Page 78 of A Deceitful Pact

“Well, stranger things have happened, Jean,” I point out, turning on the lights.

“They have you nesting down with a cop, being one of them.” She laughs, sitting up on one of the barstools as if she intends to stay.

“You know we’re not officially together,” I remind her, hating how it feels to say that out loud.

“She’ll come to her senses,” she assures me.

“How d’ya know it ain’t me who needs to come to mine?” I pretend to be offended.

“Because I see the way you look at her,” Jean smirks back at me.

“You got me there,” I admit, starting to wipe down the bar, even though it’s clean.

“Want some advice from an old woman whose husband left her?” she asks. Jean never mentions the fact Dennis left, so I figure what she has to say is important.

“Sure.” I rest my elbows on the bar and listen.

“Hold on to that feeling you get when she’s making you smile, remember it when she’s having a bad day, and you're the one she’s swiping at. I’ll bet she’d hate me for saying it, but I see a little of myself in Sheriff Hale, and women like us ain’t easy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I nod as she slides off the stool and starts heading for the door.

“And Sawyer.” She looks back at me. “Don’t let her do anything too strenuous, at least not until Tuesday.” She winks.

RILEY

“Come on, little one, just show me a sign.” I haul myself out of the bath and grab hold of a towel. I won’t admit to Sawyer that I ran it a little hotter than usual. It doesn’t seem to have worked anyway.

I grab my robe from the back of the door and tie it around my middle; it only just stretches around me. Dr. West said she could be in there for another two weeks, and I can’t even imagine what two more weeks of her growing would be like.

Picking up a hand towel, I use it to dry my hair as I head out the door and back to the bedroom.

My hospital bag is sitting patiently by the door. The nursery is ready; all we need now is for things to get moving.

“Morning, Riley.” I gasp when I step through the bedroom door and see Jack sitting patiently on the end of my bed.

“No!” I shake my head and start backing away.

“Yes.” He steps toward me. “It’s me, in the flesh.” He waits until I’m backed up against the wall before he takes my wrist and forces my hand to touch his face.

“You're dead.” I must be dreaming, maybe I ran that bath too hot and I’ve passed out in it.

“Do I feel dead?” he asks, looking and sounding nothing like the Jack I used to know. This man is cold and very dangerous.

“What are you doing here?”

“We can talk about that later,” he tells me, and when he looks between our bodies, I freeze when his hand touches my stomach.

“What happened to never wanting kids?” he asks, reaching his hand behind his back and retrieving a gun.

“Jack, what's that for?” I hear the fear in my voice.

“Come back into the bedroom, take the weight off those feet.” He presses the barrel against my head to get me moving, and I try my best to be brave and not panic as I do as he says.

“Sit down right here.” He pats the mattress, keeping the gun tight to my temple.

“Now, tell me why, of all the places on Earth, you came here?” he hisses at me.

“I saw your car, the bomb. There was a body.” I go over everything in my head, wondering how he could possibly be here.

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