Prologue
Five years he'd been standing her, five years he'd watched the ocean from this same doorway. He could never go back, not now, not ever. One drastic mistake and he was stuck in the hell hole of Mexico until his miserable ass perished. He didn't deserve anything more. He was to live out the rest of existence where no one could touch him; a punishment he had put on himself. A hand that had been dealt, something he could change with a hidden ace; but he wouldn't cheat.
No one gave a fuck about him, that he knew. From years of watching people walk into his life and than he decide they didn't care enough to say, he knew no one cared about him. He knew that he wasn't worth caring. His dad had taught him this at a young age.
And now as he watched the ocean churn up the sand, he knew this is where he would stay. This is the only place he belonged, and he was content. No one could hurt him here; he couldn't hurt anyone.
Five years she'd looked for him, at first not caring what happened and then searching. She'd seen the look of hurt in his eyes, but her own rage had hidden his feelings from her. He was scarred, deeply. Just another scar to add to his heart, and she'd been the one to put it there.
For weeks it had all been rage, and Wilson had tried to calm her down. Wilson would take her wrath and spare the rest of the hospital. And then it was depression, when she'd been told he'd had run from the country. Wilson had been through that, too. And she could never thank him enough for it all.
Now here she was, holding a location in her hand. Another thing to investigate. Another worried Rachel left at home, Wilson supporting her all the way.
She had to get him back home, where he belonged.