A Healing Match

After serving overseas, former soldier Josephine “JJ” Jones needs a fresh start. And Gordon Falls is just the place. When JJ meets executive Alex Cushman, her world is turned upside down. Alex is seeking a respite from all the pressures of his multimillion-dollar business. And the beautiful firefighter might be the answer to his prayers. But a secret lies between them. One so big, it threatens to end their love before it’s even begun. Can she ever trust Alex when she finds out he may be responsible for a family tragedy that changed all their lives?

Gordon Falls: Hearts ablaze in a small town

“You should just leave.”

Alex had thought about leaving. The old Alex would have been long gone days ago. Still, he couldn’t.

He saw it, then, in her eyes. JJ was waiting for him to leave. Watching for him to betray her in the way she had been betrayed before.

“I can’t leave.”

“Why?”

“You really don’t know the answer to that?”

Her face flushed. “Why would I ask a question I know the answer to?”

JJ tried hard not to look him in the eye, but the more she dodged him, the stronger his conviction became. “Because I’m supposed to stay.” And then, even though it felt like jumping off a cliff to do so, Alex made himself add, “And because I want to stay.”

Her eyes widened, and she backed up. “Max doesn’t need you.”

“I’m not staying for Max.” He reached for her hand.

At first JJ edged out of his grasp, but when he took another step, she stilled her hand and let him grasp it. “I’m staying for you.”

ALLIE PLEITER

Enthusiastic but slightly untidy mother of two, RITA® Award finalist Allie Pleiter writes both fiction and nonfiction. An avid knitter and unreformed chocoholic, she spends her days writing books, drinking coffee and finding new ways to avoid housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a B.S. in speech from Northwestern University and spent fifteen years in the field of professional fund-raising. She lives with her husband, children and a Havanese dog named Bella in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois.

The Firefighter’s Match

Allie Pleiter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose.

—Romans 8:28

Dedication:

To Rachel

Who has overcome so much

Acknowledgments:

This story needed a hefty dose of technical support to get the details right. My thanks to fire chief Don Lay for again checking all the firefighter and firehouse facts. Lisa Rosen and Dr. David Chen from the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago were also great helps. Thanks as well to Sean Smith,

who lent me his climbing knowledge and expertise. If any of the medical, climbing or firefighting facts of this book are incorrect, the fault lies with me

and not with any of these generous experts.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Gordon Falls, Illinois

1:48 a.m.

2:36 a.m.

3:14 in the why-on-earth-can’t-a-soul-get-to-sleep morning and JJ Jones still lay as wide-eyed as if she had downed a quartet of espresso drinks.

Refusing to lie there one more minute under the false pretense of drowsiness, JJ reached for an elastic band. She pulled her long blond hair back into a resolute ponytail and stepped into a pair of jeans under her oversize T-shirt. Padding to the not-yet-familiar kitchen of her rental cottage, JJ let the summer evening breeze coming off the Gordon River soothe her annoyance.

It was a lovely place, even in the middle of the night. She could almost count her insomnia as a pleasantry here, the nights were so enjoyable.

She grinned at her brother’s handwriting, still sloppy in his brief set of “Guest Instructions” taped to the refrigerator door. They were mostly useless items with a few wisecracks like “#6. Don’t drown in the river,” and “#8. Go to the hospital if you get bitten by something you can’t identify.” Max ran his cottage and boat rental businesses like he ran the rest of his life: at breakneck speed with little thought to useful details. His talent at haphazard messes was one of the reasons she’d opted to stay in a rental cottage rather than Max’s grubby house.

She addressed the list, stained in three spots and taped back together in one corner. “I’ve seen your house. I’ve seen your life. You’d have lasted eight seconds in my unit, Max. Six, tops.”

It felt foolish to chastise an empty room, but since leaving the army a month ago she’d not yet learned how to be comfortably alone. That was why she was here: to reacquaint herself with the virtues of peace and privacy. To ease her way into settling down in Gordon Falls alongside her brother. And, if she was truly honest, to get the chronic knot out of her stomach and squelch the nonstop urge to look over her shoulder. Helping Max out by tending to his business for a month while he was off on yet another of his crazy schemes was just a temporary way to pay the bills while she got her life in order.

JJ laughed at her own thoughts. Who was she kidding? Picking up after Max’s multiple fiascoes was a lifetime gig. Jones River Sports was just this year’s verse to the same old song. She was amazed, actually, that he’d held on to the business as long as he had. The real surprise, though, was that she was actually enjoying the benefits that came with this particular scheme. JJ liked the location and thought she might really want to stay, even when Max pulled up stakes, as he was sure to someday do.

Pushing past the diet sodas on the fridge’s top shelf, JJ found a bowl of grapes and was pulling them out to snack on when she heard a tune coming in the window. She turned, not quite able to place the melody or the instrument. It was an instrument being played outside, wasn’t it? Not someone’s nearby radio? A sour note, followed by a second attempt at a melody, confirmed her guess. It wasn’t a guitar, and it wasn’t a violin, either. A banjo? No, a ukulele. She set the bowl down on the yellow Formica counter and peered out the window. It was. It was a ukulele. People still played those? In the middle of the night?

She popped a grape into her mouth and squinted harder in the direction of the dock. Max had said something about a crazy renter, some guy who paid cash in advance through a broker and wouldn’t give a name. She’d never have rented to someone acting that suspicious, but of course Max thought that was all great fun.

“Just don’t bug him and he probably won’t murder you.” That had been Max’s final instruction on the mystery renter. The creepy, nocturnal mystery renter.

Yet how creepy could a guy be who launched into a bad rendition of “When You Wish Upon A Star” at—she checked the clock with a grimace—3:21 a.m.?

Taking the big walking stick Max had given her as a parting gift, JJ slipped into her sandals to go find out.

She worked her way down the path toward the figure of a man sitting on the dock, his silhouette crisp against the yellow wedge of light thrown by the dock’s single bulb. Given the circumstances, JJ couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or annoyed that she gave the entire scene a military assessment before coming closer. Trying to ease up on the military vigilance didn’t mean throwing caution to the wind. This could be a potentially dangerous situation. People were weird, even out here in tiny Illinois tourist towns. And let’s face it—normal people don’t croon...“White Christmas” now, at 3:30 a.m. in July.

She stepped on a squeaky board and the man turned, still strumming a chord. He was her age, which surprised her. His profile was rugged, with a tumble of sandy-blond waves that were overdue for a cut. He wore one of those high-tech outdoorsman shirts but a ragged pair of jeans, and an expensive-looking watch glinted from his wrist. Could murderous psychopaths afford fine timepieces? Her military vigilance answered that: people can make themselves look like anything.

“It’s July,” she said, not knowing how else to address this kook.

“It’s snowing in New Zealand.”

“That still doesn’t make it time for Christmas carols.”

He went back to “When You Wish Upon a Star.” “I’m sorry I woke you.” He had a remarkably interesting voice—rich and deep, like a radio announcer but without all the theatricality.

“You didn’t, actually. Wake me, I mean. I was up.”

He shifted to face her and the light shone on his features. He looked like someone out of an outdoor magazine—handsome and carefree. “Another night owl?” She was startled by the friendliness in his words. He gave off the attitude of a man who played hard: rumpled, almost unkempt, but with loads of energy. A bit like Max but without the rough, destructive edges.

“Not by choice.” She started to say more, about how being up at night was often an asset in the military, but stopped herself because she knew nothing about this guy. She shouldn’t offer extra information to a stranger, even to make conversation. She wasn’t used to even wanting to make conversation. It certainly wasn’t the appropriate response to have to a potential sociopath.

He smiled—a dynamic, engaging smile that made it hard not to smile back—and switched to an ethnic-sounding tune she didn’t recognize. An owl hooted from somewhere behind her and she heard a fish jump from the river beyond him. “Been up nights since I was in college, myself. Still, I can never sleep past the sunrise even if I do manage to doze off.” He nodded toward the instrument. “That’s a Himalayan lullaby. The lady who taught it to me swore it worked, but I’ve never had much success.”

New Zealand, Himalayan mountains—the upscale gear was starting to make sense. It was easy to be carefree if you had the funds to play like that, especially at his age. He doubled back to a few bars of “White Christmas,” evidently tiring of the lullaby. She decided to try an experiment—after all, this guy had no idea she knew any of the information Max had told her. “Who are you?”

