Josh Deiner was unavailable for comment, since he was in a coma. There was brain damage. He was on a ventilator.

At night, when Jack couldn’t sleep, it was Josh Deiner’s still, limp body he saw, lying on the wooden dock, ice forming on his eyelids since there was no heartbeat to keep him warm. The face of Josh’s girlfriend as she sobbed on Anderson Cooper’s shoulder. And the words Josh’s mother had spat at him in the E.R. ran through his brain, over and over and over.

You left him for last. The one who needed you the most, and you left him for last.

CHAPTER SIX

EMMALINE SAT IN front of the computer with Carol Robinson, who tapped the screen. “That one’s cute. He has beautiful eyes.”

It was true. “Yeah, but look. Aggravated assault.”

“That rules him out?”

“It does, Carol.”

“You’re so fussy. All right, who’s next?”

They both flinched at the next photo—no teeth.

“This is so much fun,” Carol said. “So much more interesting than real estate. Oh, that one’s a hottie.”

Emmaline clicked for more information. “Currently in federal prison. Damn! All the good-looking ones are behind bars.”

“What are you doing?” Levi asked. Both women glanced at him, then looked back at the screen.

“We’re looking for a man for Em to take to the wedding,” Carol said.

“Did you input that report like I asked you to?”

“Not yet,” Carol said blithely. “And don’t give me that look, Levi. I changed your diapers.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“But I could have. I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Grandmother, even.”

“How dare you!”

Levi gave them a tolerant look. “Em? Is Manningsport so free of crime that you have time for this?”

“It’s after five, and yes,” Emmaline pointed out. “This hellish wedding is in eight days, and I still don’t—”

“Feel free to keep your personal life private, Em,” he said. “Like I do.”

“Yeah, right. You call Faith twenty times a day—”

“I call Faith three or four times a day, as she’s my wife and expecting a baby and it’s the middle of winter and I want to make sure she—”

“This one! This one,” Carol exclaimed. “If you don’t go out with him, I will.”

Em looked. Yep, the guy was gorgeous, all black hair and green eyes opened a trifle too wide.

“He looks a little psychotic,” Em said.

“Yeah, well, who looks good in a mug shot?” Carol asked. “Don’t be so picky. Even Robert Downey Jr. didn’t look so hot, and please. That man could be eating a can of cat food and I’d still want to sleep with him.”

“Inappropriate talk for the workplace, Carol,” Levi said. “Besides, Officer Neal, I thought my brother-in-law was going with you.”

“Who? Jack? No.”

“Faith said she was asking.”

“Why?” Emmaline yelped. “How did she even know?”

Levi gave her a martyred look. “It was announced at O’Rourke’s the other night. And it’s all you talk about.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Sure it is. Also, I may have mentioned it in the hope that you’d get your mind back on work.”

“Oh, please. Who went on seven calls yesterday, huh? It wasn’t Everett, let me tell you, Chief.” Levi raised an eyebrow and waited. “Besides,” she added, “I don’t want to go with Jack.”

“Why not?” Carol asked. “I’d go with Jack. Jack’s adorable. Those eyes!”

“Thanks, Carol,” came a new voice, and, shit, it was Jack himself. “Hey, Em.”

“Hi,” she grumbled.

Sure, he spoke to her. Of course he did. He was nice. They played hockey together (along with ten or twelve other people). When he came into the station, which he did every once in a while to talk to Levi, he always said hello (and goodbye). If she saw him at O’Rourke’s he’d say hello (and goodbye).

And, of course, the day of the Midwinter Miracle, he’d asked if Josh was dead.

But now, as her potential date, it was different.

Jack folded his arms and looked down at her. “Faith said you were looking for a date for a wedding.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t just sit there like a lump,” Carol hissed. “Smile at him. Who else are you going to take? A convict?”

“You didn’t have a problem with that ten seconds ago.”

“Smile!”

Emmaline tried to obey. Carol waited. Levi waited. Jack waited.

Had she mentioned he was extremely gorgeous?

“Okay,” Em said. “Maybe we could discuss this over a beer.”

“Sure.”

“Meet you at O’Rourke’s around six?” That way she could get home, walk the puppy and give herself a pep talk.

“Sounds good,” he said. “See you, guys.”

“Go!” Carol said. “Change into something feminine. Wear perfume. Men love that. Don’t they, Levi?”

Emmaline left, glad for the brief drive home, which gave her time to think. She rolled down the window and let the frigid air cool her cheeks.

Yeah, fine. She’d take Jack. Of course she would. When a Greek god said he’d go to a wedding with you, a wedding where you desperately needed to appear over the groom, you didn’t say no.

Even if it meant the loss of your dignity. Even if this was one cash transaction short of prostitution. The truth was, she’d rather take a stranger, because, for some reason, that seemed like it’d be easier to tolerate than a person who was so...nice. Who might (perish the thought) pity her.

She wondered why Jack was game. He sure as hell never asked her out. She wasn’t even sure he knew she was female, for all the interest he’d ever shown before.

