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“You’re not fucked up.” With her free hand, she stroked from bearded cheek to shoulder, hoping his erratic breathing would settle.

But he jerked away. “Stop it. Stop pitying me!”

“I’m not pitying you. I’m offering comfort.”

“I don’t want it or need it,” he said through gritted teeth. Another breath, and his voice softened. “But you can’t go out there and look for him alone. Your brother pissed off a lot of people—you don’t want to get caught in the cross fire. That’s why I didn’t tell you about the court date. I can’t go out there with you, and I don’t want you going alone.”

Sweet of him to be concerned, but wholly unnecessary. “It won’t be the first time. I’m used to it.” Fighting for a casual tone, she laid her hand on top of where theirs joined. “So you haven’t left here in three months? What about LA?”

“Haven’t been out much since the surgeries, but never because I couldn’t. Because I didn’t want to. It was a shitshow after my first surgery, worse after each subsequent one. But then it got better. I thought I’d be fine here.”

The photo in the airport must have triggered something. Shit. She couldn’t stay here with him and face losing her niece to the woman who didn’t care whether the little girl lived or died.

Yet leaving him here alone felt wrong. Not only because of the promise she’d made to get his address, but because somehow she’d developed a fondness for him—grumpy vampiric shut-in that he was and all. What terrible timing.

Rising, she brought him another glass of water and flipped on the one low lamp. At least his color had returned to normal and the tremor in his hands had finally subsided. He took the glass from her with a murmur of thanks, and downed it in a few swallows.

This was going to be a problem.

The rain pounded against the windows with heavy fists. Attempting to drive on the wrong side of the road in the storm to… anywhere was a bad idea. Especially this close to nightfall.

Tomorrow morning, she’d go. Maybe Oliver would finally tell her where Kyle’s new wife lived, and she’d start there. With any luck, Kyle’s spouse would be a day trip away and she’d come back to Oliver by nighttime. She couldn’t leave him here all alone, surrounded by the dark silence he’d come to know—they would have to figure out that problem next.

The sudden clap of thunder felt like an omen. Outside, the storm thrashed the trees against the house, branches scraping at the glass. Definitely no driving tonight.

She hated storms. Seattle was rainy, but thunderstorms were rare and far between.

“You can’t drive in this.” Oliver set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

“Definitely not.” The tension in his features relaxed at her statement. Was he concerned about her? Impossible. “But first thing tomorrow, I’m going. Tell me what you know about Kyle’s new wife.”

He watched her for a tense heartbeat. “Fine. Her name is Caity O’Halloran. She lives in Galway.”

“Galway. Is that…? How far is that from here?”

“Two hours.”

“Okay… That’s not so bad. Who’s she marrying?”

“She’s marrying the mayor of Galway.”

Another clap of thunder, and they were submerged in pitch black.

Oh, no, no, no. Addison fought for even a half-lungful of air. This was a nightmare she’d lived through and wished to never repeat.

Blindly, she reached for Oliver’s hand. “Great. Just great.”

“You okay?” He squeezed her fingers. “I’m guessing a tree knocked out the power lines. They’ll have them back up in no time.”

“Do you have candles? Flashlights?” Why did her voice come out this squeaky?

“I’ll go look.” Letting go of her hand, he rose to his feet.

At the edge of the couch, he paused, then walked toward the windows, pulling the curtains wide open. The storm had turned late afternoon to near night, but the gray was better than the black.

“Better?”

“Much. I’ll go with you.”