As she stepped onto the roof, the air grew cooler. A breeze rippled her scrubs. Her gaze spun around frantically until she found him. Pesh stood at the edge of the roof. His usual ramrod straight posture was slumped, his broad shoulders drawn in. Although she couldn’t see his face, his gaze seemed fixed straight ahead into the night sky. To add insult to injury, clouds blotted out the stars, cloaking everything in darkness.

Tentatively, she started over to him. “Hey,” she said softly.

He whirled around in surprise. Her heart clenched at the sight of the tears sparkling in his eyes. Even in the darkness, she could see a blood-red flush entering his cheeks. His hands quickly came up to swipe away the moisture from his eyes. “Hello,” he finally replied in a hoarse whisper.

They stood in an awkward silence, staring each other down. Finally, Megan took a step forward to close the gap between them. “How did you know I was up here?” he asked.

“Kristi told me.”

“Hmm.”

Unable to stop herself, she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m so sorry, Pesh.”

“It isn’t necessary.”

She shook her head. “Yes, it is. You’re in pain…you’ve been in pain. I can’t help but feel sorry for what you’re going through.”

His usually warm eyes took on a cold look. “You were in that elevator, too. You have every right to be emotional. Maybe you should be more concerned with why you aren’t weeping.”

“Don’t,” she murmured.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to mask your pain by being someone you’re not or by pointing fingers at others. That isn’t you, and you can’t fool me.”

With a ragged sigh, Pesh jerked his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “I’m sorry. That was completely uncalled for.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s—” She silenced him by bringing her hand up to cover his lips. When she pulled her hand away, he sighed.

“Talk to me,” Megan pleaded.

The clouds above them opened up, causing a slight drizzle to fall. “The death of a patient is never easy. Any doctor of worth, or nurse for that matter, must possess compassion. Then it is inevitable that the same compassion you possess will come back to haunt you—it may even cripple you. When death comes, you can’t help feeling for the life that has been lost and for the family members left behind.” His voice choked off, and Megan drew herself even closer to him. She knew that his last statement held personal meaning for him.

“What exactly happened to your wife?” she questioned softly.

Pesh’s eyes closed. “Jade had an undiagnosed clotting condition. She was adopted, so she didn’t know anything really about her family history. She’d always been in perfect health—she rarely even went to the doctor with the sniffles. And after we’d been married for three years, we decided it was time to have a baby.”

When Pesh remained silent, Megan tentatively asked, “Did she die in childbirth?”

He shook his head. “No, we never got that far. We tried for over a year to get pregnant on our own, and it didn’t happen. So we were recommended to a fertility clinic. Once the IUI process didn’t work, we started IVF.” A ragged sigh came from deep in his chest. “The whole process was physically trying and then emotionally gutting for both of us, but especially for Jade.” He met her gaze. “She blamed herself since the testing revealed that everything was fine with me. Although we were labeled as ‘non-specific infertility,’ she felt that it was all her fault.”

“Bless her heart,” Megan murmured, as her heart went out to a woman she’d never met. Getting pregnant had been so easy for her. Although Mason wasn’t necessarily expected, he had never been unwanted in her eyes. But she knew what infertility did to a woman when she saw it ravage her father’s sister. Although her aunt was now the happy and doting mother of two adopted girls, she knew the emotional toil not getting pregnant had taken. Megan, herself, had once been the recipient of her aunt’s childless pain when she had announced her pregnancy with Mason.

Still without answers as to how Jade had died, Megan pressed Pesh for more. “So what happened with the IVF?”

“She got pregnant on the first transfer only to miscarry three weeks later. We had just been through another transfer when she died.” Pesh’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. Megan could only imagine he was trying to keep his emotions in check. Finally, he spoke again. “She had an embolism most likely brought on by the fertility medication. I was in the kitchen making breakfast when I heard a crash in the bedroom.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “When I called her name and she didn’t answer, I ran back to her. She was crumpled on the bedroom floor. After calling 911, I did CPR over and over again, but I could never revive her.”

“Oh Pesh,” Megan murmured. The weight of his pain was so heavy that even she found it hard to breathe.

