Sanchez touched her arm in a gesture of comfort, but she flinched away.

“Please,” she begged. “I’ve told you everything. Just go away. I want to be alone.”

More tears spilled down her cheeks and she buried her face in the pillow. Her shoulders shook, causing excruciating pain to the bullet wound. Sharp pain stabbed at her ribs, but she ignored the physical discomfort.

She honestly didn’t know if Sanchez left or not. She ignored everything but the unrelenting pain in her chest.

I’m so sorry, David.

God, it wasn’t fair. One man had cost her everything. Worse, Micah, completely innocent in the whole thing, had lost the two people he loved most. David and Hannah had lost their lives and their future together.

She hunched her body in misery, ignoring the pain slicing through her shoulder and ribs.

“Hey,” Connor said softly next to her ear. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

She turned and all but flung herself into his arms. He caught her awkwardly and was forced to sit on the bed next to her so he could ease her back down on the pillows.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. You should be more careful,” he admonished even as he stroked her hair in a soothing motion. “Where’s Micah? Sanchez came out and said you were upset as hell.”

“He walked out,” she said, her voice muffled by Connor’s shirt.

“Any particular reason why?” Connor asked mildly.

“Oh, Connor, if only I didn’t have to tell him. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he had to find out.”

“You’re not making a lick of sense, sweetie, but I’ll sit here and listen if you want to talk.”

Despite her vow not to ask for any more pain medication, after two days of battling pain, she was at the end of her limit.

“I hurt,” she croaked out. “Can you call for pain medication? I’ll tell you all about it and then maybe I can forget for just a little while.”

Micah walked blindly through the hospital corridors, no clear direction in mind. He needed air. He needed to be alone before he completely lost his composure.

Tears blinded him, and he steeled his jaw, furious at his display of emotion.

Where the fuck were the exits?

He rounded the corner and encountered another maze of hallways. He strode to the far end, only to dead-end at the chapel.

At least it would be quiet and maybe he’d be alone.

He entered the small area of respite and slid into the last pew in a row of four. It was blanketed in quiet, and more importantly, he was the only occupant.

Long-held tears slid down his cheeks. He braced himself on the back of the pew in front of him and leaned forward, burying his face in his arms.

For too long he’d held back any emotion when it came to Hannah. He’d always assumed he was the unlucky victim of a random tragedy. He saw them all the time when he was a cop. Too many times he’d been the one to tell a husband or a wife, a mother or a father, that a loved one was gone. And then it had been him.

Never had he imagined that an act of rage had been responsible for taking away the people he loved. And God, Hannah, completely innocent. A victim. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If she hadn’t been with David that day, she’d still be alive.

Fury blew through his consciousness, a bleak, destructive storm. That bastard had taken David and Hannah from him, and he’d damned near taken Angelina.

So many lives devastated because of Chad’s sick fixation on Angelina. Angelina, who had just been a teenager, innocent. There was no way she should have attracted the attentions of a man old enough to know better. A man who’d sworn to uphold the law and protect the innocent.

Micah raised his head and stared down at the simple cross that hung high on the far wall, overlooking the pews. It was a symbolic gesture, but it left Micah cold.

“Why?” he asked in a cracked voice.

The cross blurred in his vision, and he closed his eyes in an effort to hold back the tears. His chest was heavy and ached so damn much that breathing was hard.

Promise me, man. If anything ever happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of Angelina. She’s something special, Micah. Heart way too big for her own good. I worry because she doesn’t see everyone for who they are. She’s too busy looking for the good. I’ve tried to get her to adopt some cynicism, but the truth of the matter is, she wouldn’t be the same girl if she did.

A long-ago conversation, one he hadn’t remembered until now, floated through his mind with such clarity that it was like David was sitting next to him in the pew.

He hadn’t given Angelina any thought after the funerals. He’d made a cursory effort to support Angelina in her grief, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own to do her any justice. He’d left Miami within the month, just as soon as David’s affairs had been settled and Angelina was provided for. Financially. He damn sure hadn’t stuck around to make sure she had the emotional support she needed.

He should have been there when she started getting the creepy notes. He should have been heading the investigation. He should have been protecting her. He never should have left her to fend for herself.

I failed her, man. I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.

He closed his eyes again.

I’m sorry, Hannah. I loved you so much. We were happy. I wanted forever. I should have seen it. I should have protected you better.

An image of Hannah’s smiling face wavered in his memory. Laughing, so happy. So gentle and loving. Yes, he’d loved her with everything he had. Angelina deserved that same love, that same depth.

Hannah was gone. It hurt to say it. It hurt to think about it. Maybe the hurt would never fully go away, but Angelina understood. She’d always understood.

Angelina was here. She loved him. He loved her. He wanted a life. With her. He wanted a family, one they’d build together. Love, laughter, children’s smiles, Angelina’s love. He wanted that.

He bowed his head and whispered a simple prayer, one he hadn’t said since he was a boy struggling to survive in a house where there was no love or understanding.

He asked for forgiveness. He asked for peace for Hannah and David. He asked for peace for himself and Angelina. And he asked for one more chance to make things right.

Angelina woke to a darkened room once more. Connor was gone and Micah was slumped in a chair beside her bed. He was asleep and he looked uncomfortable as hell.

The remnants of the medication still lurked in her system, and she enjoyed the sweet respite from the pain. She needed strength for the things she needed to say.

“Micah,” she said in a soft voice.

He roused immediately and sat forward.

“Are you all right? Need more pain medication? I wish you hadn’t waited so long to ask for it this last time. If you need it, you should take it.”

“I’m okay. I need to talk to you. Turn the light on please.”

He got up and went to flip the switch on the wall. They both winced at the sudden burst of light. He looked haggard, his face raw and his eyes haunted.

When he started to sit down on the bed next to her, she shook her head and warned him off with her hand.

“Please. I have a lot to say, and I can’t do it if you’re touching me.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, but he took his seat again in the chair next to the bed.

“I need you to listen to everything I have to say and not interrupt. This is hard enough and I need to just get it out.”

“All right,” he said quietly.

“After I get out of the hospital I’m going to move back to Miami. When I’m able. Connor said I could stay in my apartment as long as I needed to.”

Micah surged forward, his face stormy.

Before he could respond, she shook her head. “You promised.”