Chapter 1

The older male counselor checked his watch, then lifted his bright eyes at Faith's son. "Grayson, would you give me ten minutes to talk with just your mother?"

Even as Faith's anxiety rose, Grayson shrugged, clearly relieved to escape early. "Sure." He flicked his russet bangs out of his eyes, rose to his feet, and started for the door.

What was the counselor going to say to her?

"Have a seat in the waiting room, honey. I'll be right out."

As the door clicked shut behind her son, Faith steeled herself. The fading sunlight visible through the blinds reminded her of how much she still needed to get done to be ready for her clients in the morning—two injured veterans hoping to improve their motor skills through hippotherapy. Thank goodness for Fitz, who was watching Olivia and the baby tonight, or Faith couldn't have joined Grayson's counseling session like she'd promised.

"So." Robert sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and talking to her in a low voice, making sure, it seemed, that Grayson couldn't overhear him. "I'm glad you were able to join your son tonight. It's been good for him to hear how much Jerry's death has grieved you."

"Of course." Did he think Jerry's death didn't grieve her?

He rubbed his palms together. "Grayson hasn't said as much—you can see how tough it is to get him to talk at all. But from the few comments he has made, I gather he believes you've substituted Jerry with your gentleman friend, Fitz, I believe his name is."

Heat stole up Faith's neck, suffusing her face. "Yes, Fitz. He's been a big help."

Robert nodded his head of silver hair. "I'm sure he has been." He hesitated, then asked. "How long has Jerry been deceased, Faith?"

She hated that word, deceased. "Ten months and twenty-one days."

Robert's eyebrows shot up. "You know that right down to the day."

"Of course. I loved him completely. He was my first and only."

He drew a breath, then said hesitantly, "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you don't still seem to be grieving him as heavily as Grayson is."

The words turned her heart inside out.

"I'm not judging," he added quickly. "It's just an observation."

She considered his observation for a moment, then explained. "When Jerry transitioned to the tactical team about six years ago, I was devastated. It's basically a SWAT team, very dangerous work. I don't know how I knew it, but I knew the job would take his life, so I did everything I could to talk him out of it. But then I gave up because I understood he needed that constant adrenaline, or he would get depressed. I cried every night for months because I sensed what was coming. God put that knowledge into my heart in order to prepare me. And when it happened, I was devastated, but not surprised."

Robert nodded sympathetically. "I see. Yes, that makes sense. But here's the thing: Grayson never saw Jerry's death coming. It's still a shock to him, and it's going to take time to accept that his father is gone. His anger, I believe, stems not just from his father's death but from feeling that you're moving on so quickly."

Dismay pegged Faith to the chair she was sitting in.

"Now, I'm not going to tell you what to do. That's completely up to you, Faith. I'm not living in your shoes, so I don't know what it's like. But if you can postpone your relationship with Fitz and let Grayson mourn his father's death, he will heal faster, and he won't be so angry."

A feeling like shame twisted through her, keeping her from speaking.

Robert shrugged apologetically. "I'm just thinking about it from Grayson's perspective. He said something about his new sister and Fitz both having the same hair. I don't think he's a hundred percent sure whether Mary Mae is his whole sister or his half."

Faith's cheeks turned cold as the blood drained from her head. "Of course, she's his whole sister!" She clutched the arms of her chair, suddenly defensive. "Her red hair comes from my mother!"

The therapist held up both hands. "I didn't mean to upset you, only to explain where Grayson's anger is coming from."

Faith pulled herself to the edge of her seat, battling a mix of self-righteousness, shame, and regret.

"Take a moment," Robert gently advised, "to just sit there and digest what I've said. It's important to Grayson that you remain his steady constant."

Faith nodded and came to terms with what she was feeling. She'd prided herself on being a good mother, but what kind of mother was she, putting her own needs above those of her children? She'd welcomed Fitz into her life within a year of Jerry's death because she'd needed help finding her twin sister, who'd disappeared on a mission trip to Venezuela. Then, too, she was overwhelmed with starting up her business while caring for her children, not to mention a new baby, born nearly two months early.

