her career and be a mother and a wife.
Linc rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension in the cords of his neck. Dr. Mitchell looked at each of them, and then leaned back in her chair, her expression gentle and sad.
“Ms. Harper, I regret to tell you that your sister passed away early this morning. I am so very sorry.”
Linc closed his eyes as sorrow seeped into him. Yeah, Kari drove him nuts but she had given him an amazing son. Kari, rest easy.
Linc clenched his hands around the arm of his chair before placing his arm around Tate’s very stiff shoulders. He looked at her and tried to gauge her reaction. To Linc it looked like she’d shrunk in on herself; she looked smaller and frailer. But it was her expression that scared him or, more accurately, it was her lack of expression.
For the first time, he couldn’t discern any emotion in her eyes. There was no sadness, no anger, no regret. Linc turned in his chair and forced his fingers through hers, and he grew concerned when she didn’t respond. She’d retreated to a place where he couldn’t reach her, Linc suddenly realized. This was the same place she’d said she retreated to during her childhood, when the pressure and pain of living with her mother and sister became too much. The same place she went to when her father disappointed her time and time again.
Tate was on her island and he couldn’t get to her...
“I have tried to contact you, but your phone has been going straight to messages for the last six hours.”
“I was at a function and didn’t think to turn it back on,” Tate told her tonelessly.
Dr. Mitchell cleared her throat, and Linc looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Kari deteriorated quickly when she got here. It was almost as if she stopped fighting.”
“I have to organize her funeral,” Tate said, staring straight ahead.
“Kari left explicit instructions. She didn’t want a funeral and her body is already on its way to a home to be cremated.”
She made arrangements for her funeral but not for her kids? Linc shook his head. “Her ashes?” Tate asked in a monotone voice.
“She ordered the funeral home to dispose of them,” Dr. Mitchell replied, staring down at the folder she’d opened on her desk. “She did, however, leave a will.”
“A will? Kari?” Linc asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.
Dr. Mitchell nodded. “It’s part of the admission process. We insist that our patients sort out their affairs.”
Linc frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “How did she pay you? The Kari we know—knew—didn’t have the cash to pay for a private facility.”
“We do take pro bono cases. Kari was one of those.”
Hearing that, Linc immediately decided that he’d leave a check to cover Kari’s expenses. She was, after all, the mother of his child.
Dr. Mitchell looked at Tate. “Kari wanted me to explain her wishes, but if you’d prefer to deal with a lawyer, then you can.”
Tate’s eyes had yet to leave the doctor’s face. “No, you can tell me,” she said, her voice even but still devoid of emotion.
“Before she died, Kari did make arrangements to have Ellie adopted. In fact, she worked with an adoption agency and preapproved a couple for Ellie to go to.”
Ellie wasn’t going anywhere! She was Tate’s. And his. He couldn’t lose his two girls.
“Kari wanted to give you the option of adopting Ellie, as well. Essentially, the paperwork at the adoption agency has been completed. It just needs either your signature or the Goldbergs’ signatures, and Ellie has a new family.”
“Did...” Tate cleared her throat. “Did Kari indicate where she’d prefer Ellie to go?”
Dr. Mitchell shook her head. “She said either of the options was fine. Essentially, she left the choice up to you.”
“I see...” Tate softly replied and Linc released a sharp breath, desperate to know what was going through Tate’s mind right now.
Oh, Tate, come back. Feel angry, feel sad. Please, don’t shut down, and, God, don’t shut me out.
“Everything you need to proceed is in the folder, Tate.” Dr. Mitchell closed the folder and handed it to Tate, who took it with a rock-steady hand. “I am very sorry for your loss.”
Linc placed his hand under Tate’s elbow and felt her jerk her arm away. He frowned at her profile, set in stone, and felt her sliding away.
He silently cursed, hot, heavy words that gave him no relief. He would fight as hard as he could, for her, for them, for the family they were in the process of building, but if she chose to run, there would be little he could do about it. Running away was, after all, what she always did when life became complicated or people demanded more than what she wanted to give.
It would be interesting to see how he coped with the tsunami of pain that was bound to follow her departure.
* * *
Hi Tate!
Just to let you know that we’d love to have you host our new, US-based travel show. It’s a show developed for your unique delivery style and personality and we’re excited to work closely with you on this project. Details and the contract to follow and let me know when we can meet.
Tate read the email again and tossed her phone onto the bed and shoved two hands into her messy hair. She’d been back in The Den for two days, and she felt as if she was operating on fresh air and emotion. Her sister, the person she’d both loved and hated, was dead.
Her daughter was now Tate’s responsibility.
She was in love with Kari’s ex.
Kari was dead...
And she had the offer of a new job...
Tate rested her forehead against the cool wall of her bedroom, too numb to think, still too stunned to cry. A part of her wanted to scream, to hurl curses at God and Fate, but mostly she just wanted to curl up into a ball and go to sleep.
Is this what an emotional meltdown felt like, Tate wondered, panic creeping up her throat. For the first time ever, she didn’t know what to do, how to act. Should she run? Should she stay? Should she talk to Linc or just pick up her niece and her stuff and leave?
Talk or run? Stay or go?
Her indecision terrified her.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Tate turned around and looked at Linc, leaning his big shoulder into the frame of the door. So solid, so protective, a guardian through and through. God, it would be so easy to throw herself on Linc’s broad chest, feel his arms banding around her, silently assuring her that she was safe, that he’d protect her. Because that’s what Linc did, the core of who he was. At eleven he’d scooped up the Ballantyne siblings and placed them under his wing, determined to shelter them through their grief. He was Connor’s heir apparent, and he felt utterly responsible for the well-being of Ballantyne International. He was insanely protective of Shaw and still worried about his grown-up, very capable siblings.
Linc saw himself as a white knight, and she and Ellie roused his every protective instinct. What she saw in Linc’s eyes was not love or affection; it was his need to watch over and care for those around him.
Tate placed her palm on the wall. As much as she wanted Linc, physically, she couldn’t allow herself to lean on him. She needed to stand on her own two feet. Find some perspective, some clarity. Distancing herself would give her that.
It would allow her to make smart decisions, decisions that would stand the test of time. Kari and her mom were the queens of hasty, off-the-cuff choices, and most of them had blown up in their faces. She wouldn’t do that; Ellie was too important,