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  The injured woman was scared. Probably woozy as well, from the shock of almost being flattened in a hit and run. He glanced at Jessica and saw the resemblance in their features.

  His brother Ted, who worked with Officer Ridgeman at the police department, had told him that Jessica’s older sister was coming into town again, this time to hear the reading of the will. She’d flown in one day for the funeral and not even stayed overnight.

  He’d seen her from across the field during the service but hadn’t stayed long enough to pay his respects. Now he kind of wished he had.

  “Eleanor, right?”

  “Ellie.” She held a hand out to shake. It was tentative. Then she realized why he wasn’t going to shake her hand.

  “Dean Cartwright.” He swung his backpack off his shoulder and slid a water bottle from the side pocket. He twisted off the cap. “Hold out both hands.”

  She held them to the side, and he emptied the water onto her palms.

  “Rub a little, if you can. Get the dirt off.” While she did that, he pulled out two gauze pads and ripped open the packets—she could use them to dry her hands off—and then grabbed a tiny packet of Neosporin.

  Officer Jessica Ridgeman, the younger sister, stuck her hand on her hip. Dean was almost positive his brother was in love with her, given how he talked about her. Truth was, they knew practically nothing about her. Or the sister. Dean had wanted to run background checks, but his brother’s reaction meant he’d tabled that discussion.

  For now.

  Dean caught her gaze. “Hand?” He tore open the cream packet and held out his hand so she could place hers in it.

  She just frowned.

  “I’m certified as an EMT if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not.” She took half a step back. “I’m fine, though. I don’t need help.”

  Yeah, she’d said that. Dean wasn’t used to treating patients who couldn’t admit when something hurt. Though he dealt with his fair share of alpha personalities, so it really shouldn’t surprise him to come across someone inflated with sheer stubbornness. Normally he didn’t find it quite so attractive.

  Usually those he treated knew they needed help. In their own ways, they’d allow him to do what he could to help them.

  Her dark hair had been pulled back into a bun with a silver pen stuck in it. Now loose strands floated around her face. Her glasses were askew, in a way that made him want to reach over and right them for her. Attraction stirred. The librarian thing. He blew out a breath. It had always been a weakness for him, but that didn’t mean he had to listen to it.

  He wasn’t in the place in his life where he was ready to look for a relationship.

  At least, not yet.

  Dean tossed the Neosporin packet to Jessica. “Make sure she puts this on her cuts.”

  “Aye aye, captain.”

  “I might’ve been Navy, but I was never an officer. Thanks for the vote of confidence, though.”

  Jessica’s eyes flashed. “It was unintended.”

  Ellie glanced between them. She could see he wasn’t going to pretend there was any love lost between Officer Ridgeman and himself. Truth was, no one would be good enough for his brother.

  Dean’s watch alarm beeped. He canceled the tone and pulled his backpack on. “I have an appointment.” He glanced between them but asked Ellie, “If you’re good?”

  He almost wanted to tack on the question of whether he could call her later and make sure. Ellie nodded, the hint of a smile on her face. “I’m good. Thanks.” Like she knew exactly how she’d affected him.

  Great.

  “Dean!”

  He twisted around. The door to the coffee shop was open, and Doctor Gilane waved a hand. Dean’s appointment.

  He held up one finger, and the doctor nodded.

  A police car pulled over at the curb and the uniformed officer climbed out. Sergeant Basuto. He waited for the guy to make it all the way over and they shook, then Dean left them to it. As a rule, he didn’t get involved in police matters. Jessica had this covered. He didn’t need to get in the middle of this when he had a meeting with the doctor to get to.

  One last glance back let him know Ellie had forgotten all about him. She was smiling at the sergeant in a way she hadn’t looked at him.

  Dean tried not to let that sting. Especially considering the fact he’d never been needy before. Why start now, with a dark haired, tiny nosed intellectual who checked every box he had?

  No way was it a thing when no other relationship he’d had in his life turned out the way it had promised to be in the beginning. He was done being ditched, broken up with, tossed aside and otherwise moved on from. Dean was making his life what he wanted it to be.

  He was about to start a new venture, one that would begin with securing backing from the doctor on his new project. He had plenty to do. And that didn’t include wondering why a driver had tried to run Ellie down.

  It wasn’t an accident. It had been a deliberate attempt to hurt her.

  But he wasn’t a cop and Ellie Ridgeman didn’t have any connection to him.

  “Latte?”

  Dean said, “Cappuccino.”

  A few minutes later, they sat at a small round table and Doctor Martin Gilane pulled Dean’s portfolio from his briefcase. He set it on the table between them but didn’t open it. The doctor’s white hair was perfectly styled. His face was tanned like his arms and hands. A man who did good work but also regularly treated himself to exotic vacations with this wife, who was twenty years younger and closer to Dean’s age than his own.

  Dean had lived in this town long enough to know that Doctor Gilane knew his father. Knew some of his history.

  The doctor tapped a manicured nail on the portfolio. “This is good stuff.”

