When Heart Collides

CHAPTER 1 Luke Alexander had no idea what had prompted him to look in that direction, but once he had, he could not take his gaze away. Even though he wished to. Moreover, he wanted to continue walking. To pretend he had not seen her, especially not in that manner. Kelly Anderson's head was still down, her short, dark-blond hair almost acting as a curtain, and she appeared oblivious to the world around her as she sat on the bench beside the hospital entrance, tears streaming down her flawless cheeks. Luke reasoned that it would have been very simple to turn on his heel and walk in the opposite direction, or to pick up speed, look straight ahead, and get the hell out of there before the Anderson girl looked up. Especially since she appeared so withdrawn and lost in the world. Luke told himself he would be doing her a favor by ignoring this heartbreaking display of sadness. Nobody liked looking so vulnerable. God knew he would not. Not that he would actually cry in public-or private for that matter. When it came down to it, Luke was pretty sure he could not cry, period. Regardless of the situation. Hell, he'd pretty much been the last word in stoic. But, he reasoned, he had to be, given how things had not been going so well in his life--or his family's life--up to this point. Luke's instincts told him to move quickly and out of Kelly's vision. Now. His feet, however, appeared to have been dipped in a super-strong glue. He could not get them to move. He was lingering. He could not even begin to imagine why. It wasn't as though he was one of those people who was bolstered by other people's displays of unhappiness. He had never believed the old adage about misery loving company. When it came down to it, he had little use for misery, whether it was his own or someone else's. For the most part, he preferred to maintain a low profile and avoid attention. And he sure as hell had no idea what to do when confronted with a woman's tears-other than running for the hills, face averted and feigning ignorance of the occurrence. He would never claim to be one of those guys who knew what to say in a normal situation, let alone one where he was staring directly at a woman's tear-stained face. But this was Kelly. Kelly Anderson. He'd watched Kelly grow up from an awkward little girl to an outgoing, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little charmer who somehow managed to be completely oblivious to the fact that she was as beautiful as all get out. Kelly was the one who made people happy. She never cried. Not that he was particularly knowledgeable about Kelly's actions or inactions. He just heard something. The way a man survived was to keep his eyes and his ears open, and his mouth shut. Ever since his twin brother Duke was hauled off to jail because everyone in town believed he had killed Mathew White, Luke saw little to no reason to socialize with the people in Golden Creek. And White was no angel. Most people hated him. The truth was, if anyone deserved to be killed, it was White. Matthew White was a nasty, bad-tempered man who cheated on his wife at every opportunity. And White and Duke had had heated discussions about White's daughter, Lauren. Even so, Duke had not killed him. Luke frowned as, for a moment, fifteen years melted away. He remembered seeing the prison bars slam shut, separating him from Duke. He had no idea who had killed that evil-tempered waste of human flesh, but he would have bet his life that it was not Duke. Now, like a magnet, his green eyes were drawn to Kelly. Damn it, why was she crying? He exhaled impatiently. A woman who was so shaken up about something should not be sitting alone like that. Someone should be beside her, saying something. He was not sure what, but something. Something comforting. Luke looked around, hoping to ease his conscience--and avoid feeling guilty about his desire to flee--by seeing someone approaching the sobbing young blonde. There was no one there. She was sitting alone, as lonely as he had ever seen anyone on this planet. As alone as he felt most of the time. Dammit, he did not want to be in this position. Didn't want to have to go over. What was wrong with him? He had no obligations to her. Why couldn't he just go? Go and put this scene of vulnerability behind him. He was not responsible for her. Or one of her friends. Kelly pressed her lips together to suppress another sob. She had not intended to break down like this. She had managed to keep herself together all this time, through all the visits and dark days. Hold herself together even though she had silently admitted, more than once, that one outcome was unavoidable. Miracle was about to die. Die even though she was only twenty-five years old, just like her. Twenty-five, with all of life in front of her, like a young child running barefoot through a field of spring daisies, full of enthusiasm and joy, tickled by the act. Instead, six months ago Miracle heard those most dreadful words, "You have cancer," and they turned out to be a death sentence rather than a battlefield through which she could fight her way out. Kelly could not stop crying once she started. Her body ached from sobbing. She and Miracle were friends—best friends. It felt like they had been friends forever, but it was only a little more than five years. Five years had passed in the blink of an eye. God knows she tried really hard to be brave for Miracle. Despite the fact that it became increasingly difficult, she kept a brave face every time she walked into Miracle's line of sight. A line of vision that became increasingly limited in scope until it was reduced to the confines of a hospital room. The room where Miracle had died just a few minutes ago. That was when the dam she had been fighting to keep intact burst. Walking quickly, she made it out of Miracle's room and, somehow, out of the hospital. But she could not make it from the outer doors to the parking lot where she would left her car without crying. So instead of crossing the parking lot, crying and drawing unwanted attention to herself. Kelly had retreated to the bench off to the side of the entrance, an afterthought for people who simply wanted to gather their thoughts before entering the tall building or rest before attempting to drive home. But she wasn't collecting herself, she was falling apart. Sobbing as if her heart was breaking. Because it was.