Page 23 of Perilous Healing

“A wedding, then?”

She shakes her head. “No, not a wedding. It’slikethe one they had, but not exactly.” She uses a small hairbrush to smooth the blonde strands of doll hair. “No one is getting married, they just met!”

“Ooh, okay. I gotcha.”

As I reach over for my mug, my gaze lands on a picture of my sister and her husband. My heart aches at the sight of my twin sister smiling widely, her husband right beside her. Eloise may never get the chance to meet her parents, but I’m going to make certain she recognizes them.

My sister would have wanted that.

I may not be a praying man, but I do hope that wherever she is, Sierra knows just how much I love her little girl.

The doorbell rings, startling me out of my reminiscing.

My heart thuds in my chest, faster than normal, and on instinct, my hand goes to my lower back where the large knife I always carry is sheathed. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been home, I still fear not knowing who’s on the other side of the door.

Especially now, knowing who’s coming after Bianca. Given that I let her out, it’s possible they’re coming for me, too.

After checking the peephole, I drop my hand from the knife and open the door. Lance stands on the other side, his auburn hair shining in the bright sun. He’s dressed in work jeans that are stained with paint from who knows when and a blue flannel with a white shirt underneath. It’s his typical handyman clothing, which likely means he’s either here to offer me help or he’s stopping by on his way to another job.

“Morning,” I greet.

“Morning. Can I come in?”

“Sure thing.” I step aside, and he comes in.

“Lance!” Eloise leaps up from where she sits on the floor and rushes forward to jump into Lance’s waiting embrace.

“Morning there, little El! How are you this morning?”

“Awesome. I sleptsoooogood,” she says, stretching out the ‘so.’

“I’m glad to hear it.” He releases her and stands. “Can we talk?”

I nod. “Coffee?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

I head into the kitchen and he follows. After filling a mug with fresh coffee, I offer it to him, then lean back against the counter. “If this is about Bianca, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. It wasn’t my story to tell.”

“I get that.” He takes a seat at the counter. “I do wish you would have told me, as a friend, but I can understand why you didn’t. What I want to know is how deep your connection to her runs.”

I should have seen this coming. “You’re worried they’re coming for me, too?”

“I’m worried your head is clouded. I want to make sure it’s clear.”

“It’s clear. Whatever was between us all those years ago is gone. I feel nothing for her.”

“Even nothing is something,” Lance replies.

“Not this time. Bianca lied to me. I don’t have tolerance for people who do that.”

“So you have no feelings for her whatsoever? When she walks in the room, your gaze isn’t immediately drawn to her?” When I don’t immediately answer, he continues, “Because I also don’t care to be lied to.”

Defeated, I run a hand through my hair. “Whatever is still there is only lingering feelings that haven’t burned off yet.”

“What happened to you two in that jungle?”

“She didn’t tell you?” I assumed that after I left yesterday, she’d told them everything. About what a sucker I was for my feelings and how easily I’d fallen.

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