He was paralyzed by a fear so deep, it went down into his soul.

When Max reached his destination, he left the Harley on the street again, and as he entered an open atrium that went up a number of floors, he looked around for some kind of orientation or—

Welcome desk. Perfect.

He wanted to be welcomed, thank you very much. So he could get this over with.

As he approached the desk, the little old white-haired lady on duty smiled at him. “Welcome to University Hospital. How may I help you?”

He was slightly surprised she was so open with him. Then again, she had cataracts clouding her eyes, so she probably couldn’t see him very well.

“I’m looking for the ICU. A friend—a person who’s—she’s family, really. Aurora Toms? I’m here to visit her.”

Because that was what Edward had asked him to do.

“Let me see if I can find her for you.” There was some slow, even tapping on a keyboard. “Why, yes, she’s up on the fourth floor. We only let family members see patients on that unit, though.”

“I’m family. I’m . . . one of her sons, actually.”

It felt so strange to claim that. And yet it was right.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s my misunderstanding, then. Use those elevators, right there. Check in with the nursing station and they will escort you to her room.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Up on the fourth floor, he did as he was told and was directed down and into a room that was like a pre-coffin: Everything was barren, sterile, lifeless—motionless and quiet except for the blips on the monitors. And as he approached the bedside, Miss Aurora seemed so small . . . a shrunken remnant of the powerful woman he recalled, swaddled like a babe in soft white and blue blankets. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was not right, the inhales a fast jerk, the exhales these long deflations.

Staring down at her, he took a moment to ponder his own end, whatever it looked like—probably violent, he decided—and he also thought about things like God and Heaven and Hell.

When he finally spoke, it was in a rush. “I’m sorry about that time that I switched all your sugar in the canister with salt. And for when I tried to bake that cake made out of cow flops. Also, that whole latex paint in the milk carton thing. And for when I spoiled the eggs in the sun and put them back. And for the lettuce incident. Oh, and the worms.”

No reason to get into the specifics of either of those last two.

“I wish you weren’t going.”

He was surprised when that came out of his mouth—because it was the truth, and also because what the hell did he care? He was also leaving.

“I worry about Lane, you know.” He sat on the foot of the bed. “He’s stretched pretty thin, and he always went to you to feel better. He really needs you now.”

Max looked down at his boots and knew that she would have disapproved of the scratches on them. Actually, she would have disapproved of a lot about him now, but she’d still have loved him. Not as much as she loved Lane, it was true—still, Miss Aurora would have hugged Max and fed him and smiled at him like he was being stupid, but couldn’t help it.

“Do you remember when I decided to ladder up the back of the house to the roof? I really thought strapping those two sliding rungers, one to another, was going to work. I can’t believe I only broke two of those gas lanterns. Man, Father was pissed. Or how about when I put moonshine in the punch bowl at the Christmas party, and that woman threw up all over the Secretary of State—you know, I would have been great on the Internet if they’d had it back then. Or how ’bout when . . .”

As he let his voice drift, he shook his head. “What the hell am I doing here, talking. This is crazy—”

“She can hear you.”

Max stiffened and twisted around. Tanesha was standing just inside the door, looking like a proper doctor in those scrubs, and that white coat, and the stethoscope around her neck. Then again—when you got great grades through high school and college, were accepted into the University of Chicago’s medical school, and busted your ass in your residency? Yeah, you looked like a frickin’ doctor.

“I knew you’d go into oncology,” he said roughly.

Tanesha’s brows lifted. “Why?”

“Am I right?”

“Well, yes.” She came in farther. “I’ve lost a lot of people to cancer. I guess that’s why I gravitated to it.”

“Both grandparents, your uncle, the little cousin who was three, and your second cousin in college.”

Tanesha blinked. “That’s right. You’ve got a heck of a memory.”

Only for things about you, he thought as he studied her.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said. “I thought you were leaving yesterday.”

“I’m taking off right after this.” He glanced at Miss Aurora. “I had to say good-bye.”

“She appreciates it, I’m sure.” Tanesha went around to the other side and checked the monitors. “But I’ll bet you’d prefer he stays, isn’t that right, Miss Toms?”

“How’s your father?” Max blurted.

Tanesha smiled and shifted her eyes over. “He’s the same.”

“Still hates me?”

“He never hated you. He just thought you weren’t the right match for me.”

“Because I’m white, right.”

“No, because you’re a jackass. Not that my father would put it in those words.”

Max had to laugh. “You were always so blunt.”

With a shrug, she sat down on the other side of the bed. “It’s just the way I am. Take it or leave it.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, even though he had no right to. “You know, after you broke up with that J. Crew model—”

“He was not a model, he was an engineering student—”

“Who looked like he was ordered out of a catalog that sold pleated pants and penny loafers.”

“Chad was a very nice guy.”

“ ‘Was,’ huh. Not ‘is.’ ”

“I’m not with anybody, not that it’s any of your business. Medical school and then residency is a lot to juggle. Besides, my focus is on my patients—”

“Do you miss me sometimes?”

Her eyes shifted away. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Max, stop. You’re leaving anyway, why do you care?”

“It’s just that way between you and me—”

“Okay, you can quit that. There is no ‘you and me’ and there never has been. We have never been together.”

“That’s not true,” Max said in a low voice. “And you know it.”

The blush that tinted her cheeks told him that, yes, she was remembering exactly the same thing he was: all of the times the two of them had snuck off and fallen into each other. It had always been when they were back in town on break from college, or afterward, when he had been farting around and she had returned from medical school. Usually it had happened after he had played pickup basketball games with her brothers—a dangerous proposition because if those two guys had ever found out what transpired after Max and Tanesha left separately? They’d have rolled Max out in an alley and left him for dead.

Although that wasn’t a racist thing. They’d have done the same to any African-American suitor who was too stupid to settle down and be a proper boyfriend.

You didn’t mess with their baby sister.

“I meant in a relationship,” she muttered. “We were never in a—”

“Are you settling down in Charlemont?” He motioned around the hospital room. “Going to work here. Buy a house. You know, be a grown-up?”

“My father wants me to stay, but . . . no. Actually, I wouldn’t mind even leaving the country. I’ll always come back to see family, but there are bigger places to be and see than Charlemont.” With a quick smile, she motioned around his face. “When did you grow that beard?”

“Like it?”

“It’s . . . interesting. But I think you’re more handsome when you can see your face—” She stopped. “Not that I notice these things.”