She stared at him, her throat burning. "You're not taking me seriously."

"Baby, I'm serious as a heart attack. I don't give a shit if you steal all the blankets and can't afford anything but macaroni and cheese. Just so happens I have a closet full of blankets, and a savings account. Not a big one, but it could probably handle anything that comes up, Nordstrom sales notwithstanding."

"The good stuff rarely goes on sale."

"Give me a real reason we can't see each other."

She swallowed hard, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. "Because I like you."

He looked as if maybe he didn't see the problem.

"I really like you," she said. "And that has never worked out for me before."

"Does this feel like any of those other times?"

She blinked, and thought about that. "No. No, it doesn't. Actually… this feels much different."

"How does it feel?"

"Real," she admitted.

He let out a rough sound of pleasure and hauled her across him, cradling her over his lap, pulling her close for a long, deep, and decidedly not sweet kiss. "You know," he murmured when they came up for air, "I really thought life sucked. But then I saw you in that dark foyer, lighting the night with that pink vibrator." He grinned when she smacked his chest, but then he took her hand and held it over his heart, his smile fading. "I'm falling for you, too, Breanne, and to walk away now, before we give it a shot, just doesn't seem fair."

"So what do you suggest?" she asked shakily.

"That we get the police here. Do what we can for the others-"

"Oh, Cooper. You do care about them as much as I do." Her eyes filled, and so did her heart. "Do you have any idea how lucky you're going to get?" She kissed his throat, his jaw. "How very, very lucky?"

He slid his hands down to her butt and snugged her closer. "Keep talking."

Leaning in, she bit his ear. "I'm thinking this seat is pretty cushy…"

On his lap as she was, she felt his very satisfying reaction as he cleared his throat and pounded out 9-1-1 with shaking hands.

She laughed. "And here I thought maybe you'd want to… you know. Right here."

"Princess, I love you, but I'm not risking frostbite to my favorite part of my anatomy. I have plans for that part, and plans for you-Hello," he said when he got a dispatcher.

Breanne just stared at him, stunned at what he'd just said to her, only half hearing as he gave the information, listened to the response, then disconnected.

"They're prioritizing their emergencies," he said when he was done. "They're overwhelmed, but thanks to Edward, we're moving to the top of the list. I guess we can go help Patrick dig out and then get back to the house and prepare everyone. It's not going to be easy straightening this whole mess out."

Breanne was still speechless by his declaration, her gaze locked on his face, her throat burning with emotions too big to hide. "You… love me?"

"I do." He put her helmet back on, smoothed back her hair and smiled into her face. "Hold on tight, 'kay?" He nudged her behind him again and pulled her arms around him. "Ready?"

When she still didn't-couldn't-answer, he craned his neck and looked into her eyes. "Breanne?"

"Yeah," she said in a steady voice but with a very wobbly smile. "I guess the truth is, when it comes to you, I really am ready."

And God help her, but she was.


***

By the time they dug Patrick out and got back to the house, two hours had passed.

Everyone crowded into the foyer to greet them, looking anxious. Had they made the call?

Patrick nodded the answer.

"It's done, then," Lariana said quietly, as everyone seemed to deflate. "Someone's going to jail."

Dante looked stoic about that, but then Shelly burst into tears into her apron and his cool facade crumpled as he pulled her close. "It's going to be okay," he murmured into her hair.

"No." She pulled free. "No, it's not." Turning away, she moved out of the foyer.

Breanne went after her, and everyone else followed them to the great room.

Stacy was in front of the fire, staring into the flames, holding her hands out. "So pretty."

"Don't touch," Shelly reminded her, trying to sound normal.

Stacy giggled and pulled back. "I know, silly. It's hot.'"

"Hot," Shelly agreed, and ruffled her sister's hair, her expression crumbling when Stacy's face turned away. Breanne hugged Shelly, wishing she could do more.

Cooper moved to the fire, squeezing Shelly's shoulder before crouching beside Stacy. "The police are coming," he told her. "Do you understand what that means?"

"They're coming for Edward."

"Yes," he said gently, and Breanne fell for him all over again. "And they're going to want to know what happened to him."

Stacy's smile dissolved.

"We told you what happened," Dante said, face stoic. "It's done."

