He pressed his lips against her temple and told himself this was different. And Mitch was a thousand times stronger than Ryan had ever been. “Whatever happened, he’ll be okay,” he whispered, more for his own peace of mind than for hers. “If I survived losing you, he can survive this.”

She leaned back and looked up, but her expression said she wasn’t so sure.

Mitch had a gentle heart. Though he acted like he didn’t give a shit about most things, they both knew it wasn’t true.

Ryan tucked a lock of curly hair behind his wife’s ear and kissed her lips. Lips he once thought he’d never taste again. Lips he was thankful for every single day. “Wait up for me?”

“Always.” Her hand slid down his arm as he moved away, clasping his fingers when they reached hers, then finally letting go.

God, he loved that woman. More every day. So much more than when he’d married her the first time. Pulling the keys from his pocket, he crossed the yard toward his car in the drive and thanked God all over again that she’d come back to him.

Mitch’s house was dark when Ryan pulled onto his street thirty minutes later. A wave of foreboding washed over him as he killed the engine.

The front door opened, and Mitch stepped out, a bag slung over his shoulder, keys in his hands. He took one look at Ryan’s Mercedes and scowled.

Shit. That was not a good sign.

Ryan parked at the curb, popped the door, and climbed out of the car. Mitch was already at the back of his dusty Land Rover parked in the drive, throwing a bag in the back when Ryan reached him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Harrison.”

Yep, definitely didn’t want to talk. Ryan tucked his hands into his pockets. “Going somewhere?”

Mitch tossed his winter coat into the back, then slamming the back shut. “British Columbia.”

“I thought they didn’t need you at the job site just yet?”

Mitch huffed, a humorless sound. “They needed me three weeks ago. I just kept putting it off.”

Because of Simone. The unsaid words hung between them. Dammit, if Mitch was running, things were worse than Ryan had suspected. “Mitch—”

“Don’t.” Mitch raked a hand through his already wild hair. “I’m not in the mood. And no, I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

Oh yeah. Definitely worse.

Mitch drew a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but if you’d have someone check on the house now and then, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure. You know that’s no problem.”

Mitch looked at him. Seemed to want to say something else, but turned and headed for the driver’s side of his vehicle instead.

Ryan moved around the side of the car as Mitch pulled the door open. And though he knew he shouldn’t push, he couldn’t help himself. Because Mitch had been there for him all those years after he’d lost his wife. If it hadn’t been for Mitch’s pushing, Ryan wouldn’t be where he was now. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Me?” Mitch stood with one hand on the open car door. “Sure. I’m always okay. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Before Ryan could call him on the bullshit he was spewing, Mitch pulled something from his pocket and tossed it Ryan’s way. “There is one more thing you can do for me. Get rid of that. I don't want to see it again.”

Ryan caught the small velvet box with both hands.

Mitch climbed into his Land Rover and slammed the door. He backed out of the drive, his headlights casting a wide path of light over the dark neighborhood. When he reached the street, he shifted into Drive, glanced once toward Ryan but didn’t wave. And there was no missing the anger and pain swirling in his eyes as he pressed down on the gas.

The car disappeared around the bend. Alone, Ryan popped the top on the box and stared down at the princess-cut diamond—the one that had to have set Mitch back at least three months’ worth of his salary—sparkling under the light of the full moon.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Are you sure?” Shannon rolled to her belly on the queen-size bed in her room and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “This totally isn’t going to work.”

“Trust me,” Julia said on the other end of the line, all confidence and maturity. Maturity, Shannon did not have. “No one’s going to catch on unless you act like a baby.”

Shannon glanced toward the open door. She could hear Melody, her babysitter, opening and closing drawers in the kitchen, making dinner, which meant for the moment, at least, she was safe. She really hoped Melody was making mac and cheese and not that healthy stuff her mom was always forcing her to eat.

She pushed up to sitting, crossed her long legs, and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her pink nail polish was chipped away from gnawing on her fingers, and her pants had a hole in the knee where she’d picked at the loose threads. “No one’s ever going to believe I’m twelve.”

