Another knock on the door, this one persistent, hurried Lane into the living room, making her forget about the colorful tiny blocks on the floor until her bare foot found one. She bit down on her lip to avoid the scream that wanted to escape. Rubbing her foot, she took a few seconds to regain her composure.

“Momma,” Noah said, wrapping his fist tight around the dog tags. “Someone’s here.”

“Mrs. Kent, it’s Deputy Charlie Lynch”—the strong baritone voice carried from the other side of the door—“with the Walton County Sheriff Department.”

Lane’s heart seized. Dread crept up from the pit of her stomach and reached around her torso, squeezing her breaths out in short, shallow gasps. Her mind flashed back to the moment two years ago when North Carolina troopers stood on her porch. Mathias was gone.

“Momma?”

Noah’s voice chased away the haunting memories and brought her focus back to the deputy standing on the other side of her door. Catching her breath, Lane opened the door. And there he was. Deputy Charlie Lynch. Unlike yesterday, he wasn’t wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Today his broad shoulders filled out the tan uniform, making him appear taller. Stalwart.

“Afternoon, ma’am. Aunt B said I’d find you up here. I hope you don’t mind—” The door pulled wide and Noah appeared at her side. The deputy’s gaze cut to Noah and softened.

“Hey, you’re a policeman.” Noah pointed at the deputy’s badge. “My daddy was an Army soldier. Momma says when you wear a uniform, you are a hero. See these.” Noah pulled on the dog tags around his neck. “These are my dad’s tags, but they’re mine now.”

What was that look? Something tugged at the deputy’s expression. Confusion? Whatever it was, she didn’t have time to figure it out. Leave it to a four-year-old to tell a complete stranger their life story.

“Sorry, one sec.” Lane looked down at her son. “Go grab three toys to bring with us to Bear and Gigi’s.”

Noah’s lips twisted. “Can I bring four?” He lifted up four chubby fingers.

“Yes.” She would’ve let him bring five toys just to put a stop to his show-and-tell episode. Lane waited until Noah disappeared down the hall before turning to the deputy standing at her door.

“Bear?” A soft smile curved his lips and Lane couldn’t help noticing the two dimples wedged into his cheeks. Or the uneasy way her heart was racing.

“My father. A nickname.” And personality. Most people in town knew her father’s moniker, which confirmed this deputy was very new—and very unaware of Bear’s wrath if she and Noah were late. “Will this take long, Deputy Lynch?”

“I promise not to keep you longer than necessary.” The deputy shifted, looking around. “Would you feel more comfortable talking up here . . . or downstairs?”