“Not me,” Natasha stated, “for the reasons previously mentioned. But once we figure out where Luke’s living, I’m not above ambushing him there and forcing him into a conversation.”

“If he doesn’t want my friendship,” Sebastian said, “I’m not going to shove it at him.”

Genevieve sliced a shrimp in half. “Speaking of shoving things at people, Leah called me a few weeks ago, Ben. And so, of course, I shoved all your best attributes at her.”

“Anything happening on that front?” Natasha asked.

Ben choked on his water. Sebastian could feel heartburn coming on.

“Can I tell them?” Ben asked Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded.

“So, ladies.” Ben’s face looked like it belonged to a dad who’d been forced to tell his kids about puberty. “Sebastian is dating Leah.”

Genevieve set down her glass and braced her hands on her thighs. “What?”

“Explain everything,” Natasha demanded.

They were going to be here awhile.

Amazing how the chance to see someone for several days in a row could feel like a luxury. But that’s exactly what his days in Misty River had felt like to Sebastian.

His running shoes hit the pavement as he jogged his neighborhood.

He’d arrived here Friday. It was now Wednesday. Six days in a row so far.

Six of his best days.

Because of her.

He could have spent his vacation in Bora Bora or Cairo or London. But there was no place he’d rather be than here. During Leah’s work hours, he slept late, then thought about her while he mowed his lawn or watched soccer or ran errands or did projects around the house. Then, every evening, he got to spend time with her.

Gradually, the pressures of his job had slid off of him. The world had gained color and detail. His lungs could breathe deep. The space suit had gone, and when he was with Leah he was alert, healthy, whole.

Tomorrow after school let out, they planned to go kayaking.

He was already smiling, anticipating it.

As it turned out, kayaking was not to be because, in the early hours of the following morning, Sebastian’s pager yanked him from sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sebastian slit his eyes until the red numbers on his bedside clock came into focus.

3:46 a.m.

With a groan, he pressed himself into a seated position in bed. He was supposed to be on vacation.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, then called in.

“Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Grant.” It was Judy, one of the senior cardiac nurses. “Audrey thinks they may have a heart for Isabella Ackerman.”

Her words swept the cobwebs from his head. “Age of donor?”

“Thirty-three days old.”

“Blood type? Weight? Existing defects?”

She listed the donor’s information. All of it indicated a good fit.

“Cause of death?”

“SIDS. First responders were able to resuscitate. Unfortunately, the infant progressed to brain death.”