Jessica scrambled to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lipstick was smeared, her hair a mess from Don's grip.

Don groaned as he tucked himself back in. Then he stood.

He. Stood.

My breath caught in my throat. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been slumped in a wheelchair, talking about his condition, and now he straightened to his full height, fastened his belt with steady hands, and rolled his shoulders back like he'd just finished a workout.

"You can ...