“My mom told me she’s staying at Charlie’s tonight,” Owen said after they were home and had gotten Holden into bed.

“Really? Wow. Good for her—and him. Do you think they’ll, you know…”

“I’m trying very hard not to think about that.”

Laura laughed at the face he made. “My dad and Betsy were holding hands today.”

“I saw that.”

“Seems like things are moving forward for everyone.”

“Mom said Charlie is coming to Virginia with us. Slim will need to lease a bigger plane.” Because so many of them were going, Laura’s dad had worked with Slim to arrange for a private plane out of Greene Airport in Warwick.

“I’m glad your mom finally told Charlie what’s going on so he can support her through all of this.”

“I’m glad she told him, too.”

“Evan is planning to come with us.”

The news seemed to catch Owen off guard. “Why? He’s got too much going on with the studio to be away.”

“He wants to be there for you.”

Owen shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is to him.” Laura approached him cautiously. For the first time, she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome. “You don’t understand how hard it is for the people who love you to watch you suffer.”

He let her put her arms around him, but he seemed to be merely tolerating her, which was also a first. “And you all don’t understand how embarrassing and humiliating this entire thing is for me.”

“Why, Owen?”

Staring down at her, mouth agape, he said, “Because! He’s my father! How would you or Evan begin to understand where I come from with Frank and Mac McCarthy as your fathers?”

The pain that echoed through his every word sliced her like a knife, making her bleed for him. She’d heard it was possible to feel the pain of others almost as acutely as they were feeling it themselves, but she’d never experienced it so profoundly until now. “Your father is no reflection on you, Owen. You had no control over who you were born to, just like Evan and I had no control over who we were born to. We got lucky. You didn’t. That doesn’t make us look at you any differently because something you couldn’t control happened to you. If anything, it makes us admire you more than we already do, because you survived it when it might’ve broken a lesser person.”

“How can you be so sure it didn’t break me?”

“Look at you. You’re strong and capable and trustworthy and loyal and loving and gentle—so gentle with me and Holden and your mother and all the other people you love. You’re nothing like him, Owen. No one thinks you are, except for maybe you.”

His cheek twitched with tension as he fixated on a spot over her shoulder. “I feel like he’s in there, lying dormant, waiting to lash out when he has the right provocation.”

“So if I piss you off someday, you’re going to hit me?” With her hands flat against his chest, she gave him a little push.

Since he wasn’t expecting it, he stumbled slightly. “What’re you doing?”

“Proving a point.” She raised her hand and laid it gently against his cheek. “If I slap your face, will you slap me back?”

He turned away from her hand. “No. Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

She rolled her other hand into a fist that she pressed to his abdomen. “If I punch you in the stomach, will you punch me back?”

“Laura…”

“You’d never lay a hand on me, no matter what I did to you. Never. I haven’t the slightest doubt about that. I could say anything, do anything, and you’d never touch me with anything other than love.”

“Stop this.”

“Not until I hear you say you’re nothing like him.” With her hands once again on his chest, she raised a challenging brow. “Do I need to push you around a little more to make you understand what I already know?” The notion that she could physically make him do anything he didn’t want to do was ridiculous, and they both knew it. “Do I?”

“No,” he said with a sigh as he curled his hands around her wrists and lifted them from his chest. He kissed one of her palms and then the other. “I’d rather die than do anything to hurt you.”

“And that, right there, is why you’ll never be your father’s son. Don’t you see, Owen? That’s not how he feels. He’d rather die than admit how weak and inadequate he is or how little control he has over his rage. You would rather die than hurt me or anyone else you love. Can’t you see the difference?”

“I’m beginning to, but I still worry that he’ll rear his ugly head in me someday.”

“So when Holden is five and sitting at the table playing with his food rather than eating it, will you suddenly hit him so hard across his little face that he can’t go to school for a week out of fear that someone might see the bruises?” She’d purposely used the first time his father had hit him as an example.

“No,” he said, blinking furiously.

Laura framed his face with both her hands. “You would never, could never. You love Holden more than you love yourself. You love me more than you love yourself. That’s why you’ll never behave the way your father did. He loves no one more than he loves himself.”

He slid his arms around her, letting his head drop to her shoulder.

“I want you to say it.”

“Say what?”

“I’m nothing like my father. Say it.”

“Laura…”

She curled her hand around his nape, cradling him against her. “Say it.”

“I’m nothing like my father.”

“Say it again.”

He released a deep, rattling breath. “I’m nothing like my father.”

“One more time.”

“I’m nothing like my father.”

“We’ll keep working on this until it gets easier to say and believe.”

“I still don’t want you guys to come to Virginia.”

“Too bad.” Pressing her lips to his temple, she said, “Oh damn. Does it piss you off when I talk to you that way? Do you feel compelled to show me the back of your hand to keep me in line?”