Without looking at her, he continued staring straight ahead. “From what the medical examiner said, I have some peace in knowing she didn’t suffer—that she went quickly without any fear or pain. One minute she was getting ready for work, and the next she was gone.”

“It’s true that there is some peace, especially the fact she didn’t know she was going to die. Sometimes I can’t imagine what it must be like for terminal patients.” She shuddered. “When you wonder if every day is your last, when you have to think about all you’re going to miss.”

“Yes, that is true,” he said, in a hushed whisper. When he finally turned to look at her, he gave her a sad smile. “It’s been two years. Every time I think I’ve moved on, that I’ve been able to compartmentalize my grief, a case comes through that brings me to my knees.”

“I’m so sorry,” Megan murmured, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned his face into her hand. His head bowed until their foreheads met. “You have to remember that no matter what happened to your wife, and to Mary, it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t responsible. You need to keep living. You’re alive.” Tilting her head up, she gazed into his dark brown eyes. “You’re alive,” she repeated.

The rain began to fall harder. Her eyelids fluttered to keep the moisture out of her eyes as she gazed up at him. His mouth hovered next to hers, his breath warming her cheek. She could barely breathe in that moment. It was like every molecule in her body was pulsing with need. Silently, she pleaded with her eyes for him to kiss her.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he slid his lips over hers. It wasn’t the first time she had kissed him—it was just the first time she was sober and had kissed him. Now her senses were heightened, and she could experience exactly what she was feeling. His lips were tender and soft at first, and then they switched over to desperate and demanding. It was like he was breathing her in with every brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue as if to prove to himself that he truly was alive. His tongue danced along hers, causing her to moan. He brought his hands up to cup her face while her arms went around his chest, pulling him closer to her.

Drops of rain pelted her head and ran down her cheeks while Pesh’s white coat grew moist as she ran her hands up and down his back. She realized, in a dizzying flurry, that no man had ever kissed her like this before. This was like lovemaking with their mouths, and she never wanted it to end.

When Pesh finally tore his lips from hers, Megan’s breaths came in heaving pants. Her eyes opened to stare up at him. His expression turned from lust to anguish. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Pesh, you don’t—”

He held up his hand. “Please, just go.” He turned away from her, wrapping his arms around his chest. Torn, Megan didn’t know if she should argue with him and stay or leave. “Please,” he whispered.

With her heart still beating wildly from their passionate lip-lock, she turned and fled. As she pounded back down the stairs, her emotions yo-yoed to where she felt like a watch that had been wound too tight. After bursting back through the door, Kristi met her in the hallway. Her eyes widened at Megan’s appearance.

“I, uh, I went outside on my dinner break, and it started raining,” Megan lied.

“Next time you’ll have to remember your umbrella,” Kristi replied.

Megan nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

“Why don’t you go to the break room? There’s a hair dryer under the sink. When you finish drying off, I could really use you in the supply closet doing inventory. Seems like we always almost run out of everything at once.”

“Sure. I can do that.” As Megan turned to go down the hallway, Kristi reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Is he okay?”

Megan bit down on her lip to keep a hysterical laugh from escaping. Was Pesh okay? Was she okay? Who the hell knew? One minute he’d been weeping about his wife and losing a patient, and the next he’d been liquid passion dripping on her lips. Regardless of his emotional whiplash, she’d experienced the same. She now found herself wanting more of his kisses when she shouldn’t. But it wasn’t just the kiss she wanted—she wanted all of him and not just for sex.

“No, he’s not. I guess he’s just trying to accept the loss, both past and present, as best he can,” she finally replied.

Kristi nodded in acknowledgement. When Megan felt she was free from any more questioning, she hurried down the hall to the break room. Thankfully, she found it empty. After grabbing a brush from her purse, she went to the sink to grab the hair dryer. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she looked a bedraggled mess. She was practically washed out except for her lips. They were swollen and bright red from Pesh’s kisses. Her finger came up to trace her bottom lip. As memories of his kisses filled her mind, she tried desperately to think of anything else.