Levi held his eyes.

Then he whispered, “Under my nose, at the tips of my fingers, never saw her, never felt her, what she was givin’ me not until Tess pointed it out and I opened my f**kin’ eyes.”

“Brother, keep it together.”

Again, Levi held his eyes.

Brock returned the gesture, keeping his hand on his brother’s neck.

Then he said, “She’s in there, I’m out here. Nothin’ I can do. She’s battlin’ and there’s not one f**kin’ thing I can do.” He swallowed then asked, “This what you felt like when Tess was taken?”

Brock had told Levi what had happened and where he had to force himself to be in order not to f**k up and do something stupid. For once, his brother kept that knowledge to himself.

The only people that knew the full penance he was forced to pay for f**king up with Josiah Burkett were his colleagues, Levi and Tess, the last being brutal penance in itself.

“In a way, I reckon… yeah,” Brock answered.

“Brother,” Levi whispered, that one word saying one hundred more.

Brock didn’t reply.

Levi sucked in breath.

Then he sat up, Brock’s hand dropped and he straightened out of his crouch. His eyes went to Tess. Hers were bright at the rims with tears. She sucked in her lips before she let them go and gave him a trembling smile.

He tipped his chin up at his wife and sat down next to his brother.

Half an hour later, a woman in a white doctor’s coat walked in.

“Levi Lucas?” she called but Levi was already up and walking across the small room, Brock at his back, his family behind him.

“She okay?” Levi asked.

“She’s fine, baby’s fine. We’ll have to discuss curtailing activity for awhile to see this through but right now, both are safe and healthy.”

“Thank God,” Fern whispered and Brock heard Jill’s shuddering breath and Laura’s choked whimper.

“Can I see her?” Levi asked.

“I’ll take you to her.”

Levi didn’t look back at his family as he walked away.

Brock watched his brother then felt Tess burrow under his arm.

He curled it around her shoulders and looked down into her eyes.

She caught his for a second before she did a face plant in his chest, her arms moving around him, her body giving his her weight.

He held her.

Then he sucked in breath.

An hour and a half later, in his truck while Tess was in her car on the way to get the boys from Dade’s, he ordered a Famous pizza for his birthday meal.

* * * * *

In the middle of studying his face, the tips of her fingers moving over it, Tess started giggling.

This was unusual. Not her studying his face after he made her come, after he came and when he was still buried inside her. She did that often and he let her because he liked to see what was working behind her eyes as they moved over his features. He liked it a f**k of a lot.

Her giggling in the middle of doing it, now that was unusual.

He found instantly he liked that too. Then again, he liked it anytime Tess laughed.

“What’s funny?” he asked, getting the question in over her escalating laughter.

“Ma… Ma… Martha,” she stammered, lifting her head to shove it in his neck, her hands sliding around his shoulders so both her arms and legs could convulse around him.

“Martha?” he asked her pillow.

She sucked in breath and dropped her head back down, her eyes coming to his as she nodded.

There was a lot that was funny about Martha. The bitch was a scream. She hadn’t toned down the drama and likely at her age, she never would. But she loved Tess and she’d cottoned onto the fact that Brock would accept her drama in Tess’s life as long as it had no negative affects and she saw to it that was so. She also loved his boys and didn’t hide it. They thought she was a scream too. So, since her drama was mostly humorous and not annoying, Brock liked her and she made no bones about liking him and, he had to admit, he liked that too.

He figured his wife’s sudden onset of humor had something to do with the fact that Calhoun had come into Tess’s bakery about five months ago. When he did, Tess had gone direct into matchmaking mode and hooked him up with Martha. Calhoun took the bait and was still hooked. Martha didn’t hide any of her drama from Calhoun and, surprising the f**k out of Brock, Calhoun apparently got off on it.

Whatever. To each their own.

And anyway, the crazy dance between DEA Agent Calhoun and Martha Shockley provided his wife with a variety of things to giggle over when she told him about them. And he was happy with that.

She released her legs from around him, planted her feet in the bed and bucked her h*ps slightly telling him what she wanted.

He gave it to her. Sliding out gently, he watched her lips part, her eyelids get soft, that sexy-as-hell look that communicated both pleasure and disappointment at losing him being the second best part of f**king her (or the third, maybe the fourth, though it could be the fifth). Then he gave her what she wanted and rolled them so he was on his back, she was on top.

She placed a forearm in his chest, her other hand at his neck under his jaw and suddenly her face got serious.

“What?” he whispered, her eyes slid from her hand at his jaw to his, she tipped her head to the side and she gave him more of her weight, her soft flesh pressing into his.

“When you came back,” she started, her voice soft, “after what went down with you and me with you investigating Damian…” She trailed off then started again, “When you came back, later, when I was at the shower and I confessed to Martha about everything that went down, well, you know, honey, she wasn’t your biggest fan back then.”

His hands which were spanning her h*ps slid down to cup her ass.

“I know.”

Her lips tipped up in a small grin. “Well, she said I had my head in the sand. She said most women would take one look at you and know you were fun to play with but you weren’t the one for the long haul. But me, she said I took one look at you and had visions of white picket fences and making you birthday cakes until the day you die.”

She swallowed, the smile died and her eyes grew bright.

Brock held his breath, his fingers clenching into her ass and he waited.

“She was wrong,” Tess whispered. “I was right.” She drew in breath through her nose, dipped her face closer and the pads of her fingers dug into his neck then she finished, “We don’t have a white picket fence, baby, but I’m going to bake you birthday cakes until the day you die.”