The Family You Make (Sunrise Cove #1)(79)

Things deteriorated pretty quickly after that. Levi had nearly had to restrain his father from leaving the house and going after Cal to “tear him apart with his bare hands,” only to be reminded by his mom that no one knew where Cal actually was. He did calm down after Levi promised that yes, they had enough evidence to put the guy away.

His mom was surprisingly serene about the whole thing. Of course, Tess’s surprise pregnancy worked for her, giving her two grandbabies growing up right here in her house. Plus, she had Jane on backup, who’d said she’d like to be a mom someday . . .

After dessert, he walked Jane and her grandpa out to her car. Lloyd shook Levi’s hand and thanked him for the best home meal he’d had since his wife had passed twenty years earlier. Then he got into the passenger seat of Jane’s car and shut the door, giving Levi and Jane some privacy.

“That was fun,” Jane said.

“You have a very odd sense of fun.”

This made her laugh. “They’re great, Levi. And they love you so much.”

“So . . . you’re not scarred for life?”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed again. “That was awesome.”

Her eyes were shining bright with good humor. Her soft, kissable lips were curved, and she was looking at him as if he was the sun and the moon, and also her heart and soul. Unable to resist, he pulled her into him, cupped her face. “I want to kiss you.”

“Please do.”

He did just that, sweet enough not to insult her grandpa, deep enough to pleasure them both before he pulled reluctantly back. “Jane, about tonight.”

She smiled. “I think we pulled it off, don’t you?”

He froze because that wasn’t what he’d wanted to talk about. He wanted to ask if it’d been real for her, but he managed a smile. “Yes,” he said, his voice soft. “We definitely pulled it off.”





Chapter 22


Charlotte didn’t do idle well. She liked to keep busy so her mind couldn’t get the better of her. It was one of the many reasons she loved being a doctor. Personal time, aka too much thinking time, was rare.

But today she’d actually had the day off and, for once, no errands to run, her laundry could wait, and she was caught up on her shows. She’d hung out with Jane until she’d left to have dinner at Levi’s, and then, bored with herself, she’d made a Thanksgiving dinner. In the middle of winter. She’d done it because she hadn’t gone home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving, and sometimes a girl just needed a big, carb-loaded comfort meal.

There was no one home to share it with. Zoe and Mariella were at work. And Jane was out, probably somewhere with Levi. There was no one else she’d want to spend time with.

No, that was a lie. Mateo had called her yesterday. She’d been in the shower, but she hadn’t called him back. She didn’t know why.

That was another lie, of course.

His message had stated—in his low, sexy voice—that he was going to his mom’s for dinner and the Head in Charge of Everything was invited.

She was a big chicken.

She looked at the gorgeous meal in front of her and . . . packed it up. Because what she really needed was a brownie. Soft and warm and delicious. The problem was, baking had always eluded her. So she pointed at her oven. “We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be good.”

Two hours later, she was covered in flour and on her fourth batch of brownies. The first batch had sunk. The second and third batches had burned on the bottom. “This is it,” she told the dough. “I’m outta flour after this. You’re my last shot.” She put it into the oven and sat on the floor, watching them through the small oven window.

When the brownies began to rise, she pumped a fist. “Yes!”

Her phone buzzed. The scheduled OR doc was going home sick and she was up. She looked into the oven at the brownies. “So close . . .” With a sigh, she turned off the oven and headed to the hospital.

Hours later, she was in a corner of the hospital cafeteria in between patients, taking a rare break. They’d been beyond busy. Four cars had piled up on the summit because the roads had become ice sheets and people were always in a hurry. Two deaths. And then there’d been a crash of a different sort when a duo of skiers had thought it smart to sneak up High Alpine and ski down the ungroomed, blocked-off back side—by moonlight. Only problem, there was no moonlight tonight. They’d hit each other at over twenty miles an hour.

Neither had survived.

All needless deaths, and yet having had her hands on each of them, she felt the weight of their passing as if it’d been her fault. She didn’t know why sometimes the chaos and trauma she saw hit her harder than others, but tonight was one of those times. Looking around the cafeteria at the groups of people talking and comforting each other, she reached for her phone. Craving the comfort only her mom could supply, she called home.

“Hey, baby,” her mom answered softly, sleepily. “Are you okay?”

Horrified, she looked at the time. It was ten P.M. Which was one A.M. for her parents. “Oh my God, I forgot how late it was for you. Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m so glad it’s you.” Her mom’s voice was more alert now, and there was a soft rustling, as if she was sitting up in bed. “I was hoping to hear from you this week. Are you okay? Is anything wrong? When are you coming home?”