Chapter 1

At the ER, my husband’s childhood friend had written his name where a wife expects to see hers: Next of Kin.

The nurse had no idea she was showing me how easily Lucas’s name had found a place in another woman’s life.

Lucas Hale had not filled out the form himself. Blaire Sutton had.

Her handwriting was neat and practiced, as though his name had belonged on that line for a long time.

Blaire was the childhood friend he had called “basically family” for over twenty years.

Half an hour earlier, Lucas had been in our kitchen adjusting the light on my magnifying lamp.

He knew I had my clock-restoration certification assessment at eight the next morning. He knew I’d spent three months preparing for it.

Then Blaire called and said she had fainted at a restaurant.

Lucas looked at the screen, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.

“She’s alone in the ER. I have to go.”

“She has a sister,” I said, still holding the tiny gear I’d just removed from a practice watch. “And coworkers.”

He stopped at the door. He looked tired, but he had that certainty I knew too well.

“Nadine, she’s scared. You understand that this isn’t the time to make it about you.”

So I drove to the hospital with Blaire’s wallet, ID, and phone charger. The whole way there, I told myself it was just one emergency.

Lucas had cared for me like this before.

The night my father died, he stayed beside me until morning and answered every call I couldn’t bear to take.

When I got my first interview at a restoration workshop, he was more excited than I was. He drove two hours to help me buy my first set of tools.

I didn’t want to turn a man who had loved me so deeply into someone who had never cared at all.

But the nurse was still waiting.

Before she took the form back, I lifted my phone and photographed the line with Lucas’s name.

I did not know then why I needed proof of something I had already seen.

I only knew I could not bear to let anyone tell me later that I had imagined it.

“I’m his wife,” I said. “I just didn’t know he was someone else’s next of kin.”

The nurse quickly pulled the form back. Blaire was stable, she explained. The doctor was arranging her discharge.

Through the partly opened curtain, I saw Lucas sitting beside the bed, holding Blaire’s hand.

Her face was pale, her hair tangled. When she noticed me, she managed a weak smile.

“I’m sorry, Nadine,” she said softly. “I never wanted to bother Lucas.”

It sounded like an apology.

What it really meant was: I only called him, and he came.

Lucas got up and came over to me. He said Blaire had suffered a panic attack. Work had been rough lately, and she’d received an eviction notice that morning. Everything had caught up with her.

“When did she put you down as her emergency contact?” I asked.

He blinked, then rubbed a hand over his face. “Years ago, probably. She lived alone. She didn’t really have anyone dependable. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

I looked at him and thought about the rules for my assessment the next morning. If I was more than ten minutes late, I wouldn’t be allowed in. I would have two hours to repair the assigned movement. If I failed, I’d have to wait another six months.

Tonight, he was supposed to help me finish my last practice watch.

“What about me?” I asked. “If I collapsed in here tonight, would you check whether Blaire needed you first?”

His expression hardened.

“Don’t say it like that. She just came out of the ER.”

The doctor called them over to finish the paperwork. Lucas glanced back at me, as if he expected me to smooth over the discomfort for him.

I didn’t move.

Twenty minutes later, Blaire came out wearing Lucas’s coat. He guided her past me, already deciding what would happen next.

“She needs somewhere quiet tonight,” he said. “I told her she can stay in our guest room.”