Except with one guy.

Maybe she understood Mom better than she let on.

Not that she was still hung up on the past. She was happy, she’d gone out with plenty of guys and slept with a few (though not as many as she let people think).

But there were a lot of nights in the past couple years when she lay in bed at night, wondering if she’d ever find anyone who made her feel...special. The way Lucas once had.

Exactly four minutes had passed since she arrived. Maybe she’d go see if Jeremy Lyon was on call. He was always good for a chat.

She walked through the E.R. to the main part of the hospital. Faith’s niece, Abby Vanderbeek, was on the front desk, volunteering no doubt, earbuds in place as her thumbs flew across her phone.

“Hey, Abby,” she said to the teenager. “Is Jeremy working today?”

“Oh, hey, Colleen,” Abby said without taking out the earbuds. She tapped a few keys. “No, sorry. It’s Dr. Chu. She’s new and schizo, so beware.”

“Poop. Any patients I might know?” Colleen asked. Who knew how long Calvin would need Mom to stand guard?

“I’m not supposed to tell,” Abby said. “Confidentiality and all that.”

“I’m covered by HIPAA, since I work part-time at the nursing home.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Have you seen Goggy and Pops over there?” Abby said, asking about her weirdly named great-grandparents.

“No, they’re not in my wing. I heard your grandmother complaining about the food, though. I hid.”

Abby smiled and hit a few more keys. “Let’s see...how sick do you want them?”

“Very sick. That way I can be an angel of mercy.”

“Dude. You’re so awesome. Okay, I can fix you up. Joe Campbell’s in for dialysis. You know where that is?”

“I sure do,” Colleen said. “Thanks, beautiful.”

The dialysis unit was on the third floor of the hospital, same floor as the intensive care unit. Last year, Gramp had been here for a week with pneumonia (almost managed to die that time before his pesky and amazing immune system saved him), and Colleen had seen Joe. After she’d gotten Gramp settled and he’d fallen asleep, she’d ventured over to say hi.

She hadn’t known him too well back when she was with Lucas, but Joe and Bryce had been a father-and-son fixture at the far end of the bar until six months ago.

Being a bartender—the bartender—made her privy to all the town gossip. She’d heard that Joe’s wife, the pinched and snotty Didi, hated going to his appointments, and Bryce seemed to be in denial about his dad’s condition. Joe was often alone during these long, quiet stretches when his blood was cleaned and rotated back inside him.

So yes, she’d visited. Dialysis took a long time, and it was boring. Three or four times a week, four to six hours at a stretch. Joe was always happy to see her.

She peeked into Joe’s curtained area. He was awake. “Time for your sponge bath, Mr. Campbell,” she said in her sultriest voice, getting a most rewarding grin from him.

“Which Mr. Campbell are you referring to?” came the voice behind her.

She jumped.

Lucas.

Of course. He raised an eyebrow at her and sat down next to his uncle, a paper cup of coffee in his hand.

He hadn’t shaved today. Or yesterday, maybe. And what was it about that? Did they teach this to men in Man School? Don’t shave, fellas. Chicks love that, wondering how it would feel to have your scratchy face in all sorts of places—

“Lucas, it’s you,” she said, aware that she hadn’t said a word. “I was referring to your much handsomer uncle. Hi, Joe! How are you?” She leaned over and kissed him, and he patted her hand.

“It’s nice to see you, sweetheart. I hope you brought me some of your amazing margaritas.”

“Wouldn’t they kill you?” she asked.

“But what a way to go.” He smiled. “You remember my nephew, of course.”

“Well, given that we dated for four years, yes, I’m afraid I do.” She smiled at Joe. Not at Lucas.

“Have a seat, Colleen,” Lucas said. There was a chair next to him.

She tried not to brush against him as she sat down. Tried not to notice that he smelled so good, that clean, outdoor smell even here in the hospital.

She cleared her throat. “So I’m here because my mom’s date seems to need a drug fix. These are interesting times in the world of romance.” She glanced at Lucas (damn those beautiful eyes), then told the story of the hirsute nude model, and by the end, Joe was laughing so hard he could hardly talk, tears leaking out of his eyes.

“Oh, Colleen, it’s good...to see you...sweetheart.”

His eyes closed, just like that. Lucas lurched forward.

“He’s asleep, that’s all,” she said.

He glanced at her, frowning, then watched his uncle’s chest, which rose and fell with a breath. Another one. Another. “How did you know that?” he asked, sitting back down.

She shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Did you ever become a nurse?”

“I’m an LPN. Licensed practical nurse. I work over at Rushing Creek. There are a couple dialysis patients there.” She paused. “I’ve visited Joe here a couple times.”

“Thank you for that.”

She wondered if he knew that Joe came here alone most of the time.

“So you understand how all this works, then?” Lucas asked.

She nodded. “Do you?”

“I watched a few YouTube videos.” He looked tired. And worried.

