“That’ll take more time. You’ve been you for your whole life. I don’t have a magic wand. You’re going to have to put the time into therapy to fix that.”

Annoyed, Dani pressed her lips together. Of course Faith would recommend therapy. She was a damn therapist. “Did you get therapy?”

Faith surprised her again by nodding. “I did. I still do. So I’m not being cute or condescending. If you want to make those fundamental changes, you’ll seek therapy, but it’s not an overnight cure. In the meantime, you could find happiness with Diesel. Do you want that?”

Dani looked away. “Yes.” More than anything.

“Then what are you going to do?”

“You mean right now?”

“Not this second, but soon. If you’ve hurt him, you need to fix it. If you want him, you should tell him.”

“I did tell him,” Dani admitted. “Last night. But I told him that I didn’t want to want him.”

Faith winced. “Ouch.”

Dani forced herself to say the word that had been echoing in her mind. “He said I considered him temporary. That I only wanted him here because of the boys.”

Faith’s wince deepened. “And you said . . . ?”

“Nothing. I just . . . watched him go.” Dani wanted to smack herself upside the head. “I just kind of froze.”

“Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know. I think he will, if only to guard the kids. He made a promise and I don’t think he’ll break it.”

“And if he does come back?” Faith asked.

The doorbell rang, saving Dani from having to answer. Which was good, because she had no idea what she’d do. And because the issue still existed.

Right or wrong, she was not good for Diesel Kennedy.

Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, March 17, 8:20 p.m.

Cade stood at the back of Brewer’s property, staring up at the house. There was a single light on upstairs. Stella Rowland Brewer was home, it seemed.

He’d parked his SUV a half mile away and hiked, just in case there was police presence. Which there was. A single cruiser sat in the driveway, close to the house. There were two cops inside the car. There were no other police cars out front or anywhere along the perimeter. He’d made sure of that.

The cops were taking turns doing perimeter checks. Every thirty minutes or so, one would jog around the house, checking doors and windows.

Cade could handle the two cops if he had to. He’d prefer not to have to kill them, but he would if it came to it. But in an effort to avoid doing so, he would get in and out of the house and interrogate Mrs. Brewer in the fastest possible time.