Page 3 of Broken Dreams

Once she'd planned to travel with Shane. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She'd known him her whole life, and just before he'd left for China, he'd kissed her, finally giving her a hint he was ready to take the relationship to the next level. Waiting for Shane to return home had been pure agony. Still, she hadn't blamed him for jumping at the chance to participate in a special surgical training program in Beijing. She would have done the same thing in his shoes.

Losing him felt surreal. Any minute, she expected him to vault onto the porch of her parent’s house, demanding to know what was for dinner.

A heavy ache settled in her heart. She missed him.

As she approached her childhood home, she noticed a man with a cane standing near the mailbox. She estimated him to be in his early thirties, and he stood staring at the house thoughtfully. He was tall, at least six feet, his back ramrod straight and his dark hair cut military short. For a moment she wondered if he was a lost soldier looking for the veteran’s hospital, even though he was dressed in worn jeans and T-shirt rather than a uniform.

He didn't seem to notice her until she was right next to him. With a polite smile, she greeted him. “Hello, may I help you? Are you lost?”

“Not lost, exactly. I believe this might be the Monroe house. I’m looking for Amber Monroe.”

Her eyes widened. She’d never seen this stranger before in her life. “I'm Amber Monroe.”

“Oh.” He frowned, trailing his gaze over her. “I expected someone older.”

She bit back a flash of impatience. She was twenty-six, not sixteen, and more than a little tired of people assuming the latter. It was humiliating the way she got carded when she went out with her coworkers, making her aware she looked younger than she was. “Well, I'm not expecting you.” She scowled. “Are you sure you’re looking for me?”

“Yes.” Belatedly she noticed a dark blue duffel bag on the ground at his feet. He leaned down and carefully extracted a small, battered cardboard box. His facial expression didn't change as he straightened, but she sensed he was in excruciating pain the way each movement was slow and deliberate. With the solemn expression, he held out the box. “I have something that belongs to you. I'm sorry it took me so long to bring this, I was—unavoidably detained.”

She didn't know who this guy was, and she was too tired to care. Crossing her arms over her chest, she silently refused his dubious offering. “Who are you? Why would you have anything that belongs to me?”

“My name is Nick Tanner, a friend and colleague of Shane Reinhart. This box contains letters and e-mail messages you sent during the time we were both on a six-month surgical training stint in Beijing. “A tick spasmed in his cheek and his tone revealed no emotion as he added, “I'm very sorry for your loss.”

Nick hoped she'd take the stupid box before he made a fool of himself by falling flat on his face. Every muscle in his leg screamed in agony. The bright sunlight beating down on his bare head echoed the throbbing in his thigh and sweat beaded on his upper lip.

Shane's girlfriend finally took the cardboard box from his hands. His arm dropped to his side and he nearly closed his eyes in relief. He had overtaxed his injured muscles by traveling halfway across the country without the help of pain meds.

“Are you okay?” The girl who looked all of eighteen with her strawberry blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, leaned toward him. A frown marred her pretty brow. “You look like you need to sit down.”

He must be losing his touch. He could have sworn he hadn't revealed any sign of his pain. Nick forced himself to look into the girl's concerned blue eyes. “I’m fine. I don't need to sit down.”

“Yeah.” She scoffed. “Look, Mr. Tanner, I'm a nurse and I know for a fact you need to sit before you fall.” She gestured to the steps leading to a wide porch in front of an old white farmhouse. “There's some shade from the sun over here.”

Despite his determination to get out of there, he found himself walking stiffly toward the proffered shade. “Dr. Tanner.”

“Excuse me?” She set the cardboard box beside her as she settled on the top step. A large Irish setter came bounding out the door waking his tail and greeting.

Idly, he reached out to pet the friendly dog, before bending awkwardly to take a seat on the steps beside her. “Never mind, call me Nick.” Taking the weight off his leg brought immeasurable relief. Forgetting his resolve of not letting on how much he was hurting, he used his good hand to massage the tense muscles.

“Nick. Of course.” He almost smiled when she tapped her temple with her index finger. “I remember now. Shane mentioned you in several of his letters and during our video calls. You're a trauma surgeon too, aren't you?”

The hint of smile faded. Shane. He had to remember why he was here. To pay his respects to Shane’s girlfriend. Mentally bracing himself, he turned so he could face her. “I was.”

“But not anymore?”

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Not exactly.” Without thinking, he opened and closed his injured hand into a fist. His arm was coming along much better than his leg, but he was so far from being well, he couldn't imagine setting foot in an operating room. “At the moment, I'm more of a patient than a doctor.”

“Hmm.” Despite the strawberry blonde hair and freckles he suspected those intense blue eyes of hers didn't miss a thing. “And you came all this way to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to give me a cardboard box filled with letters, messages and mementos I sent to Shane?”

“Yes.” He had a strong desire to tell her the rest to explain everything, but the words stuck in his throat. The truth was his burden to bear. Nothing good would come of telling Shane's girlfriend what he knew.

Shane Reinhart’s death was his fault.

Chapter Two

A little girl with blonde pigtails ran out of the house, banging the screen door behind her. “Aunt Amber, Grandma wants to know what's taking you so long.” Her eyes rounded with shocked surprise when she saw Nick sitting there. “Aunt Amber! Don't you know you're not supposed to talk to strangers?”

“Yes, Beth. But Dr. Tanner isn't a stranger, he's a friend.” Nick almost smiled at how Amber stretched the truth for the child's benefit. “Tell Grandma I'll be in soon.”

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