The crib was in a huge box that I’d wrestled up the stairs and then to one corner, where it waited for me to put it together. I’d also bought a mobile, with little stars and moons, that played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” when it turned.

I plopped down on the floor with a sigh, the paint forgotten. I cranked the mobile, holding it and watching it turn as the music played.

Was I going to be enough for this baby? I’d loved my dad, had spent a lot of time with him growing up. It hurt that my baby wouldn’t have that same relationship with its dad. What was I going to say when he or she was old enough to ask where Daddy was? How could I possibly explain that Daddy had chosen to leave us? When would it not hurt anymore to say that?

Kade suddenly stood in the doorway, making me start in surprise. How the heck had he gotten up the stairs without me hearing him?

I quickly swiped at my wet cheeks and set aside the mobile. “You don’t have to stay,” I said, my voice flat, resigned. “If something happens, it’s all on me. I get it.”

But Kade wasn’t paying any attention to me. He was taking in the room, the look on his face one of stunned shock. As if he’d been pretending this wasn’t real, that I wasn’t really pregnant. And maybe he had been.

After a minute or two, he focused on me, sitting on the floor. He seemed to recover his poise and stepped forward, crouching down next to me. Reaching out, he wiped away a stray tear track. Our eyes met.

“Don’t cry, princess,” he said softly. “It kills me when you cry.”

He was so close to me. I couldn’t help leaning forward just slightly, and it was enough for me to rest my forehead against his chest. I let out a trembling sigh, my eyes slipping shut. Yes, I knew that if I had to, I could do this by myself, could raise our child by myself.

But I didn’t want to.

I had no way of convincing Kade that my need of him outweighed all the reasons he thought we shouldn’t be together. If he believed I was better off without him, nothing I said would convince him otherwise. He had to believe it for himself, or he would always have doubts, would always wonder if he should leave me.

But it felt so good to lean on his strength, even if it was only temporary.

Kade lifted a hand, settling it gently on the back of my head. It was not quite an embrace, but I figured I’d take what I could get.

“So are we painting today?” Kade asked.

I pulled back, not meeting his eyes, and nodded.

“Okay then,” he said, getting to his feet. He reached down, offering his hand, which I took and then stood as well.

I’d already painted one wall and had started on another. Kade stirred the paint and poured some into the pan, grabbed a roller, and began painting. I only had one roller, so I picked up a brush and started on the smaller areas around light switches and outlets.

We painted in companionable silence for a while, Kade being much quicker with the roller than I had been. At the rate he was going, we’d be done in an hour or so.

“Did you buy this place?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “with some of the money you left.” A sore spot with me, but I didn’t want to argue.

“Do you have enough?”

“Enough what?” I asked in confusion. “Money?”

“Yeah. Because I have more. If you need it.”

I was on all fours, but stopped painting and turned to stare at him over my shoulder. “You’re joking, right? Kade, I couldn’t spend all that money in my lifetime, much less in a month.” I rolled my eyes, then a thought struck me and I sat back on my haunches.

“Kade,” I said.

“What?” he asked. When I didn’t answer, he paused from painting to glance at me, his brows raised in a question.

“Please tell me you were making a bad joke last night when you said you’d killed ten men.”

Our eyes locked for a moment, then Kade turned back, dipping the roller into the pan of paint. “When have I ever joked about shit like that,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, because the answer was—never. Kade had always been perfectly serious and matter-of-fact about what he did.

Oh my God. Ten people. Kade had killed ten people. That was more than a baseball team. He’d killed a baseball team. Why-why-why?

My thoughts were slightly hysterical and I was reeling from the actual number. And in so little time? How many people had he killed overall? And still the question: Why?

“Take it easy. Just breathe.”

Kade was crouching next to me again, and I realized I was breathing in choked gasps.

Ten people.

“Why?” I managed, looking up at him. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s who I am,” he said.

I shook my head, adamant. “No, it’s not. That is not who you are. You’re a good man—”

“Will you stop?” he cried, jumping to his feet and pacing away from me. “I am not a ‘good man’! I never have been and I never will be, Kathleen!”

I got to my feet, angry now. “That’s not true! I know you believe it, but you’re wrong. What, did you kill those people just to prove to me how horrible you are?”

His eyes flashed blue fire as he glared at me. “I’m not explaining myself to anyone. Not even you.”

“You don’t have to,” I shot back. “You think I don’t know you? That I don’t know that all of this”—I waved my hand to indicate me and him—“and shoving me away and pushing me at Blane, that all of it is because you think you’re some kind of horrible person who doesn’t deserve to be happy?” I used quotey fingers for “deserve.” “Because you’re wrong—”

“I killed those people so I wouldn’t have to feel anymore!”

Kade’s shouting interrupted my tirade. His hands were in fists, his jaw clenched as he stared at me.

“I don’t understand—”

“I couldn’t handle the pain of giving you up,” he said, his voice much quieter. “And I didn’t want to be the person that I am without you. So I came back to Indy to say goodbye. That’s when Blane told me you’d disappeared.”

There was a lot of information in those few sentences and I struggled to process it.

Kade turned away, using the roller to cover the last few inches of the wall that needed paint, then he turned again and picked up the pan.

“I’m going to wash these out,” he said, brushing past me and out the door.

“Giving you up.”

Those words gave me hope. So he had wanted me. Kade hadn’t been lying when he’d said we’d go away together. Now just to figure out a way to convince him we could be together. He didn’t have to say goodbye to anyone, least of all me.

That thought snapped me out of my shock-induced stupor, and I hurried down the stairs, the steps creaking like crazy beneath me.

Rounding the corner, I glimpsed Kade through the window, using the hose out back to clean the brushes. I took a step forward, then was yanked backward.

I spun around in surprise, only to see a strange man in my house. He smiled.

“Oy there, lovey,” he said. “Be still now and this’ll be quick.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I screamed. His hand went to my throat, grabbing me and lifting me to my toes. I didn’t bother trying to pull his arm away—I knew I wouldn’t be able to. His hand squeezed.

My hands were free, so I cupped both my palms and slammed them over his ears. I got him good and he howled in pain, releasing me. I dropped back down to my feet and stumbled. I scrambled, turning to run, but he grabbed the neck of my shirt and yanked me off my feet. I landed hard on my back on the floor and the force of it knocked the wind out of me.

He must’ve decided he didn’t care about the noise a gunshot would make, because that’s when he pulled out a gun. He pointed it right at me and I froze, terror icing my veins. There was nowhere I could go, nothing I could do—

Kade came out of nowhere, hurtling into the guy, and they both crashed to the floor. I watched in horror as they grappled. The gun went skittering across the floor and I crawled to it, then picked it up. I pointed it but couldn’t fire. I wasn’t a good enough shot that I was sure I wouldn’t hit Kade.