“But you got him home so much faster.” Donna released her, dabbing a tissue at her eyes, a gesture that had clearly become habitual. She looked haggard, her eyes red and puffy, the lines around them and her mouth deeper, dragging the skin of her face lower.
“How are you doing?” Molly asked her, working very hard not to watch Brady on the other side of the foyer embracing his sister-in-law, who was sobbing softly. Even out of the corner of Molly’s eye, she could see reverence in his every touch. His feelings for Jessica hadn’t changed. In fact, they’d be even worse now.
So much for that spark of hope.
“Oh, you know.” Donna led everyone into the living room and settled on the couch, reaching a hand out to Brady, who managed to release Jessica enough to grip it. He settled the two of them next to his mother, and his father sank heavily into the recliner. Molly hesitated, but as they asked Brady about the trip, she decided to escape to the kitchen to get drinks and snacks. She knew neither Donna nor Jessica would have been eating, and maybe they’d be comforted enough by Brady’s presence to do so now.
Plus, it gave her an excuse to escape.
She was trying to keep her mind blank while she found a tray and started gathering items. Brady walked in as she pulled a pile of condiments and sandwich fixings from the fridge.
“Jessica says she might be able to manage some soup.” He stood next to the island in the center of the large kitchen. “She can’t remember when she last ate.”
Molly choked back an irritated reply. Jessica had just lost her husband and had no clue about the subtext of that loss. Brady would be solicitous even if he wasn’t in love with her. “Check the pantry wall, there should be some cans in there.”
He hesitated, and Molly frowned. Didn’t he remember where the pantry was? Hell, maybe not. He hadn’t been here in years. But then he gave a little start, as if he’d been lost in his head, and turned to the wall behind him, unerringly opening the door for the canned goods.
Guilt niggled at Molly. She had to tell Brady, before someone else mentioned it. She should have told him long before now, but it had seemed not so much like pouring salt in his wounds—all of them, old and new—but rubbing it in hard with steel wool. But she’d held off as long as she could, and no time was going to be better than now.
“She’s a wreck,” he said, coming back to the counter and digging in a drawer for a can opener. “And she’s confused. She’s asking about the guy who came to tell her, and why he was so vague about the details.”
“I figured she would eventually. What did they tell her?” Molly had never bothered asking. She was the only one who knew he’d died on the job and that they wouldn’t get the truth, so the lie didn’t matter. But now she was curious.
“Car accident. You’d think that would be enough, but Jessica’s not dumb.” He poured the soup into a pan and set it on the burner, lighting the gas and adjusting the flame.
Molly kept her opinions to herself. Okay, so Jessica wasn’t dumb. And Molly considered her a friend. But she didn’t like the way Jess had handled Brady’s declaration, way back when, and she was afraid of how she would use him now.
Which brought her back to the news she’d kept to herself. Crap. She hated this.
“Brady.” She took a deep breath and said his name again when he just stared blankly into the soup.
“What?” He blinked up at her.
“I have to tell you something.”
Fear flickered across his face before he visibly steeled himself. “What?”
“It’s Jessica. I don’t think your parents know yet—or they didn’t before they got the news about Chris.” More fear, and this time not so easily dealt with, so Molly hurried to explain. “She’s pregnant. About two months along.”
“She’s—” Brady stared at her, mouth open in shock, before he turned away and ran his hand down his face. “Oh, man. No wonder… Did Chris know?”
“Yes, but no one else.”
“Except you.” There was just a hint of accusation in his tone, but he didn’t look at her.
She would not feel guilty. It had not been her decision to keep it a secret, or even to know the secret. “Jessica wanted someone with her at the doctor, and Chris was out of town.”
“Of course he was.” There was more accusation there, but he immediately seemed to regret it. “How far along is she?”
“Two months,” Molly repeated gently. “It’s a delicate time. I was worried when she first got the news about— Well, she was so hysterical. But being with your parents helps. They probably know now. She would have had to tell them at the hospital.”
