DEACONI stopped home quickly to change and to grab a microwaved burrito, mostly so my stomach didn't growl and interrupt the apology I was planning to make. I didn't linger long, but the sun was setting as my truck bumped over the dirt road that my navigation app claimed was taking me to Emma's house. I had my doubts. As far as I was aware, this area was completely undeveloped. I was all too familiar with the fields out this way. Unless she'd built a cabin in the woods that no one knew about, I would've heard some kind of buzz about a house going up out here. But I didn't see anything . . . except, off to the east, an old trailer was set up among the weeds and grass. That couldn't be it. Or could it? Squinting, I spied a blue sedan parked alongside the mobile home. There was definitely someone living there. It might be our naturopath . . . or it might be an anarchist with an arsenal who didn't want to be disturbed. I figured I was going to have to take my chances. I drove clos

EMMA"Awww, Emma, you didn't have to dress up just to come see me." My cheeks crinkled behind the mask. "Actually, I did. And this lovely outfit is the exact same thing all of your visitors will be wearing for as long as you are neutropenic. But it's super good news, because all of that nasty chemo that we've been throwing at you for the last week has done its job, and you're ready to receive the donor stem cells." Angela leaned back against her pillows. The chemotherapy regimen had taken its toll on her. Medically speaking, I knew why we did this. I understood that this was the best way to prepare the body for receiving the new, healthy cells, but when every instinct in me was to heal and promote wholeness, it was so hard to comprehend that pumping in poison was part of that process."Everyone's so excited about it." Her fingers moved restlessly over the sheet. "I know I should be, too." "There are no shoulds in feelings, sweetie." I pulled up a chair and sat down next to

DEACONAs a southeast Florida boy, born and bred, I observed the seasons a little differently than the rest of the world. Basically, it was hot, hotter, damn hot, fucking hot and the occasional rare cooler day, when temperatures hovered in the mid-seventies, humidity stayed low and the sun wasn't baking us. My grandparents talked about a time when we'd experienced a short winter even down here-weeks of temps in the low sixties or upper fifties, clear, crisp days with bright blue skies and soft sunshine-but over the years, that happened less and less frequently. Global warming, man. It was a real thing. Still, walking from my truck to the hospital, I noted that maybe we were moving out of fucking hot into simply damn hot. Fall was coming. Sometimes, its arrival felt like a mere rumor when we were in the pit of hell called summer, but eventually, the heat ebbed back until it was only hitting the mid-afternoon. Before too long, mornings and evenings would be almost comfortable aga

EMMA"Oh, God, Jenny, I think I made a mistake." "What are you talking about?" On the screen of my phone, Jenny's face registered dismay and surprise. "You've been dying for Deacon to make his move for months. How in the hell can saying yes to him once he did be a mistake?" "Not the date, you dweeb." I twisted in front of the mirror. "The dress.""Oh, no, babe." Jenny shook her head. "The dress is smokin' hot, just like you. Own it, baby. Strut your stuff." "But the dress has no back to it, Jenny. What was I high on at lunch today that I listened to you when you said it would be perfect?""You were high on life and love, sweetie. You'd just spent ten minutes telling me how on fire you are for Dr. Foxy's rockin' bod, and describing to me just what you wanted to do once you got him alone-""This is what comes from taking the afternoon off, having martinis at lunch and then shopping with you in Lakeland," I groaned. I turned again. The dress was a pretty color, a deep aqu

EMMAWe stopped on the edge of the sand to take off our shoes. Deacon tucked his socks into his loafers, rolled up his pant legs, and gallantly insisted on carrying my heels as well as his own shoes. The sand was incredibly soft beneath my feet and still warm from the sun's heat. I noticed we weren't the only two people strolling along the water's edge, and that made me feel better. Deacon caught my hand in his free one, lifting my knuckles to his lips before he threaded our fingers together. His thumb drew lazy circles over the back of my hand as we walked. "I'm glad you enjoyed dinner." "I did. Thank you for asking me." I paused. "Why did you? I mean, I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong. But . . ." I struggled to phrase it the way I meant. "I mean, I wasn't sure you . . . saw me like that." "Why would you think that?" He swung our joined arms slightly, sounding genuinely curious. "Because we've been working together for months now, and you haven't given me any i