They were at the cottage. Lance had caught another nasty cold that had kept him in the hospital for the past few days. His doctors had wanted him to stay, but two hours ago he’d had enough and had walked out, calling Chloe for a ride.

She’d brought him here because his duplex was being watched for the still-missing Todd. Plus Tucker was on a job out of town until Friday. Trying to help make Lance comfortable, she had him stretched out on her bed and was giving him a massage while they waited for Renee to get off work and come get him.

“If Renee ends up with overtime again, you’re going to stay here with me tonight,” Chloe said. Leaning over him, she worked her special oil blend into the knots of tension in his shoulders and back. “You’re like a rock quarry. Breathe as deep as you can. Positive visualization. Picture your lungs all clear and at one hundred percent. Puppies and rainbows.”

After a pained laugh, Lance shifted a bit, then turned his head just enough to be annoying. “Puppies and rainbows? What’s going on with you? You’re off today.” He tensed and grunted when she hit a particularly sore spot. “Ouch.”

“You’re not concentrating on visualizing your good health.”

He dropped his head down and was obedient for about fifteen seconds. “It’s about Sawyer, right? What happened? It got too real, and you bailed?”

“Hey, I don’t do that.”

Lance was facedown, but she knew he was also brows up, and she sighed. “Jeez, you go and get laid and you turn into a relationship expert.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’d make a fine shrink. I’d tell everyone to fuck the rules and just live.” He paused. “And it’s more than getting laid, by the way. We’re a thing, Renee and me.”

Chloe stared down at Lance’s painfully thin, pale, disease-ravaged body. She could count his every rib. His breath rattled with each inhale. “Does she understand—I mean, is she—”

“Okay with me dying?” He sighed. “No. Hell no, not even close. But she loves me.” He shook his head, sounding marveled. “And if she can love this body and the man inside it, then you sure as hell can find someone to love your sorry—but fine—ass.”

Love hadn’t been in Chloe’s plans when it came to Sawyer. Wild sex, yes. Love, no. So of course that’s what she’d done. She’d gone and fallen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But what was done was done, and she couldn’t unfall. She’d tried. Didn’t work. She’d only fallen harder, even hoping that he’d caught the bug, too. But she wasn’t sure.

God, she was so confused. One lousy minute of contentment, and boom, everything had fallen apart.

“Smell something burning in there,” Lance teased. Shoving up to his elbows, he gave her a terrifyingly gentle look. “I’ve seen him look at you, you know. He accepts you, Chloe. As is.”

Maybe. But could he love her?

“Just promise me you won’t waste your time doubting or second guessing,” he said. “It’s not worth it. Just go for it.” His eyes were unsettlingly clear and serene. “Look, we both know I’m no shrink, but I know what I’m talking about here. And I want to know you’re okay before…”

Before he was gone.

He didn’t say it out loud, he didn’t have to. It was the big, fat elephant in the room. Why the hell did it seem as if everyone was saying good-bye to her? “We are not having this conversation.” Her chest was going tight. “People with CF have a median survival age of thirty-seven years now. You have ten years left before I will even think of having this conversation with you.”

“Chloe, that’s the median age. People die at two, or ten, or twenty-seven.” His voice was low and rough, and he shrugged his too-thin shoulders. “Shit happens.”

“Yeah, shit happens. I could get hit by a bus,” she said grimly. “Or smack you upside the head for being annoying.”

“Goddammit, Chloe, I want to know you have someone.”

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Just couldn’t. She struggled for air, couldn’t manage it, and staggered backward, tripping over her own legs to fall to her butt.

“Fuck.” Lance leaped off the couch and crouched in front of her in nothing but his boxers. He shoved her purse in her lap. “Your inhaler in here?”

She managed a nod, and he opened the thing like it was a ticking bomb.

“Pocket,” she wheezed. “Inside pocket.”

Looking squeamish, he rooted past a lip gloss, a pack of birth control pills, and the latest Cosmo to get to the pocket. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he was muttering. “If I find a tampon in here, I’m going to hurt you.” He opened the pocket, plunged his hand in, and came out with a…“Argh!” He flung the tampon across the room like it was a hand grenade, and she was both laughing and sobbing for breath when he finally located her inhaler.