But the day she’d moved back to Manningsport, her heart raw and scraped by Kevin, a floating, terrified feeling enveloped her as she lugged boxes into her little house. The whole thing was surreal. Could this really be happening? She was moving here? Instead of getting married? It had been a wet day in April, cold rain pelting her, mocking the brave little pink buds on Nana’s magnolia, and Em felt like she’d never be warm again. She’d never have Kevin next to her in bed again.

It was shocking.

No crying, she told herself. Just buck up. Big deal. You were dumped. Happens all the time.

Didn’t stop the hot tears from sliding down her cheeks.

Then a pickup truck stopped, and a man got out.

“Need some help?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a box and carried it inside the little bungalow. “I’m Jack Holland,” he said. “My family owns Blue Heron Vineyard.”

“Emmaline Neal,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“Welcome to town.” He smiled, kindly ignoring her tears (because if he was a serial killer, he wouldn’t care about that—he’d just kill her and wouldn’t that serve Kevin right), and went back to her Subaru for another box.

She remembered the Hollands; she’d been a year ahead of Faith in school. Jack probably wasn’t a serial killer. She would’ve told him that she’d lived here for four years, that she once played at his house as a kid. But heartbreak was swallowing her whole, and it was all she could do not to sob. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in Michigan with the love of her life. Her wedding was supposed to be in seven weeks.

Jack and she unloaded the rest of the boxes in silence. “Take care,” he said, then drove off.

Every time she saw him from then on, Jack Holland said hello. She briefly entertained a revenge fantasy in which he fell for her, and Kevin would be wild with jealousy and dump that horrible Naomi. But no. Jack got engaged shortly after Em moved to town, and then married.

He stayed nice. His wife was very friendly, too; Jack introduced them once at O’Rourke’s. Hadley seemed to be the epitome of girlie-girl—she bought foamy coffee drinks, always wore a skirt or dress. When she was in O’Rourke’s she drank pink cocktails and nibbled lettuce leaves.

The town gossip said she wasn’t good enough for Jack.

Turned out, it was true. When his marriage imploded, the gossip machine ran red-hot. Hadley had cheated on him, people said. Took up with the stockbroker who owned Dandelion Hill, who died (in the saddle, according to the rumors) shortly thereafter.

Even so, Jack stayed Mr. Nice Guy. Didn’t get drunk, didn’t pick up the many women who hit on him, didn’t put his fist through a window.

As for Em, she just thought he was...nice. And, yes, beautiful. She checked him at hockey one night, a full-body slam, and for a second, they were tangled together, and it had been so long since Kevin, a full year and a half, that Emmaline had forgotten how it felt to be pressed up against a man, even if they were both clad in bulky protective gear and fighting for a puck. Then she was free, sailing down the ice again, wondering if Jack had felt anything, too.

He didn’t. Or if he did, he treated her as romantically as he treated Levi or Jeremy or Gerard, which was to say, nada.

Em walked the dog, smooched his cheeks, fed him and then walked to O’Rourke’s.

This was so embarrassing.

Jack was waiting just outside. “Hey,” he said, opening the door for her.

The pub was about half-full: Colleen was kissing her husband; the Iskins were there, Lorena as loud as ever, Victor silent. The Meerings ignored each other, as usual. Cathy Kennedy and Louise Casco were deep in conversation. There were Bryce and Paulie, arm-wrestling at a table. The Knoxes waved—Em had been out to round up their chickens from the road just that morning.

Emmaline went to a booth in the back and took off her coat. Crap. She’d forgotten to change. Most nights, she went from her uniform to her pj’s. Well, it didn’t matter. Besides, she loved her uniform. Especially her weapon. And Taser.

“Hey, guys. What can I get you?” Hannah O’Rourke asked.

“I’ll have a beer. Cooper’s Cave IPA?” Em said.

“Same for me,” Jack said.

“You got it, kids.” Hannah waltzed away.

Jack didn’t say anything. Smiled at her, which made her stomach hurt. “Um, do you want dinner?” she asked. “I’m buying.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Great,” she said.

Hannah returned with their drinks. “Anything to eat tonight?” she asked.

“Nope, we’re good,” Jack said with a friendly smile. “Thanks, Hannah.”

“Great. Let me know if you need a refill.” The waitress went to check on another table. She was pretty. Maybe Jack and she should hook up.

Get to it, Emmaline.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” she said. She drained half her beer, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “My ex-fiancé is getting married, and I don’t want to go alone, but I certainly can go alone. My sister and parents will be there, and, actually, Colleen and Lucas, too, and it’s not like I’ll be a pariah or a laughingstock, and I’m not going to set myself on fire or burst out sobbing during the ceremony or anything like that. I just would like to have a date, sort of a human shield. But I can take a friend if you don’t want to go.”

“I thought we were friends,” Jack said mildly.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” She paused. “But listen, Jack. You don’t have to go. I imagine it’s been a pretty rough couple of weeks for you—”

“I’d love to go. Thank you for asking.”

“I actually didn’t ask. You offered.” And now she sounded like a shrew. “Or your sister asked, but I didn’t ask her to ask you.” Stop talking, her brain advised. Her mouth didn’t obey. “My point is, you don’t have to come. I mean, yeah, it’d be nice to go with a guy who looks like a Greek god—” here he smiled “—but I’m not one of those women who—”