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  Especially for everything that had happened when they had been thrown back together four years ago. That had been as hard for him as it had been for her. And, in the end, it had cost him his partner and friend, Detective Rose Lace.

  Laura still blamed herself for the death of Jack’s partner.

  However, guilt wasn't all she felt.

  In the days and weeks following the carnage, she had nearly driven herself crazy trying to figure out the whys. Why had he hated her so much that he would go to such trouble to make her suffer?

  She had become obsessed.

  She had needed to know why. She had needed answers, only there was no one to give them to her. He was dead.

  Trying to figure it out had nearly consumed her. She had thought about it every waking second. She had even dreamed about it. She had to know. She had to have a reason. She had to understand.

  Her obsession had worried Jack. He could sense her slipping away from him—locking herself away in her mind just like she’d locked herself away in her apartment. He’d put a stop to it, told her therapist, pushed her into talking with him about it. And eventually, she had begun to let it go. What ifs still haunted her, and she still wished she could get answers, but she had been able to move on.

  Thinking about all this right now, though, wasn't the best idea. It was hard enough just making an unplanned excursion without dredging up the mess of emotions her abduction produced.

  Maybe, Jack and Ryan had been right. Maybe, she shouldn’t have come. Maybe, when Jack came back, she should let him take her home. Or, if he was planning on coming back here, maybe he could drop her off at his parents’ house; they were babysitting Zach and Ryan and Sofia’s kids. Maybe she could just spend the night there.

  She was getting a headache.

  She needed to sit.

  Laura hummed to herself, sometimes concentrating on singing her favorite songs helped to distract her. She was just turning to head back to the waiting area when she walked straight into someone.

  “Oh, sorry,” she apologized. “I wasn't looking where I was going.”

  “That’s okay.” A teenage girl smiled at her. “Neither was I.”

  Laura immediately sensed that something was off with this girl. She had been a psych major in college and completed her degree online after her assault—it always embarrassed her that she was a trained psychologist and couldn’t cure her own phobia. During her ten-year, self-imposed lockdown, she had worked as a phone counselor for teenagers in trouble. Now she worked as a counselor at the women’s and children’s center that Sofia had started.

  “Are you okay?” The teenager was peering at her from concerned blue eyes.

  “Yes.” Laura tried to gather herself, aware of the fact that she was probably as pale as a ghost, and that she was shaky and most likely breathing too quickly.

  “Are you sure?” The girl’s gaze dipped to Laura’s stomach. “Is there something wrong with your baby?”

  Smiling to reassure the girl, she rested a hand on her swollen stomach. “No, the baby’s fine. My sister-in-law is sick; that’s why we’re here. I'm Laura.” She held out a hand.

  The girl shook the offered hand. “I'm Alice.”

  “Are you sick, Alice?” Laura asked, wondering if that was why she was getting the feeling something wrong. “Is that why you're here?”

  “Uh, no, I'm okay, it’s my sister.” The girl broke eye contact as she said that.

  Laura’s unease grew; her instincts were usually pretty spot on. She went with direct. “Is everything okay, Alice? Do you need help?”

  Surprise and shock flitted through the teenager’s eyes. “Why would you think I need help?”

  She shrugged. “Just a feeling. I'm not usually wrong,” she said gently.

  Again, the girl diverted her gaze. “How far along are you?” she asked instead.

  “Thirty-five weeks,” Laura replied.

  “Is this your first baby?”

  “No, I have an eighteen-month-old son named Zach.”

  “Are you having a boy or a girl?”

  “We don’t know yet. My husband and I wanted to wait and be surprised.” They'd done the same thing last time, and it made the birth all the more special waiting to find out if they were going to have a son or daughter.

  “That’s nice. I have a baby sister. Arianna is two months old; she just started to sleep through the night.” Alice still wouldn’t look her in the eye.

  “It’s a relief once they start to do that. Soon we’re going to be back to those sleepless nights. Zach was pretty good, though. He slept well; I hope the new baby will, too.” She’d played along with Alice’s distractions for long enough. It was time to push the girl again. “Alice, what’s wrong? You can trust me. I work with kids like you who need help. What’s going on?”

  Alice hesitated, her eyes slowly moving to meet Laura’s. Her bottom lip trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak when a voice boomed behind them.

  “There you are. I was worried, I couldn’t find you anywhere.” Jack appeared at her side.

  “I have to go.” Alice was instantly nervous.

  “Alice, wait,” Laura called after the teenager. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here, probably for a few hours at least.”

  The girl didn’t stop, and Laura debated going after her, but Jack’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  “What was all that about?”

  * * * * *

  9:23 P.M.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Annabelle Englewood asked her boyfriend. He’d been watching her since she arrived at the house they used to share fifteen minutes ago.

  Used to share because she had moved out two weeks ago.

  Why? Well, she wasn't entirely sure.

  But she thought it was something she had to do.

  For herself.

  And Annabelle rarely did things for herself.

  Xavier disagreed. Well, he didn’t disagree that she rarely did things for herself, but he disagreed that this was something she had to do. He thought it was just another excuse.