“Yeah. Mom said something I didn’t get, but now—” He moved quickly to pull the pan off the stove as it bubbled up to the top. “I can’t even imagine how hard this is for her.”
Molly listened silently, assembling sandwiches, while Brady went on about poor Jessica. She was Molly’s friend, a raw new widow, facing being a single mother. The weight of all that would be devastating to anyone. Even if Brady had never declared his feelings for Jessica, it would be natural for her to latch onto him right now, and for him to offer whatever she needed from him.
Being jealous of that would make Molly an evil person.
She finished the tray and hefted it to follow Brady, carrying his lone soup bowl, back into the living room.
“Heavens!” Donna jumped up and took the soup bowl from Brady. “Help her! I can’t believe you let her carry that heavy thing all by herself.”
Brady quickly turned and grabbed the tray. “Sorry. I was a little distracted.”
The wry twist of his mouth, the sincerity in his eyes, soothed Molly’s disgruntlement. A bit. “It’s fine. I would have said something if I couldn’t handle it.” And maybe she wanted to wallow in her martyrdom, just a little. She stifled a sigh. She really needed to get over herself. How was now any different from twelve years ago, when she’d been in love with her best friend, plotted 24/7 how to get him to notice her, only to have him fall instantly in love with a woman he couldn’t have?
You had sex, idiot. That’s what’s different.
Oh, yeah.
She handed out sandwiches, accepting Rick’s thanks and Donna’s praise for remembering what everyone liked. She gave Jessica a spoon, since Brady naturally hadn’t thought of one, and rolled her eyes at him when he thanked her, all sheepishly charming but hovering over Jessica like a daddy emperor penguin.
“Aren’t you eating, dear?” Donna asked Molly, concerned. “You need food more than any of us.”
“Of course I am.” She hadn’t even considered eating, but she supposed it set a bad example not to. Plus, all she’d had since leaving South America was airplane snacks. She reached for the last ham and cheddar, her hand colliding with Brady’s. She slapped it automatically.
“You already had one!” she chided. “Take the turkey.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Everyone chuckled at the veneer of “old times,” and fell silent for a moment while they ate. Then Donna cleared her throat, and Molly knew it was time for a more serious discussion.
…
Brady didn’t really listen while his mother talked about funeral arrangements and making a list of things that needed to be taken care of, such as insurance. SIEGE would be handling most of that stuff, though she didn’t know it. They had a very efficient office staff, which was good for Jessica.
Not that she’d see it that way, he thought grimly. She looked so frail. She couldn’t have lost so much weight in the last few days, but he didn’t want to touch her for fear of breaking her. She’d balanced her soup bowl on her lap, but her hand trembled as she tried to bring the spoon to her mouth. Broth splashed back into the bowl, a few drops landing on her pants.
In a flash, he was on his knees, taking the bowl gently from her. “Let me help,” he murmured.
“Thank you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and only half as substantial. “It’s good.” She managed a tremulous smile, and Brad
y’s heart cracked.
“Are you still on…medication?” He hoped they’d given her something safe for the baby. Normally she’d have made sure, but from what Molly had said, Jess might have been too hysterical to mention it. He’d glanced at her belly only once, and she wasn’t showing much, despite her thinness.
Jessica swallowed. “No, it was just that one night, and they had me in the hospital so they could keep an eye on the baby.” She acted like she thought Brady already knew, had known before now, so she must have told his parents. Or maybe she didn’t have the capacity to think that far into the topic. Or maybe Molly had said she would tell him, but had held off without Jessica knowing.
He scowled internally and fed Jess another spoonful. None of that mattered. Just the here and now.
“Did they say the baby’s okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine.”
“A girl.” His cracked heart now felt like slivers had been shoved into it. Selfish bastard. “Chris always wanted a daughter.” Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. How the hell did he know what Chris wanted? So he’d mentioned it in those demented, rambling, lovesick phone calls he’d made to Brady back in college—that didn’t mean he’d still felt that way. But how could he not? As frail as she was, Jessica was still beautiful, now in an almost ethereal way.