“They will if you act like it. Look.” Julia huffed. “You’re ten now, which is practically eleven, which almost the same as twelve. And you’re tall.”

Shannon sighed, but inside, her stomach was a knot of nerves. She didn’t have Julia’s confidence or worldliness. One look and the TSA officials were going to call her mom and tell on her. Or maybe worse…send her to airport jail for lying. “What about security?”

“Security’s a snap. You don’t check a bag, you print your boarding pass at home, and when you get to the front of the line, you just pick someone in the crowd waving to a family member leaving, and wave back. If security asks, you just say ‘That’s my mom.’”

It sounded foolproof, but Shannon wasn’t convinced. “What if no one’s waving?”

“Someone’s always waving,” Julia said. “It’s a huge airport. Besides, if the security guys ask, all you have to do is say ‘Of course I’m twelve. Do you think my parents are stupid enough to send me on a plane by myself without a chaperone if I wasn’t?'”

This all sounded so complicated. Shannon bit her lip, and her palm grew sweaty against the phone in her hand.

“Where’s your mom?” Julia asked.

Shannon shot a look toward the hall again. She could just see the banister on the curved staircase and the dozens of framed photos hanging on the two-story wall. Ones of her and her mom and her dad and a time when they’d been a happy family and her mom hadn’t been a giant stress case all the time. “At her office. She went in for a few hours to do some kind of work.”

“How long will she be there?”

“I don’t know. She arranged for Melody to spend the night. Said she might be there most of the night. She’s been crying all day while she’s been packing.”

“Definitely not a good sign.”

No, it definitely wasn’t. Shannon’s mom wasn’t a crier. Even after her dad had died, Shannon could only remember a handful of times her mom had gotten teary-eyed. That ball of nerves twisted tighter.

“There’s a flight out of SFO at ten p.m. Do you think you’ll be able to get there in time?“

Shannon’s stomach rolled. “Yeah. Melody spends most of the time on her phone with her boyfriend. If I tell her I’m tired and going to bed early, she won’t care.”

She’d need to have her backpack all ready and call a cab from her cell phone. And she’d have to walk across the park in the dark, which her mom never let her do. Those nerves jumped all over again.

“Put a pile of pillows under your covers,” Julia said. “Make it look like you’re sleeping.”

That was what Shannon had planned to do. But saying it out loud made it all so real. “Julia, I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if…?”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Shannon. Whatever happened between Uncle Mitch and your mom was bad if your mom’s been crying. You have to do something drastic to get their attention.”

Shannon knew that was true. Especially since Mitch had left without saying good-bye. Her heart pinched, and all the fears that had kept her awake last night came spiraling back. What if he’d decided he didn’t want a kid after all? She wasn’t cute like she’d been as a baby. She was just long-legged and gangly. And she had a big red bump on her chin. Mitch probably didn’t want a daughter who had pimples.

Fear pushed in strong, making it hard to breathe. “How do I know he’ll even be there?”

“Trust me. He’ll be there. My dad’s friend Tate called this morning. He and my dad and Uncle Mitch all went to college together. He’s got this great big house up in the San Juan Islands. And he’s super cute. I heard my parents talking about Uncle Mitch before breakfast. He showed up at Tate's house late last night, got drunk, and passed out. He’s obviously moping about whatever happened with your mom.”

Shannon couldn’t picture Mitch moping. Or drunk. In all the months her mom and Mitch had been dating, she’d never seen him have more than two beers at any one time. “I don’t know, Julia—”

“Look. Do you want to move away forever and never see me again?”

Shannon’s belly clenched. “No.”

“Don’t you want Uncle Mitch to be your dad?”

More than anything. Shannon’s pulse picked up speed, and all those daydreams she’d had about having a dad again popped back into her head. Her gaze strayed to the picture of her real dad on her nightstand. She loved him—always would—but he’d been gone so long, sometimes she forgot what he looked like, and she couldn’t even remember what his voice sounded like anymore. She wanted to be like the other kids at school. The ones with dads who took them to baseball games and amusement parks and who were always telling them to do their homework. All the things Mitch did when she spent time with him.