She took a long puff. Then another. It didn’t help fast enough, and she felt the licks of that familiar horrific panic gripping her. Lance stayed with her, holding her face. “In and out, baby, that’s all you gotta do. In and then out.”

Chloe caught enough breath to croak out a shaky joke. “That’s what she said,” she gasped, making Lance laugh.

After a few minutes, she’d caught her breath a little more and glared at him. “Okay, don’t you ever fucking say good-bye to me again.”

“How the hell is telling you that it’s okay to fall for someone saying good-bye?”

“It felt like a good-bye. God.” She felt the tears well up. Tears. She never cried. “Goddammit.”

Lance let go of her face and sat back on his heels. “Chloe,” he said softly. “You know it’s coming.”

“No, I don’t! And you can’t think like that!”

“I have to think like that.” When her phone vibrated, he rose to his feet a little shakily and reached out a hand for her. “But you don’t. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

She swallowed a sob, ignored his hand, and scrambled to her feet on her own. She read the text from Tara requesting some help. “I have to go,” she said. “Renee will be here soon. Call me if you need anything.” She refused to look at him as she shoved her inhaler in her pocket and ran out the door. She stepped off the cottage porch and wiped the tears from her eyes. It was all she could do to not drop down to the stairs and weep like a child. Clearly she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. She and Sawyer had turned to each other over and over again in the night like…like they were never going to have each other again.

Don’t go there.

Another sniff, another swipe of the back of her hand, and she was almost at the inn. As Chloe moved, she saw a swirl of dust fade at the edge of the woods, which was odd enough to catch her attention. There wasn’t a road there, just an old hiking path.

With a quick change of direction, she followed the dust and caught sight of tire tracks in the still-moist mud. She could hear an engine. A truck, probably. Something with four-wheel drive. It wasn’t far, but she was wondering who’d be out there in the first place.

At the edge of the woods, she stopped and listened again. Not one truck.

Two.

Chloe took out her cell and called Tara. “Hey, there’s a couple of trucks moving around out here in the woods. I’m going to go take a look, and I didn’t want to be the stupid chick in the movies who doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going.”

“Hang on, I’ll come out.”

“It’s probably nothing. Maybe the forest service checking on the fire lanes. I’ll call you right back.” She disconnected, then headed down the trail. She could still hear the engines ahead of her. The trail wasn’t meant for a vehicle so it’d be slow, rough going.

And then the engines cut off. There was the faint sound of male voices. And then a truck door closing. An engine revved, coming back her way. Shit. Chloe dove into the bushes and ducked low.

A blue truck drove past her, going far too fast for the terrain. She recognized the driver and covered her mouth to hide her gasp, even though no one could have heard her.

Nick Raybo.

The forest had come down around her like a theater curtain, surrounding her with mossy pines, spruce, and the scent of Christmas. There was still someone ahead of her, and she made her way a little closer, then went utterly still because there, behind a huge outgrowth of sage, was a truck. New. Black. Shiny.

Todd’s.

Todd and Raybo. Oh, God, that couldn’t be good.

Chloe shifted behind a large pine and dialed Sawyer this time, watching Todd behind the wheel talking on his cell phone. She took a hit from her inhaler and held her breath as Sawyer answered, sounding distracted. “Thompson.”

But Todd was exiting his truck now. Afraid to reply and tip Todd off, Chloe bit her lower lip.

“Chloe,” Sawyer said. “You there?”

“Raybo. And Todd,” she whispered, hearting pounding, chest tight. Too tight. That half-mile walk had taxed her.

“Todd? He’s with you?”

“In the woods. Raybo’s leaving.” It was all she could say. She took another peek from around the tree. She could see the whole left side of Todd’s truck, but not Todd. There was something in the bed of his truck that looked like camouflage netting. She knew marijuana growers used it to hide their crops, which made sense given what Todd was suspected of.

“Chloe,” Sawyer said. “I’m on my way. Where are you exactly?”

“I’m half a mile or so in.” She pressed a hand to her chest. She was wheezing badly. “Lance knows the trail. I think Todd’s hiding his stash.”

“I’ve called it in, Chloe,” Sawyer said. “We’re all on our way. You did great. Now get the fuck out of there.” He paused, then added, “Please. Please get the fuck out of there. For me.”

Despite the fear and asthma attack now fully upon her, Chloe smiled as she left her tree and started to head back. “Like the please,” she whispered. “Nice…touch.”