“Roxy—­”

“He used to love those yogurt Popsicle things,” I suggested as we neared the double doors leading to the waiting room. “Maybe I can bring some by before work tomorrow? I have the time.”

“Honey,” she said, catching my arm in a gentle grasp. “I’m sure Charlie loved a lot of things, but he’s . . . well, he’s not that Charlie anymore.”

“Charlie’s . . .” I stared at her a moment and then pulled my arm free. “I know he’s not the same, but he’s . . . he’s still Charlie.”

Sympathy dug its way into the lines around her eyes and mouth. “Honey, I know, but that’s not the only thing we need to talk about. There’s—­”

Whatever she wanted to talk about I really didn’t want to hear at that moment. Probably had to do with the feeding tube, and I just couldn’t think about it, because I knew how Charlie would react. I also knew that his parents wouldn’t be here to see it, and often wondered if they even cared.

Looking away, I pushed open the doors.

My whole world stopped.

Sitting on the same couch that I’d waited on a handful of hours ago was Henry Williams. The strap from my tote bag slipped out of my fingers and the tote hit the floor with a loud smack. I was frozen right where I stood.

“Roxy,” whispered Nurse Venter. “I was trying to tell you that he’s here.”

Henry unfolded his massive length. He’d grown since the last time I’d seen him. Before, he’d been average height, maybe five feet, nine inches. Now he was well over six feet.

Prison hadn’t been kind to him, not that I really cared.

His dark brown hair was buzzed close to the skull and his skin was paler than I remembered. Then again, you didn’t get to see the sun in prison a lot. There were bags under his eyes, making him appear older than he was, which had to only be twenty-­three or twenty-­four. And he was bigger. Sounded totally cliché, but he had to have been pumping iron behind the bars because his shoulders stretched the plain white shirt he wore in a way it never did when he was younger.

My muscles were completely locked up as I stared at Henry.

He smoothed his hands along the sides of his khaki shorts. “Roxanne,” he said, and my skin crawled like an army of cockroaches had swarmed me.

A huge part of me wanted to flee the waiting room, run straight for the doors and get as far away from Henry as I could, but I couldn’t. Henry wasn’t here for me. He wanted to see Charlie, and like a mama bear, I was so not going to let that happen.

My muscles unlocked and I moved so that I was standing in the center of the double doors. “You’re not welcome here.”

Henry didn’t look surprised. “I don’t imagine that I would be.”