“No. She’d been scratched so many times before, she probably didn’t think it was worth mentioning, and I certainly wouldn’t have known to be alarmed.” The regret he felt for not being more aware, for not acting sooner, tore him up inside. If only he’d known to take her illness more seriously. “Anyway, I told her to see a doctor, but she insisted it was just the flu or some other virus and promised me she’d go in if she wasn’t feeling better by morning.”

Tia bit her lip. “Don’t tell me she didn’t go in...”

He frowned. “She wanted to wait for me to take her. When I boarded the plane, I still assumed it wasn’t serious. But when I got home I could tell something was terribly wrong and drove her straight to the hospital.”

He paused, but Tia didn’t break in. He could tell she was trying to give him the time he needed to finish this difficult story.

“And by then it was too late. Her brain had started to swell, and...” He’d thought he was firmly in control of his emotions. He was well-practiced at shoving them deep inside. But when his voice threatened to crack, he fell silent.

Without saying anything, Tia reached over to lay her hand lightly on his. “I’m so sorry, but I...I appreciate you telling me. It puts what I’m going through into perspective. Here I am, feeling sorry for myself over a scarred face, when you’ve been coping with something much worse.”

“What you’re going through can’t be easy, either,” he offered. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

He could tell she was about to pull away. She’d only meant to convey a bit of compassion. But he was oddly reluctant to lose contact with her. It’d been so long since he’d been touched by a woman.

The moment he shifted so that he could run his thumb over her smaller, more delicate fingers, her gaze lowered to their hands. She seemed mesmerized by the sight, but after a few seconds, he forced himself to let go and return to his meal. He couldn’t allow himself to care about Tia or anyone else. Caring never worked out for him.

“Sorry,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. For being bold enough to touch him in the first place? Or for enjoying those few seconds?

Had she enjoyed them? Because he certainly had—although he couldn’t help feeling he’d just betrayed Shiloh. Maybe it was illogical, but even three years after her death, it somehow mattered that he remain loyal to her. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said to compensate for his sudden withdrawal, but even then he sounded so gruff he added, “I didn’t mind. I think maybe we’re both starved for human contact.”