That baffling piece of information was still on her mind long after she’d hung up with Missy. She made a mental note to tease Seth about it when she saw him, but teasing him was the last thing she wanted to do when she walked into her living room a half hour later.
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she absorbed the scene before her. Seth was sprawled on the couch, his gray eyes focused on the Pixar movie playing on the TV screen, but it wasn’t his willingness to watch a bunch of animated toys dance around that stunned her.
It was the two children tucked on either side of his chest, fast asleep.
Her children.
Seth was actually cuddling on the couch with her kids.
His gaze sought hers, one finger coming up to his lips. She was surprised the twins had already conked out—it was only eight o’clock, and normally they didn’t go to bed for another hour or so.
“Let me take them to their room,” she whispered.
In the end, Seth was the one who carried them, and he even tucked Sophie in while Miranda tended to Jason. She was floored when she noticed him brush a lock of hair off her daughter’s forehead with infinite tenderness.
What the heck had happened here tonight?
She couldn’t wait to get some answers, but the mom in her needed to get the basics out of the way first. “Did they eat their dinner?” she asked as she shut the twins’ door and joined Seth in the hallway.
“Every last bite.” He fished his smoke pack from his pocket. “Can we do this interrogation outside?”
Nodding, she followed him out to the backyard. “Did they give you any trouble?”
“None.” His movements were oddly ungainly as he lit a cigarette and sank into one of the chairs near the door. “Miranda…”
It suddenly occurred to her that he hadn’t so much as touched her since she’d walked in the house. No kiss. No hug. Not even a hand squeeze. Wariness promptly rose inside her, making her stomach churn.
“What’s going on, Seth?” And then just like that, she knew. He hated her kids. He didn’t want to make a real, solid go of this after all.
Her heart dropped, but at the same time, annoyance and indignation rustled through her.
“So that’s it, huh? You were with them for two hours and you’ve decided that you can’t—”
“I yelled at Jason and made him cry.”
Miranda’s jaw snapped shut. Then fell open. Her body went colder than a block of ice. “Excuse me?”
The despair on Seth’s face did nothing to dim the anger that entered her bloodstream. “It was a moment of panic. Jason came home, and he was asking me to play baseball with him and—”
“And the idea was so terrifying you decided to yell at him?” she interrupted, her mouth tightening in a line of outrage.
“It was the uniform. I…” A ragged breath escaped. “It caught me off-guard.”
Now she was just confused. “What, you’ve never seen a Little League uniform before, Seth?”
He took a quick drag and then extinguished his cigarette in the small plastic bowl she’d placed on the table earlier for that exact purpose. Her confusion grew as she watched him reach into his pocket for his wallet. He opened the leather flaps, dug something out of one of the card slots and handed it over.
Miranda stared at the square of newsprint. “What’s this?”
“Just read it,” he said gruffly.
The paper was folded about fifteen times, so it took a few moments to unfold it and smooth it out. She figured it was a newspaper article, and she was right, except she wasn’t prepared for the headline that glared up at her. It was written in huge block letters, the lettering a faded gray when it had once been crisp black, but there was no mistaking what it said.
MISSING BOY’S BODY FOUND IN DESERT.
Her breath caught. The picture beneath the headline showed an adorable little boy in a white baseball uniform, a red cap on his head, and a big grin on his face. He was missing his two front teeth and giving a thumbs-up to the camera. The caption read: Adam Jonathan Masterson, age 7.
“Is this…” She searched Seth’s veiled eyes.
“My younger brother.”
“Oh. Oh God, Seth.” Shock and horror spun inside her, along with a rush of sympathy. She stared at the date on the top of the page, and understanding suddenly dawned.
She stumbled to her feet and went to him, sinking into his lap and slowly lifting up his shirt. She traced her fingers over the row of dates inked below his rib cage.
“The day you became a SEAL,” she murmured, touching the third date on the list. Her fingers moved to the last date. “First time you saved a life.” She touched the first row of numbers, exactly one day before the date on the article. “The day they found your brother’s body.” Her fingers hovered over the second row and she looked up at him, questioning.
“The day we buried him,” he said hoarsely.
“Oh, Seth. I’m sorry.”