Lucy smiled. Carina was a workaholic, but being pregnant had certainly changed her. She’d been trying to conceive for two years, and suffered three miscarriages. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to carry a baby to term, and this little guy—or gal—was a miracle. Lucy was happy for her. Carina planned on going back to work eventually, but since her husband’s PI business with Connor, their brother, was finally in the black, Lucy wondered if she would.
Lucy hoped she could get away after the baby was born, even for a weekend, but she was also apprehensive. When she’d been a teenager, the idea of falling in love, getting married, and having a family was a distant dream—far in the future, but pretty much guaranteed. She’d never given it much thought.
Until she was eighteen.
Her rape and the brutality she’d endured for nearly two days resulted in extensive damage, and her uterus had been removed. The surgery had saved her life, but she’d never have children. She couldn’t even think about what ifs or maybe whens, because she had no choice. It had been stolen from her, and for a long time she’d been depressed. She hated visiting her counselor after the rape—she didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to discuss her feelings or her anger or her fear. But the one thing the counselor said that stuck with her was that losing children she hadn’t known she’d wanted left her in a state of perpetual mourning.
It had gotten better over time. Sean had been a rock. He said when they were ready to have a family, they’d adopt. She liked that idea, because there were so many kids who needed a stable home. But that was far down the road. She was twenty-six, Sean thirty. They had time. They weren’t even married.
Yet … spending a week with Sean’s brother Duke, his wife, Nora, and their newborn, Molly, had brought back all those feelings of loss, and a deep sense of mourning for something intangible. Lucy couldn’t articulate it, and she didn’t want to talk about it with Sean. He’d do everything to understand her feelings. He’d listen and hold her and tell her he loved her.
But he’d never have a baby with her. Sean would make a wonderful father, and she feared by loving her, he was missing an amazing opportunity. That she was denying him a child of his own. Watching Sean with Molly reminded her that she wasn’t whole, she’d never have a child that was half her, half Sean. Then she’d feel guilty, thinking about all the other women who couldn’t have children. Why couldn’t she just accept it and get on with her life? Why did this overwhelming sense of loss keep coming back? Why did she feel like she was still broken?
She sighed and closed her eyes. Tears burned behind her lids, but she didn’t cry.
She hated feeling sorry for herself.
“Lucy,” a voice said. “Lucy, I’m home.”
She blinked and stretched. “I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”
“Nearly ten. I’m sorry I’m so late. I got wrapped up in the files at HWI.”
She yawned. “I think I’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.”
“You needed it.” He sat next to her and kissed her. Looked her in the eyes as he rubbed her neck. “You still look tired. Did you eat?”
“I had a late lunch.”
He frowned. “That’s not sufficient. Sit, relax, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“I’m not an invalid. I don’t want a sandwich. Are there any leftovers from last night?”
“I might be able to whip something up in the microwave. Stay. I’ll be right back.”
Sean seemed to like waiting on her. She appreciated it, but didn’t expect it. She stood and fully stretched, hearing her bones crack and pop. The couch was comfortable, but not good for sleeping.
Five minutes later, Sean returned with two plates of barbecue leftovers. “You gotta love microwaves,” he said when he set them down on the coffee table. He reached into each pocket of his pants and pulled out two beers.
“Wow. Anything else in there?” she teased.
“You’ll have to find out later.” He winked. “Eat. Tell me what all this is.” He picked up the package of paper from Harper’s tablet.
She was glad to talk about work. It distracted her from all the emotions she didn’t want. She explained that the files had been on Harper Worthington’s tablet, that they suspected the list of numbers were land parcels, but admitted she was a bit lost on the dates.
“I know exactly what this is,” he said.
“Really?”
“I’m guessing. But I’ve been going over the BLM audit all day, trying to figure out what had Harper so obsessed with it. Now I think I know—it wasn’t the audit numbers, it was the transactions. I think these dates match up with these parcel numbers, and I think these parcel numbers are properties that the government sold or purchased over the last seven years.”
“Since Adeline Worthington was elected.”
Sean glanced at her. “You think she’s corrupt?”
“I know she is. There’s an undercover FBI investigation ongoing right now. Barry and I almost got pulled from the murder investigation because the UC thought we had exposed him.”
“You met with the undercover agent?”
She told Sean about Logan Dunbar and his fear that she would blow his cover.
“He wanted us off the case because we’re making Adeline nervous.”