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He lifted his gaze to hers, and for an instant, just a split second, the grief eased. She was so genuine. So kind. Beautiful inside and out.
Without thinking, he brushed a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. She didn’t flinch away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher.
Then his phone buzzed against his desk, and he looked down at the caller ID. The grief came roaring back. “My parents. They knew I was meeting with you today.”
“They went back to Kentucky?”
“They didn’t want to, but Ma had an important doctor’s appointment she couldn’t miss. She was diagnosed with breast cancer last month. Rhiannon didn’t know. We were waiting for her to come home before we told—” His voice cracked. He couldn’t finish.
The phone stopped ringing.
Isabella’s grip on his forearm tightened reassuringly. “Give yourself some time. You don’t have to take that call right now. I can talk to them if you want.”
Christ, he wanted nothing more than to lean in and accept the comfort she offered. To let himself crumble and admit that he was teetering on the edge of a grief so profound it terrified him.
He’d already hit rock bottom once in the years right after he lost his arm. If he fell off that cliff again, would he survive it?
Yes.
He had to.
Simple as that.
He couldn’t afford to break. He was Rylan Cross—the resilient, compassionate trauma counselor, the rock everyone else braced against when their world was shaken. He couldn’t allow the cracks to show, let alone admit that he was on the verge of shattering. Because if he crumbled, what would happen to the fractured pieces of those he held together?
“No,” he finally said, using every ounce of his will to mask the crack in his voice. “It has to come from me.” With a deep breath, he reached for his phone. The experimental myoelectric prosthetic arm he’d been beta testing for the last few months was almost as good at fine motor skills as his real arm had been, but he couldn’t seem to make it grasp the sleek device without fumbling. Every failed attempt frayed his nerves further, but he kept going out of stubborn determination until he finally had it in his hand.
Isabella smiled sadly and set a business card down on his desk before she crossed to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, but please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just to talk.”
“Thank you, Deputy Delgado.”
“I think we’re past those kinds of formalities now.” Her smile turned into something softer, more personal, as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Call me Izzy.”
“Thank you, Izzy.” He tried to return the smile but wasn’t sure he succeeded.
The door clicked softly closed behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the daunting task of breaking the news to his parents.
His gaze drifted to her card, Isabella “Izzy” Delgado, Deputy Sheriff. She’d written her personal cell number on the back in a pretty, loopy script.
He wished she had stayed.
Sucking in a deep breath, he dialed his parents. The conversation was every bit as heartbreaking as he’d anticipated. They sobbed and howled their grief over the line while he remained stoic, their rock.
Always the rock.
When the call finally ended, he was left drained and numb. He sat in silence for a long time, staring blankly at his desk until the noise inside his head became too loud to bear. He jumped up and strode from the room. He needed something to do. Something else to focus on.
A distraction.
And he found it in the rescue’s operations center. Zak and Donovan were in there, which wasn’t a surprise. It was where they spent most of their time between training and missions.
Sawyer and his new fiancee, Lucy, were also there. The pair had just survived a harrowing experience, the earthquake having trapped them on the side of Mount Humboldt with some truly disturbed people. They were both still bruised and battered, but the relaxed smiles on their faces, the way Lucy’s hand found Sawyer’s in a reassuring clasp, showed that they were healing.
Together, they were gathered around the large table in the center of the room, engrossed in hushed conversations and rifling through a stack of documents. At Rylan’s entrance,their heads turned as one. Expectant looks swiftly changed to sympathy at his hollow expression.
They already knew.
Of course they did.
