Free Navy SEAL Rescuer by Shirlee McCoy Page B

the contact, searing a path straight to
his heart.
    Catherine must have felt it, too.
    Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, bumping into the
counter. “I need to go check on Eileen.”
    She ran from the room, her rapid footfall echoing through the
house as she escaped.
    It took everything in Darius not to follow.
    She was safe. No threat could get to her inside his house.
    He wanted to follow anyway.
    She made him feel something he hadn’t felt in years, and he
wasn’t sure he could ignore it.
    Wasn’t sure he had any choice but to do so.
    Catherine had made her feelings clear. She wanted nothing to do
with Pine Bluff or the people in it. Darius wanted everything to do with both.
He craved connection the way others craved food. Friendship was his fix, his
addiction, and he cared about his friends as if they were family.
    Because for him, they were.
    It could have been different. Should have been different.
    He refilled his coffee, took a sip of the bitter brew. It had
been years since he’d spent much time thinking about Melody. Her betrayal had
hurt deeply, because he’d expected that she’d become the family he’d longed for.
He couldn’t say she’d been the great love of his life, but she’d made him dream
of a future filled with commitment and connection.
    “Darius?” Catherine reappeared, her face paper-white, her lips
leached of color. “Eileen won’t wake up. We need to call for an ambulance.”
    “Is she breathing?” He grabbed the phone, dialed 911.
    “Yes, but her respirations are quick and shallow. Pulse thready
and weak.” She relayed the information as he spoke to the 911 operator, then
left the room.
    He followed, crossing the guest room and touching Eileen’s
cool, dry cheek. She looked bad, her face sunken, her skin yellowed. “The
ambulance will be here soon.”
    “I just hope it’s soon enough.” She lifted Eileen’s wrist,
checked her pulse again, gently shook her shoulder, calling her name.
    Eileen didn’t respond.
    Not good.
    “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
    “Just open the door and lead the EMTs back here when they
arrive.” She touched Eileen’s forehead, her hand shaking.
    Darius grabbed it, squeezing gently. “She’s going to be
okay.”
    “She’s dying, Darius. That’s not okay. It’s not even close to
okay.” A single tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away
impatiently.
    “It’s okay to cry, you know.”
    “It’s okay, but it never does any good.”
    “Sometimes, it’s not about doing good, it’s about letting
go.”
    “I’m not ready to do that. I’m not sure that I ever will be. I
hear the ambulance. You’d better go meet them.” She touched Eileen’s forehead
again, turning her back to Darius.
    He ran to the front door, opening it as an ambulance pulled up
in front of the house and several EMTs got out.
    “She’s in the back bedroom,” he said, leading the way.
    “Cat? What’s going on?” the man in the lead asked as he
approached the bed. Medium height with broad shoulders and a muscular build, he
looked to be in his early thirties, his face smooth and a little too pretty.
    Catherine didn’t acknowledge him, just stepped aside so Eileen
could be tended to.
    “Ma’am? Can you hear me?” One of the men leaned over Eileen,
checking her pulse, looking in her eyes. Older, with salt-and-pepper hair and a
wrinkled, weathered face, he worked with competent ease.
    “Is she diabetic?” he asked.
    “No. She has metastasized liver cancer. Stage 4. She had chemo
today.”
    “What medicines is she taking?”
    Catherine rattled off a list that made the paramedic frown.
“We’d better transport her. What hospital do you prefer?”
    “Sacred Heart.”
    “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather bring her to the Valley? You
did your nursing practicum there and—” The guy who’d called her Cat tried to
speak, but Catherine cut him off.
    “I told you where I want her brought, Peter. If it’s going to
be a