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“Tick.” Old memories, old nightmares, thickened Cookie’s voice, and Tick closed his eyes again, gathering himself for what lay ahead tonight. She was on the Dougherty County side of the line, though, and Cookie was there. He’d take care of her, ensure she was treated with dignity, make sure the investigation was tight and right. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I will. Thanks again, man.” The call dropped, and he laid the phone aside, his movements slow and uncoordinated, like Gene when his arthritis acted up and his balance was off. Lord, he felt older than Gene right that moment. He dragged a hand over his nape. “I’ve got to go.”

She touched his jaw, a brief, butterfly-light caress with her fingertips. “I’ll come with you.”

“Please.” He crushed her into him, too tight he knew, lips pressed to her brow. He pulled in a deep breath, drew strength from her steady hold on him. Finally, he levered off the counter, easing her away with gentle hands. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, and he grabbed the key fob while she slipped on shoes. He held the door, waved her ahead of him, then followed her into the night. She was absolutely the best thing to ever happen to him . . . she made him a better man, and he couldn’t do this without her.

Chapter Twenty

Just Breathe

December

“Are you feeling all right?” Brow crinkled in concern, Barb passed a cup of punch into Caitlin’s hand.

“That’s a loaded question.” Caitlin smiled over a sip of the zingy beverage. Her due date lay more than three weeks away, and most days she felt really good. Today, though, her lower back ached, probably thanks to the unforgiving straight stools at Lenora’s kitchen island, and Braxton-Hicks contractions irritated her, thanks to Tick and his hey-we’re-already-sweaty after their workout that morning. “But, yes, I’m fine.”

“You keep rubbing your back.” Barb ladled into her own cup.

“I ran yesterday.” Caitlin rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s always tight the next day when I do.”

“What is wrong with you?” Deanne shook her head, adding a petit four to her plate. With Christmas still a week away, rather than a traditional holiday meal, they’d settled on party foods. The kids had loved it, and the noshing had continued all afternoon while the grandchildren opened gifts. Tick’s mother and his brothers’ wives had showered them with various baby items as well. “Girl, you are nearly nine months pregnant. Give up the running.”

Caitlin laughed. “No, it makes labor shorter and easier. Besides, it keeps me sane.”

Which she needed because Tick was not only in full-on holiday mode, but immersed in baby-preparation as well. Besides, Alice had cleared her for exercise and sex as long as she felt like it — and what they had done in their en suite at the river house made the Braxton-Hicks worth it. The vanity stood at the perfect height for her to brace her hands and push back into him, so she controlled the pace and how deeply she took him, so he supported the weight of their baby.

The man was good to her and better than great in bed, after all.

She smiled into another sip of punch and waved her cup toward the living room. “Thank you again for allowing Eleanor to stay with you this week.”

“We enjoy having her.” Barb smiled. Eleanor would spend the runup to Christmas with Barb and Del, with Eva staying over at Lenora’s and spending her days with Deanne and Chuck’s boys, with both girls flying home before the Woodfield Christmas cantata. “You know we love them.”

“Besides, it’ll give you some time to get things in order before Christmas and before this little one arrives.” Deanne wrapped her in a sideways hug. “You and I both know you need that.”

“I do.” And that acceptance by her sisters-in-law curled warmth through her.

The door opened, admitting a chilly breeze and heralding Tick’s arrival. His eyes lit as he approached with that long, easy stride of his.

“Hey, precious.” He leaned in to brush his mouth over hers before he tipped his chin at Barb. “Eleanor’s stuff is in Del’s SUV.”

“Excellent.” She leaned into him, his arm about her waist. Another Braxton-Hicks tightened her abdomen, and she blew out a silent breath.

Holy Mother, he was worth it, but that was uncomfortable.

He rubbed the tight muscles at the small of her back. “Let me get the baby stuff loaded so you can rest a while.”

Rather than have the not-physically-incapacitated argument again, she gave in and let his family help him arrange their gifts in the Jeep. She leaned on a porch post and watched, refusing to sit because that worsened her backache. Under yet another false contraction, the baby moved, and she pressed a hand over the nudge of his foot. A sharp pang in her lower belly sucked the breath from her lungs — he was head down now and that movement had been uncomfortable.

“Hey.” Tick grinned at her from the bottom of the steps, foot propped on the lowest tread. “Let’s get you home.”

She waved a hand behind her. “We should help them clean up.”

“No, they’re fine and won’t let you anyway.” His gaze traced her face. “You look tired, and I’d feel better if you took a nap or something.”

Unable to push back against his concern, she nodded. After a round of goodbyes and a series of kisses to tide Eva over several bedtimes, he shouldered her tote and ushered her down the steps, a hand at the small of her back.