"I came as soon as I heard," she said. "How's Zach?"

Clinton wanted to break down, wanted to lose himself in the fact that she was here. She might not love him, but she was here. For him. But he couldn't. He had to be strong. "He might not pull through," he told her blandly. He didn't want her sympathy, though it filled her eyes. "He's lost his right arm above the elbow and his right leg above the knee. He has ma.s.sive internal injuries and a head injury. He's..." C.J. had to stop to collect himself. "It's touch and go each and every G.o.dd.a.m.n hour."

His brother might die, and there was nothing C.J. could do to stop it. To help him. To save him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand over her mouth. "Clinton, I'm so, so sorry."

She reached for him, and for a moment, he wanted to let her take him into her arms, wanted to rest his head on her shoulder and just hold her. But he couldn't. He didn't trust her. He'd given her his heart, and she'd tossed it back at him.

He stepped back. Told himself he shouldn't feel bad at how crushed she looked as she slowly lowered her arms. "You shouldn't have come," he told her.

"I couldn't stay away. You need me."

Her words blew through him. "I needed you three weeks ago," he reminded her. "I got over it."

"Don't say that." She glanced down the empty hall. "Could I...could I come in?"

"You're asking to come in? Given up breaking and entering?"

She held his gaze. "I am asking. I'm asking you to let me in, Clinton. Please."

He couldn't refuse her even when he wished he could. When he knew it would be better for him, less painful, to turn her away. With a sigh, he stepped aside. She brushed past him. She smelled the same, the familiar scent hitting him like a left jab. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore a deep burgundy top that molded to her stomach, high-heeled boots and jeans so tight, he had no idea how she'd even got them on her very pregnant frame.

Women and their endlessly fascinating mysteries.

He'd no sooner shut the door behind her when she shoved something at him. "Here," she said, pressing an envelope into his hand. "This is for you."

He frowned. Something told him not to open it but he couldn't contain his curiosity.

"It's a check," she blurted.

"I can see that." It was, indeed, a check. One drawn on her personal checking account made out to him for the amount of fifty thousand dollars. He put it back in the envelope, held it out to her. "I don't want it."

"I figured as much but I need you to take it."

"Why? So you won't owe me anything? So you won't feel indebted to me?"

"So we can start over."

He froze. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Didn't trust what she was saying.

"I...I made a mistake," she continued. "I was so scared when you asked me to move here with you, when you said you were falling in love with me, so terrified when you brought up marriage and the future. I pushed you away because I was scared."

He narrowed his eyes, not daring to hope. "What are you saying?"

She inhaled deeply, rested her hands on her belly. "I miss you. I miss you so much I can barely breathe. I think about you all the time, and knowing I lost you because of my fear kills me. Please give me a second chance."

He wanted to. It was pathetic how desperately he wanted to take her into his arms and tell her not to worry about it, that he was willing to take whatever sc.r.a.ps she would give him. But he had his pride, and his pride had always been his downfall. "I can't, Ivy. I don't want to be with you on weekends or several times a month. I want more than that. I deserve more than that and so do you and our child."

"You're right. It just took me some time to realize that. And I realize you might not forgive me, but I'm here to ask you to give me a second chance. I'm...I'm asking you to give me your heart, Clinton," she said quietly, her voice unsteady. "I promise if you do, this time I'll cherish it. And I'll do my best to never hurt you again."

He stared at her, wanting desperately to believe her but afraid to take that chance. He couldn't speak, couldn't form the words to tell her to go. To beg her to stay.

"Please," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "Please forgive me, Clinton. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm so sorry I lied to you after I told you I wouldn't."

"You lied?"

She sniffed. Nodded. "I told you I didn't know if I could fall in love with you, but I already do love you. I love you. So much. I've never said that to anyone before, never thought I could feel for someone the way I feel about you. Please don't walk away from me again."

He was shaken to his core. He could see the truth of her words in her eyes. She loved him. She. Loved. Him. He'd gotten his second chance.

Thank G.o.d.

He took her in his arms and held on tight. He never wanted to let go. "I love you, too, Ivy. Please stay with me. Be mine."

She nodded and hugged him hard. "I'm yours. Always."

The baby kicked, and they both laughed. Then he kissed her and knew he'd found his perfect partner, his best friend and the woman he was going to love until the end of his days.

Keep reading for an excerpt from A FAMILY COME TRUE by Kris Fletcher.

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CHAPTER ONE.

THE MAN HOVERING at the entry to Ian North's garage was very tall, very blond, and very late.

"Hey, Ian. Long time no see."

"Xander?" Ian tugged his work gloves from his hands and set them on the anvil where, moments earlier, he had been happily pounding the h.e.l.l out of a piece of hot iron while singing along to some vintage Queen. With a glance to make sure everything in his home forge could be safely ignored for a few minutes, he ventured toward his old college roommate. "What are you doing back here?"

Xander pulled sungla.s.ses from his face and hooked them casually over the neck of his silky black tee. "I came to get my dog."

"Your dog? Are you nuts?" Thank G.o.d Lulu was having a late-afternoon visit to the park with his landlady and her daughter. "She's not yours anymore, buddy."

"Sure she is. I told you I'd be back for her."

"You said you'd be back in a month or so." He crossed his arms and widened his stance. "By my count, two years is a lot longer than a month or so."

Something flashed through Xander's eyes-something Ian would have sworn was determination if not for the fact that the only times Xander had ever shown real resolve were when s.e.x, beer or his latest get-rich-quick scheme were involved.

