“In the end, things worked out well,” she said. “You told me that you’re okay. The kids are okay. I’m okay. I stand behind my decision to intervene.”

“Even though you promised me that you wouldn’t come here alone?”

“I take promises seriously, and I’m sorry that I broke my promise to you. But I couldn’t leave the kids to fend for themselves.”

He had zero tolerance for broken promises. “You promised me, Leah.”

“Today’s situation forced me to go back on that promise for the greater good.”

“That’s a cop-out.” Frustration tightened his words. It was hard to think straight, to speak. This is why he didn’t trust people. This is why he shouldn’t have trusted her.

His mom had failed to keep her promise when she’d told him she’d recover. Her death had stripped him of family and security. It had wrecked his life and his faith in people. It had taught him that the safest course was to depend on himself. So why had he strayed from that?

He’d strayed from that because he’d been unable to resist Leah. “I have to step back from this relationship,” he stated.

She flinched. Wind stirred through the strands of her hair. “Why?”

“I can’t get any more involved.”

“You’re upset, and I want to understand why.”

He backed away from her.

“Stay,” she said. “Let’s talk this through—”

“I can’t.”

His self-control was cracking like plaster. He couldn’t let that happen in front of her.

“Sebastian,” she said.

He climbed into his car and drove away.

As he took one unthinking turn after another, the sensation that he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs grew more and more urgent. Finally, he pulled onto a half circle of dirt that formed an overlook and exited his car.

The land fell away, providing a view of mountains retreating into the distance. No houses or people nearby. Just nature.

He wrapped his palms around the metal railing at the curve’s edge and concentrated on breathing. Anger flew around inside him like a black crow.

“I’ll be fine,” his mom had told him, when she’d spent all day one Saturday in bed.

“What’s the matter?” He handed her the Pop-Tart and glass of milk he’d made her for dinner.

“I’m just a little under the weather.” She sat up in bed, her back supported by pillows. “All of us get sick sometimes. Remember when you had strep throat a few months ago? Now you’re as healthy as can be.”

“Yeah, but . . .” She didn’t look good. Why was she so thin? Her face was too white. He swallowed down worry. “I went to the doctor for medicine. You need to go to the doctor, too.”

“I’ll go on Monday, ’kay? Will that satisfy you?”