Her gazed skimmed over a photo of the three of them together on the beach after her and Danny’s wedding. She’d been sandwiched between them—Danny on one side and Marcus on the other. She reached out and lovingly caressed the frame. Couldn’t help herself. She’d been so secure in that photo, comfortable between the two people she loved most in the world.
Now she didn’t have either of them and wondered if she’d ever find that level of comfort again.
Tears threatened, and she blinked them away. She hadn’t cried this much in months, and she was afraid to start again. She’d almost broken under the weight of the grief last time. Marcus had taken some of that weight for her, allowing her to breathe, but he wasn’t around this time.
She had to do this on her own.
She continued up the stairs and peeked into the room the boys shared whenever they visited Nana Gina. They were happily entrenched in a game on the PlayStation and didn’t notice her in the doorway. She watched them for a moment, marveling at the two little humans that were such a perfect mix between her and Danny, right down to their personalities. Her lighter coloring, his face shape and expressions.
Personality-wise, Colton was like his father—precise, serious, intense. Cooper, her troublemaker, was just like her—all energy and emotion. He jumped around in front of the TV as they played, while Colt sat in a beanbag chair, gnawing on his lower lip in concentration.
They were remarkably resilient. They’d healed better than their sister. Better, even, than her.
She dragged the door shut, careful not to make any noise. As much as she loved those two monsters, she wasn’t ready to face their endless barrage of questions yet.
Next, she peeked in on her daughter. Maya sat on her bed, drawing on the tablet she’d gotten last summer for her birthday. Danny had bought it for her before he left for the training mission with HORNET, and now she never went anywhere without it.
Where the twins were a mix of their parents, Maya was a carbon copy of her father. So much so that sometimes, when Leah looked at her, it hurt.
Maya glanced up and pulled her headphones out of her ears. Worry drew her brows together and dragged at the corners of her lips. “Mom?”
God, she looked so much older than her almost ten years. “Yes, honey?”
“Why did you send Nana Gina to get us from school? Did someone die?”
“Oh, no, sweetheart. Why would you—” She cut herself off as the realization struck.
Shit.
Of course Maya thought someone had died. The kids went to a private school with year-round instruction, and at her request, Gina had pulled them out of school in the middle of the day. The last time she’d yanked them out only days before their month-long summer break was after Marcus called with the news that shattered all of their lives.
She walked in and sat down next to her daughter but wasn’t sure if she should touch the girl. Maya had been weird about physical contact since Danny’s death, and had come up with all kinds of rules regarding when and how she should be touched. The psychologist said she was trying to exert control over her life, and Leah tried her best to respect that even though her arms ached to hold her girl.
“No, no, baby. Everybody’s okay. Just…something happened at work and I wanted you home.”
Maya’s lip trembled. “I thought you died. I thought we were orphans now.”
Leah’s heart cracked right in half. No, forget the psychologist. Her girl needed her. Maya came willingly into her embrace, wrapping her thin arms tightly around Leah’s neck.
And she cried.
For the first time since they lost Danny, Maya cried.
Leah had always hated to see any of her children cry, but the wave of profound relief that washed over her now left her shaking. She’d been so worried about the wall Maya had built up around herself, how she’d shut down, but the dam had finally, finally broken.
She held her girl through big, hiccupping sobs. Held her until she cried herself out and fell asleep.
Leah didn’t know how long she sat there, leaning against the headboard, stroking her daughter’s hair. Long enough that the light filtering through the purple curtains softened, and Regina came upstairs looking for her.
“I have dinner on the stove,” Regina said. “You should take that shower now.”
Leah gazed down at her slumbering daughter, so quiet and peaceful. She hated to leave. This was the first time she’d felt connected to Maya in months. But Regina was right. She did desperately need that shower.
She slid off the bed and Maya stirred, lifted her head with a question in her gaze. Her eyes were still puffy from crying, and she bet the girl had a headache after all that.
She leaned down to kiss Maya’s forehead. “Dinner’s almost ready and I have to clean up. Go help Nana with the table, and she’ll give you something for your headache.”
Maya sniffled and nodded. Regina held out a hand for the girl, then gave Leah a look that clearly said, We’re talking about this after dinner.
Yes, she agreed silently. After dinner. She needed a few hours of normal first.
And it was normal. Beautifully, mundanely normal. They ate Regina’s fabulous spaghetti. She laughed with her boys, and even Maya cracked a smile. After dinner, they played several rounds of Uno, a family favorite that could get very competitive. She let the kids stay up past their bedtimes because she needed them close and she had no intention of sending them to school tomorrow. For a short while, their whole world consisted of that dinner table, and she was so happy for the reprieve.
And then reality intruded with a bang.
Chapter Six
Glass shattered in the front room. It was a soft sound, one that they would’ve missed had there not been a lull in the conversation just then.
Regina twisted around in her seat. “What on earth? Was that my front window?” She started to get up, but Leah stilled her with a hand on her arm.
“Wait.” Maybe she was being paranoid, but all she could think about was this afternoon and the men with the guns. Vandalism wasn’t common in this neighborhood. She slowly pushed back from the table and moved toward the front of the house on silent feet.
“Mom?” Maya said, a tremble in her voice.
Leah shushed her and peeked around the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. The big bay windows were still intact. Instead, a panel of the door lay in glittering shards on the tiled floor of the foyer. Two shadows loomed on the other side of the door. A gloved hand was reaching through the broken window for the lock.
Shit.
Leah scrambled backward, still trying to be as silent as possible, despite the thundering pulse of her heart in her ears. Back in the kitchen, the boys were anxious and restless. Maya sat frozen to her chair, her eyes wide, face pale. Regina stood next to the table, her gaze mama-bear fierce behind the lens of her glasses. She opened her mouth, but Leah didn’t give her a chance to ask the questions she undoubtedly wanted to ask.