He pulled her in closer. “Actually, it kind of turns me on when you talk back to me.”

Laura laughed. “That’s good to know.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes filled, and she closed them, determined to stay strong for him when she wanted to weep. “Please don’t thank me for helping you to see that you’re a good man, Owen. One of the best men I’ve ever known. And I don’t expect my opinion of you to ever change.”

“It would kill me if I did something to lose your respect.”

“There again you prove my point. Do you think your father ever said anything like that to your mother?”

“I doubt he did.”

“I’m going to keep reminding you of all the differences between you and him.”

“Okay.”

“Come to bed with me, Owen. I need you.”

“You need me… Seems like the other way around tonight.”

“We need each other, like we have from the very beginning.”

He bent his head to kiss her, lingering for a long moment. “I don’t know how I ever lived without you.”

“I feel exactly the same way.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “We’re going to get you through the trial, and then we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

Running his hands down her back, he cupped her bottom and lifted her.

Laura clung to him as he walked them across the room to their bed. He undressed her and then himself, all the while gazing down at her with love in his eyes. Leaning over her, he left a circle of kisses on the slight bump on her abdomen.

“I can’t wait to meet these guys.”

“Neither can I.”

“I can’t wait until they stop making you sick every day.”

She slid her fingers through his always unruly blond hair. “Neither can I.”

Chuckling, he kissed his way up the front of her. “Let’s cover you up so you don’t get cold.” He lifted her effortlessly, arranged her on the pillows and covered her before he slid in next to her.

Laura turned on her side and reached for him. “This is the best part of the day. The very end, when I get to be alone with you.”

He worked his leg between hers and put his arms around her. “It’s my favorite time of day, too.”

Despite the desire she always felt for him, especially when they were naked in bed together, her eyes refused to stay open any longer. “I can’t stay awake.”

“You don’t have to, honey.”

“Don’t you want to…”

“Always, but you need to sleep.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

“You don’t have to. You give me everything I could ever want and then some. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you everything,” she whispered. “I was wrecked, and you put me back together.”

“Best project I ever worked on.”

With her face tucked against his chest, she smiled, content and happy. No matter what went on around them, they’d always have this. She took that thought with her as she drifted off to sleep.

---

For a long time after Laura fell asleep, Owen was awake, listening to the South Harbor foghorn and the crash of the waves hitting the breakwater. The sounds were among his favorite from a childhood short on happy memories. He and his six siblings had spent their summers here with their grandparents, which, other than their father’s deployments, was the only break they ever got from their violent upbringing.

Thinking about those long-ago summers also brought back memories of the warnings their father had given them about sharing their family’s business with anyone, even the grandparents who’d doted on them. Mark Lawry’s children had lived in fear of him all the time, even when they were hundreds of miles away.

Owen had spent a lot of time as an adult wondering why his twelve- or thirteen-year-old self had never confided in the grandparents who would’ve moved heaven and earth to rescue them from the hell they lived in. With the perspective of age and maturity, he knew he’d been governed by fear, but he wished so fervently that he’d had the courage to speak up, to say something, even if the consequences had been dire.

He’d never forget the way his strong, formidable grandmother had wept upon hearing the full truth of what her beloved grandchildren had endured at the hands of their father. It had taken a suicide attempt by his youngest brother, Jeff, to blow the lid off the entire mess. Jeff had gone to live with their grandparents in Florida and was now in college and thriving.

What might’ve been different for Jeff, for all of them, if Owen had only said something during one of those idyllic summers with their grandparents? Intellectually, he knew he was minimizing the overwhelming fear his twelve-year-old self had lived with when his thirty-four-year-old self still quaked at the thought of having to see his father in a few days.

He hated himself for that. Why should he feel fearful when he was bigger and stronger than the bully who’d raised him had ever been? How was it possible that his father still had the power to make him quake when he hadn’t even seen him in more than ten years?

Owen would give anything for a magic wand that he could wave to fast-forward their lives to after the trial, when his father was safely convicted and headed for prison, where he would finally pay for the vicious way he’d treated his wife and children for decades.

In the absence of magic, he had no choice but to summon the resolve to power through the ordeal and get to the other side of it, where he could move forward with Laura and the life they had planned. There was no place for his father in that life, and after the trial, he would never have to see him again. That day couldn’t come soon enough for Owen.

He smoothed his hand over the silky length of Laura’s hair, taking comfort from her presence even when she was asleep. What she’d said about him not being anything like his father had struck a chord with him. He wanted so badly to believe she was right about that, but he’d always been aware of a simmering core of rage that lived within him. While he couldn’t imagine ever striking out at the people closest to him, the rage was part of him nonetheless.

