She’d spent half her life in their house, making Ray play dolls with her when they were little, and learning how to turn somersaults and outrun the boys just to keep up with them. As they grew older, they hung out together like siblings, but she’d lived for the moments when Hunt was there. At that time, he barely acknowledged her existence, but it didn’t matter. She loved enough for two.

And then something big—something horrible that no one ever talked about—happened at their house and Hunt was gone.

After that, no one mentioned his name, so she grieved the loss of a childhood dream, grew up into a woman on a mission to take care of people, and went on to become a nurse. After a couple of years working in a hospital in Savannah, she came home to Blessings, and she’d been here ever since. Ava had cared for many people in her years of nursing, but it was bittersweet to be caring for Marjorie Knox, when she had been the one who’d cared for Ava as a child.

Ava glanced at Emma. She was Emma Lee, now. Married to a nice man named Gordon Lee. Her gaze slid to Junior, and Ray, and Birdie.

Junior was a high-school dropout and divorced.

Ray worked for a roofing company and had a girlfriend named Susie.

Bridgette, who’d been called Birdie all of her life, was the baby, but she was smart and driven to succeed in life where her siblings were not. She was the bookkeeper at Truesdale’s Feed and Seed Store, and still waiting for her own Prince Charming.

Ava thought the family looked anxious, which was normal, but they also seemed unhappy with each other, which seemed strange. However, she’d seen many different reactions from families when a loved one was passing, and had learned not to judge or assume. And even though it was no business of hers, she knew the Knox family well enough to know something was going on. Her job was to monitor Marjorie’s vitals and nothing else.

The door to Marjorie’s room was open, and the sounds out in the hall drifted in as Ava was adjusting the drip in Marjorie’s IV. So when the staccato sound of metal-tipped boots drifted inside, they all looked toward the doorway.

The stride was heavy, likely male—steady and measured, like someone who knew where he was going. The sound was growing louder, and they kept watching, curious to see who it was who was passing by at this time of night.

Then all of a sudden there was a man in the doorway, dressed in biker leather and carrying a helmet. He glanced at them without acknowledgment, then went straight to the bed where Marjorie was lying.