Nate allowed himself to hear Brady's words. To soak them in. Nate was no hero, he knew that. But maybe, tonight, he'd acted like one. Maybe that was all anybody could ever do.

* * *

OF COURSE THE CABIN was quiet when they pulled into the short drive and parked beside Sam's Isuzu Trooper. Nate hadn't thought to bring the keys.

Brady reached for the console between the seats, lifted something, and jingled. "I got 'em."

"Good thinking."

"Figured you'd want to get back in sooner rather than later." He jumped out of the car, ran to the house, and bounded up the three steps like they were nothing.

Nate cursed Brady's ability to move so fast. Despite what he'd told the doctor, his brain was battering the inside of his skull as if trying to get loose. His two stab wounds throbbed. In fact, his whole body ached as he pushed himself out of the sedan and stood.

Brady walked back down the steps. "Need help?"

"I'm fine." He wouldn't allow himself to hunch as he started toward the porch, one slow step at a time. Had the stairs always been that steep?

"You should have stayed at the hospital. They'll still be here tomorrow."

Nate stopped, faced his friend. "Will they? Because they live in Mexico. In a tiny little town I never knew the name of and wouldn't be able to find again on a bet."

"You think she's going to run away?"

Nate shrugged. He didn't, not really, but he wasn't willing to take the chance. He needed to be here. With Marisa and Ana. If they decided to go back to Mexico, then he'd go with them. No way was he returning to his life of solitude now that he'd been shown a better way.

Marisa.

Nate gripped the stair rail, and Brady grabbed his other arm. Together, they navigated the steps.

He made it into the cabin and saw Sam sound asleep on the love seat. She was short, but not that short.

"We talked," Brady whispered. "I told her you were too stubborn to stay in the hospital."

Nate looked at his closed bedroom door and the yellow crime scene tape secured across it.

No matter. He wanted to be out here when Marisa woke, anyway.

He collapsed on the sofa.

Brady pulled a blanket from the chair—Sam must've left it there for him, along with the pillow on the end of the couch—and draped it over him. "You need anything else?"

"No. Thanks."

"You got your phone?"

Nate closed his eyes. "Lost it on the street, I think."

"Okay. I'll check in later today."

Chapter 39