  Another excuse as to why she kept pushing him away.

  “I'm watching you because I'm trying to figure out what you hope to achieve by this little stunt,” Xavier replied calmly.

  “I don’t do stunts,” she protested, offended.

  “Okay, that’s true,” Xavier conceded, “but I don’t buy that you really want to move out.”

  “Well, I am moving out,” Annabelle replied.

  “I can see that.” Xavier gave her a small frown. “But that’s not what I said. What I said was I don’t think you really want to move out.”

  “I told you,” she said quietly. She didn’t want an argument; she hated arguments. They stressed her. “I have to do this.”

  “So you’ve said. Several times.”

  “I've never been on my own before. I lived with my parents until they were killed, and then I moved in with you. I feel like it’s important that I know I can survive on my own.”

  In truth, Annabelle wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life. She knew she was lucky to have Xavier. Not only was he good looking, but he was also sweet and smart and funny. He was so much more than she deserved.

  And she guessed that was half the problem.

  She didn’t feel like she deserved Xavier.

  Annabelle knew she wasn't pretty, despite Xavier's assurances that he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He was biased. She was plain looking; there was nothing extraordinary in her face, and her hair was a common brown. Add to that her eyes were odd, such a pale blue that they appeared white, and she knew she was nothing much to look at.

  It wasn't just in the looks department that Annabelle felt inadequate. She couldn’t connect with people the way everyone else could. It wasn't that she had some kind of problem or condition that prevented her from interacting. Before her family was murdered, she’d worked as a preschool teacher. She had been part of a t
eam and worked well with her colleagues, and she’d been good with both the children and their parents. But that was different. That was work. She hadn’t been required to let anyone get close to her.

  That was where she had her problems.

  When she and Xavier had first gotten together, he had tried to involve her in every aspect of his life, including his circle of friends. It hadn’t worked, though. She hadn’t felt comfortable with them and had always kept her distance.

  That distance had grown to include Xavier himself.

  Ever since she had shot and killed Ricky Preston—the man who had destroyed her life—in self-defense, she had felt herself disconnecting. Annabelle had thought that when Ricky Preston was finally dead, everything would be better. That she would be able to finally move on.

  “You don’t really want to be on your own,” Xavier said softly, all traces of irritation gone from his voice. Now he just sounded sad. “I don’t want you to be on your own. I love you. I want you to stay.”

  Her internal struggle intensified.

  Was she doing the right thing?

  Did she even really know why it seemed so important that she leave Xavier’s house? Even though she’d lived here for five years, she still thought of it as Xavier's house. When she’d first moved in, she hadn’t ever thought she’d want to leave. So why did she feel like she had to now?

  Was it just to test Xavier?

  For some reason she couldn’t quite articulate, even to herself, she kept needing him to prove that he wasn't going to leave her.

  Annabelle was afraid that if she kept doing it, if she kept seeing how far she could push him before he gave up on her, then she was going to lose him.

  But she didn’t know how to stop doing it because she didn’t know why she was doing it.

  Maybe it was because he had walked out on her once with disastrous—almost deadly—consequences. She never spoke about that with Xavier because she knew he blamed himself for almost getting her killed.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the fear that one day he’d leave her forever.

  And she didn’t want him to. She loved Xavier. Really loved him. Before they’d met, she hadn’t even believed that she would ever find anyone to love.

  But she had.

  And now she seemed intent on ruining it.

  She was an idiot.

  Tentatively, Xavier reached out to her, taking the stack of books from her hands and putting them down on a table. “Belle, stay, please.”

  “I … I …” she stammered. Why couldn’t she just say okay? This was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted him to beg her not to leave. She needed him to fight for her.

  Tilting her face up, he kissed her, slowly and deeply, and Annabelle felt herself melting into his arms. Xavier’s arms were the one place she felt completely safe and at ease, despite the distance between them lately.

  “Stay,” he whispered as he broke the kiss.

  Say it, she ordered herself. Say yes. Stay. It’s what you really want. But instead, what came out was, “I don’t know.”

  Sighing, Xavier released her and picked up the books he’d set on the table and all but threw them in the box at their feet. Then he went to the bookcase and began gathering the rest of her books, adding them to the box.

  Annabelle just stood and watched him.

  What was wrong with her?

  How could she be so stupid?

  She loved Xavier. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. All she had to do was lay her paranoia about him leaving her down and walk into his arms, tell him what was going on inside her head and stay here with him.

  Instead, she just stood there and did nothing. She was such a coward. She always had been, and nothing had changed. Even killing her tormentor hadn’t helped do away with her fears.

  Picking up the box of books, Xavier headed for the door, pausing when he got there. “I hope you know what you're doing, Annabelle.”

  Watching him leave, Annabelle hoped so, too.

  But she feared she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

  * * * * *

  9:32 P.M.

  “What was all that about?” Jack repeated, turning Laura around to face him.

  “Nothing,” she replied distractedly.

