roof of Colette's building and jumped.

When I opened my eyes again, it was today.

Felix tugged at my hand. "Dad, I heard Mom's phone ring earlier. I think the hospital said... they found a matching heart."

My chest seized.

In my last life, that same call had come, but Stefan had claimed Emmett was having chest pains and convinced Colette to take him to the hospital first. By the time they were done, the heart had gone to another patient.

This time, I would not let it happen again.

I called Colette. The phone rang for a long time before she picked up, the blare of amusement park music drowning out her voice. "What is it?"

"The hospital called. They found a heart that matches Felix."

I forced every ounce of urgency I had into my voice. "Come back now. We need to get him admitted."

The line went quiet for a few seconds. Then, Stefan's voice came through, thick with tears. "Am I... Am I causing trouble for you guys? Emmett got scared on the roller coaster, and his heart is racing now. Colette insists on taking us to the hospital to get him checked."

I froze for only a second, then said, "Then, get him checked. But Colette, you need to come home now. This is Felix's life."

Her voice went flat. "Reid, it isn't easy for Stefan, raising a child on his own. Emmett might have a real heart problem. I'll drop them off at the hospital and come straight back. The heart isn't going anywhere."

I gripped the phone until my knuckles ached. "Organ transplants don't wait. If we miss this window, there's no telling when the next one comes."

"Stop being dramatic." She hung up.

I stood there, feeling cold all the way through.

Felix wrapped his arms around my leg and looked up at me. "It's okay. We'll wait. Mom will come back."

The way he said it—so measured, so careful as to not be any trouble—nearly broke me in half.

In my last life, he had been exactly the same. Lying in his hospital bed, he was barely strong enough to whisper, "Don't blame Mom, Dad. She just wanted to help Emmett."

Yet who was going to help him? He was seven years old. His life had barely begun.