He hesitated only a moment before answering, “Bing Crosby, of course.”

“You are not Bing Crosby.”

“I had an Amazonian tribal chief tell me I had the soul of a monkey, but I’m not that, either.”

Given what she’d seen of his personality, she had a feeling it was actually a better guess than Bing Crosby. She ought to introduce herself, force his hand, but JJ found she didn’t want to. It was part fear—after all, no one knew anything about this guy other than he was well traveled and had deep pockets—and part to keep things private. Gordon Falls was still a bit of a hiding place for her. She was new enough that almost no one in town knew her past. This dock was no place to start creating unwanted conversations about what the war was like and why she wasn’t over there any longer. “Does that make me Judy Garland?” For as many nights as she stayed up watching television, she ought to have a better knowledge of old movies.

“Bing’s” smile doubled, and the man’s eyes fairly glowed. “Actually, I think that makes you Rosemary Clooney.”

JJ laughed. It felt foreign but not altogether bad. “I could do worse.”

He held her gaze for a moment before replying, “So could I.” A few chords went by before he asked, “So, Rosemary, what keeps you up at night?”

There was one of those loaded questions she’d hoped to avoid. “Too much to think about, I suppose.”

His sigh echoed across the water. “Oh, I know that tune. I suppose if we really were Bing and Rosemary, we’d be counting our blessings instead of sheep. Isn’t that how the song in the movie goes?”

“I have no idea.” She sat down on the little wooden bench that ran along the side of the dock. Being up in the middle of the night was always such a lonely thing; it was nice to have a little company.

He looked up and she followed his gaze. The summer sky was a sapphire blanket studded with stars, a glorious display. One of the benefits of being such a raging insomniac was that she got to see a lot of magnificent stars. It was nearly four; the first ribbons of pink sunrise were beginning to pour pastel colors into the night sky. The mystery man gave a little whistle of appreciation as if he’d had the same thought. “I gotta wonder, Rosemary, how many people slog through life never watching the amazing spectacle of the sun coming up?”

JJ laughed again. “Why, Bing, you sound like some kind of commercial.”

He gave a soft laugh of his own, but JJ noticed an edge to his amusement. “It’s sort of what I do. Or did. Or maybe still do.”

It was crystal clear to JJ that whatever “Bing” really did, it was a sore spot. “Which is...?”

He shook his head. “Not here. The whole point of being here is to be far away from all that.”

JJ could understand that longing to just get away from it all. Wasn’t the bone-deep craving to disappear the whole reason she was here in Gordon Falls? This man wanted peace and privacy just as much as she did. It wouldn’t be fair to call that a psychotic impulse, even if he was a bit odd. Intriguing, but definitely odd.

The first bird of morning called out across the water, and JJ stifled a welcome yawn. “Well, good night, Mr. Crosby.”

“White Christmas” wafted across the water again, a joke for the fish in the middle of July. “Good morning, Miss Clooney. Sweet dreams.” He turned back to the river and hummed softly as he played, as comfortable as if he’d lived there his whole life.

No one had said that to her in years, since being tucked into bed by her father back when she was small. It struck her in a close and unsettling way. “Yeah,” she blurted out, absolutely unwilling to say “You, too,” or any other such too-friendly reply. Now she was glad he didn’t know her name. It felt like he knew too much already.

The next night, the Beatles song “Yesterday” came in through the window just as the sun was going down. While part of her resisted, another part of her yearned to accept the musical invitation to join him on the dock. This time on the river was the opposite of everything she’d wanted to leave behind in Afghanistan, and while she couldn’t yet say why, “Bing” had become a part of that escape.

It reminded JJ of something she’d almost forgotten: that a good kind of scared existed. A person could be anxious about something good just as much as she could be terrified of something bad.

Just as she had that novel thought, the old cautions seemed to roar up with twice their strength. You know nothing about him. Clever strangers can seem all too friendly.

She stood there, listening to the music, trying to decide what to do, when she caught her reflection in the darkened window. JJ didn’t like what she saw.

Are you going to go through life like this? On guard? Waiting for trouble? Or are you going to choose to heal?

“I could probably knock him out—or knock him into the water—if he tried anything.” JJ startled herself by addressing her reflection aloud. She really was a little too freaked out at being alone these days.

Well, the music from the dock seemed to say that she should go make some new friends.

* * *

Alex Cushman stared at the path that led down to the dock, willing her to appear.

The goal of coming out here was to find some solitude, to spend time figuring out the new direction his life would take. Last night, that new direction had taken an impulsive detour.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Impulsive detours were, after all, an Alex Cushman specialty.

Tonight he’d brought a small clay fire pit out on the dock. The temptation of chocolate, graham crackers, two sticks and some marshmallows? Well, that was another classic Cushman impulse. It was one he’d wanted to share with his mystery lady. The anonymity they’d had last night transfixed him somehow. He didn’t know her name, and she didn’t know his. This trip was supposed to let him step out of Alex Cushman’s skin for a while, to lay down the frustrations and complications of who he was so he could figure out who he was supposed to be. Now that he’d met her, he didn’t want to escape alone. Come on, Lord, this had to be Your doing, so bring her back tonight. There’s something about her.

Just as he was finishing the last bars of the Beatles tune and pondering how many s’mores a grown man could eat alone and not look pathetic, Alex heard footsteps. And there she was.

“Rosemary” wasn’t anything like the kind of women who’d caught his eye back in Denver. He doubted most of his friends would call her pretty, but she had this extraordinary strength about her: a hardened, warrior quality. He found himself wondering if she softened her appearance by wearing makeup or jewelry during the day—after all, they had met in the middle of the night. Somehow, he doubted it. He got the sense that appearing soft or approachable was the last thing she wanted.

She was also way too lean—someone ought to hand her a few quarts of ice cream and coax her into gaining some pounds. Maybe that’s where the stupid s’mores idea had come from. “Hungry?” he asked, putting down the ukulele and picking up one of the two small sticks.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “S’mores?”

“It sounded clever when I thought of it.” Alex offered. “Now it’s feeling a bit, well, dumb.” He extended the second stick to her. “The only thing that will feel dumber is if I’m forced to eat these alone.”

“Mr. Crosby,” she said, narrowing one eye but taking another step toward him. “You’re a little odd, you know that?”

“If you were listening, tonight I’m Paul.” Alex tore open the package of graham crackers and began snapping them into squares before she could decline his invitation.

“I’m not going to be John, George or Ringo.” She was trying to make a joke of it, but there was an edge to her voice that let him know she didn’t trust this little game one bit.

“Hey,” he said softly, “you don’t have to be anybody.” Alex skewered a marshmallow and held it over the small fire. “I’m a torch ’em guy myself. I like my marshmallows in flames.”

He’d meant it to be funny, but a darkness flashed over her fair features at his words. It didn’t take a marketing genius to see she was out here to get away from something as much as he was. Something to do with fire—or just danger in general? Maybe. And really, was that so much of a stretch? Why else did people rent tiny cabins out on the river if not to get away from their problems?

For a minute, Alex thought she was going to turn around and leave, and he’d be sitting there, trying to figure out how he’d just insulted a woman with a single marshmallow. She was thinking about it; he could see it in her face. After a long moment, she pulled a marshmallow from the bag and positioned it on the end of her stick with entirely too much precision. “Golden brown,” she said. “No charring, just gooey.”

She sat down, hugging her knees to her chest as she held the stick over the orange embers.

“I’m Alex.” The words jumped out of his mouth of their own accord, shocking even him.

Her eyes flashed up toward him, wide with surprise before they narrowed again. “Alex for real?”

The question held an inexplicable weight. “Alex for real.” He felt exposed for no reason. He stared at her, wondering if she’d share her own name. Any such wondering was squelched when his marshmallow burst into flames, a tiny black torch burning against the darkening sky.

“JJ,” she said as he blew it out. The thing was too burned, even for him, but he knew he’d eat it anyway. Alex wondered if he’d ever know what JJ stood for or why such a thing should matter to him at all.

“You’re not really going to eat that, are you?” Behind her scowl was the barest hint of a smile.

