He smoothed his hand over the silky length of Laura’s hair, taking comfort from her presence even when she was asleep. What she’d said about him not being anything like his father had struck a chord with him. He wanted so badly to believe she was right about that, but he’d always been aware of a simmering core of rage that lived within him. While he couldn’t imagine ever striking out at the people closest to him, the rage was part of him nonetheless.

Perhaps he would never find a need to tap that hidden resource, and he could only hope it would remain dormant and not rear its ugly head to cause him trouble. Staring up at the ceiling in the dark of night with the love of his life asleep in his arms, Owen made a silent vow never to allow rage to dictate his reactions to Laura or his children. He loved them too much to ever let that happen.

He was not his father’s son. He would never be his father’s son. Owen finally fell asleep, taking those thoughts with him into slumber.

This was a huge mistake, Sarah thought as she changed out of the outfit she’d worn to the clambake into the summer-weight nightgown she’d brought with her to sleep in. Earlier in the day, when she’d packed a bag to spend the night with Charlie, she’d been excited and filled with anticipation of spending hours alone with him.

Now that those hours were upon her, however, she was as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night. She felt ridiculous for allowing nerves to derail her determination to move forward with a man who’d been an amazing friend to her for nearly a year now. He’d been patient and kind and gentle with her from the very beginning. He’d shown her how a real man treats the woman he cares for, and now she wanted to show him how much she cared for him.

Except, she wasn’t sure she could. It had been so long since she’d experienced the kind of feelings Charlie aroused in her just by looking at her across the table with that sly smile and those piercing blue eyes. He never had a whole lot to say, but he managed to convey his affection for her with his actions, which spoke far louder than the loudest of words ever had.

She brushed her hair and teeth and summoned the fortitude to leave the bathroom, to get into bed with him, to hold him and touch him and kiss him. He’d told her he didn’t expect anything from her that she wasn’t ready to give, and she appreciated that he’d known those words would matter to her. But the nerves were present nonetheless.