The Darkest Sunrise (The Darkest Sunrise #1)

“I only have fifty-eleven percent left,” Hannah cried behind him, clearly needing to get back into preschool.

I sucked my lips between my teeth and bit down to stifle a laugh. Then I headed for my bedroom door, ordering, “Out. Both of you.”

“But, Dad—” they whined in unison.

I cut them off. “You don’t need to be on your iPad anyway. Travis, go get ready for your tutor. We can hash out chargers this afternoon. After you finish your schoolwork. And, Hannah, go get dressed. Grandma’s busy this morning, so you’re going to The Tannerhouse with me.”

Her eyes lit. “Is Uncle Tan gonna be there?”

I smiled. My girl did love her uncle. “Maybe. Hurry up and get out of here and I’ll text him to find out.”

“Woohoo!” she cheered, skipping out of my room.

Travis followed her, grumbling, “It was my charger, Hannie.”

“It was not!” she screeched.

“Hey!” I barked. “I said stop fighting!”

I shut my door and got dressed, strategically avoiding the picture of Catherine on my dresser. Then I headed to the kitchen to throw some frozen waffles into the toaster for the kids—okay and me too. Those things were fucking delicious. I spent an extra thirty minutes a day at the gym working those babies off.

Hannah came prancing into the room wearing a hot-pink-and-white-zebra-striped shirt and green-and-black-polka-dot leggings that clashed so loudly that it was almost deafening. Her long, curly hair was a rat’s nest, and her rain galoshes were on the wrong feet.

I smiled.

She smiled back and then climbed onto her stool at the bar.

“Travis, breakfast!” I called, cutting her waffles up as my cell started ringing.

My boy came wandering into the room, wearing basketball shorts, a T-shirt, and a pissed-off scowl on his face.

I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Mr. Reese?” a woman said.

“You got him.” I slid a plate in front of Hannah and then turned to grab one for Travis.

“Hi. I’m calling from Dr. Mills’s office at North Point Pulmonology.”

I froze at the mention of her name. “What can I, uh, do for you?”

“Dr. Mills asked me to call and see if you would be able to bring Travis into the office this morning?”

I dropped the plate on the counter with a loud clatter and nervously switched the phone to my other hand. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“Your son, Travis. We were hoping you could—”

“Charlotte asked you to call me?” I clarified.

“Yes, sir. She—”

Hope blasted through my veins, but it was iced by immediate concern. “And you’re positive she wants me to bring my son?”

“That’s what she said.”

I blinked several times and then glanced up to Travis, who was sitting at the counter. His face was pale, his eyes sunken from exhaustion. We’d managed to keep him out of the hospital, but that didn’t mean he was doing any better. We’d been up three times last night doing breathing treatments. After the one at five a.m., I hadn’t bothered going back to sleep.

There was nothing I wouldn’t have given to get him the help he so desperately needed, but not at the risk of destroying her. She’d struggled when she’d seen Hannah’s car seat in my car, and now, five days later, she was going to treat my kid?

“I can’t,” I said, bile crawling up the back of my throat. I stood there, rooted in place, my hand gripping the back of my neck, as I stared at my children, who were once again fighting over God only knew what.

They depended on me. He depended on me.

It was my job to make the hard decisions and my job to put them first no matter the cost.

She’d decided to treat him—for me.

But I knew exactly how it was going to gut her. I felt it every time I thought about that bridge.

Then again, if she thought she could do it, who was I to argue?

Oh, right. The man who was going to have to watch the woman he cared about crumble if and when she realized she couldn’t.

Indecision warred inside me, spiking my pulse and sending a flurry of memories racing through my mind.

“I need it to stop, Porter.”

“Daddy, he can’t breathe.”

“Every single one of them. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter. They’re all him.”

“Who’s going to take care of me now?”

“I don’t know how to let go of him.”

But, at the end of the day, there was only one choice.

“I love you, Dad.”

“Okay. I’ll let Dr. Mills know. Have a great day, Mr.—”

“Wait!” I shouted, causing the kids to snap their attention to me. Their brown eyes bored into me as I sucked in a ragged breath. “We’ll be there.”




My heart was in my throat as I walked up to the front door of her office with Hannah on my hip, her shoes still on the wrong feet, and Travis hot on my heels, his palm wrapped in mine.

I’d texted Charlotte seventeen times since I’d hung up with her nurse who’d called me.

She’d replied exactly zero times.

The strangest mixture of guilt and elation swirled in my chest as I walked to the reception desk.

The sound of her broken voice telling me, “I can’t treat your son, Porter,” played on a continuous loop in my head, creating something of a soundtrack for the visual of Travis sitting on the side of the tub, a nebulizer between his lips, tears dripping from his chin.

I was doing the right thing. I knew it to the core of my soul. But that didn’t mean it didn’t fucking burn like the hottest flames, knowing I was doing it to her.

The same gray-haired receptionist slipped the window open as we approached, her wrinkled glower leveled on me. “Mr. Reese. We meet again.” She rose from her chair, pointedly reached across the desk, and pressed a buzzer. “Come on back. We’ve been expecting you.”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Look, is there any chance I could see Charlotte for a minute alone before I bring the kids back?”

Rita suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her gaze slipped to Travis then to Hannah before finally meeting mine. “Come on, Porter. Charlotte’s in with a patient.”

“Rita,” I called, shifting Hannah to my other hip and reaching to grab Travis’s hand again. “I need to see her first.”

She gave me her back as she guided us down the familiar hallway.

“Rita,” I hissed. “I need—”

She abruptly stopped, which caused me to bump into her back. Her pretty face was hard as she turned to me, but her eyes were soft. She flashed her gaze to Travis and offered him a genuine smile before pinning me with a glare and whispering, “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her. I’m trying to—” I whisper-yelled but she shoved the door at her left open and walked inside, leaving it wide for me to follow.

I made it exactly two steps inside before I froze.

Three doctors in white coats all rose from their seats behind the long conference table.

None of them were Charlotte.

One I vaguely recognized as Dr. Laughlin from his picture hanging beside Charlotte’s in the waiting room, but I’d never seen the two older women before.