He’d never said too much about life with Joe and Didi. When they were dating, they didn’t spend a lot of time with his relatives. There’d been an awkward family dinner in the early days (she seemed to remember insisting on it). Bryce had been as cheerful as a puppy, Didi with that pinched look, Joe amiable and friendly.

But Lucas could say more with his eyes than most people could say in three days.

Then again, that was the kind of thinking that had gotten her exactly nowhere.

Lucas adjusted Joe’s blanket, and that tender gesture...damn. Those were the kinds of things that messed with a person’s head. She should go before she felt mushier than she did already.

“So where are you staying while you’re here?” she asked.

“I got a furnished apartment in town. The old opera house.”

“Sure. Faith used to live there. With Levi. Well, across from Levi, then with Levi, then they bought a house. They’re cute. The apartments, I mean. Well, Levi and Faith are cute, too. You know what I mean.” She closed her eyes as the Tourette’s of Terror welled up again, spurred on by the old feelings that had led to her ruination.

She pictured Lucas in the generically furnished apartment, alone, not staying in the big McMansion where the other Campbells lived. The quiet of the green at night. No dog to keep him company.

“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” she heard herself say.

He gave her a long look, then nodded.

“I’m only asking because, well, hell, maybe you’re lonely. I collect strays, you know how it is. Plus, you don’t know too many people here. But you know me. And I know you. But it’s not a date. It’s not romantic, I mean. It’s just dinner. We get together and eat.”

“Yes, I seem to remember how dinner works.” His eyes were smiling.

Her arm was almost touching his, and she had an almost overwhelming desire to put her arms around him and draw his head to her shoulder, kiss his hair and tell him it would be okay. Maybe kiss him on the forehead. Or the mouth. Or the neck. Or the—

Slutty. Very, very slutty, envisioning sex in the dialysis unit.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She swallowed. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Why are you so intent on Bryce and Paulie being together?” His voice was low and perfectly pleasant.

She risked another look at him. Damn. His hair was so frickin’ beautiful, black and curly, carelessly tousled. If hair could talk, his would say, That’s right. This means everything you’re imagining. Run your fingers through me. Do it. You won’t be sorry.

“Colleen?”

“What? Yes. Um, what was the question?”

He smiled, and her uterus clenched. “Bryce and Paulie. Why is that a good idea?”

She cleared her throat and looked at Joe, who was dead to the world. Poor choice of words, actually. Who was sound asleep.

“You won’t say anything to Bryce, will you?” she asked.

“No.”

And he wouldn’t. She could trust him, she knew. No one she’d ever met in her life was as honorable as Lucas Campbell. “Paulie’s loved him for years. She’s a really great person, Lucas. Decent and kind and good.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Do you remember her from high school?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I remember those chicken ads, though.”

“‘Thirty-eight ways to a heart attack,’” Colleen said with a smile.

“Doesn’t her father have ties to the Russian Mafia?”

“That was never proven.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If Paulie’s so great, Colleen, why are you fixing her up with my cousin? Why aren’t you fixing her up with Connor or Jack Holland or someone with a job and a future?”

“She doesn’t want those guys. She wants Bryce.” They were whispering, not wanting to wake poor Joe.

“And why does she want Bryce? Because he’s good-looking?”

“Well, actually, Lucas—”

“If—and I repeat, if—you manage to get Bryce to date her, what about what happens next? You know how many women Bryce has slept with?”

Her face flushed hotter. A lot, she knew, give or take a few.

“A lot,” Lucas said. “He likes the shallow, beautiful type who are only interested in screwing him.”

“I know exactly the type of women Bryce sleeps with,” she whispered back, suddenly furious. “And yes, they’re generally shallow and beautiful, and no, Paulie isn’t. And maybe it’s time for Bryce to find someone with more depth and character.”

“You’re going to have a big mess on your hands, and your friend is going to get hurt.”

“Right. He might marry someone else when she thought he was in love with her.”

He gave her a narrow-eyed stare. “We’re talking about my cousin, who goes through life without having to deal with the consequences of his actions, Colleen. If you want to fight about the past, you’ll have to do it alone, because I’m not interested.”

“Oh, so sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about something that wasn’t on your agenda.”

“You’re the one who showed up here, I might point out.”

“And you’re the one who swans back into town— You know what? Forget it. I happen to think Bryce should be with a woman like Paulie. No, she’s not some supermodel slut. She’s grounded and decent and loyal. And, I might point out to you, Spaniard, I’ve got a fairly amazing track record when it comes to matchmaking.”

“Bryce is going to break her heart.”

“Funny, how concerned you are about the hearts of women.”

“For God’s sake, look at my uncle,” Lucas said, his voice low. “Bryce has convinced himself Joe will get better, but he won’t. Joe asked me back here so he could see his son settled before he dies. I don’t want to have to tell him that Paulie’s father had Bryce’s body dumped in the lake.”

“How Godfather: Part III. I think the Chicken King is more likely to cut him into pieces and deep-fry him.”

“Bryce needs to grow up. He needs a job, a home, a life.”

“And Paulie could—”