Hawk strode through the automatic doors and into the blinding sunlight. The cool kiss of the mid-December breeze felt pleasant against his skin. He’d stopped by to see the little girl, Crystal, but she was in ICU and not taking any visitors. He’d met her mom, though, and learned that they expected to move her out onto a floor that afternoon. Things were looking up. He’d left a balloon bouquet with Patty, and that was that. He had no more reason to think about September Stevens. So, why was she on his mind?

      It was a mystery. Loose ends, maybe, or just the fact that their paths had crossed. He hauled his bike key from his pocket, fiddling with it as he hiked toward the parking lot. If only he could have stayed away. Seeing her again tied him up in knots, and he was afraid to look at those tangled threads too closely.

      He straddled his Harley and plugged in the key. While the engine rumbled, he hauled his helmet off the backrest and that’s when he saw her. His gaze drew to her like fate. September, in a mandatory wheelchair, emerged from the automatic doors onto the concrete walkway, with his gardenias in her arms.

      How pretty she looked. She wore a light pink T-shirt that said Ride for the Cure, jeans and black riding boots. Her softly bouncy hair shone like cinnamon in the sunshine. She was still as sweet as ever. She’d always been delicate and kind, and not even life’s hardships had changed that. He surely hoped that God had been watching over her specially, as he’d kept her in prayer. He would never forget seeing her after the funeral, an image of perfect grief. He’d been in awe of her. What would it be like to love so much? To have been loved like that?

      He tugged on his helmet and yanked on the straps to secure them. Across the way, a light blue SUV crawled to a stop at the curb, and September’s sister emerged from it. With a hurried gait, she started loading the flowers several hospital volunteers were carrying. They scolded September for standing and trying to help out. He spotted a few arrangements already in the back of the SUV.

      He grabbed the grips and fed the engine. The bike gave a satisfying roar. Something kept him from leaving. Maybe it was the sight of September, pale and fragile with a bandage on her forehead and a pink cast on her left arm. Yep, that got to him. He couldn’t hold back the pounding need to look after her. He wanted to be the one to take care of her. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It simply came into being.

      With one last look, he rolled the bike backward out of the parking space and released the clutch. The Harley shot forward, taking him away from September, but not from the thought of her.

      Chapter Three

      Chessie set the last vase of flowers in the middle of the breakfast bar and fussed with it, turning the vase to get it just right. “So, time to fess up. What’s the deal?”

      “About what?” September looked up from her position on the couch, sorting her mail. A surprising amount of junk had accumulated during the two days she’d been in the hospital.

      “Not what. Who.” Satisfied with the way the flowers looked, Chessie dropped into one of the bar chairs. “What was Mark Hawkins really doing in your hospital room?”

      “The obvious. Bringing flowers. Seeing how I was.”

      “I didn’t know you had anything to do with that life anymore.”

      She meant army life. September sighed, remembering the tough time her sister had given her over her decision to date a Ranger and then accept his marriage proposal. She tossed a handful of advertisements into the paper-recycling bin. “I haven’t seen Hawk since the funeral.”

      “Talk about coincidences.”

      “You have no idea.”

      “Not a good coincidence.”

      “No.” Her heart twisted hard, remembering how Hawk had changed. What had happened to him? “I’m trying to move on with my life, and it’s not easy. Something always pops up to pull me back.” Something forced her to remember when life had been bright and her dreams shiny and new.

      “He should know that. He should have left you alone.” Chessie, protective big sister, folded her arms across her chest. “Want me to talk to him?”

      “No. He meant well. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him again. As if. He will probably be TDY by the end of the week.”

      “You mean on a tour of duty?” Chessie relaxed and propped her chin on her fists. “All right, I won’t hunt him down. But that doesn’t mean you’re okay. You didn’t need a reminder of your losses.”

      “True.” She tossed a few more envelopes thick with coupons she would never need. “He looks hardened. No longer the carefree guy I remember.”

      “War will do that, I suppose. It’s his choice to do what he does, carrying a gun and shooting people with it.” Chessie had a strong opinion on that. She had strong opinions on just about everything. “Don’t worry, I will stay off my soapbox, but what kind of man does that year after year?”

      The kind who cares about others more than himself. September kept quiet. She wasn’t up to any kind of serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of war. Nor did she remind her sister that those words maligned Tim’s memory. Tim who had died trying to save innocent embassy hostages. Hawk had been wounded on that mission, she remembered. The hows and whys were a mystery to her.

      “I’m going to swing by and pick up some pizza. That ought to put a smile on your face.” Chessie slid off the chair and hooked her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’ll get a dessert pizza, too. The Stevens girls are going to totally carb out.”

      “Sounds just like what I need.” Comfort food all the way. She flung the last junk mail envelope into the bin. There, done with that chore. Not that there weren’t a dozen more needing to be done around here. Clutter was accumulating. She needed to give her family room and kitchen area a serious going-over. Keeping busy would keep her mind off her troubles, right?

      “What are you doing?” Chessie scolded from the doorway. “I see you getting up. You’re going to do housework, aren’t you?”

      “Why do you say that like an accusation?” September swiped a stack of books off the coffee table and tucked them into the crook of her good arm. “I have pizza coupons you can use.”

      “I have some in my car.” Chessie closed the door and crossed through the living room. “That’s it, I’m calling for delivery. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Now lie down. Do it now, or I’ll make you.”

      “This sounds exactly like my childhood,” she quipped, reluctantly putting down the books. “No one can understand the hardship I went through as your sister.”

      “Ha, ha.” Chessie tapped her foot, pointing to the arm of the couch where she’d propped two fluffy down pillows earlier. “Feet up. I mean it—”

      The doorbell rang. She was saved. She kept her feet firmly on the hardwood floor. “Should I get that?”

      “As if.” Chessie huffed out a frustrated sigh as she pivoted on her Mary Janes and marched through the town house. “You stay right where you are, sister dear. You just got out of the hospital and you’re going to take care of yourself even if I have to—”

      She opened the door and fell silent. Curious, September leaned forward far enough on the cushions to see a uniformed delivery dude holding pizza boxes.

      “Got a delivery for Hawkins,” he announced.

      “Hawkins?” That had her moving across the room. She was halfway to the door before she saw the black motorcycle pulling up to the curb out front. Hawk swung off his bike, unbuckling his helmet.

      “I’ll sign for it.” He slung his helmet over the backrest while the delivery guy handed Chessie the pizzas. The look on her