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precedent.” Killian Brink folded his arms across his chest and continued to stare through the mirror. “There are rules for a reason.”
    And sometimes there were situations outside the scope of those rules.
    “You’re lying.” Her mom’s voice came out in a shriek that made Amanda want to cover her ears. She stood still, powerless to do anything as Eileen flung the chair she’d been sitting on toward the mirror. Amanda felt the rattle of the wall as if the building materials were nothing more than papier-mâché.
    Brink flinched. He stepped back as if the older woman might spin her head three hundred and sixty degrees and walk through the wood, sheetrock and glass. While Amanda wanted to do the same, she didn’t move.
    And neither did Robinson. He acted as if he knew every step the other woman would make and planned to outmaneuver her.
    Surviving death had made him cocky. Or brave. Or invincible. As if all the scars on his body were merely proof of the latter two. A little extra charm that made him irresistible.
    And made her remember those close calls with too much clarity.
    Instead of insisting they talk about it, she was grateful he was still around. It had happened. End of story. No point in rehashing the details.
    And yet, you want Paige to open up.
    “Somewhere inside your mind—your heart—you know I’m right.” His voice was smooth. Reminded her of all the times he’d backed her into a corner and refused to walk away without the best she could offer. “You have a disease called Alzheimer’s. It’s a type of dementia that causes problems with—”
    “I know what dementia is.”
    He wet his bottom lip, tucking it inward a second. “I know you used to.”
    Her mom’s back went ramrod straight. She swung an open palm toward him. Robinson caught her wrist and stood before Amanda could take two full steps.
    Eileen tugged her arm, then glanced at it as if she didn’t understand how or why it had come to be in his grasp.
    “I don’t have it.” Another tug. “I know who I am. Who my family is. And you aren’t part of it. Where’s my daughter?”
    “She’s right outside.”
    Eileen’s hands clenched. She shook her head.
    And if Amanda went inside the room at this juncture, her mother wouldn’t recognize her. Would call her a liar, too.
    “She’s worried about you. We all are.” He released her. Gave the older woman a wide berth and righted the chair.
    “If my daughter is outside this room, then you know my name. And you know…”
    He nodded as if he were talking to a preschooler who’d finally counted to ten. “I know all about you. That you love health-related topics. And you wanted to be a doctor, but life threw you a curveball, so you did the next best thing. You became a teacher, professionally and personally.
    “You always thought you’d have a ton of children, but there’s just Amanda. And it bothers you that most days you can’t remember what she looks like. Because you can’t remember her at all. No matter how hard you try.”
    Amanda swallowed past the lump in her throat. Managed to avoid thinking about all the important events and moments that no longer existed. And what might fill that space.
    Her mom shuffled backward a step. One hand flew toward her throat. “That’s not true.”
    “What’s her name?” He picked up his wallet and pointed to the picture he kept there. “Who are these people?”
    “You left her to die.” The glitter of sudden, unshed tears welled in her mother’s eyes. She advanced toward Robinson, fury etched across her face. “You convinced her it was the only way to survive. And when it didn’t work, you left her. Alone.”
    A strangled noise came from beside Amanda. Davis turned and retreated through the thinning crowd of onlookers, her pace quick and panicked.
    Almost as if she needed air.
    A grunt brought her focus back to Robinson, who had her mother in a hold reserved for psychiatric patients. A layer of sweat popped up across his upper