But Grayson's needs were different. He needed to see his mother make it on her own. And now that her business was thriving, she could afford to hire someone to watch the kids.

Dread dragged her heart to her feet. Was she really going to push Fitz away as Robert had advised? Considering what had happened to his own family years ago, it had taken so much courage on Fitz's part to open up in the first place.

Expelling a long, grounding breath, she stood up and briefly met the counselor's eyes. "Thank you."

His smile was both sad and sympathetic. "Call me if you want to set up a future appointment."

"I will." She couldn't think about her busy calendar right then. All she could do was pine over the loss of her burgeoning romance with Fitz and pray she wouldn't lose him forever.

* * *

Fitz sat in the comfortable recliner while the baby dozed in the crook of his arm. Little Olivia practiced somersaults on the living room carpet while watching a show on the Disney Channel. It was moments like this that provided a balm to the terrible wound inside him. He would never fully recover from the murder of his wife and three children—retaliation from a mob he had incarcerated—but times like these were healing.

His highly trained ears pricked at the sound of a vehicle crawling up the driveway. Was Faith back already? Unable to check his watch, as it was trapped under the sleeping baby, he grabbed his cell phone off the adjacent lamp table. They hadn't been gone an hour yet. What's more, the engine didn't sound like her mini van's.

Righting the recliner, Fitz unfurled his lean frame, careful not to waken Mary Mae, who slept peacefully along his muscular left arm. He crossed to the large window at the front of the room where he lifted the gauzy white curtain to see outside. The car there braked abruptly.

Backed by the dark trees and positioned beyond the corona of the porchlight, its license plate could not be read. But Fitz was an expert when it came to the make and model of cars, and that one looked to be a Buick Regal, circa 1999. The fact that the driver had caught sight of him and was hanging back suggested evil intent. Fifteen years in the NYPD topped by nearly a decade in the FBI informed Fitz's conclusion.

Sparing a thought for the Glock 19 currently secured in his glove box out in his Lexus, Fitz went to lay the baby in the playpen when the car shot forward and swerved. Rather than back all the way down the driveway, the driver was attempting to turn around.

Fitz hurried to the door to let himself out. By the time he stood on the covered porch, the vehicle was roaring away, and he hadn't even read the license plate.

His heartbeat raced. Did someone intend to break in while Faith was away? Who would drive into rural Suffolk to rob a home? Maybe the driver had gone up the wrong driveway and felt guilty for intruding on the homeowner's evening? No. Whoever it was, they hadn't wanted to be seen. Their motives could not have been good.

After slipping back inside, Fitz locked the door and waited for Faith to return. He would tell her what he saw and offer to sleep in the recliner with his Glock close at hand, just in case.

Not fifteen minutes later, while straightening up in the kitchen, Fitz heard a car door close and then another. Spying the outline of Faith's minivan through the gauzy curtain, he went to open the door for her and Grayson, his heart lifting as it did every time he laid eyes on her.

With her sparkling brown eyes, russet hair that looked red in certain light, and a smile that made demons flee—thirty-three-year-old Faith Saunders was everything a man could ask for. He couldn't get enough of her.

Twenty-two months ago, she'd been the ER nurse who stemmed the blood pouring out of the shrapnel wound in his neck. Who'd have guessed she would become the most important person in the world to him?

But as she closed the distance between them, her gaze met his, and he forgot about his happiness. Given the firm set of her lush lips, Grayson's counseling session must not have gone well.

"Hey." Fitz greeted Grayson as he loped onto the porch. All he got was a curt nod by way of reply.

Faith followed her son with lagging steps. "Is the baby sleeping?"

"Yes." As always, he tried to soften the rasp of his injured vocal cords, his sole memento of the attempt on his life that had sent him to the ER two years ago.

She gestured for him to join her on the porch swing. "Can we talk out here?"

"Sure." Thoughts of the stranger in the car went out of his head as he shut the front door to join her. His stomach tensed with the expectation of bad news. He held the porch swing still for her to sit, then sat smoothly next to her, giving the swing a little push and recalling that magical evening in late July when he'd first envisioned being part of her life.

"How was therapy?" He was almost afraid to ask.

