She looked around, saying, “Is Hayley with you?” and snapping him out of that pleasant reverie. And then she spotted his wife several yards away and waved at her. “She’s so sweet. No wonder you’re crazy about her.”

“That I am,” Quinn said with a grin, still feeling the heat his last thought had brought on.

Hayley nodded to Amanda, and began to slowly walk toward them as Quinn bent to place the spray of flowers beside the headstone.

“She looks as happy as she did at the wedding,” Amanda said. “And so do you.”

“I am. And I hope she is.”

“Thank you both for coming,” Amanda said. “It means so much to me.”

“Five years felt like it should be marked, somehow,” Quinn said.

“I—”

She stopped abruptly, and Quinn saw her looking past him. Instinctively, he turned. Spotted the man approaching them from the east.

“Adam,” he said softly. “He must have felt the same way.”

“I do not care what Adam Kirk feels, about anything, ever,” Amanda said tightly. “And I’ll be leaving now.”

Quinn’s head snapped back around. There had been nothing short of venom in her voice. It was so unlike her he frowned.

“You still blame him?” he asked.

She frowned. “Of course I do. It was his fault. He could have stopped it, and he didn’t.”

“Amanda, he couldn’t—”

“My father died because he was sloppy. Because he made an assumption. He admits it himself.” Her voice rose slightly. “And I hate him.”

“Believe me,” came a low voice from behind them, “I know. And you’re not alone.”

Quinn turned again, and this time Adam Kirk was close enough for him to see his eyes. And there was a look in them he recognized all too well. They used to call it battlefield guilt.

Survivor’s guilt.

Chapter 2

Both of them. Adam swore to himself over his lousy timing. Quinn Foxworth and Amanda. He would have turned around and come back later if Amanda hadn’t spotted him. But running would only prove her right. Although why that mattered when he already knew she was right, he wasn’t sure.

And so now here he was, about to be face-to-face with the two people who knew the complete truth. The man who, when he’d thought he was innocently stopping for a cup of coffee had ended up doing what Adam should have done that night, and the woman whose life had been forever changed by his mistake.

He made a sharp movement with his right arm, trying to force it. As always, it replied with a jab of pain and a refusal to bend any farther. But the pain was what he’d needed, and he had a grip on his roiling emotions again. Enough that he could at least face Quinn, who was looking at him assessingly, and with a recognition beyond that of realizing who he was.

“Adam,” he said quietly.