She scowled at the pot she was scrubbing in the kitchen sink, replaying the final few minutes of their conversation. He hadn’t said good-bye. What he had said was . . .

Temporary. That he knew she considered this temporary, that he was only there to protect her and the boys.

Which was true.

But she didn’t want it to be true. She didn’t want it to be temporary.

But that was how it would have to be.

The doorbell set the dogs to barking. She considered answering it, but there were plenty of people in her living room to do that, so she kept scrubbing the pot. The barking got louder, interspersed with cries of, “Zeus! Goliath! Down!” and “Zeus! Goliath! Settle!”

Oh, great. Now Faith was here, too. Dani loved Deacon’s wife, but her arrival made Dani wonder who had invited her. She blew out a breath and scrubbed the pot harder as the answer unrolled itself in her mind. Earlier that morning, Adam had mentioned that Faith would be bringing Greg over to spend time with Michael.

Dani wouldn’t be surprised if Faith already knew about the conversation that she and Meredith had had earlier in the afternoon. He’s a good, good man. Don’t hurt him. Please.

Meredith and Faith were joined at the hip because they worked together, both therapists in the child counseling practice Meredith had built. That they’d already compared notes and agreed that Dani would probably hurt Diesel was fairly inevitable. Great. Just great. Because of course they’d been right.

I hurt him.

“What’s wrong?” Faith asked.

Dani didn’t spare a glance at her sister-in-law, who’d leaned one hip against the counter. She’d known Faith was standing there, had felt her sharp scrutiny.

“Did you bring Greg with you?” Dani’s younger brother lived with Deacon and Faith, the three of them getting along like champions.

Not like it had been when Dani had been solely responsible for Greg’s welfare—and behavior. That had never ended well. Greg loved her, but she’d never been able to give her little brother what he’d needed when he’d needed it.

Just one more relationship I fucked up.

“Yes. He’s talking to Michael, signing so fast that I can’t follow.”

“That’s good.” And it was. Michael deserved all the friends he could get.

“And you?” Faith asked gently. “Are you good?”

No. Not at all. I’m not good. I’m shitty. A shitty person. The kind who hurts generous men like Diesel Kennedy.

And Adrian. Because she’d hurt him, too. Yes, he’d also been at fault, but she’d purposely hurled words intended to hurt him. She’d denied him forgiveness when he’d begged. And now he was dead. “I’m fine,” she said dully.

“Yeah, no,” Faith drawled. “Try again.”

“Don’t ask questions you already know answers to, then,” Dani snapped.