Perhaps he would never find a need to tap that hidden resource, and he could only hope it would remain dormant and not rear its ugly head to cause him trouble. Staring up at the ceiling in the dark of night with the love of his life asleep in his arms, Owen made a silent vow never to allow rage to dictate his reactions to Laura or his children. He loved them too much to ever let that happen.

He was not his father’s son. He would never be his father’s son. Owen finally fell asleep, taking those thoughts with him into slumber.

---

This was a huge mistake, Sarah thought as she changed out of the outfit she’d worn to the clambake into the summer-weight nightgown she’d brought with her to sleep in. Earlier in the day, when she’d packed a bag to spend the night with Charlie, she’d been excited and filled with anticipation of spending hours alone with him.

Now that those hours were upon her, however, she was as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night. She felt ridiculous for allowing nerves to derail her determination to move forward with a man who’d been an amazing friend to her for nearly a year now. He’d been patient and kind and gentle with her from the very beginning. He’d shown her how a real man treats the woman he cares for, and now she wanted to show him how much she cared for him.

Except, she wasn’t sure she could. It had been so long since she’d experienced the kind of feelings Charlie aroused in her just by looking at her across the table with that sly smile and those piercing blue eyes. He never had a whole lot to say, but he managed to convey his affection for her with his actions, which spoke far louder than the loudest of words ever had.

She brushed her hair and teeth and summoned the fortitude to leave the bathroom, to get into bed with him, to hold him and touch him and kiss him. He’d told her he didn’t expect anything from her that she wasn’t ready to give, and she appreciated that he’d known those words would matter to her. But the nerves were present nonetheless.

Taking a deep breath, she put her folded clothes into her bag and stashed it in a corner of the bathroom. Rubbing her damp palms over the soft cotton of her gown, she emerged from the bathroom to find Charlie already in bed. He was propped up against several pillows, his chest bare and the covers pulled up to his waist. She knew a moment of complete panic when she wondered if he was naked under there.

The thought caused a nervous giggle to escape from her tightly clenched lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked in the gruff tone that might’ve sounded harsh to someone who didn’t know him as well as she did. Despite the extreme injustice he’d endured during fourteen years in prison, there was nothing harsh about her Charlie.

Her Charlie. How long had she thought of him as her Charlie? For quite some time now, if she were being honest with herself.

He folded the bed covers back and patted the mattress next to him. “Are you going to tell me?”

“This whole thing is funny,” Sarah said as she slid into bed next to him while willing her hammering heart to settle down before she hyperventilated or did something equally embarrassing.

He turned to face her, propping himself on an upturned hand. “You wanna let me in on the joke?”

She fixated on his muscular chest, the intricate tattoo that encircled his bicep, and the mat of dark chest hair that had begun to go gray in places. He was a finely built man, and she suddenly wanted to touch him, to feel his soft skin under her hands, to examine every hill and valley of the muscles that had fascinated her for months. “I’m nervous,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on his chest rather than looking at his face.

“It’s just me, Sarah. Your friend Charlie.”

“Who’s now in bed with me and at least half naked.”

“Only half,” he said with a gruff chuckle.

“Are you nervous, too?”

“Hell yes, I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re here, finally, and I don’t want to do the wrong thing or scare you off.”

“You could never do the wrong thing.”

“Don’t be too sure. It’s been a long time since I was in bed with a woman. A long time.”

“So you haven’t, with anyone… Since you got out of prison?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so I’ve got my own set of worries, especially knowing what that bastard you were married to put you through. I want to give you everything you deserve, everything you should’ve had all along, but I don’t want to rush you—”

Sarah caressed the face that had become so dear to her. “Kiss me, Charlie.”

He put his arm across her middle and tugged her closer. “Is this okay?”

She nodded.

Leaning over her, he studied her for a long, breathless instant before he lowered his face to hers, his lips soft but persuasive. “This is all we have to do. It would be more than enough to have you sleep in my arms.”

“Why don’t we see what transpires and try not to worry too much about anything?”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” He kissed her again, more insistently this time, his tongue seeking hers in deep thrusts that made her want so much more of him.

She took advantage of the opportunity to touch him, to learn the planes and textures of his muscular chest and arms.

Her touch seemed to inflame him, and he ended up on top of her as one kiss became two and then three. She couldn’t get close enough to him, even with her arms and legs around him, her fingers pressing into the muscles of his back as his lips and tongue continued to devour her. His arousal pulsed against her, hard and insistent, a reminder of where their heated kisses could be leading if she wanted to go that far.

It had been so long, so very, very long, since she’d wanted anything the way she wanted this man. With desire strumming through her entire body, setting her on fire with an almost painful need for more, she moaned against his lips.

He gasped as he broke the kiss. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose control. It’s too much.”

“It’s not enough.”

Looking down at her, he appeared stunned by what she’d said. “Sarah…”

“I need you. I need more.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Charlie. Yes, I’m sure.”