Page 132 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“It’s not about bringing them back. It’s about understanding how their loss shaped you. Sometimes acknowledging our pain is the first step toward healing.”

“You think I need to heal?” I laugh, and it sounds bitter and harsh. “What I need is for you to stop lusting after my wife.”

He loosens a steady breath, unfazed. “You seem very protective of Frankie. Can you tell me why?”

My fists clench, nails digging into my palms. Protective doesn’t even begin to cover it.

She’s mine. My wife, my soul, my reason for existing. The thought of her with anyone else, of her being harmed, ignites an inferno in my veins.

Leo and Kody are a whole other complication. They have their driver’s licenses now and are free to use my boats and cars. A freedom that both pleases and infuriates me.

It means they can take her places and give her experiences outside the confines of this island. It also means I can’t keep her under constant surveillance. The thought alone drives me to the brink of madness.

Worse, they prefer to take her crappy little cruiser which could break down at any moment and leave them stranded in the Sitka Sound.

They’re in Sitka now. She goes there every day. Not to work at the hospital—we can’t leave her unguarded. When Leo attends flight school in town, she accompanies Kody to the distillery.

Tipsy Sailor is temporarily closed for renovations. When it reopens, it will be under a new name and ownership.

I picture her standing among the scattered tools, dust-covered floors, and half-finished walls, her eyes sparkling with pride as she watches Kody work tirelessly toward realizing his dream.

After everything he and Leo have been through, they deserve happiness, but I can’t shake the fear that it will come at the cost of her safety.

With Leo in school and Kody focused on renovations, I have two guards trailing her at all times.

I can’t be there every day. I have a goddamn company to oversee despite being woefully absent from it lately. She won’t stay on the island with me alone, and in their need for independence, they don’t want me tagging along.

Sometimes I go anyway.

But not today.

Today I’m stuck with Dr. Dipshit.

“She’s my wife,” I finally say. “It’s my job to protect her.”

“Protect her from what?” His eyes bore into mine. “From the world? Or from yourself?”

The question sours the air, a challenge I refuse to entertain. He thinks he can unravel me, dissect my mind, and lay bare my weaknesses.

He knows nothing.

“Did she tell you she has a stalker?” I tap my fingers on the armrest, steady and controlled.

“She mentioned that.”

“Did she mention that you’re a suspect?”

He tilts his head, considering the question. “No. She believes you are a suspect.”

“Sharing that with me is a breach of doctor-patient privilege.”

“Sharing something you already know? I don’t think so. Look, I understand you’re trying to keep her safe.” His gaze softens, a methodical move to appear empathetic. “But sometimes, our efforts to protect can become suffocating.”

His words strike a chord, but I bury the discomfort.

She needs me. Without my protection, she would be lost, vulnerable to the dangers that lurk around every corner.

He switches topics. “Let’s talk about your relationship with Leo and Kody. How are things between the three of you?”

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