Nathan Sinclair hadn't expected to hear Nolan's voice again.
Not after eight years of silence. Not after walking away from everything the Sinclair name stood for. Not after burying a woman he had loved and raising a daughter alone under a different name.
And certainly not at two in the morning.
He stood in the dimly lit kitchen of his small mountain house, phone pressed to his ear, the scent of coffee and pine drifting through the open window.
"You have a son?" Nathan repeated quietly.
Nolan closed his eyes on the other end of the line.
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with everything they had never said.
"You don't call to tell me about children," Nathan said finally. "So what's wrong?"
Nolan's voice lowered. "He's sick."
Nathan's grip tightened on the phone.
"How sick?"
"We don't know everything yet," Nolan said. "But he needs a donor. A genetic match."
Another pause.
"And you think that's me," Nathan said.
"You're our best chance."
Nathan exhaled slowly. "You don't even know if I'm alive."
"I hoped," Nolan replied.
Nathan's jaw clenched. "Hope wasn't something you were good at."
"That's fair," Nolan said.
Silence again.
"Where are you?" Nolan asked.
Nathan's voice hardened. "No."
"I need to see you."
"You don't get to summon me," Nathan snapped. "Not after what your family did."
Nolan absorbed that. "I'm not calling as a Sinclair. I'm calling as a father."
The word echoed.
Father.
Nathan stared at the wall, memories crashing in—of hospitals, of holding his own daughter as she cried for a mother who would never come back.
"Send me the medical files," Nathan said finally.
Nolan's breath hitched. "You'll consider it?"
"I said send them," Nathan replied. "That's all."
The line went dead.
Isabella was awake when Nolan returned to Juan's hospital room.
She sat in the chair beside the bed, head resting on the mattress, one hand tangled in Juan's hair. He slept fitfully, tiny chest rising and falling unevenly.
She looked up when Nolan entered.
"Well?" she whispered.
"I found him," Nolan said quietly.
Her heart leapt painfully. "And?"
"He hasn't agreed," Nolan replied. "But he hasn't said no."
Her shoulders sagged with both relief and fear.
"That's something," she whispered.
Nolan crouched beside Juan's bed, his gaze softening painfully as he watched his son sleep.
"He hates me," Nolan said quietly.
Isabella swallowed. "Can you blame him?"
"No," he replied.
She hesitated. "What happened between you two?"
Nolan's jaw tightened. "My father."
She nodded slowly.
"He wanted Nathan to marry someone he didn't love. To be a proper heir. Nathan refused. So he was… erased."
Her chest tightened. "And you let it happen."
"Yes," Nolan whispered.
She didn't judge him.
She didn't comfort him either.
They sat in silence, listening to the machines hum.
"What if he refuses?" Isabella asked.
Nolan didn't answer immediately.
Then, "Then I beg."
Her eyes widened.
"I'll kneel if I have to," he continued. "I don't care."
Her throat burned. "You've never begged."
"I've never been a father before," he replied.
She turned away, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
Nathan arrived two days later.
Not in a luxury car.
Not with an entourage.
Just a battered pickup truck and a guarded expression.
Isabella was in the hospital hallway when she saw him—tall, rugged, beard scruff shadowing his jaw, eyes sharp and weary.
He looked like Nolan, but without the polish.
Without the armor.
Without the lie.
Nolan froze when he saw him.
"Nate," he said softly.
Nathan stopped a few feet away.
"You look expensive," Nathan said dryly.
"You look alive," Nolan replied.
A beat.
Then Nathan's gaze shifted to Isabella.
"And you must be her," he said.
She straightened instinctively. "Isabella."
Nathan studied her with surprising gentleness. "You're the one who kept him alive."
Her breath caught.
"Where is he?" Nathan asked.
Nolan gestured down the hall.
They walked together in silence.
Juan was awake when they entered, watching cartoons quietly.
Isabella stiffened.
Nathan paused just inside the doorway.
"That's him?" he whispered.
Nolan nodded.
Nathan took a careful step forward, eyes locked on the small boy.
Juan frowned. "Who's that?"
Nolan knelt. "Buddy, this is my brother. Your uncle."
Juan blinked. "Uncle?"
Nathan crouched slowly, eyes softening. "Hi."
Juan tilted his head. "You look like him."
Nathan let out a breath that was half laugh, half ache.
"I've been told," he said.
Isabella watched the interaction, heart in her throat.
"Why are you here?" Juan asked.
Nathan glanced at Nolan.
Nolan swallowed. "Because you're sick, and he might be able to help you."
Juan considered this. "Are you a doctor?"
Nathan shook his head. "No, kid. But I might be a hero."
Juan grinned weakly.
Nathan's chest tightened.
They spoke in private afterward.
Isabella waited in the hallway, arms wrapped around herself.
She could hear raised voices through the closed door.
"You let him do this!" Nathan snapped.
"I didn't know," Nolan replied.
"You didn't want to know," Nathan shot back.
Silence.
Then Nolan's voice—lower, raw.
"I was wrong."
Isabella pressed her lips together, heart aching.
When the door finally opened, both men looked shaken.
Nathan stepped out first.
He approached Isabella.
"You," he said quietly, "didn't know what you married into."
She met his gaze steadily. "I know now."
He nodded slowly. "I'll do the tests."
Her breath hitched. "Thank you."
"I'm not doing it for him," Nathan added, eyes flicking to Nolan. "I'm doing it for the boy."
Isabella nodded. "That's enough."
Nathan hesitated. "If I'm a match…"
She swallowed. "Then you'll save his life."
Nathan nodded once.
Nolan stepped forward. "Thank you."
Nathan's gaze hardened. "This doesn't fix us."
Nolan nodded. "I know."
Later, Nolan stood alone by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass.
Isabella approached quietly.
"You did good," she said.
He shook his head. "I did too little. Too late."
She hesitated. "You showed up this time."
His voice was rough. "That has to mean something."
She studied him.
Maybe it did.
Maybe it didn't.
Down the hall, Juan laughed softly at something on the TV.
Life still clung stubbornly to the edges of their fear.
But Isabella knew
The brother who vanished had returned.
And with him, truths that would tear open everything Nolan had tried to bury.