Page 84 of Trouble Comes in Threes

Liam woke me shortly after sunrise. Joe wasn’t next to me, and it was obvious he’d never come to bed.

I crossed the hall and found my son standing in his crib, reaching for me. I scooped him up and showered him with kisses, then changed his diaper, telling him that Mommy was going to spend all day with him. He tried to repeat what I had said and blew raspberries at me. Obviously finding himself hilarious, he broke into giggles, which made me laugh too. My heart was still heavy after my conversation with Joe, but it was hard to be sullen when Liam’s smile lit up my heart.

I carried him downstairs and found Joe sound asleep, sitting upright on the sofa. His head was leaned back against the top of the cushion, and his feet were outstretched on the coffee table. It looked like he hadn’t intentionally slept down here, which made me feel slightly better.

“Dada,” Liam mumbled softly, reaching toward Joe, but I carried him into the kitchen, whispering that Daddy had been working really hard, and we needed to let him sleep. I poured some Cheerios into a plastic bowl, grabbed a throw from the end of the love seat, then took Liam out the back door and around to the front porch. We sat on the porch swing, and I covered us in the throw to ward off the morning chill while Liam babbled about the birds and who knew what else while he ate his cereal. I smiled and repeated what he had said, and he grinned up at me. My heart melted into a pile of goo. I loved this boy with my entire being, and I couldn’t help being worried that I’d somehow put him in danger. We could never truly escape our past, and maybe mine was catching up to me.

I’d been hoping Dermot would get to the bottom of what was going on, but now I couldn’t help wondering if he’d had something to do with it. My only comfort was that Jed wouldn’t be talking to Dermot if he thought he was responsible, and he sure wouldn’t have let his men watch over us. Even so, I was in a real pickle.

What was I going to do?

A short while later, the front door opened, and a bleary-eyed Joe appeared, carrying two steaming mugs.

“I noticed you hadn’t made any coffee and figured you might need some,” he said with a sheepish look, handing me one of the mugs as an obvious peace offering.

I accepted it and took a sip. “How’d you know we were out here?”

“I heard Liam.”

I cringed. “Sorry, I was trying to let you sleep. We should have stayed in the back.”

“No, it was a delightful sound to wake up to, given everything I’ve been dealing with over the last few days.”

Liam reached toward Joe. “Dada!”

Joe took a big pull of his steaming coffee, then winced as he set it on the ledge of the porch railing and picked up his son. Liam giggled as Joe hefted him up onto his chest and reclaimed his coffee cup.

Joe glanced at the spot Liam had vacated and gave me a questioning look.

I moved the blanket, and Joe sat beside me, settling Liam on his lap. I handed Liam his plastic bowl.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I overreacted last night when you questioned my dreams and my vision. You were tired, and you were just trying to understand.”

“I’m sorry too. I was out of line last night,” Joe said softly. “I never should have questioned your vision. I think it just scared the shit out of me, and dismissing it was the only way I could deal with it. I’m not typically a head-in-the-sand sort of guy, but apparently I was last night. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

He turned with sympathy in his eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve seen someone die in a vision?”

“Since Hardshaw.”

He nodded, then grimaced. “This must have freaked you out, and I just blew it off. I’m really sorry, Rose. You needed my support, and instead, I insinuated it was your imagination.”

I leaned into him, resting my temple against his shoulder. “I understand why you were worried. I forgive you.”

“I’m still going to have Randy look into who the Selena woman could be, and I’m going to call the sketch artist. I’ll help you try to figure out who your vision was about.”

“Thank you, but we both know looking for Selena in—I’m presuming missing person reports—will likely be a bust.”

“But it’s still worth a try,” he countered.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s worth a try. Hopefully the sketch of the man will help.”

“Agreed.” He took another sip from his mug, then said, “It was especially out of line for me to accuse you of running around as the Lady in Black. I know you would never do anything to put yourself or our kids in danger. You’ve proven that time and time again. My only excuse is that I was tired and scared someone was seeking out Lady, not that it’s any excuse at all.”

“You’re human, Joe, and far from perfect.”

He laughed. “Thanks, I think.”

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