"It hasn't been that long. A year, year and a half, max. I'm here, just like I said I'd be." Xander peered past him. "What are you doing back there anyway? Making horseshoes?"

Ian thought of the final touches he'd just finished on a detailed picture frame for his dad. Horseshoes. Right. "Not quite. Now, if the only reason you're here is for my dog, you should leave. I'm busy."

"That's it? No 'Hey, Xander. Good to see you!' No 'Jeez, I hope everything was okay.' Not even a simple 'Where've you been?'"

"I don't need to ask." With one finger Ian pushed his safety gla.s.ses above his forehead, squinting against the sudden vibrancy of mid-June. In winter, southwestern Ontario was a sea of white, but now the reds of the flowers, the green of the gra.s.s and the blue of the sky could be blinding. "I got all the info I needed when the police came looking for you a couple months after you left. Are you on the run or did you land in the pen?"

Xander's face lost some color. Ian cursed.

"Seriously?"

"It was victimless, okay? A little cyber project that got sidetracked. No one got hurt."

"Except the little old ladies you bilked out of their life savings."

"Hey, I don't do that stuff. I just help people find their way into companies. Nothing with actual individuals."

"Yeah, well, it's still- Ah, jeez. You knew you were going to jail, didn't you? That's why you left Lulu with me."

Xander had the grace to look down as he sc.r.a.ped his foot against the cracked pavement of the driveway. "Look, when I left, I knew that the situation wouldn't be good for a puppy. Then things got out of hand and- Anyway, that's all in the past. I paid my debt to society. I'm a changed man and I want my dog."

"Let's review the facts, Xander. Two years ago-oh, pardon me, not that long but I don't feel like doing the math-you asked if you could stay with me for a week. In a moment of foolishness I said yes." Though to be honest, at that time Ian had been new in Stratford, running from a major life curve that had left him sh.e.l.l-shocked and heartsore. Xander's request had been a welcome distraction. "When the week turned into a month, I didn't say anything. When you brought Lulu home, I didn't say anything. When you took off and left me with her and thirty bucks for food-okay, I said some things then, but you weren't here so they don't count. Now, though, you're here, so listen up. She was a puppy when you left. You only had her two weeks. Not yours anymore." He poked Xander in the chest. "Go back to your computer and do something useful, like making some multinationals pay taxes."

But Xander didn't move. "Look, I know I took advantage of you. But I had a lot of time to think while I was away, and I see what an idiot I've been. From now on it's nothing but the straight and narrow for me. I have a job lined up-totally legit-and I'm starting over. Just me, the future and my dog." Xander's eyes darted around the garage, lingering on the steps leading to Ian's second-floor apartment. "By the way, where is she?"

Ah, h.e.l.l. Ian remembered that tone. Xander's persistence lasted about as long as a boy band's fame, but when he first dived into something he gave it his all. Which meant that right now there would be no changing his mind. Only time and the inevitable roadblocks could do that.

The good news was that if Ian could put the guy off for a day or two, Xander would see something shiny and move on. The bad news was that Lulu and company could return at any minute.

If he could just buy himself a little time...

"She's not here."

"Why not? Is she at the vet? Is she sick?"

"She's fine. She's healthy and strong and she can eat me under the table. She went on an outing with friends." Vagueness was his ally. At least, he hoped so. "She's happy here, Xander. If you want a fresh start, do it right. Get yourself a new dog."

Xander shook his head. No surprise there. "Nope. One of the things they taught us when I was...away...was about seeing ourselves in our new lives. They had us figure out all the details. Every time I did it, Lulu was in the picture. I don't want any old dog. I need her."

Ian's fear level rose from d.a.m.n, I don't need this to c.r.a.p, this could get bad. Xander sounded serious. This might still be nothing more than a whim, but given that Xander was the one who'd bought Lulu in the first place, things could get complicated.

Ian hated complicated.

"Listen, Xander, I'm in the middle of a project and I need to get moving. You should do the same."

Xander shook his head, crossed his arms and leaned against Ian's prized Mustang. "I'll wait."

"I don't think so."

"You know," Xander said with a sigh, "there was a time when you would have invited me in and we could have talked this out over a beer."

"And there was a day when you wouldn't have disappeared without so much as a Facebook post. Guess we're even." He returned to the anvil and made a show of examining the cross-peen hammer he'd been using. Yeah, it was juvenile, but hey, Xander wasn't the only one who could trot out the tough act.

Too bad it didn't work. Xander ambled into the garage, hands in his pockets, eyes darting from the forge to the anvil to the wall of hammers and files.

"You know, Ian, I'm thinking I got us off on the wrong foot here. How about we start over? I walk in and say, 'Hey, buddy, long time no see.' Then you say, 'Xander! Talk about a sight for sore eyes!' And I say, 'Same here. How are your folks? How long have you been playing Little House on the Prairie? How's work and your pretty little landlady and my dog?'"

Pretty little landlady? If Darcy heard Xander describe her that way, she'd be the one hefting hammers. "I have another idea. You see this?" Ian lifted a curved length of forged iron. "I think this would make a great hook. You know, for grabbing your sorry, law-breaking runaway a.s.s and dragging it to the curb before I-"

His words were interrupted by the sound he'd been dreading most-the excited bark of a dog approaching home, followed immediately by Darcy's resigned laughter. Lulu must have gotten away from her again.

Sure enough, a second later the driveway was a riot of movement and sound as a yipping, panting streak of beagle blend raced closer, dragging her leash behind her. And unless Ian missed his guess, Lulu was heading straight for him, with barely a curious glance in Xander's direction.

Mine.