"Yeah, you told me," Cooper said dryly. "You told me you killed him." He turned to Patrick. "And you told me you killed him." He glanced at Lariana. "You said you did it." He lifted a brow at Shelly. "You, too. Do I have it straight? You all killed him, then?"

Everyone looked away. Cooper shot Breanne a helpless look and shook his head.

"We're trying to help," Breanne told them. "Please help us help you. Just tell us what really happened."

Shelly looked at Dante. "It's time-"

"Shelly-"

"It started with me," Shelly said to Cooper. "It did," she said when he looked doubtful. "I swear it."

Dante stepped forward, but she put a hand on his chest, and with a pleading expression, held him back. "I'm going to tell them."

"Shelly, Christ. No."

"You know I'm all Stacy has," Shelly said to Cooper and Breanne. "It's just the two of us. We used to live in a small apartment in town over the hardware store. I was commuting out here every day and Stacy was in a day care class at the rec center. A special program so she wouldn't be by herself."

"We painted," Stacy said with a dreamy smile. "Finger painted."

Shelly smiled at her. "That was your favorite, I know."

"Edward didn't like my finger painting," Stacy said, and rubbed the top of her hand as if it'd been hit.

Dante stalked the length of the room, his expression nowhere near calm.

"Edward wasn't much fun, I take it," Cooper said lightly to Stacy, though his eyes were anything but.

She shook her head.

"A month ago the state's funds changed," Shelly said. "And the money for Stacy's rec center program dried up. I brought her here, but she got into Patrick's paints and redid the hallway. Edward blew a gasket, to say the least."

Stacy lowered her head. "I was sorry."

Shelly hugged her. "I know. He had no right to smack your hand, no right at all." Shelly looked at Cooper. "Then the rent on my apartment skyrocketed and I couldn't afford it. But the owner of this place liked my work and told Edward to let me live in one of the downstairs servants' rooms until I found another place. He said it'd be no problem."

"But it was a problem," Lariana said. "For Edward."

"He lived here, too," Patrick told Cooper. "And it turns out, he doesn't like to share."

Dante paced some more, muttering something in his native tongue.

Cooper raised a questioning brow.

"I said he was an asshole," Dante said. "He made the girls feel bad all the time. He said shitty things to Lariana-"

"I didn't care what he said to me," Lariana said defiantly, tossing her hair back. "I could handle him."

"I cared," Shelly said softly. "But there was no other job where I could have Stacy with me."

Stacy stared at her fingers, twining them together, humming softly to herself as she began to rock.

"I tried to keep her busy during the day in our room, something she could do quietly so she wouldn't bother him," Shelly said. "Like reading and coloring, but sometimes she'd get bored."

"She just wanted to help," Lariana said. "But Edward wanted her gone. He even stole money out of my purse so I'd think it was Stacy. It wasn't," she said bitterly. "But in spite of him, I'd let her help me with stuff. She's a great sweeper."

Stacy lifted her head and beamed. "I like to sweep."

"It was nice for her to be busy," Dante said. "And it made her feel good."

"I'm guessing Edward didn't agree?" Cooper asked.

Dante let out a harsh laugh. "The day before you two arrived, Stacy was helping Lariana dust."

Lariana winced. "Probably not my best idea."

Stacy went back to humming.

"She broke a few things in the dining room," Dante said. "No big deal."

"Edward went mad," Patrick remembered. "Yelling and screaming. He threw stuff, too."

"He scared her," Shelly said as Stacy hummed louder, rocking, too.

Dante's face was granite. "I wanted to kill him."

"We all did," Lariana said. "But that was just anger and frustration. None of us really would have."

"He raised a hand to Stacy," Shelly said, "and I thought, this is it. He's going to hurt her again. And I… I caught his hand. I told him if he hit her, I'd kill him." She covered her face. "I told him if he did anything to her, even yelled at her again, I'd kill him, and I meant it. I meant it."

A long silence filled the room. Breanne squeezed Shelly's hand.

"I heard him yelling from the garage," Patrick said. "But as the sight of me usually made him more mad, I didn't rush in."

"I knew I was fired," Shelly said. "And I think I was numb. I went to our room to pack, but then I heard him yelling again, at Stacy. When I ran into the dining room, Stacy was standing over Edward, who was on the floor. He was…" A sob choked out of her. "Dead. He had a gash over his forehead and there were shards of a large glass vase all around him."