“Blackened. The best kind.” Alex smacked his lips for emphasis as he squished the lavalike confection between the cracker and chocolate. “Savory.” He bit into it, tasting nothing but burned sugar. “And crunchy.”

JJ assembled hers with the attention of a chef. She ate it just as carefully, in strategic bites, whereas he’d just stuffed the whole thing into this mouth in one gooey-black splurge.

“You’re a careful person, aren’t you, JJ?”

She bit another precise corner off with an assessing glance. “You’re not.”

They went on for hours. Talking about little things—ice cream flavors, whether or not barista coffee was really worth the cost—and big things—why nature calmed the soul, what was going to happen to little places like Gordon Falls, why the high school version of who’d they’d be when they grew up had proved to be nothing close to the truth. The subjects seem to go deeper as the last traces of sunlight faded. Without ever speaking of it, they’d come to some sort of no-detail pact between them. No last names, no careers, none of that stuff. Wonderfully, effortlessly mysterious. A dark, luminescent bubble in the middle of nowhere.

“Alex,” JJ began, and he found himself wallowing in how she said his name, “why are you here?”

That could require another six hours of conversation. How do you explain being confounded by success, losing focus when focus was once your stock and trade? Really, what kind of person gets weary of their own supposed genius? Part of him was ready to spill it all, and part of him felt like he’d emptied out half his soul already. “I’m trying to figure out why it doesn’t all fit together anymore and what to do about it.” It was true, but nowhere near the full of it. He was here to figure out if he had to lay down Adventure Gear, the business he’d once loved and now hated. Only he couldn’t tell her that. To speak it out loud would bring that mess here, and he wanted all those problems to stay far away.

He looked at her, pleased to feel so startlingly close to her despite not even knowing her last name—or even what JJ stood for. “Why are you here?”

She sighed and looked out over the water. It was now full dark, and a perfect crescent moon cast sparkles on the water where she swished one foot into the river. “Because I don’t feel like I belong anywhere else. Anywhere at all, actually.”

He laughed softly.

She scowled. “It’s not so funny, you know.”

“No, it’s just that I’ve felt like I belong everywhere for so long, that actually sounds nice. I know it’s not—I mean, not for you—but isn’t it crazy how God skews the world for each of us?”

JJ hugged her knee again and propped her chin up, looking childlike and elegant at the same time. “So you believe in God, huh?”

Alex leaned back on his elbows and took in the glory of the sky. “I’ve seen so many amazing parts of the world that I can’t help but know He’s there. The big, grand creation stuff has always been easy for me to believe in.” He rolled his head to catch JJ’s eye. “It’s the up close and personal stuff that seems to have come unraveled lately. I’m not a guy who does well with questions and doubts.” He was grateful she didn’t ask for an explanation.

After a long pause, JJ offered, “I did, once. Believe, I mean.” Her voice was quiet, almost weary. “At least I thought I did.”

“And then?” He rolled over so that he was on his side facing her. She was fascinating. There wasn’t another word for it. Alex felt like he could stay up and talk out here for weeks.

“And then I saw too many things that made it hard to keep believing.” He knew not to press for anything further, but some part of him was grateful when, after a long pause, she added, “I was in the war.”

It explained so much. Her hard edges, the way her eyes assessed things, the weariness that seemed to inhabit every part of her. Suddenly every response he could think of sounded trite and placating.

“Yep,” she said, twice as wearily as before. “It’s always a fabulous conversation killer.”

“No, it’s just...”

“Please.” JJ held up a hand. “I’m so used to it by now. I’ve heard all the standard required replies and silence is actually a nice change.”

“I don’t know how you come back from something like that.” His own weariness, how globetrotting for adventure had lost its luster seemed downright ridiculous now.

“I suppose that makes two of us.” She got up to leave.

Alex scrambled upright. “Don’t. Please don’t go like that. Not now.” Her eyes looked a thousand miles deep, boring into Alex the way they did right now. “Two minutes. Just stay two more minutes.”

She stayed two more hours, still lingering when it started to rain. They got past the awkwardness, settling into a companionship that was as startling as it was soothing. Even soaked to the skin, it was the best night of his life.

Chapter Two

Worst day of my life.

Alex let that thought sink in as he raised his hand to knock on her cottage door two nights later. Sure, he could have called—the office had given him her cell number—but this wasn’t the kind of news that ought to be delivered over the phone. I owe Josephine Jones the dignity of hearing about this face to face. Now he knew her full name and was stunningly sorry he did. It’s going to be awful. In so many ways.

He knew she’d be up despite the excruciatingly early hour. In the days since they’d met, he had come to adore her insomnia with as much strength as he had once hated his. It was a terrible thing to lose the ability to sleep when the rest of the world could. Until JJ, he’d cursed his night-owl tendencies. For the past days, he had welcomed them.

Alex had checked the dock before heading up the gravel path that led to her house. He’d tried to tell himself that he was hoping to find her there because the peaceful surroundings might soften the hard news he carried. But he knew that wasn’t the real reason why he’d gone to the dock. He had taken the time down there to gather his own composure, to pray for the right words.

Finally, he’d realized there were no right words. Not for this kind of news. There was no easy way to admit to her what he knew, who he was, how much of the blame for this tragic news he was bringing her could be laid at his own feet.

I asked You to show me why I shouldn’t leave Adventure Gear behind, Lord. Did You have to show me this way?

He rapped gently on the cottage door, cringing as the light came on in the window he knew was her kitchen. It was still early enough for the moon to be hanging close and delicate in the brightening sky.

She opened the door with a yawning smile. “Hey. A bit early, even for you.”

He still couldn’t figure out how JJ exuded such a powerful, unusual beauty to him. So different from the usual frills and baubles. The difference struck him again as he stared at her, even as regret cut a sharp edge into his gut. She’ll probably hate me by the end of today. Maybe even by the end of this conversation.

“This can’t wait. May I come in?”

She had every right to look baffled. They’d both been out here for solitude, and though a friendship had begun to grow between them, they had kept out of each other’s private lives by mutual intuition. Really, it was the most amazing thing he’d ever known, this odd relationship he had with JJ. Their no-details pact had spawned the most powerful and deep conversations. Nature did that—pulled people into a bubble that shut out the mundane world. Alex had spent a career capitalizing on the natural world’s ability to heal a person’s spirit.

Only now it was coming back to slap him in the face. Hard.

“Um...sure. I can put some coffee on or something.”

They probably wouldn’t have time for coffee once he gave her the news. Alex was pretty sure he’d already taken more time than was wise, fishing fruitlessly for some kinder way to deliver the facts he came to share. “Don’t bother. But you need to sit down. I’ve...um...I’ve got a few things to tell you.”

JJ yanked her blond ponytail tighter—a habit of hers, he’d discovered—and led them into the kitchen. It had the sparse, uniform quality of a rental property, but he could see bits of JJ’s personality in the crock of flowers sitting in the middle of the table and a few other touches. All he knew was that she was here for the summer—he hadn’t even learned why until the call from his brother, Sam, had come. Had he known her last name, he might have made the connection to her brother and steered clear of those blue eyes. At the moment that little detail felt like a cruel joke God had played.

“What is going on?”

“My name is Alex Cushman.”

“Hey, wait, why are you telling me your last name? I thought we...”

Alex kept going, plowing through this before it hurt more. “My brother is Sam Cushman. Together we own Adventure Gear.”

Her brows furrowed. She hadn’t yet put together why that mattered, but it only took a few seconds before she said, “The sporting equipment company?”

“We supply equipment to the television show Wide Wild World.”

Her eyes widened. If she’d been sleepy before, she was wide-awake now. “The reality competition show? Where Max is?”

“Where Max is.”

“But wait, I never told you about Max. How do you know all...?” Her features sharpened instantly. “Wait...what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“There’s been an accident on the set of the show. Involving Max. I’m here to take you to the hospital because it’s pretty serious.” Pretty serious. He’d had to think for five minutes to come up with the right words to walk her up to the reality of what had happened to Max Jones.

Her hands covered her face for an instant, then went back down to fist in her lap. “He’s okay?”

