Page 85 of Forgiving Her First Love

This was an added blow to his already painful sense that his life was fragmenting in all directions. Logan had never suffered mal de mer, but he nearly threw up off the side of the boat during that short journey. His protective instincts were jangling so hard in his ears, he couldn’t hear the high-pitched roar of the boat’s engine.

She can’t have her, was all he could think. She can’t. Storm belonged with Emma and Reid.

She belongs with us.

Chapter Twenty

Sophie asked Umi to open Reid’s office so Emma could wait there. Reid kept it stocked with snacks and diapers along with Storm’s saucer and playpen. Also, it allowed Emma to see the wharf so she could watch for the men to return.

Sophie made Emma some tea, texted Logan that they should come home ASAP, then walked up to the house. She didn’t know what she would say or do, but she didn’t think leaving a stranger alone there was a good idea.

What she did know, deep down, was that it would be the woman from the patio of the pub. And, even though she was expecting to find her there, it still took her aback to see her asleep on one of the loungers on the deck.

Sophie didn’t like to leap straight into wondering if someone had a drug problem, and tried not to judge them if they did, but Tiffany’s sister had had some kind of trouble with the law. That’s why lawyers hadn’t been able to reach her to tell her that her sister had died.

Her sister had died. It had happened only a few short months ago. Sophie swallowed the burn of her own very fresh grief and reminded herself to tread carefully.

She knocked on the glass door, then slid it open. “Hi, again.”

Cloe sat up, startled and disoriented.

“Um.” She frowned with confusion, looking back into the house before trying to make sense of Sophie not being Em.

“I’m Sophie, Emma’s friend. You’re Cloe? Tiffany’s sister?” She moved close enough to offer her hand.

“Oh, um, hi. Yes, I am.” She rose and shook Sophie’s hand. “Tiff and I had different dads.” She said it in a rueful, philosophical way that suggested it was something she had had to say often so she just pushed it right out there. “That’s why she was so much taller than me. Older. Blonder.” She waved at her hair. “I cut all my blonde off, actually.” She seemed really nervous.

Sophie could have told her that blended roots were kind of a theme in this family, but only said, “I can see your resemblance to her.”

Tiffany had had the same gray-blue eyes and the slight overbite that made her smile very cute and engaging.

Cloe was still trying to catch her bearings after waking up so abruptly, hugging herself and blinking dazed eyes, brow creased with anxiety.

Now that Sophie got a better look at her, she saw Cloe’s blue jeans and striped T-shirt were a little too big on her and well worn. So was her small backpack. She looked tired. Not from one lost night of sleep, but months of them. Weary tired. Sad. And vulnerable.

Since the men had arrived to look after Storm, Tiffany’s sister had loomed as a huge threat, distressing Emma and the Fraser men with what could happen if she decided she wanted custody of her niece.

It was still a mystery what she might expect or why she had shown up here unannounced like this, but Sophie instinctively felt for her. She seemed at a loss and Sophie kind of wanted to hug her.

“Do you live here?” Cloe asked with sudden shock. Her expression grew appalled as she seemed to realize Sophie was the woman she’d seen in coveralls earlier. “The server at the pub told me this was where Reid Fraser lives. Was she messing with me to mess with you?”

“No.” Sophie had to chuckle at that. “I mean, she would. We behave worse than our children, as you witnessed. I do, anyway.” She hitched her shoulder in self-deprecation.

“Been there,” Cloe said wryly and they shared a smirk.

“No, this is the Fraser house,” Sophie assured her. “They should be back soon. They won’t mind that we’re here, waiting for them.”

She checked her phone and saw Logan had texted, Leaving now.

“Do you want water? Coffee?” Sophie waved toward the kitchen.

“I have a glass of water.” Cloe picked it up from the table next to her lounger. “The nanny gave it to me then… I don’t know where she went.” She craned her neck to peer with puzzlement toward the glass doors. She grimaced as she caught her reflection and smoothed her shirt. A sigh of defeat followed. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. The ferry dropped me off really late last night. I knew I had to get into town to catch the water taxi, but I didn’t realize how far I’d have to walk.”

“You walked?” It was three kilometers.

“I waited until it started to get light. I thought I’d see traffic by then, but nope. It was just me and whatever those noises were in the bushes. I’m a city girl.” She pulled her bottom lip wide in a grimace. “I was thinking the whole time, So this is how I die.”

“At least it wasn’t raining,” Sophie said with amused sympathy, thinking, Help. I like her.

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