I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was falling in love with Mason. If I were really honest with myself, I was already there. I just wished I could take that final step and let go. “He makes it so damn hard not to fall in love with him.”

A laugh tore out of Kennedy. “Oh, God, Anna. You sound so pissed about that.”

“I am. He just had to be kind and gentle. Yet fierce and protective, too. Sometimes it feels like he was made for me. He understands my wounds like maybe no one else would.”

Her laugh slipped away. “Would it really be so bad? To let yourself love him?”

“Yes.” The last time I thought I loved someone, they destroyed my entire life. I knew in my head that Mason wasn’t Derek—he couldn’t be further from him—but translating that to the rest of me was another story.

“At some point, you’re just going to have to throw yourself off that cliff. Either that or walk away. You can’t be half in and half out forever.”

“I know,” I whispered. An ache spread through my chest, so strong and fierce I had to run my hand along my sternum to try to relieve it. But nothing I did helped.

My phone dinged from the arm of my chair. I snatched it up, grateful for the distraction. The photo that flashed across the screen made my stomach drop. It was grainy, from an old camera phone. I was straddling Derek’s lap, a beer in one hand, and my head tipped back in laughter. It had seemed like such innocent fun at the time—getting a little tipsy at one of the parties Derek had taken me to.

That was before he’d started using. At least, from what I could tell looking back. But there was an ashtray on the table with a couple of joints inside. The message below the photo read: Mother of the year.

“Anna, what is it? What’s wrong?”

My hand shook as I handed her my phone.

Kennedy’s expression went hard. “Seriously? You had a boyfriend and drank beer at a high school party. If that disqualified someone from parenthood, we’d go extinct as a species.”

“Look at the ashtray. I know people smoked at those things, but I never did. But that won’t matter if this photo gets turned in as evidence.”

“What I want to know is how this asshole has your phone number.”

There were a million ways. Being married to someone who specialized in security, Kennedy knew that; she was just pissed at the moment and not thinking straight.

She handed me back the phone. “You need to call Mason.”