Alex tried to keep his voice level and calm. He’d really hoped to avoid that question. “No, Max is not okay, but he survived and we’re arranging for him to get the best of care as fast as we can. That means you ought to pull a few things together and come with me. They’ve taken him into Chicago by helicopter, and we’ve got one waiting for you and me over in Dubuque. If you have parents who ought to come, give me that information and I’ll pass it along to the studio to arrange travel.”

“Mom doesn’t know?”

“Max only listed you on his emergency info. I didn’t know you were Max’s sister until about thirty minutes ago. I’m sorry.”

JJ shot off the chair. “Of course Max left Mom out of the loop. He’s fabulous at that.” The split-second frustration was quickly replaced with teary-eyed worry. “What happened to him?”

Alex had decided to parcel out the details of the accident in small stages, giving JJ time to cope with the catastrophe. Catastrophe. That was one of Sam’s favorite words, one Alex usually banned from his vocabulary—but it fit this time.

“Max fell during a night climb.”

“Fell? Far?”

“Yes. He was airlifted in serious but stable condition to Lincoln General about twenty minutes ago.” He was hoping that would be enough, that she would take those facts and move forward to gather her things. She didn’t budge. “JJ, we should go as soon as we can.”

He saw something click behind her eyes. She shifted gears into a harder, more precise version of herself, but she still didn’t get up. Instead, her eyes narrowed at Alex as she watched him more closely. Of course. She’d mentioned she was planning to use her experience to join the volunteer fire department here if she stayed. She wasn’t just a soldier—she must have been a first responder of some kind. She wasn’t going to let him off with a vague assessment of Max’s condition. Her eyes told him she needed as much information as he could give right now, no matter how bad.

“They suspect a spinal cord injury. He’s not conscious, and they’re going to keep him sedated while they assess the...” he hesitated to use this word but knew it was what she was looking for “...damage. Lincoln General has the best doctors for this. The show’s producers are doing all they can but right now we really should go.”

She’d been too calm up to this point. The women he knew would have lost it ten minutes ago, would be rushing in tears to the car he had outside. JJ was pulling herself inward, winding up into a tight ball of control. It worried him more than tears would, especially knowing what he did about why she was in Gordon Falls. She’d come here to escape the tension and turmoil she’d known overseas, and he’d literally brought trauma to her doorstep.

He’d almost breathed a sigh of relief when she turned toward the hallway, hopefully to gather her things. He went to make a call to the office for an update but stopped when she turned at the end of the room to glare at him with ice-cold eyes. “You’re Alex Cushman. You own Adventure Gear and you’re involved with the show WWW where Max just practically got himself killed.”

It was an excruciatingly fair assessment of the circumstances. Alex could only nod.

She made a disgusted sound that Alex felt in the pit of his stomach and left the room.

* * *

JJ had ridden in helicopters more times than she could count. She’d done things—seen things—that would make most people run in fear. Serving as a firefighter in Afghanistan had given her nerves of steel.

Or so she’d thought. As the helicopter swooped up off the ground and veered east toward Chicago, a sick sense of dread filled her. She’d been in enough crises to pick up on everything Alex wasn’t saying. Worry about her brother battled with anger at herself for feeling so disappointed in the man Alex had turned out to be. The dreamy bubble she’d cast around this stranger, this man who had captured her imagination, had now burst in the worst way possible.

When had she lost her common sense? Their avoidance of everyday topics, deliberately not sharing their identities... All that seemed beyond foolhardy now. Ordinarily, JJ was nothing if not careful.

Unlike Max. Max was a carnival of carelessness. Suddenly the jokes Mom and her late father would make, like, “It’s a wonder Max hasn’t gotten himself killed yet,” weren’t so funny. A wave of concern for her younger brother waged war with anger over having to deal with another Max-induced calamity. She leaned her head against the aircraft’s cool glass in an effort to calm her roiling stomach.

“Are you going to be okay?” Everything about Alex had shifted in the past hour. He’d lost the casual air, that look of having all the time in the world that had first drawn her to his silhouette as he sat on the dock in the moonlight. Now, even over the chopping of the helicopter blades, his voice was clipped and tight. The unmistakable tone of someone trying to manage a crisis.

“I doubt it.” She wasn’t going to give Mr. Adventure Gear the satisfaction of an “I’ll be fine.” Nothing about this was going to be fine, at least not anytime soon. A man’s mother isn’t hauled in from out of state for small injuries. Damaged spinal cords didn’t heal completely, if ever. She looked at him and leaned in. “Tell me what you know.”

“There’s not much to know just yet.”

Standard first-responder jargon. “Tell me all the stuff you haven’t told me yet. I’m not going to go to pieces.” Alex’s eyes told her he feared just that. Other people probably would in this situation. Only she wasn’t other people. “Look,” she tried again, although shouting over the helicopter noise didn’t exactly make for easy chatting. “I’d feel better with more facts.” And less coddling, she added silently.

Alex raked his fingers through his hair. “They were rappelling down the side of a cliff. Darkness, bats, all kinds of good television. Evidently you earned bonus points if you went first because no one knew what was at the bottom, and Max jumped at the chance to increase his lead. He’d been the clear front-runner all week.”

“I had no idea, but then again, how could I? You don’t allow me any communication with Max.” Technically, it was the show that didn’t allow communication—Max had shown her the pile of “do not disclose” statements he’d had to sign before the car had come to pick him up. She knew it wasn’t fair to blame Alex for what WWW had done, but the panic was yelling accusations in the back of her brain she didn’t have the energy to fight. “I didn’t even know he was in the state park...so close.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. The only reason I knew was because it was my job to make sure equipment got there. I’m not even sure Max knew he was only an hour from home. They do a good job of isolating the set.”

He was skirting the issue. “So what happened?”

“He fell. We think he may have swatted a bat and taken his hand off the break strand—I don’t know the details yet, really—but he swung far to one side and hit the platform where the camera crew was.” She watched Alex pause for a moment, crafting his next words. “His back struck the metal scaffolding.”

“Was he wearing safety gear?” Max was in the habit of skipping such equipment. In the week before he left, as he was teaching her how to rent the kayaks and canoes he offered alongside cabin and motorboat rentals, she watched him give a safety lesson five times a day to customers, then completely disregard all of it when he went out himself.

“Yes, he was. The show required it. I don’t think I’ve heard mention of any head injuries, although he wasn’t conscious when they lifted him. I do know he...hit...pretty hard. I’ll check my phone again when we land but I don’t think they really have a lot of information. I don’t want to tell you something I can’t be sure is true.”

“Yeah.” JJ fought the gruesome image of Max’s limp body being pulled from the rigging. She kept reminding herself he was still alive. But how close to death and for how long?

“Hey.” Alex’s hand landed softly on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry this happened. I’m praying for Max.”

“Sure.” The past hour’s revelations were ambushing her composure, stealing her sense of control when she needed it most. She had been just as guilty of not divulging personal information during their long dock conversations as Alex had been, but somehow it all felt like hiding to her now. Her head knew Alex hadn’t deliberately hidden his connection with WWW any more than she’d deliberately hidden her combat tour, but her gut felt cheated. Lied to, deceived, blindsided.

“They texted me just before we took off to say Max was going into surgery. You won’t be able to see him when we get there, but you should be able to when he wakes up.” He pulled out his phone to scroll down and reread the message, then looked up at her, his face cast in orange by the sunrise in front of them. “Although they are going to keep him under heavy sedation for the next twenty-four hours.”

“A medically induced coma.” JJ wasn’t a doctor, but she’d been near enough medic units to know that didn’t call for a lot of optimism.

“They didn’t use those words, but I’d guess yes.” She watched him choose to share the next fact, able to read the reluctance on his face. “The spinal cord injury is far enough up that they are worried about the use of his arms. I want you to believe me, JJ, when I say we are working with the studio to bring the very best people in on this. He’ll have the best care available—I promise you that.”

She couldn’t find much comfort in that. In Afghanistan, she’d seen burn victims given “the very best care available.” It only meant their lives were ten percent less excruciating. That didn’t seem like much of an advantage.

Alex checked his watch. “We should be there in twenty minutes.”

Her mind turned back to the secrets he had kept from her. Now all of his upscale toys made sense. His shoes were top of the line; his leather bag looked like it had cost more than her first car. It was logical that he’d own the best of his store’s merchandise, but it suddenly filled her with resentment. She was finding out something new about Alex Cushman every minute, and that didn’t feel good at all. “But you don’t work for WWW. Why are you here and not them?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He thought for a moment before answering. “Because it was the right thing to do. I was nearby and I knew you. I didn’t think you should hear this news from a stranger.”

