Page 56 of The Refiner

I nod. “We are, but my father doesn’t judge success by how many lives we touch, but rather by how much money we can make touching lives.”

“And your Grace of Mercy cruises don’t bring any money into the practice?”

I smile. “You catch on quickly.”

She looks away like she didn’t mean to be caught staring. “How does Vance feel about your philanthropy?”

I find a low hanging branch and pull down on the limb, testing its strength. “Vance isn’t my father. He’s always supported my charitable work.”

“Sounds like Piper,” she muses. “She always supported my dreams, even when she didn’t understand them.”

“She didn’t know what a game writer was?”

“She knew the basic concept of writing the storyline for video games; she just didn’t understand why I didn’t want to write novels or screenplays instead. Video game stories seem like the generic version of a writer.”

“Is that what Piper really thought? That you were the generic version of a writer?” I find that hard to believe.

“No, she didn’t. Well, at least I don’t think she did. Piper was always supportive.” She chuckles, wiping under her eyes. “She even played a few of the games I helped write.”

“What? Dr. McKellan played a video game?” The thought makes me smile.

“Crazy, right?” Keagan shakes her head. “She never made it past level one, but she tried, and that meant more than any promotion I could ever receive.”

Her sadness seems to saturate the air around us.

“I just keep thinking that I’ll never get another excited squeal or bone-crushing hug from her. It’s like my whole life revolved around wondering what Piper would think of this?” She twirls the tweed bracelets on her wrists. “I sort of expected her to rise from the dead and tell me that you can’t wear green to a funeral.” She scoffs, but it sounds more like a muffled cry. “But I didn’t pack anything black. I didn’t know when I left home that I would need to prepare for my sister’s funeral.”

“You look beautiful—that’s what your sister would have told you if she were here.” I move closer and hold her teary gaze. “She would have said you brought the light to a dark time.”

She shakes her head. “I told you not to turn on hero mode.”

I reach up, grazing her ankle with my fingertips. “This is friend mode, I’m no one’s hero.”

Her lips purse. “You’re lying. You’re a doctor who spends half a year on a boat, treating poverty-stricken children for nothing, not even for praise in the newspaper. If that’s not a hero, then I need to brush up on my definitions.”

“I enjoy children,” I correct her.

“Is that why you had a baby with my sister? Because you both wanted a child?”

My neck feels warm as if the sun is beating down on it. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Her eyes widen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I grin. “I thought you were good with definitions?”

“I’m also good with aim.” She breaks off a small twig like she might chuck it at me, but I already anticipated her threat.

Latching on to her ankle, I give her a tug. “I sure would hate for you to fall into my arms.”

She scrambles to hold on to the branch above her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I shrug, tugging once more, just so she doesn’t drop her guard. “You said it yourself, I like hero mode. Nothing screams hero like a damsel falling straight into the hero’s arms.”

“Now you’re just being annoying.”

But she isn’t seeming so lost. Her fire is back, even if it’s directed at me. “Well, I tend to get annoying when I’m hungry.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Then go get something to eat. No one said you had to wait on me.”

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