To his relief, she stretched out a hand and coiled her fingers through his. Nothing made him feel more complete than when their hands were linked together. It made him relish the moment he would finally get to lie with her in bed and become partners for life.

She drew a shaky breath, the sound of which notched his concern higher.

"Eye-opening." Her hold on his hand tightened. "The counselor made me realize that I'm moving on from Jerry's death too quickly. It's making Grayson angry that I seem to have forgotten about his father, that I seem to have replaced him with you."

Fitz nodded. This wasn't news to him.

"He might even think that Mary Mae is your baby because of her coloring."

Given Faith's watchful gaze, she thought this news was going to freak him out. Fitz had seen that thought cross Grayson's face at the hospital when he'd first brought out the baby for her siblings to see for the first time. "Yes, I know."

"You do?" Faith shook her head, clearly appalled. "How can I be so blind? All I saw was his anger. I didn't realize it had anything to do with me."

Fitz went to reassure her that she wasn't the cause for Grayson's belligerence, but she cut him off, squeezing his hand harder. "I don't know how to say this, and it's not what I want, but I have to…I have to let you go for a while."

The words caught him utterly off guard. Three months earlier, nothing in the world could have compelled him to get involved with a woman who had three children close to the same age as the children he had buried, along with their mother, nearly eight years earlier. He had carried around a shattered heart ever since, never believing that he might fall in love again. And then, just when he'd found the courage to risk everything, she was setting him aside?

"How long is a while?" His gruff voice, caused by the injury to his vocal cords, failed to mask his incredulity.

"I don't know." She covered her crumpling face with her free hand.

Torn between protecting his feelings and comforting her, Fitz pulled his hand from her grasp and put an arm around her. She turned immediately toward him, making it harder to put up a wall and guard his emotions, especially when she pressed her face against his chest and her shoulders shook with a stifled sob.

Over the lump in his throat, Fitz sought to reassure them both. "It's okay." Yet picturing the flat, lonely evenings ahead of him, he knew it wasn't going to be okay. He would have to do exactly what he did after burying his family: lose himself in his work and cut off his emotions. Whether he could return to the world of the living after this rejection wasn't something he could promise.

He forced himself to think about Faith. "Who's going to help you if not me?" He'd been joining her every evening in grooming the horses and refreshing their water and feed.

She sniffed sharply and lifted her head to look at him. "I'll give the babysitter more hours and hire someone to help me with the horses."

"I guess I'm pretty expendable, huh?" He let himself wallow in self-pity, but only for a moment.

"No." She shook her head fiercely, even as her eyes filled with tears. "Not to me. Please don't leave forever, Fitz." She swallowed hard. "This isn't what I want," she repeated, "but I have to put my children first. Please say you understand."

Pushing aside the selfish feelings that welled in him, he searched himself for the words to give her. His conscience used to speak to him in the voice of his late wife, Mary, often supplying scripture to back up her opinion, but since Faith had become a constant part of his life, Mary ceased to speak to him. All he could come up with was, "Love is patient."

Even so, the relief that relaxed Faith's expression and even teased a wan smile out of her told Fitz those were the right words to say. No doubt Faith interpreted them to mean that he would be patient and wait for her. But given the rising impulse to jump in his car and flee, that really wasn't the promise he was making. He'd put his shattered heart into her hands, and now she was giving it back to him. How was he supposed to feel?

"I should go." The memory of the Buick crossed his thoughts, but he didn't bring it up now. Someone had taken a wrong turn, that was all. Faith had enough on her plate. "Good night."

He pressed a kiss to her lips, savoring their satiny texture in order to remember it forever. Then he tore himself away, standing and patting his pockets to verify he had his keys and wallet. Without another word, he strode away, off the porch toward his Lexus.

Some mechanism of self-preservation kicked in, blanketing his emotions in an icy layer that kept him from feeling anything.

He shut himself inside his car, starting up the music on his smartphone as soon as he hit the ignition button. With the opera La bohème floating out of his speakers, he backed up and pulled away. He didn't so much as glance in his rearview mirror, but his peripheral vision—honed from his years as a street cop—left him with a clear impression of Faith standing on her porch, watching him leave.

