I startle at the sound of Tomasetti’s voice and turn to see him striding toward me. Long strides. Eyes intent on me. Worried about me, I think, but he doesn’t want me to see it, so I let it go. There’s enough light for me to see that he’s still wearing his work clothes—slightly wrinkled button-down shirt, creased trousers, and one of the ties he bought at Milano last time we were in Columbus. The tie is askew, telling me I’m not the only one who’s had a long day.

“Did you bring the bait?” I ask.

“Of course.” He holds up a container very much like one for Chinese food takeout. “Night crawlers.” He grins. “Nothing better for catching bass at night.”

“Does that mean we’re going to fish all night?”

“We could.”

“And play hooky tomorrow?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all week.”

I rise from my chair, open the cooler, and hand him a Killian’s. “You look like you could use this.”

“I can.” He takes the beer.

I see him looking at the wrap on my wrist, and it makes me feel self-conscious. “I think the big one has your name on it.”

“Hopefully, he’s hungry and feeling reckless tonight.” He sets the beer on top of the cooler without opening it. “Kate.”

Before I can speak, he strides toward me. His arms go around me and he pulls me close. “God, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me, too.”

“How’s the wrist?”

I fall against him, set my face against his shirt, breathe in his scent, and sigh. “Hurts like hell.”

“Well, that’s just like you to milk it, isn’t it?”

“You’re on to me, I guess.”

“Broken?”

“You know by now that I never do anything halfway.”

He pulls away slightly, putting just enough space between us to make eye contact with me. For an instant I avoid his gaze, then I look into his eyes.

“Bad scene today?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He nods. “So what aren’t you telling me?”

I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry, but I feel the burn of tears rising in my eyes. “I lost the baby.”

John Tomasetti is one of the most guarded people I know. But I don’t miss the ripple that runs the length of him. I see that same ripple play across his features. Surprise. Concern. A quick flash of pain.

“Aw, Kate.” He makes a sound that’s part sigh, part groan. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.… What happened?”

“The doc couldn’t say for certain. Trauma, maybe. I fell about twelve feet.” I shrug. “I don’t know. Sometimes miscarriages happen and you never really know why.”

He averts his gaze but not before I see the pain slice across his features, as raw and unwanted as a knife wound. “Are you sure?”