*It was a long night, kid… but I'm sure we all made the best of it.*
"Was it?"
"Yeah! Mama Lou let us stay up till ten."
Hadley raises both of her brows. "Ten."
"Ten."
I crouch down next to them. "Nash."
"Yeah?"
"That's a fine job, partner. Pourin' the milk."
His face lights up.
Diesel pushes between us and lays down on the porch boards with a long groan, satisfied that his family is reassembled and his morning is now allowed to start over from a stationary position.
Hadley reaches for my hand without looking up from her boy. Her fingers thread through mine on the porch boards between us.
I stay crouched.
*This is my family, this, right here.*
We head inside, and Hadley makes Nash a plate of leftover eggs and bacon. He sits at the kitchen table and eats with the focused single-mindedness of a six-year-old whose movie-night cereal has worn off. Hadley does the dishes because I'm not, in fact, her maid. Diesel settles on the rug.
I sit at the desk. Three monitors come alive. I pull the Bell file first.
The audit at Bell has moved faster than I expected. Todd has been called in for a meeting at the home office in Houston tomorrow afternoon. The meeting is on his company calendar under the subject line *Compliance Discussion*. He doesn't know what it means yet. He will tomorrow.
That's the slow burn. It's working.
I close the Bell file. I'm about to open the Hartley feed when my phone rings.
Banshee.
I pick up. "Yeah?"
His voice is even, but it's the even voice he uses when something has just happened. "Boy in a black Explorer just rolled up. Says he's here to see Hadley Cross. Says she's expectin' him."
I stand up from the chair. "She isn't. Tell him to leave."
"He's not leavin'. Bastard is stubborn as a fuckin' mule."
Anger boils in my chest. "I'll be down."
I look at Hadley. She is at the sink with the dishtowel in her hand, her back to me, but her shoulders have gone still. She heard. She turns around with the dishtowel still in her hand. "What is it?"
"Todd's at the gate."
The dishtowel goes very still. She doesn't drop it but her chin lifts. She looks at Nash on the rug, then looks back at me. "Are you handlin' it?"
"I'm handlin' it, baby. Stay here. Door locked behind me. Diesel stays inside."
Her voice shakes a little. "Okay."
I cross the kitchen, cup her jaw in my hand and press my forehead against hers for one second. "You're okay, baby."
