This was what she needed. She was afraid to leave Ginny after the girl fell asleep, so while Mia and Cole had been away she hadn’t walked down to the beach at night—a ritual she’d grown fond of since arriving in Wilmington. Faith wondered how she’d gotten by her entire life without the ocean. The tension and uncertainty drained from her body, leaving peace in its place.

Inside her pajama pants pocket, her cell vibrated. Heart pounding, she struggled to pull it out. She’d called her parents again after dinner tonight, when she knew they’d be home, but the machine kicked in. Every day she called. They’d called back a few times, but the conversations had been forced and stilted.

“Hi, it’s Mom. You called?”

Relief spilled into her body. “I was just missing you. I wanted to catch up.”

A lengthy silence followed until her mother cleared her throat. “The choir is working on some new hymns. We may try them out in the fall.”

That wasn’t exactly what Faith had had in mind, but she’d take it. “That sounds fun. I’m on the beach staring at the ocean.” Faith bit her lip, wondering if she should just say what was on her mind. “I keep thinking . . .” She blew out a breath. “I think Hope would’ve loved it here. It’s so pretty and peaceful. The pelicans come by every morning and evening. They—”

“Listen, Faith. It’s late, don’t you think? You should head to bed. Sleep is important.”

“Right. You’re right,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “Have a good night. I’ll call again soon.”

“Good night.”

Hot tears burned behind her lids as she ended the call. She had a great job, a lovely place to live, friends, and a boyfriend even, but she would trade all that in for one real conversation with her parents. Any attempt to breach the miles and really connect. For them to show a sign that they truly missed her or wondered how she was doing. She’d wasted most of her childhood wishing for that.

Frustration and grief rose inside. She fisted the phone and stared at it. “Why won’t you talk to me?” she ground out.

“Why won’t who talk to you?”

She jumped and spun to face Alec. “Oh. I didn’t see you there.”

“Deep in thought again?” His smile fell as he walked closer, the moon illuminating his handsome face. “You’ve been crying.”

Darn it. She swiped at the tears with the back of her hand and forced a smile. “What brings you out so late?”

“I was writing and saw you when I took a break. Don’t avoid the question. Does this person not talking to you have anything to do with why you’re crying?”

She breathed out a sigh. “Maybe.” Turning to face the water, she forced herself to calm down. “My mom just returned my call from earlier.”

He stepped closer to stand at her side. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. No.” She rubbed her forehead, attempting to clarify. “They won’t talk to me.”

“Did you get in a fight?”

If only. Lord, that brought a fresh wave of tears. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat before answering. “You told me that your dad was always teasing you, that you couldn’t be in the same room without butting heads. I have the opposite problem. I’d give anything to have my parents mad at me.”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and rocked back on the heels of his bare feet. “That statement requires explanation.”

She put the phone back in her pocket and crossed her arms, still facing the ocean. The thought of looking at him was unbearable. How does one explain that her own parents didn’t want her and never had? “Your dad acts the way he does because he cares. It might not seem that way, but he wouldn’t bother if he didn’t love you.” Might as well get it all out. She hoped saying the rest didn’t make her sound pitiful. “My parents don’t bother.”

He stilled when she didn’t say any more. After a few heartbeats, he moved to stand in front of her and dipped his head to look into her eyes. “Are you telling me your parents don’t give a shit, Faith? I doubt that, very much.”

The rough timbre of his voice caused her to shiver. His gray-blue eyes held her gaze and waited. She hesitated to offer more, but then decided it didn’t matter. After this summer he’d go back to New York and forget all about her. What did she care if he knew? Except he might change his mind about their arrangement and walk away now. Might see just how pathetic she really was and think her too much of a head case.

“Faith?”

For courage, she glanced over his shoulder at the ocean for a few beats before looking into his eyes. “My sister was diagnosed with her illness before I was born. The type of cancer she had caused swelling and tissue damage, primarily on the left side of her body, though in some cases the right can be affected, too. It meant numerous transfusions and possibly even organ transplants down the road. My parents weren’t a close enough match to Hope’s blood type.”

Again, Alec stilled. Realization slowly dawned in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw clenched. “You’re trying to say that—”

“I was conceived for the sole purpose of being Hope’s donor. Siblings are often the best match. I was her replacement parts, except I failed, and she died anyway.”

His jaw dropped. He backed up two steps and stopped. “Jesus.” His hand raked through his thick black hair. “Jesus,” he said again. “I don’t know where to start with something like that, Faith.”

Not understanding his reaction, she stared at him.

He paced away and came back. “Your sister getting sick may have been what brought you into the world, but you’re not anyone’s replacement parts. Your parents—”

“Don’t have a bond with me.” Sensing where this conversation was headed, she lifted her hand to stop him. “They never have. We talk, but we never say anything. Not of substance.”

His hands dropped to his sides. “That’s your guilt talking. And you have nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t up to you to save her. Christ, you were just a little girl.”

This wasn’t why she’d told him. She didn’t need him to try and rationalize the behavior of the two people she’d lived her whole life trying to please. Somehow, in the last few months before moving to Wilmington, she’d realized something. You couldn’t make someone love you, even if those people were the ones who were supposed to love you most. She’d accepted it. She didn’t understand it and she hadn’t gotten over it, but she accepted it.

“It’s not guilt talking, Alec. It’s years of observation.”

He didn’t know the silence of the Armstrong house after Hope died. Even before that, there had been few visitors in Faith’s hospital room when they’d prepped her for Hope’s procedures. All the focus was on her sister, and that’s how it should’ve been. Of course her parents were there, got her settled and situated, moved from room to room when need be, but Hope was the sick one.

She closed her eyes briefly and drew in a lungful of air before opening them again. Alec had stopped pacing and was glaring at her with his arms crossed, feet evenly spaced apart as if bracing for an epic battle. “You’re angry.”

His head reared back and confusion marred his brow. “I guess I am.”

Of all the reactions she’d been expecting, anger wasn’t it. Revulsion. Pity. Shock, perhaps. Those emotions were normal. But anger just made no sense. What did he have to be angry about?

She didn’t know how to do this, to be in a relationship. Even a temporary one like theirs. She knew nothing about friendship or conversation or how to be around people. All she knew was how to connect with disabled kids and teach. This was a mistake, thinking she could be with someone like Alec.

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” he said. “You have that look on your face, like you’ve shut down on me, and I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

A heavy weight settled behind her ribs as she took a step back. “I’m sorry I upset you. Good night.”