A snort that sounded suspiciously like Molly’s echoed in the back of his head. But he couldn’t help it. He’d always thought about Jessica in ridiculous terms.
“It’s too soon to tell, really,” Jessica admitted. Talking about the baby seemed to be giving her strength. “I just feel like she’s a girl.”
“Then she probably is,” Brady murmured absentmindedly. He was going to be an uncle. Not the same set of responsibilities being a father would bring, but certainly more now that Chris was gone. Wow. An image flashed into his head, a tiny little girl with wispy blond hair and her father’s dark blue eyes. Too many emotions pierced him at once, and he pushed them aside, concentrated on the present, the woman beside him.
After he’d fed Jessica about half the bowl, she sat back against the sofa cushions, her hand over her abdomen. “That’s all I can do for now. Thank you, Brady.” She reached out to pat his arm. He twisted to put the bowl on the coffee table and regained his seat on the sofa.
“I still feel like I’m underwater.” Jessica leaned against his shoulder. “Most of the time, I can’t process that he’s gone, that I’ll never see him again. Then suddenly the pain paralyzes me and I don’t know how I’m going to make it.” She broke into tears and covered her face. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, don’t be sorry.” He wrapped his arm around and pulled her to his chest, where she sobbed into his T-shirt. Her hair was soft and fine under his hand.
After a moment he realized his parents and Molly had fallen silent and were watching. His father looked weary, his mother anxiously concerned. Molly wore the implacable mask of a SIEGE agent, but Brady thought he could see pity and compassion behind it. He frowned at her. Which emotion was aimed at whom? He didn’t need her pity. And he wasn’t going to think about why she thought he deserved it.
After a minute, Jessica’s cries faded. She was too weak to sustain them, he thought.
“Come on.” He moved to rise and lift her to her feet. “You should lie down.”
“I’ve spent most of the week in bed.” But she let him support her down the hall to the back bedroom. “Your parents are so good to let me stay here. I can’t face…can’t be—” She let out a sob and he hugged her, letting her regain her composure before they walked the last few feet into the bedroom.
The bed was unmade, its mess testifying to her restless sleep—or wakefulness. Brady hurried to straighten and smooth the covers, fluff the pillows, and help her lie down. She curled on her side, facing the edge, one arm protective across her abdomen, the other hand gripping his.
“Don’t leave. At least for a few minutes.” Tears sparkled in her eyes.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me.” He gently pulled his hand from hers so he could drape a blanket over her.
She reached for him again and drew in a deep breath. “I keep thinking of silly things,” she said, her voice high and tight. “Like how he won’t make me potato pancakes on Sunday mornings anymore. The Sundays he’s home. He was gone all the time, Brady.” She paused to swallow. “I was lucky to get him a full week before he left on another business trip. But when I asked him to cut back the traveling, he said he couldn’t. It was too important.”
Brady used his own implacable mask to hide the anger burning at her words. He understood what SIEGE meant, how many people had been saved by the intelligence they gathered and distributed. He knew firsthand the holes in a guy that could be filled by that kind of career. But Chris shouldn’t have had holes to fill. He had the most amazing woman in the world as his wife. A child on the way. Friends and family. What had been so compelling about his job that he’d refused his wife’s wishes?
Chris might have told Jessica he couldn’t cut back his travel, but that was a lie. No assignment was mandatory. SIEGE demanded a lot—secrecy, loyalty, a belief in bigger things like patriotism and the greater good. But the company operated on the belief that their people were more likely to fight for those things if they had smaller things to fight for, too. Personal stakes created greater bonds than global ones.
So what the hell had compelled Chris to spend so much time away from the woman he loved?
“Was it always that way?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He’s always managed to be here for important things. But he only traveled about half the time. It’s been increasing for about a year now.”
“Since you decided to get pregnant?” he guessed.
