A few minutes later she stood on the dark porch of Emmitt’s house, drenched to the core. She knocked as loud as she could to be heard over the wild wind. “Emmitt,” she called out. “It’s Piper. You okay?”

The door opened, and at first all she could see was a tall, lanky shadow of a man who was wielding a flashlight, which messed with her ability to see clearly. “Emmitt?”

“Not quite.”

Wait. She knew that voice, and she blinked in surprise because it was . . . Hot Guy? Had she manifested him here? Was she in an episode of The Twilight Zone? “What are you doing here?”

He was already pulling her in from the rain. “I was just about to ask you that same question.”

“I live next door.” She gestured vaguely behind her as he closed the door, shutting out the noisy storm. “I’m here to see Emmitt,” she said. “He’s my patient.”

“Patient? I thought you were an EMT, not a doctor.”

“I am, but he—” She shook her head, irritated, mostly at herself for being thrown off guard, because she prided herself on never being thrown off guard, by anyone. “Why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Don’t worry,” came Emmitt’s voice from the depths of the dark living room. “He has that effect on everyone.”

“What, charming people?” Hot Guy asked mildly.

Emmitt laughed. “More like irritating the shit out of them.” He turned on a small lantern, smiling at Piper from the couch. “The apple never falls far from the tree, you know.”

Piper stared at Hot Guy before turning back to Emmitt. “He’s your son?”

“In the flesh.”

She could see it now. Same dark hair and hazel eyes, and a somewhat imposing height and strength to match. But more than that, the sharp awareness they both had, the way they held themselves so easily, so casually, and yet seemingly utterly aware of everything around them.

She knew Emmitt had two sons, but she’d only known one of them. Rowan, who’d died three months ago in a tragic car accident. All she knew about his other son was that he lived on the East Coast. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn’t even know his name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“My fault,” Emmitt said. “The divorce was eons ago. It was . . . tough, and there were problems. I raised Rowan. Camden stayed with his mom, to . . . help her.”

She glanced at Hot Guy, who apparently was named Camden, but he’d lowered the flashlight at his side so she could no longer see his face. Beyond being startled, she was also realizing that Rowan had been Camden’s brother. And much as she liked to fantasize about murdering her own brother in his sleep half the time, it was just that. A fantasy. She’d . . . well, she’d die if anything happened to him.