Free No One But You by Jillian Hart

“Doesn’t it start soon?”
    “My teammates will get me when it’s time. I’m warmed up and ready to go.”
    “Clearly.” Hard not to notice his toned perfection, his muscles showcased nicely in his basketball tank and shorts. “You look really happy, Wyatt.”
    “I am, and I haven’t been in a long time.” Dimples framed his stand-out smile as he turned to watch Jake dodge, dribble, feint and charge toward the basket.
    “The building permit was approved at the last second yesterday afternoon.” She cheered when Jake scored. “Did you have anything to do with it?”
    “I said I’d help, so I made a few calls. I have a contact who works for the city. Remember Dave Mead, from high school?”
    “Wasn’t he your best buddy back in the day?”
    “And he remembers you. Turns out Mary’s Place helped his cousin when she was in need, so when he heard what was going on he managed to pull a few strings.”
    “Wyatt, that was really great of you, coming through like that for me. I mean, for the shelter.” On the court, Jake’s team played defense. Was it her imagination, or was he even paler? “Looks like we can break ground on schedule, after all. Thank you.”
    “No problem. See, I can come in handy.”
    “So it seems. I’m grateful to Dave, too.”
    “I’ll tell him tomorrow. I talked him into a game of golf. My skills are rusty and he hasn’t played since high school, but it’ll be fun to catch up.”
    “Good for you. You’re building a new life here.”
    “Thanks to old friends.”
    They shared a smile. Old friends. Was that all she felt? Or was it something new? A groan rose from the crowd and she turned too late to see what had happened. Jake grimaced, his team members gave him sympathetic looks and he bent over for a moment, hands on his knees, breathing hard. Unusually winded. A niggle of concern bolted through her, but then he was up and running.
    “Wyatt, someone is waving at you.”
    “Right. My new friends. Guess I’ll miss Jake’s match.”
    “I’ll tell him you stopped by. Good luck with your—“
    A roar of concern rose from the crowd. Mariah blinked, trying to focus, realizing the game had stalled. No dribbling ball, no thunder of running players…
    Wyatt was already moving. “Jake? Jake, are you okay?”
    Alarm shot through her. Time slowed in terrifying increments. She saw Jake clutching his chest, dropping to the pavement, Wyatt sprinting toward him. Terror jackknifed through her as she launched herself across the court.
    “Medic!” the ref shouted, but all she could see was the panic on Jake’s face, the fear in his eyes, the rapid-fire gasps as he sucked in air. She went down on her knees beside him.
    “Jake! Jake! Are you okay, baby?” She brushed the hair out of his eyes, wild with concern.
    He shook his head, sucking in short bursts of air, faster and faster, rasping in and out, in and out in a frightening rhythm. Sweat dotted his skin. Was it an asthma attack? He’d never had that problem before. She was helpless to stop it, helpless to help him. Her poor boy. Where were the paramedics?
    “Try to relax, sweetheart.” She tried to do the same. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
    “Wow, your pulse is really racing.” Wyatt released Jake’s wrist, which he’d been cradling. “That’s got to feel weird.”
    Unable to speak, the boy nodded.
    “Mariah, let’s get him lying down flat. Okay, Jake?”
    Together they helped him lie back. Despite the fear rattling her—a mother’s worst nightmare—she was grateful for Wyatt’s strength and caring. He was utterly calm. His face shone with sincerity, unguarded and real. As was the way Jake gazed up at him, as if Wyatt was a lifeline.
    “Move aside,” a voice barked behind her, a medic shoving forward with his equipment. “What’s his name?”
    “J-Jake.” She stumbled out of the way. A firm grip hooked her elbow, repositioning her so she could stroke Jake’s hair and still be clear of the men working