  Like he believed that. She was looking even worse than when he’d left her a few minutes ago to check on Sofia. He should have put his foot down, insisted that she stay at Ryan’s house while they brought Sofia to the hospital. Or insisted that he drive her straight home.

  No matter what Laura said, she was not ready for this yet.

  She could cope with going out these days, which was a huge improvement from when he’d reconnected with her four years ago. But the places she was comfortable going to were limited. She went to work, she went to his parents’ house, and her parents’ house—if he pushed her. She could go to both of his brothers’ houses and her friend Paige’s. At a crunch, if she had time to prepare herself, she could make a trip to the supermarket, but she usually timed it for when it was the least busy.

  But this—an unplanned trip to a busy hospital—was pretty much more than she could bear.

  Jack knew it frustrated Laura that she wasn't all better by now. However, given the horrific nature of what she’d suffered, it was no wonder that she still struggled. No one could go through what she had and come out of it unscathed.

  “Did that girl hurt you? Upset you?” he pushed, determined to find out what was going on. And if he found out that girl had done anything to distress Laura, then he would make sure he tracked her down and gave her a talking to, her parents as well. He was extremely protective of his wife.

  Shaking her head, Laura pressed one hand to her head, the other to her stomach.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

  “What?” Laura lifted confused violet eyes to meet his, then followed his gaze to the hand she had on her pregnant belly. “Oh, no,” she assured him, “nothing is wrong with the baby. Alice and I were just talking about babies.”

  “Alice was that girl?”

  Laura nodded and closed her eyes, massaging her temple.

  “You have a headache,” he said grimly. Laura always got headaches when she was stressed. “Come and sit.”

  His wife made no protest when he took her arm and guided her back to the waiting area, pushing her gently down into a chair. Jack sat beside her and lifted her wrist.

  She frowned at him. “Don’t do that here,” she admonished, snatching her hand back. “They’ll think I'm sick.”

  He shrugged unapologetically. “That girl upset you somehow, and you were already pretty upset.”

  Laura rested her head on his shoulder. “She really didn’t upset me. I was pacing—distracted—and I walked right into her, and I just got this …” She paused as she searched for the right word. “… this feeling that something was wrong with her.”

  Laura wasn't usually wrong when she sensed something was up with someone. “Did you ask her about it?”

  “Yeah, I think she was going to tell me when you showed up and scared her off.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Laura took his hand and entwined their fingers and almost infinitesimally moved closer. He knew her tells. When she was feeling overwhelmed, she sought physical contact with him to reassure herself. If they’d been at home, she would have climbed into his lap. She was reaching her limit.

  “Want me to go and look for her?” Jack asked, hoping to keep her distracted and focused on the teenager and not on herself.

  “No. Hopefully, she’ll come and find me when she’s ready. How’s Sofia?”

  “She’s doing okay. They’ve started an IV, so hopefully, once she’s rehydrated, she’ll start to feel better.” Wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders, he stroked her long, straight, black hair. “Angel, Sofia won't mind that you went home. We’re all well aware of your condition, and she’s your friend. She loves you; she wouldn’t want y
ou to stay and torture yourself. Let me take you home.”

  She was debating—he could see it in her eyes. “No, Jack. I'm not going home.”

  “Laura …” He was immediately exasperated. “Why are you being stubborn about this?”

  Wearily, she lifted her head off his shoulder. “Don’t, please. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Reluctantly, he relented, only because he knew what she really meant was she couldn’t handle a fight with him right now. Hooking an arm under her knees, he pulled her sideways onto his lap, settling her against his chest.

  “Jack, not here,” she protested, but curled herself closer.

  “Yes, here.” He pressed her head down to lay on his shoulder. “Close your eyes and try to get some rest,” he ordered sternly. If he couldn’t convince her to let him take her home, he could at least make sure she slept.

  Jack was extremely diligent in making sure Laura got enough sleep. When she didn’t—when she got overtired—she had nightmares.

  Nightmares had haunted her sleep every night for at least the first six months after he moved in with her. The bad dreams had nearly destroyed both of them. Lack of sleep had left them walking around in a fog. Seeing Laura suffering, forced to relive the horror she’d survived in her dreams each night, had nearly torn him apart. Jack had hoped his presence in her bed would help to ease the nightmares that had plagued her since the original attack, but it hadn’t. His presence did make her feel safer, though; she kept assuring him.

  After six months of watching Laura suffer each night, he had decided that neither of them could go on this way. So, he had spoken with her therapist and asked about putting her on sleeping pills, so she could, at least, start sleeping through the night. That seemed to help. They knocked Laura out enough that she no longer woke up screaming. And they had the added benefit that she slept deeply enough that, even if she dreamt, she didn’t remember them when she awoke.

  Laura had hated how the pills made her feel, leaving her groggy for much of the day, and after a few months, she’d weaned herself off them. Thankfully, by then, things seemed to have improved. She had been making progress with her therapist. She was more comfortable with him and their relationship, and so long as she stuck with her routine, she slept normally most nights. She still had the occasional nightmare, but Jack hoped as more time passed, the nightmares would continue to fade until they disappeared altogether.