“But he knows more than anyone that I wouldn’t jump on board the marital train like that. I got scared, Mo.”

Monica curled her knee up on the couch. “You told him no?”

“I told him he’d regret marrying me.”

“Regret?”

“Yeah, sooner or later he’d realize that marrying a woman with a child would be a burden and he’d hate the fact that we’d hold him back. He has so many ambitions, Mo. Even more than I do.” As she said the words again, she felt some of her pride returning.

“So your saying no has less to do with his lack of money and more to do with what you want for him.” Monica gave her a half smile.

“Of course. He might think he’d be happy married to me. But he wouldn’t. I have a ton of baggage. Becoming an instant dad might sound novel, but it’s a job. I can’t chance Danny thinking he finally has a father, only to have Jack up and leave.” Danny would just have to wait a little longer for a positive male figure to enter his life.

Dammit.

“Jack isn’t like our father, Jessie.”

“I know that,” she said, tapping her head. “In here. But in here,” she tapped her chest, “I can’t risk it.”

Monica took her hand and squeezed. “If you really feel that way, then why are you so upset and torn?”

“Because the thought of never seeing him again hurts. The pain is so deep, and the air is so thick I can’t breathe. What if I’m wrong? What if we could work it out? He stormed out of here so fast. I’ve never seen him so angry.” She brushed away a tear and forced the rest back.

“He asked you to marry him and you said no. He’s probably hurt, too.”

Jessie’s lip quivered. “I know.”

“Do you love him?” Monica whispered.

Jessie drew in a sharp breath. “I can’t, Mo. I can’t.” But God help her, she did.

“You know what I think?” Monica tapped her hands and smiled. “I think if he really wants you, loves you, he’ll be back.”

Jessie started to shake her head.

“And if he doesn’t love you, he won’t be back. And if that’s the case, then you made the right decision.”

“You’re right.” Thank God her sister was there to talk reason into her.

“I’m right. But it still hurts.”

“It does.”

When Monica hugged her again, the last of the day’s tears fell.

Jack’s eyes fluttered open as lightning attacked his brain. With his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and the taste and smell of stale whiskey coating his lips, he thought maybe he had woken in hell.

“So, you decided to wake up?” The unsympathetic voice of his sister forced his gaze across the room.

Katie lounged in a chair opposite him. Her slim legs poked out from under a tight skirt while her high-heeled foot tapped against thin air.

Maybe he was still asleep. Jack closed his eyes and ignored the pain exploding in his head.

“Oh, no you don’t, Jacko. I’ve been watching you sleep for too many hours to let you fall back under again.”

Again? How long had she been there? Jack remembered a phone conversation, then a whole lot of nothing.

“What are you doing here?”

“Pulling your sorry butt out of your pity party.”

Jack popped one eye open and saw her push out of the chair. Blonde, slim, beautiful, and loaded, Katie looked as if she was made of porcelain and might break if shaken. Jack knew better. Katie Morrison took crap from no one, ever. When the girl had it in her craw that she needed to fix someone or something, there was no stopping her.

Jack decided right then to keep his lips shut about Jessie. He didn’t need his sister interfering.

Katie stood over him and handed him a glass. “Here. Drink this.”

With his throat dry enough to compete with a desert, Jack drank before he asked what it was. One gulp and Jack sat up, sputtering.

Whiskey.

“What are you trying to do, kill me?”

Katie laughed. “Hair of the pooch.”

“Dog. Hair of the dog,” he corrected.

“Whatever,” she said, sitting down beside him after he’d made room for her on the sofa. “It works when you’ve been as blitzed as you were.”

Jack rubbed a hand over his face and took another gulp for good measure. “How long have you been here?”

She rested a hand on his arm and turned her soft blue eyes on him. “Long enough, big brother.”

No, no, no, no…not good. “How long, Katelyn?”

“Oh, I’m Katelyn now. Must mean you’re sobering up.”

She always was a sassy girl growing up. He could see nothing had changed. Jack finished the contents of the glass in his hands and felt the headache beginning to ease. His clothes were a mess, he smelled bad—even to himself—and if his life depended on it, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the date was. The memory of Jessie’s refusal added a familiar ache in his chest.

Dammit.

Where is that bottle?

“Come on. Get your ass in the shower and put on some clothes. I’ll have a plate of steak and eggs up here by the time you’re out. Then we’re out of here.” Katie stood and pulled on his arm until he was standing beside her. With her heels on, she was nearly his height.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. The plane is waiting.” She pushed him toward his room.