Sam felt this news reverberate through him. He searched his dad’s expression. The truth was there, and his gut tightened painfully. “How sick?”

Mark grimaced.

“Cancer?” Sam asked. “Your heart?”

“No.” Mark paused. “Liver stuff.”

Sam drew in a long, unsteady breath, unable to reconcile all the years-old resentments with the new and terrifying fear for his dad’s health. “I’ve got a spare bedroom at the house,” he said. He spent the majority of his time here. This was his real home, his first real home that he’d gotten for himself, and he wasn’t sure he could share it with his dad.

“Thank you,” Mark said, with genuine humility. “I won’t be a bother.”

Feeling like a first-class dick, Sam reached into the desk, pulled out a key, and tossed it to his dad.

Mark pocketed it with a nod of his head. “See you later then. Love ya, son.”

Sam closed his eyes, and when he opened them Mark was gone. Not quite trusting himself to speak, he stayed still. After a moment, he felt a gentle hand slide up his back.

“You okay?” Becca asked.

He was a lot of things. Gut sick. Angry. Furious, even. And afraid. One thing he was not was okay. Shoving free of the desk, he dislodged her hand, picked up the snowman on his desk, and chucked it across the room.

It shattered on the far wall.

Becca leapt back, inadvertently slamming herself into his desk. At the impact, she jumped away and then tripped over his trash can, hitting the floor on all fours.

“Jesus.” Sam crouched down and reached for her. “You okay?”

It was her turn to shove free of him, and he discovered he didn’t like the feeling very much as she got to her feet on her own.

He got slowly to his as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. I. . .saw a spider. It’s gone now.”

Shit. He really was an ass**le. “Becca—”

“I’m . . . fine. Totally fine.”

“You said it twice.”

“So?” she asked.

“Saying it twice implies that you’re not fine at all.”

“No. Saying it twice makes it true,” she said.

Sam let it go because she was desperately trying to calm her breathing while not meeting his gaze. He watched her hand shake as she lifted it to push her hair from her face.

“Becca,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him back here without asking—”

“It’s not your fault. Becca—”

“Is he really sick?” she asked, clearly not wanting to discuss her reaction.

“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”

She stared at him. “And if he is?”

“I’ll take care of him.”

She eyed the snowman on the floor in a thousand pieces. “My break’s over,” she said, moving to the door.

As gently as he could, he caught her by the wrist and slowly reeled her back in. Her breathing was still a little off, and her eyes were far too bright, but she met his gaze. “What?” she asked.

There were lots of whats going through his mind, but he settled on one. “You’re safe here,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I know it.”

“I was just pissed off because—”

“He drives you crazy. But he’s your dad. I get it.”

He could see that she did, but they were going to have to circle back to that fascinating subject because it wasn’t what he wanted to cover right now. “You thought I was going to hurt you.”

“No,” she said. “Of course not.”

Chest tight, he bent his knees to look into her eyes as he slowly slid his hands up her arms to cup her face.

“My break’s over,” she said again.

He shook his head and pulled her into him.

She remained frozen for one beat, then relaxed against his chest, pressing her face into his throat. They stood like that for a long moment. “I didn’t think you were going to hurt me,” she said. “I just . . . you surprised me.”

“I lost my temper.” He pulled back and met her gaze. “It doesn’t happen very often, but I can lose my temper and not hurt you.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He wanted to believe that. He pulled her in again but the phone started ringing, accompanied by that stupid red light Cole had put in to be funny, and Becca backed away. “Later,” she said.

Sam tried to go back to the books, but after an hour he gave up. He pulled out his cell and called his dad. “Define liver problem.”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know medical shit.”

“Dad.” Sam rubbed his temple. “Be straight with me. For once.”

“It’s a liver problem,” he repeated.

Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What’s the plan?”

“My insurance’s crap.”

Of course it was. “What’s the plan,” Sam repeated.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll fill you in when I do.” Mark paused. “Your woman’s a real catch, you know. You should hold on to her.”

“She’s not my woman, dad. She’s my employee.”

“Son, if that’s true, then you’re not as smart as I’ve always thought. She gave me a sandwich.”