The sheets were tangled at the foot of the bed: the usual, tangible proof of his restless sleep. It was a good thing Adam had the whole bed to himself, or he’d risk kicking the other person off the mattress.
It had been a while since he’d woken up soaked in sweat in the middle of the night, after reliving those seemingly endless minutes when he lost the love of his life forever. He’d even started believing that being back in Spring Harbor and living in his childhood home had been working miracles on his mind.
Until yesterday, when Xavier Mendosa had called to inform him that they might have a lead on the man who’d gotten away.
The day he’d buried Hannah, Adam had promised himself he was going to find the man if it was the last thing he did. He’d left the department immediately after the shooting, but that hadn’t stopped him from obsessing over the guy, until his captain at Seattle PD had asked him to step back and let them deal with the investigation. He obviously hadn’t listened to his former boss, especially since he no longer worked for the department. He’d spent months after he left getting updates from his former partner, working on the investigation vicariously through him, until too many sleepless nights and skipped meals had brought him to his knees, and his parents had convinced him to let it go. Obsessing over the one who’d escaped wouldn’t bring Hannah back. He was only wasting energy over something that couldn’t be changed, energy he should be using to raise his baby girl. Three days of forced stay in bed had convinced him it was time to let go of the horror of that day and concentrate on the most precious thing that had come out of his short marriage.
But Mendosa’s call yesterday morning had brought him back to the start, and the dreams had started again.
One of the guys from the drug department had informed Xavier that they were keeping an eye on a couple of men who’d been seen dealing drugs outside the university campus. Mendosa had recognized the man in the photographs as the robber who’d escaped that day and had promptly informed Adam.
If it hadn’t been for the knowledge that Sophie needed him, Adam would’ve gotten in the car and driven up to Seattle to find the man and beat the life out of him. The guy had moved on with his life as if nothing had happened, making money selling drugs to students, while Adam had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown more often than not.
The first few weeks after Hannah died, he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the man was securely locked in a six by eight cell where he’d spend the rest of his life. He may not have been the one who’d pulled the trigger, but he’d been there, he’d had a knife in his hand, and he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about hurting Hannah if she’d refused to give him the money.
He’d have to be processed as an accessory to murder and get the longest sentence. With a degree in criminal justice, Adam knew what the man deserved for what he’d done—and would’ve been more than happy to testify in court, if only they could get their hands on him.
I failed, both as a husband and as a cop.
Now the thoughts that had haunted him immediately after the robbery, until his family had shaken some sense into him again, came back in full force. His throat constricted, and he shook his head, refusing to let them pull him under again.
He’d thought he was starting to recover, that maybe the pain and guilt were finally fading away, but tonight his certainties and hopes for a brighter tomorrow had come crashing down, when he’d once again relived the awful circumstances of his wife’s death. Only, tonight it hadn’t been about the shooting, the blood, and the weight of Hannah’s limp body in his arms, like the other times. It hadn’t been about the guilt of not being able to find the other man who’d been involved in the robbery and make sure that at least one of them paid for what they’d done.
No. Tonight had been all about what Hannah had said to him, in those last few minutes. With what was left of her breath, she’d made sure he listened to her, that he promised to let another woman into his heart, a woman who’d love Sophie like she would have if that robber hadn’t taken her life.
He had no intention of ever keeping the promise he’d made to his dying wife, though. No matter what anyone said, he would never in a million years love another woman the way he’d loved Hannah. She’d been his one and only, ever since he became interested in the opposite sex. He’d imagined creating a big family with her, even though she used to say she wouldn’t want more than two children, while he insisted he wanted at least four or five. He’d dreamed of growing old with her, maybe coming back to Spring and having his brother Kean build their dream house somewhere close to the beach. He’d imagined sitting on a swing on their back porch, holding Hannah in his arms and feeling the familiar warmth of her body pressed to his, while watching their grandchildren play in the garden.
He’d never have any of this.
The thought of all he’d lost, of all he’d never be able to experience, was like a knife twisting through his heart. Every. Single. Time.
Wiping away a stray tear, he got out of bed, scrubbed a hand across his face, and listened closely to the baby monitor on his nightstand. He didn’t hear any unusual noises, but the sudden need to see his daughter and remind himself why he couldn’t let the nightmare break him down again pulled him out of the door of what used to be his and Kean’s room back in the day.
He padded barefoot to the room on the opposite side of the narrow corridor. The carpet was rough under his feet, reminding him of all the times he and his brothers had run in bare feet all along the corridor, up and down the stairs, and in and out of the rooms, playing cop and thieves, or a game of tag. It was high time his parents removed the carpet and replaced it with wooden flooring instead. Kean would be only too happy to work on that, and Adam would be glad to help. Anything that kept his mind busy was welcome these days.
The room was dark and only a beam of moonlight peeped through the teddy-bear-patterned curtains his mother had bought especially for her only granddaughter. He stopped close to the crib he’d built with his own hands a few weeks after moving home from Seattle, when his brother Kean had brought home some fine cherry wood planks and insisted Adam make something out of them. His brother had always appreciated Adam’s skills in building stuff and had encouraged him more than once to partner with him and build or restore furniture for the houses Kean renovated—especially now that he didn’t have a job.
Adam was grateful Sophie was sleeping in her own room on the other side of the corridor and his restless sleeping habits hadn’t woken her. His mother, on the other hand, must have been used to being awakened in the middle of the night—after years of living with her three sons, and their four cousins, who’d moved in when they were still kids—because it only took fifteen seconds for her to show up at the door. He’d thought he was being quiet, but apparently his mother had exceptional hearing.
