I nodded. Hank was more of a father to me than Randall Blakely ever had been. Then again, I was pretty sure Randall Blakely didn’t consider me his real daughter. And those kids…they gave me a sense of purpose I hadn’t had in over a year. But they were also a sharp reminder of what I’d lost. What I’d probably never have again.

“And they’re not the only ones who love you, Carly,” he said, taking a step closer.

My heart raced, because our conversation had circled back to square one.

His shoulders lifted. “You want to neutralize Bart Drummond before we go after your father. So we need to step up our efforts to make that happen. We’re going to look for the chink in his armor, and Pam Crimshaw just might be it.”

Tears streamed down my face, because I knew what he was doing. I’d learned long ago that talk was cheap. Actions were what mattered, and he was ready to step up and do his part.

“You could get in trouble,” I said. “It’s an active investigation and you can’t be part of it.”

He closed the distance between us, pulling me into a fierce hug. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. While part of me ached for more, the part that had missed him so deeply soaked in his nearness. “Don’t you worry about that. I have other avenues. How about you focus on talking to Pam’s friends and kids? Find out what state of mind she was in after Thad had his accident a couple of years ago. We’ll figure out where to go from there. And maybe it’s time to dust off some of the other cases you’ve been lookin’ into. We’ll figure out a way to ask questions without lookin’ nosy.”

I nodded against his chest, starting to feel foolish for breaking down. “Sorry I lost it like that.”

“No,” he said, squeezing me tighter. “You keep it all bottled up. It’s okay to break down from time to time.” He lifted his hand to my cheek and tilted my head back to stare up at him. “Thank you for trusting me enough to do it in front of me.”

I nodded, not feeling steady enough to speak.

“How about I come over to Hank’s tomorrow morning before I head to work? I’ll tell you what I found out from Max, and we can narrow down the cases you’ve collected and figure out which ones to focus on.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

A mischievous grin lit up his eyes. “It’s not going to be some of that healthy shit you feed Hank, now is it?”

I laughed, and it felt good. “If you want real bacon, you’ll have to bring your own. But I’ll make sure the pancakes and eggs are as real as they can be.”

“Deal,” he said, relief filling his eyes. “It’ll be kind of early. Seven?”

“I can be up,” I said. “Which means I better go home and get to bed.”

He started to say something, then stopped. “Yeah. Good idea.”

I started for my car, and he fell in step beside me. When we reached the driver’s door, I glanced up at him, my heart skipping a beat. He was such a good-looking man, and more importantly, he was a good man. Why was I taking my time with this? Especially since I was finding it harder and harder to ignore the pull I felt toward him. Why didn’t I just give in? We both wanted this. But I couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

“Marco, I didn’t answer your question about a future, and you definitely deserve one. It’s not fair to leave you hanging, wondering if your feelings will ever be reciprocated.”

He watched me, not saying a word.

“The answer is yes,” I whispered. “I feel everything I think you feel, but I need more time. I’ve been hurt…”

He put his finger on my lips. “I know, Carly. No explanation needed.”

My lips tingled at his touch, and I felt the strongest urge to kiss him, but he pulled his hand away and reached for the car door. “Call me when you get home. With Pam and our plan to start diggin’…I think we’ll need to do more frequent check-ins.”

“Agreed.”

I got in and backed up to turn around and head down his long driveway. When I stopped, I gave him a wave and he waved back with one hand, the other in his pocket. He looked so inviting standing there, so welcoming, and I wondered what it would feel like to go home to this man every night and let him envelop me in his arms. To fill a home with children. Did I dare let myself entertain that daydream?

As I drove home, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I felt a spark of hope. It wasn’t lost on me that Marco had put it there.

Chapter Eight

I emerged from my room at six-thirty, my kitten at my feet. I’d stayed up late. Again. But I had something to show for it this time—I’d stumbled upon something promising while making a timeline of the events I’d been researching. I was eager to show Marco when he got here.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, I found Hank in the kitchen, scooping coffee grounds into the coffee maker. He glanced up in surprise. “What are you doin’ up?” His eyes widened. “And dressed.”

“Marco’s comin’ over for breakfast before he heads into work. I’m making pancakes and eggs.”

He gave me a blank look. “You’re makin’ him breakfast at the crack of dawn? What’d you do?”

I jutted my head back. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t think of any reason you’d get up before seven to make breakfast unless you had a fight and you were in the wrong.”

I grimaced. “No fight. We need to discuss some things.”

“That’s called makin’ up after a fight, but in a real relationship, sex is usually involved.”

“Hank!”

He gave me a knowing look. “I speak the truth, and there’s no harm in findin’ a man to scratch an itch.”

My face flushed. “Hank!”

“Just sayin’.”

“I don’t see you lookin’ for a girlfriend,” I countered.

“When you’ve been blessed with the love of your life, everyone else pales in comparison.” He headed for the doorway. “Since you’re already up, I’m headed out to the porch. Bring me a cup of coffee when it’s done. And don’t let your hellcat out. I don’t want her scarin’ off the birds.”

I grinned at his description of Letty. “Yeah, of course.”

He went outside, but his statement stayed with me while I pulled out the ingredients for pancakes. He’d lost his wife Mary to breast cancer a few years before. I knew he’d loved her, but this was the first time I’d heard him refer to her as the love of his life. There wasn’t much around the house to suggest she’d lived here, even though he’d owned the house for years. In fact, I’d often thought it strange that he lived in this small, run-down house when he’d supposedly been the drug kingpin of eastern Tennessee. Any money he’d earned was clearly long gone. My running theory was that he’d spent it on Mary’s medical bills—I knew from taking care of Violet during her last month that medical care wasn’t cheap—but a lot of townsfolk thought he’d buried it.

After I made the pancake batter and put a cookie sheet with turkey bacon in the oven, I poured two cups of coffee and walked out to the front porch, making sure to keep Letty inside. Hank was sitting in his chair, his kitten on his lap. I handed him a mug as Marco’s Explorer pulled into the drive.