The irony of his words struck them both at the same time. He was a stranger. She knew Alex—she’d been startled, almost frightened by how familiar he felt out there on the dock—but she didn’t know him.

“I’m not a stranger, JJ.” He’d sensed what she was thinking. “I’m so, so sorry this happened but I’m glad I have the chance to be here to help you and your family.”

Corporate sorry—the “don’t sue me” kind of sorry—wasn’t anything close to the kind of sorry that would make up for the impact this would have on Max’s life. Even if he survived his injuries, he’d be dealing with the consequences for months. Maybe even years. People didn’t just get up and walk away from spinal cord injuries. Max’s life as he knew it might very well be over. “Sorry” didn’t come close to covering that.

Alex grabbed her hand. “Hey, I know you’re upset. You have every right to be. But please don’t cast me as the enemy right now. I’m here and I want to help and I’m going to help. I’ll make sure Adventure Gear and WWW take responsibility for whatever happened and make it right. I want you to believe that I’m not just spouting some company line here. I truly do care about what happens to you and your brother. I’m still just Alex.”

JJ pulled her hand from his. “No, you’re not.”

Chapter Three

The panic in his brother’s voice was getting annoying. “This could be a publicity nightmare, Alex. You need to get back to Denver and hold down the fort while I stay here on the set. I talked to the guard station an hour ago and he told me there was an Entertainment Today reporter sniffing around. The studio’s not containing it—for all I know they want it to leak to give the show more publicity. Some of these production assistants are too young not to fall for a reporter flashing a wad of cash for spilling the details.”

Alex leaned onto the cold hospital cafeteria table and rested his head in his hand. It didn’t feel like there was enough coffee in the world to get him through today. “Sam, they just airlifted a contestant to a trauma center. It won’t take long for people to figure out there’s been an accident.”

“I want to keep a lid on things for a few days at least. I just hope the WWW execs are good at this kind of damage control.” Since the beginning of their association with Wide Wild World, Sam had an annoying habit of counting himself among the studio types. It was one of the reasons Alex steered clear of any involvement in this promotional deal, compromising instead with a quick product delivery and a “vacation nearby.”

“Let them handle it, Sam. We’re just a vendor. I stepped in to help with JJ because I was nearby, but the heavy lifting on this belongs to them.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause before his brother said, “Not entirely.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut. In the seven years he and his brother had built Adventure Gear into a serious player in the outdoor equipment market, nothing good had ever come after Sam’s use of the phrase “not entirely.” “What are you saying?”

“We don’t really know what happened yet.”

“Of course we don’t know. Max Jones isn’t even out of surgery. It’ll be hours before we know what’s going on. If then.” Alex’s stomach twisted as he remembered the look in JJ’s eyes as the doctor had explained the situation. There were so many unknowns at this point, and JJ didn’t strike him as the type to handle ambiguity well.

“I don’t mean with Jones. I mean with the fall.”

“That’s what those stunt production guys are for. It’s their job to solve those kinds of problems before they happen. And right now, it’s their job to figure out where they went wrong. I really think you need to keep out of this as much as you can, Sam. We don’t need to get mixed up in a situation like this.” That sounded pretty ironic coming from the guy who’d just escorted the victim’s sister to the bedside. Well, not bedside yet.

She’d looked terrible sitting on a stiff couch in the ill-named “trauma family lounge.” But when he’d tried again to comfort her while she waited for Max to come out of surgery, she’d barked at him to leave her alone. No matter what she said, Alex had no plans to leave until JJ’s mother showed up. This didn’t look like the kind of crisis anyone should face alone. He’d wait out an hour in this sad little cafeteria, then bring her some coffee and maybe try to get her to eat some breakfast.

“We’re mixed up in it already. Really, Alex, I think you should go back to Denver.”

There was a reason Alex called his brother Chicken Little when they were younger. The sky was always falling with Sam. And he usually wanted Alex to fix it. “They don’t need me back at headquarters. A man’s future is hanging in the balance here. I think WWW can handle any publicity woes.”

He heard Sam pull a door shut and his brother’s voice lowered to barely a whisper. “They’re calling it equipment failure.”

That sure sounded like studio types to him. “Come on, Sam, what did you think they were going to say? They can’t very well stand up and boast that one of their production assistants dropped Max. Where was the guy on the belay line when Max fell, anyway?”

“The producer just roasted me in her office. She says the guy on the belay line is saying it was gear failure. Our equipment. They’re saying it was our line and hardware that failed.”

This was exactly why Alex had never been keen on this promotional venture in the first place. It raised their visibility, but it also made them a target for finger-pointing if anything went wrong. Adventure Gear didn’t need the national exposure—they already had a good reputation among outdoor enthusiasts. The people who spent serious money on their gear knew AG products were top-notch. Alex never saw the point in high visibility to the reality television audience—he guessed ninety percent of them were couch potatoes who’d never seen the inside of a tent and never planned to. “They’re blowing smoke. You know it’s usually human error, and our stuff is better than that. And they aren’t even using our SpiderSilk lines until next season.”

“Not entirely.”

The tiny red alarm in the back of Alex’s mind that had started flashing hours ago suddenly bloomed into a full-blown wail. A surge of dread filled him so quickly he nearly lost the horrid coffee he’d just downed. Oh, no. The SpiderSilk prototype lines he’d delivered. They wouldn’t, would they? Alex stood up, not caring that he knocked the chair back to rattle on the floor in the empty cafeteria. “Sam. Sam, tell me you did not allow WWW to use the SpiderSilk. They were only supposed to look at it for next season—not use it now. Tell me they weren’t using the SpiderSilk. Tell me that right now.”

The silence hit him like a brick wall.

“Right here, right now, Sam. Tell me you didn’t give them some kind of permission to use the SpiderSilk. Tell me Max Jones didn’t fall from a rigging of the SpiderSilk.”

“You’d said they were through testing.”

Alex sank back to the table, stunned. Oh, Father God, what have I done by stepping back and letting Sam run things? I knew something like this would happen if I left. I knew it and ignored it because I was sick of Sam.

“I said they were through initial testing. That doesn’t mean we’re ready for a man to dangle from them. At night. In the rain. That’s a brand-new coating we were using. What were you thinking?”

“You said it was like nothing we’d ever made before. We tested them way beyond fourteen kilonewtons. You said they would revolutionize the industry.”

“Next year. When the UIAA approved them as ready. We tested for weight with traditional belay devices—not for rain or melting point.... They’re not ready.” Alex raked one hand through his hair, panic rising up his spine until it gripped his throat. “Sam, how could you do this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? To Max? To us?”

“They were making noises like they’d go with someone else next season if we didn’t sweeten the deal. They didn’t want to wait until next year to showcase the SpiderSilk. They thought the unknown, the ‘test pilot’ element gave a great new twist. Hey, come on, the guy even knew he was using a prototype and signed a special release waiver and everything. And nobody said anything about a climb in the dark during bad weather.”

“And it never occurred to you to ask me if I thought the SpiderSilk was ready?” Alex was shouting into his phone.

“Hey, you’re the one who went AWOL and left me to run the company, remember?”

They’d had a million arguments like this in the past year. AG was second in market share, and Sam was gunning full out for the top spot. He’d always been a little too eager to cut corners in the name of flash and speed, and Alex had always been the one to stop him. In truth, at times Alex had been too cautious, and Sam’s bold strokes had leaped the company forward to new heights. It was only recently Sam had begun to gamble on things that should never be risked. They’d fought so much in the past month that work had become torture. Alex had finally grown so weary of the constant battle that he had indeed taken a break to try to figure out if it was time to leave Adventure Gear altogether. It was the whole reason behind his seclusion in Gordon Falls—which was a joke, he realized. If he’d really wanted to get away, what was he doing secluding himself so close to where the show was?

“You should never have done that. Never.”

“Well, I didn’t think you much cared what I did anymore. They way you talked, you weren’t coming back. Are you still walking away?”