  Dean hadn’t been expecting that. He also wasn’t sure what it meant. He lowered his paper cup, waiting for the inevitable “but.”

  “A treatment center for those suffering PTSD.” Gilane tipped his head to the side. “When you came to me to sign off on your therapy hours, I can’t say I thought this was where it was going. You’ve more than exceeded my expectations with everything you’ve done. You’re an asset to the medical community in Last Chance, Dean.”

  He’d been hearing that from the doctor for a while now. The same as with all those other times, he just couldn’t let the words settle in. Not in a way that it satisfied what was inside him. Dean only used the words to fuel him on.

  He’d survived his childhood with his sanity intact. That had been a feat in itself. Then, Dean had gone into the Navy. He’d done one of the toughest jobs in the world.

  Had he come out of that with a sense of satisfaction? Not the way most would think.

  Will satisfaction come with this new venture?

  God hadn’t answered his question yet.

  “This isn’t going to be a medical facility. It’ll be a voluntary residency, and a place people can attend group meetings or get one-on-one treatment that’s highly specialized. I want to take on a certain client group.”

  People who had been where he’d been, and needed help the way he had. Dean was determined to give back. To be the man he knew he could be. Someone people wanted in their lives. Sure, he had friends. But there was so much he was missing.

  Love. A family.

  “The case studies are fascinating. I had no idea you’ve been doing all this since I helped you get licensed.”

  His stomach clenched. He felt like he was trying to pass an interview for the career he’d always dreamed of. “Having your support will go a long way to legitimizing a treatment center.”

  “You know, I’d love to put in some hours alongside you.”

  “You would?” The doctor had helped Dean get all his licenses and certifications, he’d been invaluable signing off on Dean’s work so far.

  “The chance to be on the cutting edge of PTSD therapy? Fascinating.” The doctor took a sip of his coffee. “You know, I have a friend at the Pentagon. I
’m going to make a call. He might be interested in taking a look, maybe secure some backing to get you referrals. Cases they’d like you to take on.”

  “You think so?” When the doctor nodded, Dean continued, “It’s been nearly four years since I left the Navy. A lot of my contacts there have dried up.” So far, he’d treated a few friends and a couple of locals who’d sought him out.

  “Even with those roommates of yours, word hasn’t gotten out?”

  Dean said, “They all work private security now. There are occasional government contracts, but those aren’t the norm.”

  His roommates were currently halfway across the world, working a job. Only one was home with Dean and Ted. Dividing the chores between the three of them until the rest of the boys got back was going to earn them at least a month of freedom. The house was fifteen thousand square feet. It took forever to clean all that, even with Ted’s squadron of seriously modified robot vacuums.

  “I’ll bend some ears. See what I can come up with.”

  “But you think it’ll work.”

  The doctor nodded. “More than think. This is a great idea, Dean. Something noble the town should be able to get behind.”

  “Thank you.” That was high praise. The kind that made him want to sit taller in a way that usually didn’t happen outside the military.

  “You really think you can take it on, on top of your…work?”

  Dean said, “Being the town’s informal EMT is something I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing.” Even if the constant phone calls sometimes drove him crazy. “Though, I’ve thought about shifting it to more of a concierge thing.”

  “You’ll charge people?”

  “Of course not.” He shook his head. “I prefer the muffin baskets anyway.”

  Gilane looked at him like he’d grown another head beside the one he already had.

  Dean said, “I’ll figure it out. If folks know I’m working on something that can help those who need it, they might chip in and take some of the strain. Or, they’ll have a mind to what I’m doing and call less for incidental injuries.”

  “Or you could take on a partner. Get help with the EMT duties.”

  “I always figured that would come from the actual EMTs.” Dean shot the doctor a wry smile.

  “They give you grief?” Gilane frowned. “I can speak to them if you’d like.”

  Dean shook his head. “It’s fine.”

  But the doctor didn’t let it go. “Anything you need, Dean. You let me know.” He nodded. “No matter what it is, I’m here to support you.”

  “Thank you.” What else would he say? He’d expected to have to fight for what he wanted in order to convince the doctor this was the right thing. “I just need a location and the resources to pull it off.”

  It wasn’t like Dean had the money for something like this lying around. He was comfortable, and he had good savings, but wiping out his resources and living at the edge wasn’t wise. What he needed were financial donors. Charity events. Annual fundraisers. People in town pulling together.

  “I’ve had some thoughts about that, as well.” The doctor pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. “This is the paralegal at Holmford and Watts. She’s done fundraising for the local schools and for the hospital. I think she’d be a great resource. And that’s only if she doesn’t jump in with both feet to help you.”

  Dean took the card. “Thank you.”

  “I already sent her an email, so she knows you’ll be headed her way.”

  “I actually have an appointment to see Holmford in an hour. I’ll talk to her while I’m there.”

  “You’re seeing the lawyer?”

  “He didn’t say why he needed to talk to me.” Dean blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. “I feel like I’m totally out of my depth, but I want to do this so I figure that’s a good thing.”

  It was important. He could help people, long term. Make a difference in their lives past just putting a bandage on their injuries and telling them to see their doctor.