* * *

Faith looked up at the sound of someone walking toward her office, located at the back of the big new barn and overlooking the riding ring. Her office doubled as a waiting room with several mismatched chairs for caretakers to sit upon while watching Faith work with her patients outside. The ring was already cloaked in darkness, no thanks to daylight savings time, making it dark by 5:00 P.M. Her children were in the house with the babysitter, so who could this be?

Just before the door swung open, Faith knew it was Grace. Being mirror twins, they shared an inexplicable psychic connection.

Grace stepped into the cozy space and grimaced at the sight of Faith sitting behind her laptop. She'd been typing a code into the form that would prompt a payment by one of her patient's health insurance companies.

"You're still working?" Grace's tone betrayed both incredulity and concern.

"This is the last form." Faith pinned her attention on her screen, verified the code was accurate, and clicked ENTER. "There, all done for the night." After exiting the program, she shut her MacBook Pro and pushed her chair back.

Grace had notched her hands above her hips. "You haven't returned any of my texts this week."

"I know. Sorry, I've been really busy." Faith came out from behind her desk, light-headed with hunger. Fitz would have had dinner waiting for her, but the babysitter only fed the kids—food that wasn't particularly good for them.

Grace's astute gaze slid over her as she approached her twin. Anyone looking at them would have a very hard time telling them apart. They both wore their hair long, falling midway down their backs, but where Grace parted hers on the right, Faith's part was on the left. Grace was left-handed; Faith right-handed. She used to be fuller figured, having just given birth to her third baby, but she'd lost most of her baby weight from nursing Mary Mae, and the last five pounds had fallen off her after sending Fitz away.

"You're losing weight." The candid observation was typical of Grace, who rarely minced her words.

"I guess so. I haven't eaten dinner yet. Want to join me?"

"Sure."

Faith led the way out of the office before flipping off the lights. As they crossed through the dark barn, Otis, the old bay gelding they'd grown up with, nickered at them while the three therapy horses dozed in silence. The house's porch light provided the only illumination, shining through the barn's double doors, currently wide open to let in the fresh fall air.

Faith sensed Grace's sidelong glances.

"What's going on with you and Fitz? I thought he would be here."

Sorrow pooled in Faith's chest, slowing her to a stop. "We're on a break for Grayson's sake."

"What?" Grace's voice rose nearly an octave. "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

"Because I didn't want to bother you. You're a busy teacher with two kids at home."

Grace grabbed her arm, stopping her forward progress. "But why? I thought you got along great."

"We did." Faith drew a deep beath. "Grayson's counselor told me my son's anger stems from me moving on too quickly. So, I'm giving him time." Just talking about it made Faith's throat tighten.

Grace, who knew better than anyone what Faith's sacrifice was costing her, pulled her into a familiar and supportive embrace, smelling of nutmeg as she always did. I'm so lucky, Faith reminded herself. Because of Grace, she'd never been truly alone in the world. Not even when Jerry had died.

"I'm sure he'll wait for you," Grace murmured in her ear.

Remembering the way Fitz had walked off her porch and driven away without a single backward glance, Faith wasn't so sure. "I don't know." She let her arms fall and stepped back. "I'm afraid he's going to pull away for good. He didn't want me telling you this because he doesn't want anyone pitying him, but he lost his entire family, a wife and three kids, to the mob—retaliation for putting their boss in jail."

"Oh my gosh." Grace gaped at her, horrified.

"It took a lot of courage for him to risk his heart again, and then I trampled it by pushing him away."

"I'll pray for you both," Grace promised. "I'm sure God means for you to be together."

Faith managed a smile. How it gladdened her heart to hear Grace confess to praying at all. Not that long ago, after losing a baby and a husband, she'd been sure God had forgotten her. Discovering love again in the form of Amos McLeod and gaining two adopted sons, she'd realized God had been loving her all along.

"You're right." Shaking off her gloom, Faith continued forward and shut the barn doors with Grace's help.

Thank God Grace had come by tonight, reminding her that He had watched over her all her life. He wouldn't stop now.