Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(58)

As for Wyatt . . . They’d been together only six months. And maybe she did love him, and maybe he did love her. But he didn’t need to be connected to a felon. Not good for his professional future, not good for his personal reputation.

Compartmentalization: She couldn’t undo what she’d done, but she could at least limit the collateral damage.

The skill had certainly helped her stand out as a top security specialist. Clients paid dearly for discretion. A good investigator such as Tessa got in, got out, and didn’t ask a lot of questions along the way. Or volunteer information to the local police. Even if she was sleeping with the investigating officer.

Wyatt should’ve known better than to even ask if she had knowledge of Nicky Frank. That wasn’t how her job worked, and he knew it. A Hail Mary pass on his part, plain and simple.

Then again, Nicole Frank had suffered three concussions. As Wyatt had pointed out, she might not even remember she was a Northledge client. In fact, she might not remember what Tessa had called that night to tell her.

Boundaries, she thought again. Their jobs required boundaries.

She required boundaries.

Because D. D. Warren had been right yesterday: Tessa still was a lone wolf. Even after getting her daughter back. Even after falling in love.

Tessa gave up, got out of bed. She padded through the darkened house into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door, not because she was hungry, but because it was something to do. She pulled out a bottle of orange juice.

When she turned around, Sophie was standing there.

Tessa gasped. Dropped the container. Splattered OJ all over the floor.

“Dammit!”

“Darn it,” Sophie corrected automatically.

“Oh, don’t just stand there. Help me clean it up.”

Sophie yawned, reached for the paper towels. Tessa did the honors of flipping on the overhead lights. It was one thing for her to be alone in the dark, but all these years later Sophie still required light.

“What brings you to the kitchen in the middle of the night?” Tessa asked finally. According to the digital display on the stove, it was 1:22 A.M.

“I heard you.”

“Problems sleeping?”

Sophie shrugged. In other words, no more than usual. She worked at the spill with the sponge. Tessa followed up with damp paper towels.

“Warm milk?” Tessa suggested shortly. “At least I didn’t spill that.”

Sophie smiled; Tessa pulled out the milk.

She warmed it on the stove top, low heat, adding vanilla to taste, an old ritual from the first few months after the incident, when neither she nor Sophie had slept. They’d been a ragged pair of survivors then, barely functioning, each nursing her own scars. They were a curious little family now. Both more comfortable with firing ranges than polite conversation, both still prone to roaming the house at night.

“Do you still miss him?” Sophie asked. She’d taken a seat at the kitchen island, where she could watch Tessa work. Tessa didn’t need an explanation to know who Sophie was asking about. It had been months since they’d last talked about him. But from time to time, Sophie had questions about her stepfather, which Tessa did her best to answer.

“Brian? Sometimes.”

“I don’t remember him much.”

“He loved you.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“But he was sick. A gambling addict. He hurt us.”

Tessa stirred the milk carefully, then glanced up at her daughter. “Why do you ask about him, Sophie? What’s keeping you awake tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Sophie looked away. “I like our family,” she said abruptly. “You, me, Mrs. Ennis. It’s perfect.”

“Even without a dog?”

Sophie flashed a faint smile. “But that’s kinda the point, I guess. Families change. Once we were three. Then we were two. Then we became three again. And now . . .” She glanced up at Tessa. “You like him, don’t you? Wyatt’s not just a stupid fling—”

“Sophie!”

“He’s going to become our fourth. Do you love him?”

“Well, there’s the question of the day,” Tessa murmured.

“Do you?” Sophie demanded.

She was always honest with her daughter: “Yeah. I do.”

“So that’s it. He’ll move in. I’ll have to call him Daddy.”

“You don’t have to do anything. And I don’t know about this moving-in thing. One step at a time.”

Sophie’s turn to look curious. “Why not? If you love him.”

Because I’m afraid, Tessa wanted to say. Because happily ever after never looks the way you think it will from the movies. Maybe it’s not an ending at all, but the beginning of the next terrible misadventure. The future is unreliable, and three years later, the past can still come back to haunt you.

“Relationships take time,” Tessa said at last.

Her daughter nodded but didn’t appear convinced.

“Sophie,” Tessa said at last, leaning her hip against the counter. “What are you most afraid of?” She thought given the mood of the evening, it was a good question for both of them.

“The dark,” her daughter said immediately.