  He should feel like he was taking on too much responsibility to start up a therapy center. That would help him move cautiously and consider the weight of what he was doing.

  “Well, then.” The doctor stood. “I won’t keep you if you’re headed to another appointment.”

  He still had half an hour, but Dean was pretty shocked and needed some time to just think. He shook the doctor’s hand and just sat back to absorb it all. He was really going to do this.

  “Anything you need, Dean.” The doctor said, “You let me know.”

  Dean blinked, then watched him walk out. Full support with no convincing wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined this meeting would be. Now that it was done, and so easily, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

  Anything you need.

  Because the doctor believed in him? Dean had grown up with a father who said what he thought would get you to do what he wanted you to do. That level of manipulation made him sick now. He couldn’t stand it. Dean wanted to believe the doctor was just supportive. That he believed a therapy center was a worthy cause. But something just didn’t sit right.

  After all, nothing in life was free.

  Three

  “One of you needs to say something.”

  Ellie waved off the lawyer’s words. She got up and paced away from the chair, away from the lawyer and her sister. The will.

  She stared at the walls, where rows of books had been arranged on shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. No dust collected in front of them, so she knew his cleaner regularly attended to that. Ellie had the janitor who took care of her office at the university remove the books from the shelves once a month and wipe down all sides, then each book individually. No sense in allowing them to collect dust.

  She inhaled the smell of leather-bound first editions and turned back. They both stared at her. Ellie took another deep breath. Absorbed the sight of dark wood furniture not too dissimilar from her office.

  She curled her toes in her shoes, then stretched them out. A meditative action she often used to center herself back in the here and now.

  No one saw it, which meant she was the only one who ever knew she needed that small action to get her emotions in check. All those feelings she saw trail down Jess’s face, twin tracks of tears.

  She strode back to her sister and crouched. “Are you okay?”

  Jess sniffed. She nodded.

  Ellie looked at the lawyer, Peter Holmford. “Can we just break it down, piece by piece?” He’d read the will in one long speech. Rattling it off like it was a grocery list she’d had to process on the fly. That was never good. She needed methodical. Thoughtful.

  “Of course.” The lawyer was an older man. Nice suit, but small town nice and not big city nice. It wasn’t specially tailored. Just well made, and likely more expensive than what he could find on the rack at a big department store.

  He shifted through his papers again and settled tiny reading glasses back on his nose.

  Ellie straightened. She slid her glasses up her nose, wincing when her palm smarted on her cheek. Her hip—probably with a giant, purple bruise by now—also didn’t feel too good.

  It had taken an extra half hour to explain to the sergeant what had happened at the scene of the accident. Basuto had been a cop her grandfather respected, so she’d stayed when he’d insisted it was necessary and answered all his questions.

  While Jess stood there, frowning. Her focus on the street. Cars driving by. When Ellie had asked her what she was thinking, Jess only shook her head. They were late for their appointment with the lawyer.

  The word ‘appointment’ only reminded her of Dean Cartwright. Certified handsome hero, annoyingly overprotective older brother to the guy Jess seriously crushed on.

  “The house and everything in it has been left to Jessica.”

  Ellie would be thinking about Dean again in a minute, given what the lawyer had gone over already, so she didn’t need to worry about him right now.r />
  Her sister twisted in the chair, those tears still coming. Ellie handed her two tissues from the box on the desk as Jess said, “I’m sorry. Ellie…”

  “For what?”

  “We should be splitting the house.”

  “It’s where you live.” Ellie shook her head. “There’s no sense to sell it, and I don’t live here all the time like you do. It’s good that he gave you the house.”

  Her sister frowned.

  “It’s fine.” Would she believe her?

  Jess’s gaze turned assessing. Still, she knew Ellie wasn’t the kind of person who manipulated or lied. Not when it was important.

  He said, “Your grandfather’s investment account will be distributed to Selena Ridgeman in monthly installments.” He frowned down at the words.

  Jess shot her a look he didn’t see.

  Ellie nodded. Mom.

  Mr. Holmford looked up from his paper. “If you’d like to contest any of this, that is, of course, your prerogative.”

  Ellie said, “Nothing so far. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be following that course of action. Please continue.”

  Jess brushed at her face, and Ellie caught a flash of a smile there. Whatever that was about.

  He said, “The cabin—”

  “Was left to Dean Cartwright.” Disdain dripped from her sister’s words as she repeated what he’d said the first time he went over the will. That definitely needed to be explained.

  “I’m sorry if that is how it came across.” Holmford said, “Technically that’s not entirely accurate.” He looked down. “The land surrounding your grandfather’s hunting cabin has been gifted to Dean Cartwright.”

  Jess shot her a look.

  Ellie had nothing to say about it. She didn’t understand it and therefore was unable to reach a conclusion. All they had now was their grandfather’s wishes. That lacked an explanation of why on earth he’d have given family property to someone who wasn’t family.

  Which only birthed a whole lot of what amounted to conspiracy theories. But that was ridiculous. Her grandfather and Dean weren’t even related.