Mercy picked a casserole from the fridge at random and put it in the oven, hoping her appetite would hold steady. It had been iffy all evening, plummeting every time she remembered the sight of Ephraim’s body.
Poor Farrah. They’d had to stop the SUV several times on the way back to Sacramento so that she could throw up, a combination of the trauma of being kidnapped and held at gunpoint and, of course, witnessing Ephraim’s grisly end.
And me? Mercy turned on the shower and took off her clothing. The police had taken the clothes she’d worn upstate, which was fine. She’d never wear them again. If she ever got them back, maybe she’d burn them in some kind of cleansing ritual.
Ephraim was dead. And I’m not sorry.
She’d nearly killed him herself. And I’m not sorry.
Maybe she should be. But I’m not.
She got under the shower spray, shivering when the warm water hit her skin. She’d been so cold. So damn cold. And tired.
And scared.
‘I’m still scared,’ she said quietly.
‘Me too.’ The shower door opened, and then Rafe was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. ‘Is it too pushy to ask if I can join you?’
‘No,’ she whispered, then repeated it louder when he didn’t hear her. ‘No. The water’s nice.’
Rafe’s clothes went into a pile next to hers. ‘The hot water helps my leg.’
‘Then I’ll give you the spray.’ She moved out of his way, but he was having none of that.
Leaning against the shower wall, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face against her neck. ‘I don’t even know how to feel,’ he said quietly.
She flattened her palms against the muscles of his back, sweeping up and down, just needing to touch him. That they were wet and naked and that he had the hottest body she’d ever seen was really . . . secondary. ‘Me either. I’m scared. And sad. And furious.’ For a moment they stood there, saying nothing, and then she sighed. ‘What if Amos doesn’t wake up?’
‘He will,’ Rafe said stubbornly. ‘He’ll fight to come back to Abigail. And to you and Gideon.’
‘If,’ she whispered. ‘The doctors said “if” he woke up. If he doesn’t, who will take care of Abigail?’
‘My mom will,’ Rafe said without hesitation.
‘Or . . . I could.’
He pulled back enough to see her face, turning them around so that his back blocked the spray from hitting her face. ‘You could,’ he said, pushing the hair out of her eyes. ‘Do you want to?’
She nodded. She’d been thinking about Abigail the entire time that Molina’s replacement had been scolding them. ‘I do. I mean, I know what Abigail has heard her whole life. I know what she’ll be facing, relearning . . . And she’s not blood, but she’s still my sister.’
His lips curved. ‘And you said you didn’t know how to do relationships.’
She didn’t smile back. ‘I don’t. That’s why I’m scared.’
‘Mom does. I do. You’ll have a lot of help.’ He stopped talking then, pursing his lips.
‘What?’
He reached for a bottle of shampoo that Daisy had left behind and started lathering her hair, making her hum contentedly.
‘This must be how Rory and Jack-Jack feel when I pet them,’ she murmured. She leaned her forehead against his chest, closing her eyes to fully enjoy the feel of his hands in her hair, massaging her scalp. ‘You should charge for shampoos. You’d have a line out the door.’
‘Nah. Unless you’re okay with other people seeing me naked.’
She jerked her gaze to his, then flinched when soap got in her eyes. Irritated, she wiped it away. ‘Um, no. I find that I’m adamantly opposed to anyone seeing you naked.’ She hummed again when he turned them around to rinse the shampoo from her hair, because he covered her eyes. Like her mama had done.
No one had taken care of her like this since she was a little girl, too young to truly appreciate how special it was.
She smiled up at him when he put the conditioner in her hair. ‘You’re good at this.’
‘I’ve never done this for anyone before,’ he admitted.
‘That makes me even luckier. Going back to my question before you tried to distract me with scalp massages – what? You said I’d have a lot of help, then looked like you’d sucked a lemon.’
He sighed, shampooing his hair in about ten seconds. ‘You’d have help from us. But we’re here.’
‘Oh.’ Now she got it. ‘The Romeros would love her, too. And they love me.’
He kissed her forehead. ‘Maybe you’re borrowing trouble. Amos will wake up.’
‘But even then, I wouldn’t see Abigail grow up.’ If I go back. After the last few days, she wasn’t so certain.
‘But you have all your siblings’ kids when you go back to New Orleans.’ His smile was lopsided and sad. ‘It’ll be a hard choice.’
No, not really, she thought. Because Rafe would be here. ‘I have a plan.’
He kissed her. ‘What’s your plan?’
‘The Romeros have moved Quill’s life celebration to Sunday afternoon. I’ll go back to New Orleans for that and I’ll pack a few things while I’m there, then I’ll come back here for the rest of my leave. I have to get therapy as a condition of my return, but I could do that here, too. Let’s take these seven and a half weeks and then . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Then we can see.’
He swallowed, his brown eyes filled with a mix of longing and hope that stole her breath. ‘You’re considering staying? Even after?’
‘Yes. I’m not stupid, Raphael Sokolov. What you and I have here is something special. Gideon is here and now Amos. I love my families in New Orleans, but Gideon, Amos, and I – and now Abigail – we have history. Shared memories. And then there’s you.’
‘Then there’s me.’ His brows lifted. ‘What will you do about me?’
She laughed. ‘That is a leading question, Detective Sokolov. Give me some time, I’ll make you a list. But for now? I want to go to bed with you and make you forget about this day for a little while. Is that okay?’
‘More than okay.’
He kissed her again, long and sweet. ‘I’ll go to New Orleans with you, if you want. For Quill’s celebration.’
‘You’d do that for me?’