She nodded again, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He said he’d be able to eliminate the travel completely by the time the baby was born, but Brady,” she cried, “it’s too late. If he had been here, he wouldn’t have died.”
Brady didn’t tell her that people died at home, too, that Chris’s insistence on travel hadn’t killed him. It was logical, but only partly true. It hadn’t been the travel, it had been the mission.
“Please, Brady, hold me.” The plea broke his heart again—how many times was this woman going to do that to him?—and he toed off his shoes before climbing onto the bed behind her. It should have felt wrong, as she rolled over and snuggled into him, her sobs subsiding. It shouldn’t have felt like welcoming her home, not under these circumstances. But God help him, when she shifted closer, pressing her face to his chest and her knee between his, he wrapped his arm across her back, tucked her head under his chin, and moments later, fell asleep with the woman he loved in his arms. And nothing had ever felt so right.
Chapter Five
Molly struggled through most of the to-do list she was writing for Donna before the other woman noticed that her eyes wouldn’t stay open.
“Oh, sweetheart, what am I doing to you?”
Molly pried her eyelids open and frowned at Donna. “What?”
“I shouldn’t be so heartless, putting you to work after you spent the last three days traveling, bringing Brady home.”
Among other things. “It’s okay,” she said aloud, to keep herself from mentioning the fighting and the guns and the sex. “I didn’t sleep last night, though. I think I’d better go find a ho—”
“If you finish that word, young lady, I will wash your mouth out with soap.” Donna surged to her feet, purpose giving her movements a little strength, her cheeks a little color. “You’ll stay here with us. I know we’re a little crowded, but it’s better to be with family right now.”
Her voice broke on the last few words, and Molly didn’t have the heart to decline. She let Donna lead her up to the third floor, where they’d set up a couple of twin beds under the eaves. They were draped in red and blue quilts. A small white table between them held two cute lamps, with Brady’s old stereo on the lower shelf. Bookcases flanked the doorway, stocked with old pic
ture and chapter books. It was so clearly set up in the anticipation of grandchildren that tears filled Molly’s eyes.
“You can use the main bathroom on the second floor.” Donna patted her shoulder in sympathy but kept her face turned away, probably to keep herself from breaking down again, too. “You’ll share that with Brady. We have our master bath, and Jessica has the little bathroom behind the kitchen. You know, Rick said this house was too big when we bought it.” She smiled at Molly and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Now I’m thinking it’s just right. You let me know if you need anything, all right?”
“Of course. Thanks, Donna. I’ll probably sleep straight through until morning. Then I can get started on some of this.” She waved the pad she still held, frowned at it, and dropped it on top of the bookshelf so she could go downstairs for her bag and to use the bathroom.
She realized, after she’d gone all the way through the quiet house and back, that Brady wasn’t in the upstairs guest room. Nor was he in the living room or kitchen, where she’d stopped for a glass of water, nor outside near the cars, where she’d gone to retrieve her stuff. He’d never come out of Jessica’s room after going to help her lie down.
“It’s fine,” she muttered, jaw muscles clenching enough to hurt. She yanked on the water spigot in the sink to scrub her hands. “She needs comfort. Brady’s like Chris, that has to be comforting.” Molly struggled not to let jealousy override compassion and pity. Compassion for Jessica, newly widowed and soon to be a single mom, and for Brady, who’d lost his brother and faced the downside of keeping himself from his family. The pity was for herself, for being so pathetic and mean. And she did feel all that. Really. Except the pity. She’d done nothing to be pitied for.
So she loved the wrong man. Hardly unique.
By the time she’d finished washing up and trudged back up the stairs to the attic, the jealousy had ebbed, leaving only concern. Her friends were both vulnerable, both cared for each other in multiple ways…it was natural they’d turn to each other. But would it last, whatever they were finding down there in that back bedroom? Was Brady destined to be crushed when Jessica couldn’t handle the guilt, or decided she didn’t love him? Would Brady take over everything for Jessica, letting her wear the title of Fragile Princess indefinitely, so she never built the strength she’d need to raise her child?
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