Chapter 22

And finally he thought of Nana. Beyond the dream images, beyond her final pathetic entreaty about the house, Nana stayed alive in his heart for all the good she’d done. She had taken him, as a shell-shocked little boy, and raised him. Protected him. Nurtured him. And yes, spoiled him, giving him practically whatever it was he wanted—riding lessons, a piano, a car on his sixteenth birthday, taking him to China, Italy, France, England, Egypt, and Argentina. The old woman could never say no to him, and she always had a bottomless well of love for her grandson and always put his best interests first.

So how could he even contemplate now saying no to her final request?

Hunter got up, tired of lying awake and wide-eyed, and put on his robe.

He started downstairs to see what there was in the refrigerator. The house was dark and silent. For once the flow of traffic on Sheridan had slowed to a trickle. He felt like he was the only person in the world.