A part of Alex—the squabbling sibling, angry, finger-pointing part—yearned to throw his hands up and do just that. In his two-week absence, Sam had managed to trash the Adventure Gear reputation it had taken Alex years to build. He wanted to say that he was done trying to rein Sam in, trying to hold on to integrity in a profit-hungry world. In this moment, Alex felt more than ready to leave AG in the dust and go get his joy back in some new adventure.

“I don’t know.” It was a truthful answer.

“We don’t have the luxury of ‘I don’t know.’ Fine, Alex, go ahead and disappear like you always do.”

And that was just it. Alex did disappear. Too much. He’d come to realize that his “adventures” this past year were really just running away from the unpleasantness AG had become. Some part of Alex knew it was time to decide to either truly leave or truly stay. Nothing could have forced the issue more completely than the disaster that now lay in front of him. He wanted to have some comeback for the deserved accusation Sam just hurled at him, but he didn’t have one.

Sam nearly growled into the phone, “Just know that this time I can’t guarantee there will be an AG to come back to if you bolt again. At least I can say that I was doing what I thought was right for the company. Risks don’t always pay off, and this one blew up in my face, but...”

“No, this one blew up in Max Jones’s spine. A man’s life, Sam.”

“This is my doing—I get that.”

“Do you? Do you really?” Alex wanted to think that Sam had finally made such a mess that he would wise up. A failed product or a botched marketing ploy was easy to shake off—for Sam, anyway. Had the cost finally been high enough to get through to Sam? Could he walk away and know Sam would pay attention to these kinds of issues in the future?

His brother’s growl dissolved to a sigh. “We’ve been in worse scrapes than this, you know we have, and solving this kind of stuff is what you do best. Come on, Alex, you’re our fix-it guy. You come up with the hot new product and then convince the world that they can’t live without it. You can get the family on board with seeing things our way—I know you can. I’m asking you to help. But I’m not going to beg.”

This wasn’t a business decision anymore. JJ was upstairs wondering if her brother would ever walk again. For whatever reason, God had orchestrated him right into the middle of this storm, and he now knew he couldn’t walk away from it. There would be no bolting—not even back to Denver.

“I’ll stay here at the hospital until we get word on Max Jones. Get the ropes and hardware back from production and get Doc out here on the next flight.” If anyone would be able to ascertain what had happened with the equipment, Mario “Doc” Dovini would. As their chief climbing expert and product development specialist in Denver, Doc would be the man with the answers. After all, they’d taken to calling the flamboyant Italian “Doc” because his diagnostic skills were so extraordinary.

“I got part of the gear back thirty minutes ago and Doc is due in at 10:48.”

Maybe Sam was ready to take Adventure Gear’s helm without him, after all. He had to be absolutely certain, though, and right now he was anything but sure.

* * *

He looked like a dead man.

That was all JJ could think of as she stared at the body on the bed in front of her. Enclosed in braces and packs and tubes and monitors, Max actually looked more like a machine than her brother. He was so banged up and trussed up that the only thing that still looked like Max was the hand lying beside hers on the stark white blanket. She put her hand on top of it, startled by how cold it was. She wanted the fingers to squeeze hers, to show some sign of life, but they were limp and still.

A nurse came up behind her. “They’ve made it so he can’t move. He’s in there, I promise you, but he’ll be heavily sedated for a little while longer.”

JJ looked back at the nurse. Hers was the first calm face JJ had seen in hours. “How bad is it?”

“He was one of the lucky ones. He made it here under the eight-hour window, which means they can give him drugs that improve his chances considerably. He had good care on site and they got him here fast.”

“Max always said he wanted to ride in a helicopter.” She couldn’t believe she was making a joke while her brother lay dying.

No, Max wasn’t dying. At least now they were able to tell her that much. He’d definitely survive, only survival was going to be very different for a while. Maybe forever. JJ felt her throat tighten.

“Our boy has some fight in him, does he?” The nurse had a gentle smile.

“Loads.”

Placing her hand on JJ’s shoulder, the nurse gave her a quick squeeze. “That’s good. He has excellent chances—you need to believe that. And those bruises will get worse before they get better, so he won’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but the tricky part’s over for now.” She nodded toward a vinyl couch against the windows. “That folds out if you want to try to nap—I’d guess you’ve been up for hours. I’m Leslie and I’ll be on duty all today. What’s your name, dear?”

“JJ. Max is my brother.” JJ swiped a tear away with the back of her hand.

“It a comfort to have family here. Max is in expert hands—we’re very good at what we do. We’ll give him every chance there is, JJ, so you hang on to that.” She punched a few buttons on one of Max’s monitors. “What’s JJ stand for?”

“Josephine Jones. It’s always been a bit of a mouthful, so I’ve been JJ since I was about twelve.”

Leslie ran an assessing hand along several of the way-too-many tubes traveling between Max and the assortment of machines that clustered around his bedside. “It’s a good, strong name. Can I give you some advice, JJ?”

“I suppose.”

“See all these machines? They’re taking every burden we can off Max’s body so that it can spend all its energy on healing. They look invasive, but they’re really making things easier for Max. You should do the same. You and your family have a long road ahead of you, so it’s time to pull in your own support. Call in your friends and Max’s friends, and when they offer to help, don’t think of them as invasive. Think of them as taking the burden off you so you can spend your energy on helping Max.”

Sweet thoughts, but they sounded a bit rehearsed to JJ. “Do you say that to all the families?” It came out sharper than JJ would have liked, but she didn’t really have a lot of grace to extend to anyone at the moment.

There was no judgment in Leslie’s expression. “Just the ones who aren’t crying.”

“Not crying?”

“The ones who don’t cry are the ones who are used to staying strong. Strong is a good thing—Max will need your strength—but this is one of those times where you’d better call in the cavalry. That’s harder for some people than others. Just promise me that when people offer to help, you’ll say yes.”

“Call for backup.” She was familiar with the concept. And yes, she’d always had a bit of trouble calling for backup before. Hadn’t she just rebuffed Alex’s multiple offers to help? It made JJ wonder if all ICU nurses had Leslie’s high level of intuition.

Leslie smiled. “Exactly. Promise me you’ll call for backup. And that includes me. I happen to know the coffee from the machine on the fourth floor is the only stuff in the hospital worth drinking.” A nursing assistant knocked gently and then slid the glass ICU door open to reveal a cart full of bandages and such. “Stan and I have some less than dignified tasks to do to your brother. Why don’t you take this chance to go get yourself some breakfast and make some calls? Max is out cold for the time being, and he’ll want you here, on top of your game, later.”

Whereas a few minutes ago the room felt small and claustrophobic like the inside of a combat vehicle, it suddenly felt wrong to leave Max. Her presence had turned into some kind of vigil to her, as if she were keeping Max alive—just one more responsibility she was taking on for his sake. How quickly she had catapulted herself back into big-sister mode, absorbing Max’s self-inflicted catastrophes as some sort of failure on her part to keep him in line.

Leslie caught her hesitation. “Thirty minutes. It will do you good. Believe me, he’s not going anywhere and he’s very stable. Go on.”

“Okay.” JJ had to mentally command her feet to walk toward the door. Her head knew Leslie’s advice was sound; it was her heart that wouldn’t swallow the truth.

The glass doors closed behind her with an antiseptic swish, and JJ blinked in the stark light from the hallway windows. When had the sun come up?

Again, she forced her feet to move. It felt like her shoes echoed too loudly against the tiled floor and calm-colored walls until she pushed open the double doors that led out of the ICU unit. There, on the square navy couches she’d already come to hate, sat Alex. He looked like she felt, but he raised one of the two cups of coffee he held. “It’s awful, but I thought you could use some.”

Intrusive, but offering help. JJ could practically feel Leslie pushing her along toward the sad paper cup and its lukewarm contents. “Sure.”

Chapter Four

They drank the horrid stuff in silence. Alex had a million things to say, but all of it seemed so trivial in the face of the circumstances. They had sat in silence several times together out on the dock, but it had felt much different. That silence had been warm and soft and effortless. This silence was cold and sharp, and holding it up was exhausting. Finally, just to break the quiet, Alex said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. The weariness in her voice was worse than the silence.

“I want to help, but I don’t know how. Can you think of anything you need?”

JJ put down the cup and squinted her eyes shut. “I need Max to be okay.”

