She had to smile. It was a wonder the vehicle even stayed together with all the rust patching over what she guessed had once been a forest-green body. Two sets of ladders were strapped across a side rack and Sam’s back was to her. He leaned his elbows on the truck bed. She swallowed, sensing this was not going to be easy for either of them. Rachel McHenry was the queen of keeping her emotions bottled up inside, so who was she to think she could understand another person’s pain? But an irresistible force deep within nudged her forward, if only to make contact with him, to touch him and let him know she did care. “Sam?” He lifted his head, but didn’t turn to acknowledge her. Rachel could feel his sadness float through the air in tangible waves. “You leave Maxwell alone inside?” he muttered. “He can see us from the waiting room window. The receptionist is a former babysitter, so he’s in good hands. He’s the one who said I shouldn’t ignore my urge to follow you out here.”
