Lauren stifled a yawn. She’d been up since six a.m., even earlier than Brayden. Getting up before her son—who favored waking up before the birds—was always an achievement, but that day’s early rising had to do with something else entirely. She wasn’t sure exactly when Matt would be home from shift, but she wanted to be up and waiting with a warm breakfast. At first, she’d tried to talk herself out of the idea. It had seemed entirely too 1950s housewife. But that morning, after yet another night of tossing and turning, her thoughts had turned to whether Matt was sleeping as well at the firehouse. It would be hard for him to get any decent rest there, his large body curled up in a bed that was probably built for more average-height men. Add in the nightmare she’d witnessed the earlier night, and it would be nearly impossible. She frowned. Did they happen often? She’d only witnessed one, but it had been terrible enough to see him thrashing about, lost in his own mind. She still didn’t know what had caused Matt to leave that night, disappear without a trace, but she’d bet money it had something to do with the death of his father. What had really happened that night?

She mindlessly flipped pancakes as her mind turned toward darker thoughts. Originally, all she’d known was that both Matt and his father had died that night, unfortunate victims of a terrible attack. One that Victor had told her could have even been in retaliation against Victor himself. In fact, that was when he’d suggested that Lauren start allowing James to walk her home from school—just to keep her safe, of course.

A burning smell reached her nose, and she hastily turned off the burner and slid the last batch into the warmer. Lauren moved on to setting up the coffee machine, but her movements were all preprogrammed, while her thoughts were a million miles away. It had been Victor who’d pushed her toward James, as a result of Matt’s “death” . . . one that clearly hadn’t happened at all. At the time, she would never have believed it, but with what she had come to know, a whole other possibility was blooming in her mind. A new idea that she couldn’t get rid of, and one that she was sure was much closer to the truth. It was completely terrifying.

Victor had played them all. When trying to guide Lauren into a relationship with James hadn’t worked, he’d taken matters into his own hands. Matt’s father had worked for Victor, but the two men had never gotten along well. There had even been rumors that he’d been trying to leave, turn on Victor, and then get out of the life. Lauren sat down at the table, stilling her hands even as her mind raced. For the Victor she knew, it would have been an easy decision—take out the man threatening to expose you and get rid of the competition for James’ affections, all in one hit.

The word chilled her, all the color leaching out of her face.

A hit. Killing Matt’s father—and attempting to kill Matt—it had been a professional hit.

And she was positive Victor was behind it.

What the hell did she do now? As if in answer, the toaster popped up, sending four slices of bread bouncing up with a soft ding. Lauren swiped at her face, wiping away any evidence of her small breakfast breakdown. Matt would be home before she knew it, and she’d planned to welcome him home properly. Things had been happy enough before he’d gone on shift, but they’d been strained between the two of them. Fortunately, Brayden had been completely oblivious. Her son had taken to Matt more easily than she could have ever hoped, and spending time with him all afternoon had brought a smile to her son’s face—a proper one. He’d clearly missed his “father,” James, more than Lauren had realized in her own grief. Hanging out with Matt, and the other guys in his squad at the fair, Brayden had laughed more than she’d seen in months. Lauren wanted more of that. She wanted it for both of them. But to do that, she was going to have to come clean. She and Matt couldn’t move forward until he knew the truth, and so, breakfast. She promised herself that she wouldn’t hold back from his attempts to be near her. Then, later that day when Brayden was asleep or engrossed in his video games, she’d tell Matt the truth. She could only hope that she’d read him correctly, and that they wouldn’t be out on their asses because of what she’d held back. She rested her chin on her hand as she bit at her fingernails. No, Matt was still fundamentally the same person as when he was a teen. He wouldn’t throw them out, no matter what she’d done to deserve it.

“Matt! You’re home!” Lauren heard Brayden’s excited call, followed by his feet thundering down the hall toward the front door. She stood, putting a smile on her face, and finished laying out the results of her early morning efforts. First, she’d show Matt that she was ready to move forward, then tell him the truth and hope to hell he still was, too.

* * *

An hour later, Lauren crossed her ankles under the table to stop her legs from jiggling. She took a sip of her third cup of coffee, belatedly realizing it probably wasn’t the best move if she wanted to stop the nervous jitters. Matt had done his part, putting away two servings of pancakes with a healthy side of bacon, and if it was even possible, Brayden had eaten more. Still, the sheer amount of food they’d consumed hadn’t stopped her from worrying. After breakfast, she’d told Brayden he could watch a whole movie, even before he’d done any chores. The words had barely been out of her mouth before he’d flung his arms around her waist, hugging her and yelling out, “Thanks, Mom!” before he’d bounded off to the den. She hoped it would be long enough for her and Matt to talk uninterrupted.

Matt was the one holding back from her now. He’d stiffened when she’d wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him “hello” on the cheek when he’d walked in the door. She’d put it down to him wanting to shower after shift first, but after he’d stepped away, her senses caught up with her. He was neat, his uniform clean, and he didn’t smell even remotely of smoke. Whatever had happened—or not—on shift, he’d cleaned up before coming home. Maybe nothing had happened at all, it had been a quiet one, and he’d been bored out of his mind the entire shift. Maybe he’d been expecting her to call and she hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t like that she’d helped herself to his cupboard to make breakfast before he got home. Maybe . . . 