Ouch. He’d been able to get word that Max had stabilized, pressing his position at Adventure Gear into a scrap of information from a nurse at the desk. She’d refused to tell him anything else and had insisted he shouldn’t ask again. “He will.” Of course, Alex had no basis whatsoever for the pronouncement, but it seemed downright cruel to say anything else.

“They’re telling me he’ll definitely live. It’s more of a how question at the moment.” JJ’s eyes shot open, fire blazing behind the turquoise currently leveled straight at him. “It is a how question. Like how did this happen? Max knew how to climb. How did he fall?”

She stopped just short of saying, “Whose fault is this?” He answered it for her as carefully as he could.

“I don’t know all the facts yet. People are scurrying all over the set trying to find things out, and I’m hearing conflicting reports.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Alex also knew that the only thing worse than no information was the wrong information. “It could’ve been a safety issue with the climbing site. Or the rain. Or bad knots or someone doing something they weren’t supposed to, or all four. People tend to get stupid when the cameras start rolling. And not just the contestants.”

She leaned against the couch’s padded arm. “Max always had a gift for stupid ideas, especially with an audience.”

Alex was sure WWW feasted on guys like Max. “Took all the double-dog dares as a kid?”

“Every one. Mom used to say he stayed up nights looking for ways to hurt himself.” Her voice caught on the last two words.

Alex knew the type. Specializing in extreme gear as they did, those types were a big part of AG’s customer base. Sam was one and had made a career out of knowing just how to push thrill seekers’ buttons.

“I’m trying to find out what I can, but WWW isn’t really sharing lots of information with us right now. Even though we’re a major vendor, I don’t have as much clout as you’d think. It may be you learn things before I do, seeing as your Max’s family.”

“Why isn’t someone from WWW here?”

“There’s someone on the way.” He’d met the guy they were sending and had taken an instant dislike to him. Way too smooth. “You probably won’t like him much.”

“I skipped straight to hating WWW an hour ago when they wheeled Max out of surgery.” She looked at him. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have to go cover your corporate tail or something? Get legal on the phone?”

Alex didn’t really know why he was still here. Did people think his leaving was just ditching blame, “covering his tail”? Her eyes told him that was exactly what people thought, and he couldn’t refute it, could he? He did have a bad habit of ditching tough situations, and something told him that had to stop. It struck him that if he didn’t stay—here, now—he never would. “I didn’t think it was fair to leave you alone in all this.”

That remark shot something through her spine. She sat up, defensive and prickly. “I’m a combat fire specialist. Army. I’m not some little girl whose hand you have to hold.”

Funny, he’d wanted to do just that, take her hand, out on the dock or even in the helicopter when she’d let her head fall against the glass. “I know you can hold your own. I just don’t want you to have to.”

“I have friends.” Defiance honed a sharp edge to her voice. She’d told him just the opposite out there on the docks—said that other than her brother and one cousin she didn’t know people in Illinois and she rather liked it that way. He didn’t doubt that she had friends who would love to be there for her, but the simple truth was she didn’t have friends nearby, which made all the difference in a situation like this. Still, he was sure she’d never admit that.

“Okay.” Alex drank his awful coffee and stared at the industrial carpeting. They both sat in silence for a minute, then she let out a sigh that seemed to ease some of the iron from her spine.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She pulled the elastic from her hair and then began nervously working it into a quick braid down her back. Efficient and out of the way. “That wasn’t fair.”

“None of this is fair. This is wrong in a million different ways, JJ. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well...” She waved off the rest of her sentence. Really, what was there to say?

Give me some kind words, Lord, Alex prayed, stretching his brain for something meaningful—and only coming up with lame platitudes and more apologies.

“Alex?”

Alex looked up to see a familiar face in an excruciatingly geeky turtleneck and cargo pants standing in the lounge doorway. Great. The only thing worse than WWW’s slick executive guy was the eccentric lawyer Sam had hired last year.

“Morning.” The guy checked his phone, which was of course this year’s latest gadget must-have. He looked at JJ and introduced himself. “Barry Morgan. AG legal.”

JJ rolled her eyes and stood up. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

Barry had the nerve to look annoyed. “Sorry if I’m intruding, Miss...”

“I doubt that,” JJ snapped back, then disappeared through the ICU doors, leaving behind the coffee and the muffins Alex hadn’t even had a chance to offer without a second look.

“Nice going, Morgan.” Alex didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “That was Josephine Jones, Max Jones’s sister. Was showing up here, now, really necessary?”

“I was in town giving a first pass at some sponsorship documents, so Sam begged me to come by and make sure we’re on the same page. Sam would’ve come himself but he’s going back to Denver tomorrow morning since you don’t seem to want to leave. Chill out. I’m just here to talk to you—I’m not going to bother her.”

“You just did. What can’t possibly wait until Jones is awake and we know his prognosis?

“Hey, look, you should be glad I was nearby. WWW’s got guys all over this screaming we’re liable. Already.”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course they are.” He gave Morgan his most direct look. “We are, aren’t we?” He didn’t even want to be having this conversation.

“Depends on your interpretation.”

A very lawyerly answer from a guy who looked more like he belonged at a coffee bar than the American Bar Association. Where did Sam find these guys? “I’m sure.” Alex waited for Morgan to snap open his leather messenger bag and hand over a stack of releases for JJ to sign, but the man simply sat down. “And what’s your interpretation?” Alex prompted.

Morgan adjusted his artsy wire glasses. “The equipment we gave WWW was a prototype and not yet fully drop tested, right?”

“Not we. I never approved that. I only agreed to let them examine it—not use it. You should know that right now.”

“Sam brought me up to speed on your opinion.” He lowered his voice. “Look, the bottom line is that it’d be best for all concerned if we kept things as far from antagonistic with the victim and his family as possible. Sam’s ticked you’re not going to Denver, but I told him that you sticking around could be an advantage. I trust you’re on board with that strategy?”

Alex didn’t like people who used phrases like “on board” and “up to speed,” especially while dressed like coffeehouse poets. “If you’re asking me if I’m in favor of AG being in position to do the right thing here, then yes, I’m ‘on board.’”

“Good. Your role is to stay in the family’s good graces. If any suits are going to be filed, life will be far easier for us if they’re directed at WWW and not AG. Surely you can see that.”

The awful coffee in Alex’s stomach turned more sour. “Oh, I can see exactly where you’re heading with this.”

“Excellent.”

Alex stood. “And believe me, if you aren’t out of this hospital within ten minutes you’ll see just how ‘up to speed’ I can be, Morgan. If you think I’m here to cozy up to Jones’s family for leverage...” Without finishing the vile thought, Alex picked up Morgan’s bag and slapped it into the attorney’s chest. “I’m here because a man’s future is hanging in the balance, not because the profit share is in jeopardy. Leave. Now. And if you want anything, go call my brother. He speaks your language much better than I do.”

This was exactly the kind of company Alex didn’t want to run. Morgan was precisely the kind of person Alex never wanted to do business with. Was this the future of AG, or was there still time to turn things around?

That frustration, and the sleep deprivation, got the best of Alex because out of nowhere he shouted, “And for crying out loud, Morgan, does Sam know you do business looking like that?”

* * *

He was still there. Six hours had passed. JJ had walked out of ICU three times for food or phone calls about Mom’s plane arrival or just to stop hearing the awful noise of those machines, and each time Alex Cushman was still camped out on the navy couch. After the second encounter, he’d simply stopped trying to make her talk to him. It was like Alex was keeping a silent vigil of his own. She didn’t know what to do with that.

Suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past twelve hours, JJ slumped down on the opposite couch. Alex held her gaze for a moment, looking as drawn as she felt. “I want to be furious with you, but I can’t manage to pull it off.”

One corner of his mouth turned up in a weak grin. “My irresistible charm?”

“More like I’m still awake and you’re still here.”

“So you’ll begin despising me once you get a good night’s sleep underneath you?”

His remark pricked a nerve. The raw nerve that was stretched to breaking at the prospect of how long and how far it was from “here” to “okay.” And that’s if Max ever got to be “okay” ever again, which no one would tell her yet. If she heard the phrase “it’s still too early to tell” one more time, she thought she’d scream. “I don’t know when I’ll get a good night’s sleep ever again.” JJ thought she was going to cry. She could feel the tight threat of tears grab hold of her throat, but then there was nothing. Empty. Dry. She’d spent months in the Afghan desert, fought fires in temperatures over 110 degrees, and she’d never felt this dry.

