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couldn’t read. It sent a chill through her. “You don’t remember your grandfather, Tommy, or your brothers, Jake, Jared or Josh?”
    He shook his head, then blew out a breath. “Hannah, the only family I ever had was my mother, Grace, and she passed away going on three months back now.”
    Hannah couldn’t help it, her temper flared, fueled by fear and frustration. “Jesse, I don’t know who this Grace person was, but your family is the Ryans. You’re a Ryan, ” she insisted, temper in her words. Unconsciously, her hands fisted in his shirt as she struggled to contain the floodgate of emotions his words had opened.
    Tommy Ryan had spent twenty years praying—waiting—for the day when Jesse would be found, would come home. How would he handle knowing Jesse didn’t even remember him?
    Or worse, far worse, wouldn’t accept him?
    She loved and adored her godfather. He was the finest man she’d ever met, the kind of man she’d always wished had been her father. She wouldn’t want anything or anyone—not even his youngest, beloved grandson—to hurt him.
    A strong streak of protectiveness rose in Hannah and she wanted to shake Jesse, shake him until he realized what his lack of acceptance of Tommy might do to the man. And to the entire Ryan family, who had spent twenty years grieving for him, searching for him, loving him.
    She knew firsthand how the rejection of your family—for any reason—hurt, cutting a path through your heart that never truly healed. She knew because she’d lived with it for as long as she could remember, even before her daughter’s birth.
    She wanted to protect Tommy and all the Ryans from ever feeling such heartache and despair.
    “No,” Jesse countered quietly but just as firmly. “I’m a Garland. Jesse Garland, ” he emphasized. “My family was Grace Garland, and she’s gone.”
    Hannah forced herself to take a slow, deep breath because emotion had her words and voice shaking. “Your mother’s name was Janice and your father’s name was Jock. Your parents were killed in a plane crash almost fifteen years ago.”
    He merely stared at her, realizing her words meant nothing. He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember anyone named Janice or Jock.” He shrugged again at the look on her face. “Sorry.”
    “Jesse,” she said, trying again. “Your father, Jock, was your grandfather Tommy’s only son, his only child.” The strength of her words surprised her. She hadn’t realized how desperately she wanted him to remember his life and family here. Or how desperately she wanted things to be the way they once were. Not for her sake, but for Tommy’s. “You don’t remember Tommy, your parents or your brothers or anything else?” she asked, thoroughly frustrated.
    He shook his head, still studying his surroundings because looking at her made him feel things he wasn’t certain he understood. Male feelings, feelings that had nothing to do with who he was or who she was. Feelings that were purely male responding to female.
    And there were far too many emotions swirling around inside his mind, his heart, to add any more to the mix. Emotional overload his mother would have called it.
    He glanced at Hannah again. She was the most incredibly beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. But she was someone from his past, someone from Jesse Ryan’s life.
    Not his.
    He was Jesse Garland.
    Jesse Ryan wasn’t someone he knew or understood, nor was he certain he wanted to know or understand who he’d been. Nor did he like the emotions that this woman aroused in him. They were far too strong and just as frightening. But he couldn’t deny there was some kind of emotional connection, something that seemed to be drawing him closer to her, wanting to be closer to her.
    And it scared the hell out of him.
    He knew he couldn’t allow his emotions free rein. He was here for one reason and one reason only: to honor his late mother’s wishes.
    Jesse Garland was who he knew. He