With a puff of exasperation, she said, “I did nothing, except panic a little.”
“You watched the kids.”
“Ha! They were fine, more interested in the confusion, a new setting, and the birds than anything else.” Lowering her gaze, she admitted, “I wish I was more like you, but overall, I was useless. I had no idea how to help.”
The way her words tumbled out, rushed and defensive, bothered Brogan a lot. “Listen to me, okay? No one there was qualified to help that kid.”
“Except you, and that’s my point! Without you, he’d be …” She shook her head, refusing to say the word.
“He’s alive because ofyou, too. I wouldn’t have left Shayna with anyone else, and that means I couldn’t have saved the boy.”
“No, I—”
“Pixie.” He tilted up her face, much as he’d done with Benny, in a gesture meant to calm, reassure, and connect. “No one but you.”
After a second of uncertainty, she drew an uneven breath. “You mean that?”
“I never would have trusted Shayna’s care with anyone else, definitely not a stranger. On my way down that hill, I knew someone was going to be hurt, maybe killed. I felt it in my guts. A drunk asshole with a big boat, a churning propeller, kids everywhere—that scenario equals disaster.” Okay, so maybe hewasa little upset. Even now, he felt a killing rage at how badly things could have ended. He understood and accepted accidents, but he had zero tolerance for gross negligence, which was exactly what that driver had exhibited. “No one else was trained to react, and I kept thinking, ‘Thank God Pixie is with me.’”
She stared up at him with her big, solemn blue eyes, and finally nodded. “Thank you for trusting me.”
I want you to trust me, too.Damn, he wanted that. Instead of saying it out loud, he searched her face and realized how the near tragedy had affected her. “You’re shaking. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Yes. I’m positive. I’m rattled, I won’t deny that, but like you, I wouldn’t risk Andy if I wasn’t sure it was safe.”
Brogan accepted that. “All right. I’ll be right behind you, okay? Any problems, just pull over.”
With a half smile, she handed him Ellen’s keys. Together, they got the kids in their car seats, with everything else stowed in back. Shayna was already yawning, ready for a nap, and Andy looked a little tuckered out, too.
Brogan pressed a kiss to each baby’s head, then had to resist doing the same with Pixie. Wasn’t easy, but he got into Ellen’s car, moved the seat way back to accommodate his long legs, and waited to follow Pixie.
Thankfully, the hospital wasn’t too far away, because he just knew Shayna needed a diaper change. He’d probably have to handle it in the hospital parking lot.
He’d had big plans for that dinner, damn it. He’d wanted to ease Pixie into the idea of a closer relationship. Instead, she was shaky, upset, and still going out of her way to help others.
The night wasn’t half over, either. He knew that, even if she didn’t.
Trailing behind her, he had to smile at what an overly cautious driver she was. She didn’t go one mile over the speed limit, used her blinker early, and was courteous to other drivers, too.
He thought of how she’d looked when she’d taken Ellen’s hands, the compassion in her eyes. It didn’t take a mind reader to know that Pixie, also a single mom, had felt a kinship to the other woman. It helped that Pixie had such close friends. From what she’d said, they were better than any family he knew.
Brogan had no real concept of family. Sure, he’d thought of his team as brothers. He’d have given his life for any one of them.
Instead, they’d died, and he’d been left behind. To miss them. To live alone. To wonder over and over again what he might have done differently to change the outcome.
Every time those memories resurfaced in his mind, his heart raced and his throat tried to close up. He gripped the steering wheel harder, aware of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck as he fought to stay focused, to push the smothering sense of failure away so he could do what had to be done here and now.
Yes, he’d wanted to die, too. Being the only survivor had felt like a kick in the face. Worse than death in so many ways.
Until he’d been told about Shayna.
His sister would never know the gift she’d given him. If he could have Connie back, if he could redo his past with her, he would. Instead, she’d thrown him a lifeline. Not just by entrusting him to care for Shayna, but because she’d left so many letters, too. He knew what Connie wanted—for her daughter and for the brother who’d let her down.
God, the ways that he’d failed the only family who’d cared for him was an unbearable reality.
Now, whenever he thought of Connie, he thanked God that he was alive, able to care for Shayna, to show her what he thought love should be. His life had meaning again.
It wasn’t what he’d thought it would be. It was better.
