Page 1 of Just a Heartbeat Away

CHAPTER ONE

SEBASTIANDORNERUSEDto be the kind of man who knew how to sit across a table from a woman. He used to know when to slant her a slice of white smile. He used to know when to unbutton the top button of one of his tailored suits. He used to know how to signal a waiter with two fingers and a slick nod toward an empty glass. He used to know how to lean across that table and brush soft hair back from softer skin.

But Cora’s tank of an SUV had gotten hit by some drunk college kid’s Camry, and she was gone. And Sebastian Dorner was gone, too. The car accident that had taken his wife’s life had sliced neatly through a tether he hadn’t realized he’d been leaning all his weight against. He was falling.

Had been falling for the last six months.

And now he wasn’t even the kind of man who remembered how to comb his hair. He scraped a dry palm over the back of his head and, glancing down, realized his shirt was misbuttoned.

True, there was a woman sitting across the table from him. But they weren’t in some swanky, dark bar. He couldn’t even get his knees underneath the preschool-size worktable. The sickening smell of graham crackers went straight to his gut. He’d been here ten minutes, and he hadn’t been able to raise his eyes to the woman’s face, let alone to the happy patchwork of art dotting the walls.

What if one of those drawings was Matty’s? He didn’t think he could bear to look at something Matty had created. The idea that his four-year-old son was living a life Sebastian knew nothing about was so brightly painful, he couldn’t move his gaze past the crayoned-up tabletop.

“Mr. Dorner.” Her soft, quiet voice was soothing, sure. But even silk sheets could scrape a sunburn. Sebastian was too raw for this. He was too nothing. Too nowhere. Too no one. “Thank you for coming today. I know... I know this is a really hard time for you and Matty.”

He grunted.

There. That was almost human. Somebody get out the gold medals.

“I wanted to talk to you about some things I’ve been noticing with Matty.”

That got Sebastian’s attention. His eyes shot up to the preschool teacher’s face.

“Is he all right?” Sebastian restrained his wince. What a dumb question. Of course the kid wasn’t all right. His mom had just died.

“Actually,” the woman—Miss Derossi? Miss Desposa? Something like that—said, “Matty is doing really well, academically. I’m sure you’re well aware of how bright he is. And creative! He made me a bracelet out of old crayon wrappers the other week.” She paused, like Sebastian might respond to that, but when there was nothing, she continued on. “And from a grieving perspective, he’s doing very well.”

Well? Was there anygoodway to grieve? He almost scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s a healthy kid. He’s not bottling anything up. He cries sometimes, gets mad sometimes, but more often than not, he’s playing and happy. He’ll talk to other kids, or me, about his mom. He’s done a lot of drawings of her, too.”

Sebastian grunted.

“But I’ve noticed a few things that have me worried.” She cleared her throat. “About you.”

Again, Sebastian scraped that dry palm over his unkempt hair. “Me?”

“Yes.” She shifted in her chair. She didn’t look uncomfortable or judgmental. That, more than anything, would soothe Sebastian when he would think about this conversation again and again in the months to come. “Mr. Dorner, Matty is showing some preliminary signs of neglect.”

Neglect?

She could have reached across the table and smacked his stubbled face and she wouldn’t have shocked him more.Neglect.The word was like a never-ending knife through his gut. Every time he thought it was done running him through, suddenly there was ten more feet of blade.

Neglect.

“I’m—I’m sorry?” He tried to clear the gruff out of his throat. “I don’t understand.”

Her dark eyes, the only thing he’d really remember about her appearance later, were calm and held his very steadily. “He hasn’t been showing up to school dressed properly for the weather, and his clothes are often...unclean. It seems like he isn’t bathing regularly, especially since he often shows up with yesterday’s paint on his hands and arms. And though I got him on the school’s lunch program, you haven’t applied for the scholarship help. I could get in trouble for allowing an unregistered kid to have a free lunch every day.”

Humiliation was a hot lick of flame from every side. It had been two months since Cora’s parents had headed back to White Plains. And his friends Mary and Tyler were a huge help, but they had lives; they couldn’t be there every single day.

How did I let this get so fucked?

There was nowhere to look. Nothing to say. All he could think about was his stupid fucking misbuttoned shirt. “He told me he always got lunch at school. I just thought...”

He trailed off because he had no idea what he’d thought. He’d trusted a four-year-old and never thought to double-check. Just like he’d trusted a four-year-old who’d said that Mommy let him wash himself and Mommy let him pick out his own clothes every day. He’d never double-checked any of it.

Neglect.

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