“I don’t,” she said between gasps and tears, “have keys.”
“I assumed that. I’ve taken care of it.”
She looked up at his tortured eyes, and he nodded toward the house. Her front door was ajar, and a man in a black leather vest stood off to the side on the porch.
“Nobody went inside,” Tank said solemnly. “That’s a buddy of mine. He’s a locksmith. He made you a new set of keys and stood watch until we got here.”
Why was everyone helping her so much?
“Thank you,” she whispered, swallowing hard as they headed up the walk. Just hours earlier she’d been thinking about how much she loved the cottage and how happy they were in their new home. It would never feel the same again.
She kept her eyes trained on Rosie as they went inside, not wanting to see the staircase that led to River’s room, his guitar on the floor by the couch, his sneakers by the door, or the million other pieces of her brother that she’d never see again. She headed for her bedroom, and Tank stood in the doorway, looking at the other bedroom.
“I want them in here with me.” She tossed her throw pillow on the floor and pulled back the blanket. Her bedroom was small, like the girls’. The double bed was pushed against the opposite wall, with a nightstand on one side. Her dresser and closet were on the wall to the right.
She laid Rosie on the far side of the bed and turned to take Junie from Tank, but he laid her down and pulled the covers over both of them. He grabbed the throw pillow and put it beside Junie. Then he looked around the room and said, “Can she roll over that and fall out?”
She looked up at him, hulking over her and taking up all the space. “I won’t let her.”
He nodded, and Rosie whimpered in her sleep, her little hand feeling around her. Leah knew she was looking for Boo, and her throat thickened. Rosie’s hand landed on Junie’s, and her little fingers curled around it.
Tears spilled from Leah’s eyes.
“Leah.”
She closed her eyes tighter.
Tank put his rough finger under her chin, lifting it so she had no choice but to look at him. “What does she need?”
“Her lovey.” Her voice cracked.
He cocked a brow in question.
“It’s a doll I made her. She brought it in the car. Junie had hers, too, a rabbit. They’re gone.” Her body shook with silent sobs, and he wrapped her in his arms again. He was so big, she felt buffered from the rest of the world. If only he could keep the pain away, too.
“Hey, sweetheart, is there anything I can do?”
Leah pushed out of his arms at the sound of Ginger’s voice and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine.” She needed to get rid of them so she could fall apart in private. She walked out of the bedroom, forcing herself to stop crying, and said, “You don’t have to stay. We’ll be fine.”
Tank’s jaw tightened, and he looked at Ginger.
“I have to stay, honey,” Ginger said. “I promised the nurse I’d watch over you, and you or the girls might need something tonight.”
She wanted to say that they’d done fine for all these years, but they’d had River…
Oh God. River.
She bit back the gut-wrenching despair and relented with a nod, willing her tears not to fall. She looked at Tank. “You should go. Your clothes are still wet.”
Tank gave a single curt nod, his solemn expression unchanged.
She needed to thank him for saving them, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was afraid she’d go off on him again for not being able to save River, so she went back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She toed off her sneakers and climbed into bed with the girls, putting her arm around them. How were they supposed to carry on without River? He was their father—even if they didn’t know that yet—their best friend, storyteller, and caretaker.
She buried her face in Junie’s curls, giving in to the crushing pain in her chest and the emptiness in her heart, knowing that tomorrow she’d have to figure out how to tell the girls that their father, the young man who loved them most in the world, would never be with them again.
Chapter Three
TANK SAT IN his double-cab truck with a tray of coffee and chocolate milk in his lap, a bag of doughnuts on the passenger seat, and a fucking jackhammer made of knives in his chest. He’d give anything to turn back time. If only he’d followed his gut and gone to talk to Leah when he’d seen her at the convenience store last night. If she’d left the parking lot a few minutes later, her brother would still be alive. He gritted his teeth. He was just a kid. Hell, Leah must have been barely more than a kid when she’d had her first child. Where was the girls’ father? Where were Leah’s parents? He had so many questions, but they’d have to wait.
He gathered his things and climbed out of the truck. As he headed up the walk, he thought about the calls and texts from his family, cousins, and fellow Dark Knights that he’d fielded since the sun had risen. He wasn’t the one who needed support.
He knocked on the front door, and his mother answered, looking tired. Her hair was tousled and her navy blouse was wrinkled. The sadness in her eyes pulled Tank back to the days after Ashley died, swamping him with the weight of a lead coat.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Mom.” He handed her the tray of drinks and kissed her cheek as he stepped inside. “How are they?”
“The girls are still sleeping, and Leah’s in the shower. I don’t think she got much sleep. I heard her crying on and off all night. Poor thing.”
He set the bags he was carrying on the bar between the kitchen and living room, wishing he could take their pain away.
“I heard your truck roll in around three. Were you out there all night?” She put the tray of drinks on the bar. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Yeah. I had to take care of a few things. Then I went home to shower, and when I came back, I caught a few hours of sleep in my truck.” If only he could scrub off the guilt of being unable to save River. He’d gone over every second of the rescue hundreds of times, and he knew there was nothing he could have done differently. If he hadn’t gotten Leah and the girls out first, he could have lost them, too. But that didn’t change the guilt that stuck to him like a second skin. He glanced at the bathroom door. “Has she said anything?”
His mother shook her head. “I told you she was a private girl.”
She took both of his hands in hers, holding them tight, looking into his eyes with the plea he’d seen too many times. He knew what she was going to say before the words left her lips.
“Honey, I know you want to help Leah and the girls, but they aren’t the only ones who suffered a loss last night. I think you need to take some time and let yourself grieve, too.”
He pulled his hands free. “I’m fine. They’re not.”
“Tank—”
“Mom,” he said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. If anyone knows what she’s going through, it’s me.”
She crossed her arms. “Benson, you are so damn stubborn.”
She only used his given name when she was infuriated or frustrated. “Wonder where I got that from.”