It’s a shitty thing to do, to blindside Wes like this. No matter how I turn it around in my head, it sucks. If it was me, I wouldn’t want to walk into this nice family dinner only to find my oldest enemy sitting across from me at the table.

Summer’s out jogging, and I’m standing here in the shower, trying to plan my way out of being an asshole.

Before I saw her face in that office building that day, I didn’t care about being an asshole, which is why all that shit happened after my discharge. It said “honorable.”

I’m not honorable.

At least, I wasn’t then.

I haven’t heard anything more about Alex. Alexei, I remind myself for the thousandth time. It’s been a couple of months, at least. Maybe he’s left the city again. I wouldn’t put it past a guy like him to drop by, wreak some havoc, and then disappear. He wants me to be on edge. I’m not going to give him the pleasure.

The dinner with Wes seems more pressing.

I’m washing the scent of Summer off of me—it’s a fucking shame, watching it go down the drain with the soap—when everything running through my head comes to a screeching halt. My thoughts are interrupted mid-sentence by a sound that’s barely audible over the hiss of the hot water, the cascade against the floor of the shower.

The buzz of my phone.

I run my hands through my hair and turn off the water. I reach the phone before it stops ringing, but honestly, I’m glad Summer’s not here to see me hop like that—frantically, trying to wrap a towel around my waist with one hand. I know exactly what she’d say. Something wildly inappropriate to entice me to get back into bed with her. As if she needs to say anything to entice me back into bed.

I snatch the phone up fast enough to see that it’s not a number I have saved. I don’t have a lot of numbers saved. Summer and I got the phones together last month, our first bill together. She let me have my name on the account. She also got herself a shiny new iPhone. I insisted on getting last year’s model.

“Hello?” I lean my bad leg against the bed and tie on the towel. I know the people on the phone can’t see me. It doesn’t matter.

“I’m looking for Dayton Nash.”

“This is Dayton Nash.”

“Mr. Nash, I’m a nurse on staff in the emergency department at Woodhull. Your wife was brought in about twenty minutes ago for—”

I don’t hear what she says. There’s a rushing sound in my ears, a seizing pressure in my chest. It doesn’t matter. I’m already in motion, hopping for the closet. I lean against the door and yank out boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt and throw them onto the bed.

“What’s the address?”

“Sir, I want to give you the information you’re going to need—”

“Stop talking and tell me the address.” It’s the kind of tone I used a thousand times in the military. This nurse is working in the closest thing civilians have to a war zone. She knows authority when she hears it.

Or maybe she knows it’s thinly disguised panic.

Either way, she tells me the address.

Exactly one minute later, I run out of the apartment, no jacket, only my phone and wallet and that address on a sticky note. I don’t even lock the door.

* * *

The ultrasound room is so dark I can’t see shit at first.

All I see is that everyone startles when I burst through the door. It’s flashes of motion at the corner of my eyes and I sweep the room, eyes on every corner, once, twice. It’s an old habit. I keep looking for details even as my pupils adjust to the darkness.

“Summer?”

Summer’s bed in the emergency room—it has to be the worst emergency room in the city—was empty when I got here, and you’d better fucking believe I wasn’t going to wait around for her to get back.

My breathing is steady, but my heart is racing.

The ultrasound tech turns, the dim light from the machine giving her face an eerie glow. “Sir, you can’t be in here.”

Footsteps in the hallway. The nurse who’s been trailing me all the time comes in, out of breath. “God,” she says, clapping a hand to her chest. “I don’t know how you can move that fast with—” She registers the look on the tech’s face, which says call security. “This is the father. He insisted.”

“Day, I’m right here.”

Summer’s voice is soft, and I hear the hint of a tremble, and fuck everybody else in this room. I cross over to the side of her bed and gather her into my arms. Her hoodie is hiked up over her belly and there’s a paper sheet tucked into her capris. All of her is smeared with ultrasound gel.

I take her face in my hands. She looks okay. Shaken, but okay. She gives me a little nod.

Pain spikes up through my prosthetic. The adrenaline kept it at bay until this moment, but it’s a raw, twisting pain. Summer doesn’t need to know about it. I sit down heavily on a stool next to the bed and entwine my fingers through hers.

The ultrasound tech clears her throat. “Are we okay to resume the ultrasound?”

“Yes,” Summer says. “Yes.” Her grip on my hand tightens, and another silvery thread of adrenaline courses through my veins. What’s wrong with the baby?

The tech presses the wand against her belly, swiping it back and forth until the baby emerges.

At first, all I see is a blob, but then the features resolve themselves—a tiny alien head, and—holy shit. Fists. Fists punching at the air.

“Here’s baby,” the tech says neutrally. Summer’s holding my hand so tight I think she’s cutting off the blood flow. More swiping of the wand, more careful examination. “Very active,” the tech announces, after what feels like a thousand years. “I don’t see any evidence of bleeding. Your baby is perfectly healthy.”

Summer lets out a strangled sob and turns to bury her face in my arms.

The tech stands up, wipes off Summer’s belly with a towel, and turns off the machine. “I’ll give you a few minutes.” She hits a switch on the way out and lights—dim, soft lights—rise in the room.

I can finally see her clearly.

Summer’s hair is disheveled, pulled to one side, and I smooth it away from her face, before wrapping my arms around her. I hold her until her shoulders stop shaking.

“God,” she says, sitting up and pulling her hoodie back down. “I was so scared.”

I take her hand. “Sunny, why? What happened?”

Her chin trembles again and she takes a deep breath. “I was running.”

“Did you fall?”

“Yes, but—” She shakes her head. “I was a few blocks away, almost to that park, and a car pulled up next to me. Some guy inside was calling out my name.” Summer shivers. “My full name. I tried to ignore him, but then he started asking about you. Asking where you were. He said, I know you know.”

Oh, Jesus.

“What did he look like?”

“I didn’t see him.” She raises one hand to her hair, looking down. “I tried to look, but—” Her eyes meet mine, wide and regretful. “I was fucking terrified. I ran into the park and my foot caught on, I don’t know, a piece of concrete? I hit a planter on the way down. Right in the belly.” She winces. “Who do you know that would be looking for you?”

I gather her up in my arms and stroke her hair absently.

I know exactly who’d be looking for me, and I know why.

I never thought he’d come back for his revenge. Not like this.

I was wrong.

And now he’s found us.

“Don’t worry about it, Sunny. Don’t worry for a second.”

She wraps her arms around me and holds on tight. “Day?”

“Yeah?”

I brace for an argument, even as my mind races through all the possible options for keeping her safe. We could move out of the city. No. She’d never do that. She’d never leave Heroes on the Homefront. We could move somewhere else in the city. But Summer’s not in any shape to apartment hunt. Not again. Last time was hard enough, and in the end, we basically lucked into the place in Bed-Stuy.

“Can we get out of here? This place is awful.”

“Of course.” I help her up off the bed, my mind racing. I don’t want to stay at the house tonight, but I don’t want to stress her out. That would be the worst thing.

I smile at her like my past isn’t slashing its way into the present. “You know what I think we need?”

“What?” Summer leans her head against my arm.

“A little vacation.”

She shakes her head. “We can’t afford that.”

“We can,” I say, repeating our word game from this morning. God, it was just this morning.

She squeezes my hand in agreement.