“Everything okay?” she whispered from behind him. He nodded and looked away, hoping the dark would hide his troubled face. The nightmare was still vivid in his mind.
“Thought I heard Sophie call,” he lied, turning his back.
“You were talking in your sleep.” Her tone was low and soft, but it was lined with that slight hint of worry she could never really hide.
She came up beside him and put a hand on his back. He stiffened. The time had come for him to move out of his childhood home and find a house for his little girl and himself. He was twenty-nine and he didn’t want to cause his mother any more worry than he already had. He knew seeing one of her sons constantly grieving, and waking up in the middle of the night after dreaming of the day his wife was shot to death, was a great cause of sadness for her.
He’d been happy to come home and have his family help look after his six-month-old daughter, but lately he’d started itching for privacy, especially now he might have a new lead on the investigations.
Besides, he had to start getting used to living life as a single dad. Moving out of his parents’ ranch would definitely be a step in the right direction.
Sophie had just turned three in May and would be starting preschool on September first. He had nearly a month to get back on his feet, find a house and a job. He could have a word with Spring Harbor’s sheriff, Glen and see if the position of deputy he’d offered a few months ago was still available. It was high time he found a real job, something other than restoring old furniture—a hobby he’d enjoyed as a kid to spend a little time with his grandfather. Even though over these past three years it had brought in a few dollars and had kept him sane, he couldn’t depend solely on that income if he wanted to buy a house and support his daughter all by himself.
He could ask Glen for a few short shifts to start with, so he wouldn’t have to depend on other people to take care of his little girl. He knew his mother, as well as Hannah’s, would be more than happy to babysit, but he wanted to be around his daughter as much as he could. She only had one parent left, and he wanted her to feel how important she was to him. Her happiness, her needs, and her well-being would always come first, no matter what.
“Sorry I woke you,” he said now, keeping his eyes fixed on his sleeping daughter. Even though the room was dark, he was sure that, if he turned, his mother would manage to see the pain on his face.
“You didn’t. I was already awake, honey.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze but he didn’t turn back. “It’s been a while since you had a nightmare. I was hoping you’d started getting better.”
Adam shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
The first few weeks, actually months, after Hannah died, he used to dream about her every night, about that day his life changed forever. He’d wake up screaming her name and would find his mother already sitting on his bed, with a glass of water in her hand and a worried frown on her face. He was sure he was the one who’d put the couple of new worry lines on her forehead.
“Maybe you should see a doctor, after all. I know you never wanted to open up with anyone about what happened, but—”
“Mom, please don’t start,” he said, shaking his head. He could speak to all the psychologists in the world, but they wouldn’t bring Hannah back. That was the only cure for his nightmares—he didn’t need a PhD to know that.
“But I think—”
“I don’t need to see a shrink. There’s nothing they can do. I’ll be okay. I just need time.”
He wasn’t sure how long he’d need to get over the grief that still squeezed his heart and choked him at the thought of the way his loving wife had been taken away from him—or if he ever would. But of one thing he was sure: talking about it wouldn’t help. He hadn’t spoken about it with his family in the three years he’d been grieving, so why should he talk to a stranger?
“Okay. Well, you know we’re all here for you, if you ever need to let it all out.” Her hand patted the back of his head lovingly, and she took a long breath. “Go back to bed, now. It’s barely three, and I know you were up late finishing that chest you’ve been working on.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I will in a minute.”
His mother wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back. “I know you’re all grown up and you don’t need me to protect you, but you’re my son—it hurts me seeing you in pain and knowing I can’t do anything to help.”
His heart squeezed. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. He hated being the cause of his mother’s grief.
“I’m sorry I’m hurting you; that’s the last thing I wanted.” He spun around and hugged her, and she leaned into him. “I truly appreciate all you’ve done for me and Sophie. This family is the reason I made it through the toughest moments. I wouldn’t have survived without all your love and support.” He kissed the top of her head, suddenly needing to show his mother how much he loved her. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.” A soft sob escaped his mother’s lips, and he rubbed her back like he did when he held his weeping daughter in his arms. “Things will be okay, honey,” she continued. “I know you’re strong enough.”
“Thanks for the confidence,” he said with a smile, even though right now he felt anything but strong. “Now, go back to bed before Dad realizes you’re gone.”
She chuckled, patted his chest, and smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. She hesitated a beat before walking out, her steps barely audible on the worn carpet.
When he was alone, he lingered a little longer by the crib, staring at Sophie. He placed a kiss on her head, and her soft curls tickled his nose. The scent of her baby lotion reminded him of the first weeks after she was born, the first time he’d given her a bath, and the expert way Hannah had guided him through it, even though he felt awkward and was afraid of hurting the tiny creature in his hands.
Hannah had never doubted he’d be a great father and, even through the grief and the depression, he’d always striven to be the best dad he could. All in all, he’d managed fine. Hopefully, things would get easier in time, especially once he was on his own with his daughter and had no round-the-clock help from his family.
Sophie stirred when he stroked her cheek with his finger, and mumbled something that sounded very much like ‘puppy’. Her pretty heart-shaped lips curled into a megawatt grin, even though she was still asleep. His own lips twitched in a tentative smile; it had been so long since he’d really smiled, let alone enjoyed a hearty laugh. Seeing his little girl happily dreaming of puppies pushed the grief the dream had caused out of his head for a moment, even though it was still simmering somewhere inside his chest.
She was all he had, all he lived for. He didn’t care about finding love again; his heart would always beat for his little angel, and that would be enough to give him a reason to wake up every day.