She’d come home hoping for a fresh start—a chance to find her feet again, find her purpose. Instead, she’d just found another disaster she could do next to nothing to fix.

Alex shook his head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

There it was again, that awful silence where, in a less drastic situation, the other person was supposed to say, “It’s all right.” Only that didn’t apply here. It was never going to be all right, not for Max. Today felt like the antithetical negative of the greeting-card phrase, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” It was, but in all the horrible ways JJ could imagine. And she, who put out fires, who squelched disasters, couldn’t do anything about it.

A doctor—one JJ recognized from the dozens who had slipped in and out of Max’s room—pushed open the double doors that led into the lounge. He held one of those oversize manila envelopes that contained X-rays. “Miss Jones?”

She hated the look on his face. She knew that emotional mask, that “game face” for delivering news. She’d used it herself when she stood beside Captain Dewey to tell the brigade that Carlisle hadn’t made it. A dreaded, familiar core of ice started in her gut and worked its way up to turn her chest cold and brittle. “Yes?”

JJ stood up, bracing herself.

He laid the envelope on the sticky coffee table and held out a hand. “I’m Dr. Ryland. We met a couple of hours ago, but I don’t expect you to remember that. Does Max have other family on the way?”

“My mom is flying in. She’ll be here around noon, I think.”

“We’re sending a limo to pick her up from the airport and bring her straight here,” Alex said from behind her. For a moment she’d forgotten he was even in the room.

Dr. Ryland crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Leslie tells me you’re a first responder.”

“Army firefighter. Well, until last month, that is. I finished my last tour of duty in Afghanistan recently.”

“I’ve got some information on your brother’s condition. Would you like it now or would you prefer to wait for your family? Normally I wouldn’t offer a choice, but for someone with your background...”

With your experience handling disaster... JJ’s brain finished the thought he hadn’t.

“I should go.” Alex’s voice was soft, but it still startled her. Shouldn’t he want to stay, get the latest report so he could update that annoying lawyer guy from before?

“Are you a friend of the family?” Dr. Ryland asked, clearly thinking JJ ought not to be alone with whatever news he was about to deliver.

“Well...” Alex stammered.

“It’s complicated,” JJ surprised herself by offering.

“It’s your call.” Dr. Ryland picked up the envelope. “Until Max is fully awake, you’re making the decisions.” His gaze passed back and forth between JJ and Alex. “A second set of ears is a good thing, but you can wait until your family is here.”

JJ stared at the envelope. It held Max’s future. How on earth could she wait? But did she really want to handle it alone?

“I should go,” Alex repeated.

“No.” It was like the words were coming out of someone else’s mouth. “No, stay.”

Dr. Ryland looked at both of them again as he flicked on the white light box that would hold the X-ray. “You’re sure?”

“No,” said JJ, “but that’s the best I can do for now.”

They stood in the bleary pale light of the box while Dr. Ryland clipped three different X-rays onto the display. JJ sucked in a lungful of air, and she felt Alex’s hand steady her shoulder from behind. She’d never seen a fractured spine before, but it didn’t take a medical degree to see the damage. The terms and phrases coming from the doctor blew over her like gale winds, hard and relentless. She heard them but didn’t register them. She nodded once or twice, heard Alex ask a question, but the room was closing in on itself until a single word snapped everything into focus: Unlikely.

“It’s unlikely Max will regain use of his legs. I won’t say never because I’ve seen enough surprises in my day and Max was in excellent physical shape.”

JJ hated that he’d used the past tense. Something hot and white and unreasonable started boiling in her stomach. She clenched her fists, forcing the air in and out of her lungs.

“His hands and fingers may regain a good deal of functionality with therapy. The position of the...” More medical jargon, more terms and percentages and cautious language. JJ held up a hand to stop the spew before it swallowed her.

“Max will never walk again.” She looked straight into Dr. Ryland’s eyes, daring him to take back the awful truth behind his careful words.

“It’s unlikely. Not with these injuries. But I want you to remember that he is alive and he will recover.”

“Recover? Recover what?”

“Every single bit of function we can preserve for him. We are the leaders in this field, Miss Jones. Max will have therapies and treatments that are cutting edge, and even experimental ones if he chooses.” Dr. Ryland stared hard into JJ’s eyes. “His life is not over, no matter how it seems to you right now. And when he wakes up, he’ll need to see you believe in him and his future. Max is alive. Don’t ever forget that.”

“But he can’t walk. Ever.” The thing building inside her, the pent-up fear and anger, refused to be contained. “Ever again.”

“The doctor didn’t say that,” Alex’s voice was disgustingly reasonable. Condescending, even.

“You don’t belong here,” JJ blurted out, the white-hot thing boiling up beyond her control. “You did this to Max. He’s here because of you.”

Dr. Ryland put a hand on her shoulder. “Miss Jones...”

“Don’t!” JJ snapped her head around, livid at how calm they both were. She focused her glare on Alex. “Leave. Now. I hope I never see you again.”

Chapter Five

JJ watched her mother a few hours later as Dr. Ryland went through the same jumble of cautionary language he had with her. It was hard, watching the emotions she knew so well play out on her face. Max had been a tornado of trouble from the day he started walking. Mom and Dad had been awakened by police and done the dash to the ER with a bloodied Max more times than she could count, but everyone knew this was different. Max wasn’t coming back from this the same way. JJ tried to be grateful Max was coming back at all, but she wasn’t so good at that right now.

“He’s extraordinarily fortunate,” Dr. Ryland said. He looked like he meant it, but again, it was impossible to grasp the silver lining in any of this. She couldn’t help but read her own thoughts—he’s lucky to be alive at all—into his pronouncement. “He had good care and quickly. Those things matter a great deal in cases like this. For the injury he has, I’m optimistic about his prospects.”

Optimistic. How many times had JJ heard that word in the last day? She’d grown to hate it in all its careful use.

Dr. Ryland steepled his hands on his desk as if he had something important to say. Out of the corner of her eye, JJ caught Mom clutching her handbag. “Max will be alert enough to begin asking questions soon, so I’d like to discuss how we share his diagnosis with him. As you can imagine, this can be a difficult task. His body has been through a lot of trauma, and based on what you all have told me about his personality, I think it’s smart to assume that he won’t take the news well.”

“Who could ever take news like this well?” JJ caught a hefty dose of panic in her mother’s voice.

“Believe it or not, we’re actually glad when they get angry,” Dr. Ryland assured. “Anger means he’s invested in getting past this—that he hasn’t given up. It takes a fair amount of fight to come back from something like this. I know it will be uncomfortable for you, but if Max gets emotional and belligerent, I’d take that as a good sign.”

“Max pitches a great fit,” JJ replied, just picturing the tirade Max would likely throw. She’d seen him fly off the handle for far less. “If fight is a good sign, then Max is in great shape.” She filled her voice with enthusiasm she didn’t feel.

“This is hardly the time for cracks like that.” Her mother’s scowl was brittle and terse. It reminded JJ of her father and his military distaste for weakness of any kind.

They hadn’t really gotten along in the years before he died, despite JJ joining the army. Dad had lived and breathed military service in a way that JJ never could. His home had been his own personal battleground, run with absolute authority. No insubordination or weakness allowed.

Once she’d enlisted, JJ had hoped Dad would view her as more of an equal. When she’d come home on leave, shaken by what she’d seen, she’d tried to confide in him—to share her questions and anxieties. The conversation had been an absolute disaster. He couldn’t understand how battle had affected her in ways so different than his own experiences. When she’d tried to express doubts about what she saw, he would never hear it. He died three years ago while she was still on duty, yet from his grave she still felt his disappointment in her weak and troubled homecoming. JJ couldn’t shake the feeling that Arnie Jones was now fully disappointed in both his children.

“Actually, it is a perfect time for jokes.” Dr. Ryland leaned in, taking off the thick horn-rimmed glasses that gave him such an authoritative air. “Humor is one of our best weapons in this. As are calm and strength. Which is why, Mrs. Jones, I’d recommend that JJ and I be the ones to tell him.”

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