Stop!

Lauren stopped the line of thought in its tracks. She was being ridiculous. There was no point second-guessing what was going on in Matt’s mind. She’d done enough of that years earlier, and look where it had gotten them. It was entirely possible that he was just giving her space after her own enforced distance before he’d left on shift. She wasn’t going to know until she stopped being a coward and just told him.

“Look, Matt . . .”

“Lauren . . .”

She jumped slightly at the sound of Matt’s voice, saying her name at exactly the same time she’d spoken. Damn, his face looked so serious. Now she was starting to worry about more than just her secret. “Matt? What’s wrong?” Had she been wrong about the shift being quiet?

He didn’t speak for a moment, probably only a few seconds, but to Lauren, it felt endless. He sat back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face, and for the first time that morning, she noticed just how tired he looked. “Matt?”

“There was a visitor at work today,” he said. She let out a breath when he started talking, but the nerves returned when she noticed he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes were focused on the wall just to the left of her shoulder. “A detective.”

She couldn’t stop the gasp, and Matt’s gaze swung over to her. His eyes burned with both anger and passion, and she forced herself not to look away. “What did he want?”

“He had a note from a fire we attended yesterday,” he spat out. “Fuck, Lauren, it was awful. A single mom and her son, killed in their own home before the whole building was set ablaze.”

Lauren’s heart went out to him. What must it be like to witness something like that, let alone to not be able to save the victims? Even without her suspicions over Victor’s involvement in why Matt had left town all those years ago, she wouldn’t ever be able to fault him the nightmares. Firefighters—and other first responders—did a hell of a job, but he had to be carrying baggage from witnessing scenes like that. It would be impossible not to.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “I need to know why you’re in my town.”

A weight formed in her stomach, and Lauren swallowed. “What do you mean? I had no idea that you were even here when . . . fuck, Matt. I had no idea you were even alive!”

He leaned forward, grabbing one of her hands and squeezing it. It was the same gesture he’d done many times the previous few days, but that time it felt different. It wasn’t simply loving, no, that was fear . . . desperation. “Why did you run?”

A chill went through her. What the hell had happened while he’d been away? Had someone caught up with him? But Victor’s goons weren’t anywhere around . . . 

Lauren went still.

The fair! She hadn’t imagined a damn thing.

“I thought I’d gotten away.” Her voice was small. She looked down at the table, studying the small flecks and changing colors in the wood. If she didn’t have something to concentrate on, she was going to lose it.

“Lauren! Why did you run?!” Matt stood, pacing across the kitchen floor. “I need to know how much danger we’re all in.”

The rock forming in her stomach dropped, feeling like it was going to take her out with it. Lauren swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. It was either that or hyperventilate. She’d made the decision to tell Matt the truth about Brayden, but somehow she’d thought the rest of the story would remain just a horrible part of her past. She should have known that she would never truly escape Victor. “He would have taken Brayden.”

Matt looked up, his gaze sharp. “What?”

She swallowed, then spoke again, her voice stronger. She had to be stronger. “Victor Mancini. He was grooming Brayden for a place in his . . . business. I couldn’t let that happen.” Matt’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent and so Lauren kept talking. “He was always attentive to Brayden as he grew up, but we had James.” She stood up, heading to the counter to fill up her cup for her fourth cup of coffee. Screw it, she needed the caffeine. “But then James died, and everything changed.” She walked back to the table, looking up at Matt, but she couldn’t bring herself to take his hand. “It was so damn sudden. James had been talking about leaving, making a new life, just the three of us, but then he died and suddenly . . .”

Matt stiffened, his hands moving to grip the edge of the table. His knuckles turned white from the strength of his grip. “Lauren? What happened to James?”

“He was down at the dock, getting the boat ready. We were going to take it out the next day. James wanted to take Brayden fishing, and we figured we’d make a day of it—take lunch on board, and spend the day out on the ocean. When he didn’t come home for dinner, I was worried, but I didn’t call the cops until after I’d put Brayden to bed. I didn’t want to scare him.” She closed her eyes. “Damn it. If I’d just called the cops earlier . . .”

Matt lurched forward, grabbing her hand. “You couldn’t have done a damn thing, Lauren. Trust me. I know that all too well.”

She looked at him, his face fuzzy through her tears. When had she started crying? “At first it was just little things: Victor volunteering to take Brayden out when I needed some time alone. But then he wanted him to switch to James’ old school, join a sports team Victor chose. It was all these small steps. I didn’t notice until it was too late. He was grooming him, Matt, making him the perfect solider that James never was, to take over the organization.”

Matt’s face was grim as he nodded. “And Victor wouldn’t let his grandson go. Not without the mother of all fights.”

God! Tears streamed down her face, but Lauren ignored them. She took both of Matt’s hands in hers, holding tight. He caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs, and her lip trembled as more tears fell. If this was the last moment she would have to be close to him, at least she could feel his touch one last time.

“That’s what he doesn’t know,” she said, her gaze glued to his. “And what you don’t know, either.” This was it. Lauren took a deep breath and then jumped off the cliff.

“Matt, Brayden isn’t James’ son.”