her own trust fund.
But, then, she hadn’t known she’d needed to buy his love.
Adrian looked up at Cole, happiness shining in his eyes as he sat with his real-life hero in the flesh.
Cole returned the look, adding a smile and passing Adrian a napkin. Adrian took it from Cole’s hand instead of insisting Cole lay the napkin on the table. That kind of trust usually took a carer weeks to establish.
The intercom blared, paging Dr. Lassiter to the first-aid tent. “I’ve got to go.”
As he stood, a storm built in Adrian’s face.
Please, not a meltdown. Not now. Isabella braced herself for the scene she would be dealing with the moment Cole walked away. At fourteen, Adrian’s pubescent temper tantrums were becoming more and more difficult to deal with. She began digging in her purse for Adrian’s scarf, hoping the scrap of fabric would have a calming effect should Adrian’s emotions overcome his learned behavior.
Cole turned to face Adrian, without doubt noting the mottled red in his face.
Would Cole judge her to be a bad mother? Many people would, if they had never had to cope with autism.
He looked Adrian in the eye, not flinching away as his son’s whole body started to shake. While taking the scarf from Isabella and handing it to Adrian, he subtly put himself between her and her son. Did he realize his protective maneuver? Did he think she needed to be shielded from her own son?
Isabella herself prayed that day would never come.
Adrian twisted both hands in the scarf, his thumbs tracing the pile of the heavy cut velvet while he raised the satin side to his lips, taking deep breaths like they’d practiced.
Isabella held her own breath as she watched Cole.
If Cole showed any sign of belittlement or disdain for Adrian’s self-soothing, it could set off Adrian’s barely restrained emotions.
Cole gave Adrian a respectful nod. “Good job, Adrian. A man controls his temper around a woman.”
He took a card from his wallet, scribbling on the back. “Here’s my cellphone number, in case you ever need me.” His glance took in both of them.
He put the card down within Adrian’s reach then once again walked out of her life, leaving his empty promise behind.
CHAPTER TWO
COLE walked away, feeling Bella’s eyes burn into his back.
Maybe he had overstepped the mark, giving Adrian his card. But an inexplicable compulsion deep within him had prevented him from cutting off his connection with the boy.
There was no connection—could never be a connection—between him and Isabella. She had severed that with a knife in the back.
The rest of the morning dragged by with only one other patient, a mother with a minor ankle sprain. While he tried to explain that four-inch heels and bleachers didn’t mix, she attempted to seduce him with invitations for drinks on the veranda after her ex-husband picked up the children that evening.
She was exactly the kind of Southern belle he always imagined Bella would have turned into. Not that he thought of Bella often. He’d had to train himself quickly to put her out of his mind or he would have never made it through medical school.
But forgetting about her after seeing her today took all his mental prowess.
While he’d rather head to the hotel to put a heat pack on his aching neck, he headed toward the classrooms instead. He’d promised his office manager he would pick up some information on early recognition of learning difficulties. Her daughter’s pediatrician was starting to suspect a problem. And heat packs wouldn’t cure his problem anyway. Only time would heal a neck and shoulder strain—just like only time would heal his heartache. But how much time? Fifteen years should have been long enough.
He ducked into a full auditorium and leaned against the door frame. The man next to him handed over a sheaf of lecture notes that Cole took with a politely absent nod, intending to drop out as quickly as he dropped in.
That was when he noticed the speaker, Isabella Allante, at the podium. A video on a giant screen behind her showed Adrian in his younger years, staring into the camera, while other children enjoyed a birthday party.
“So you see, I understand. I’m one of you.” She met the eyes of parents scattered around the room. “My son has autism and I can’t cure him.”
A frisson of emotion quivered through him, an emotion that was too big to name.
He had to look away from Adrian’s stare.
Cole frowned and glanced at the paper he held then glanced at his watch. Wrong time zone. He was late for the workshop on early detection by an hour.
As unobtrusively as he could, he turned to leave. From the podium, Bella fell silent. Just a pause. Just a beat. Just enough to make everyone turn and look at him.
He’d never been one to be swayed by general consensus—unlike Bella. How had sweet, pliable Bella managed with a son as challenging as Adrian? Still, he chose to stay to keep from disrupting Bella’s talk any further.
“I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs of life with honesty about my strengths and weaknesses.” She stumbled on her closing sentences before she found her rhythm again. “And honesty about my emotions.”
If that was true, she’d certainly changed.
The ring of sincerity in her message kept the crowd enthralled. “As many of you know, my background is in cognitive behavior therapy. But my specialty is in pain management, not autism. Like you, I can’t stay immersed in the study of my child’s disability to the exclusion of all else. Also, like you, I want to do everything within my power to help my child live a contented and worthwhile life. And that includes taking care of myself, mentally, physically and spiritually, and asking for help when I need it. I encourage you to do the same.”
Was Bella staring straight at him? How could she even see him through the crowd? He must be imagining her focus on him, imagining her eyes accusing him of—of what?
When Bella stepped down from the podium and a website address and phone number flashed on the video screen, replacing the birthday scene, Cole felt like he’d been given a reprieve.
Back when Cole had known her, Isabella had been the kind of girl who’d avoided confrontation at all costs. But she was no longer that insecure, unconfident girl she’d been. She rushed to catch Cole, almost running in her three-inch wedges, hoping her favorite shoes would hold together long enough to overtake his long-legged strides.
In the parking lot, he stopped next to a BMW with a rental sticker on the window and took a look behind him, pinning her with his stare. “You want to say something to me?”
Isabella glared right back. “Why are you here?”
She winced when her confrontational words came out soft and breathless. Her wispy tone had nothing to do with the flaring ferocity of emotion in Cole’s eyes but was completely due to her being out of shape. She needed to start running with her son—if she could find a free slot in her schedule.
Cole gave her a once-over, a quick assessment from head to toe. She resisted the impulse to smooth her hair behind her ear or cross her arms over her chest.
“I’m consulting on a few cases with the sports clinic.”
“It’s hard to imagine you working with the SC.”
Cole had always wanted to work for charity, not for big money. In fact, he had been a bit of a reverse snob about money. He’d definitely gotten over that hang-up.
“It’s hard to imagine you as the mother of a teenage boy.”
She smirked. “Time does have a way of changing us—some of us for the better.”
“You,