want to do him proud with the station, with his legacy, but it kills me that he’ll never know. That all his brain will let him do is resent me for it.” “Does Emily know?” “No,” he said emphatically. Oh, Holden. “She and Gran would be horrified. Besides, I can handle it, and I do . . . most of the time . . .” He trailed off, his gaze sliding away. I turned his face back to mine. “You’ve got a lot going on, Holden. The muster. Crutching. Your mum heading to the UK. Me arriving. The contract. That’s a lot of stress for one man. Maybe it’s time to think about telling them what’s going on. It’s
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