“I was wrestling my own demons,” he said. “I couldn’t wrestle yours, too. Remember those ugly fights? Not just ours. I was punching out fans, photographers. I was burning up.”

And taking her with him.

He wandered past her toward the edge of the pond. Only in the way he moved, with the same lithesome, long-legged grace as his son, could anyone have guessed they were related. They didn’t look alike. Dean had taken after her blond Nordic ancestors. Jack was night, dark as sin. She swallowed and said softly, “We had a son together. I needed to talk to you about him.”

“I know. But my survival depended on staying away.”

“Maybe at first, but what about later on? What about then?”

He met her gaze full on. “As long as I was signing the checks on time, I gave myself a pass.”

“I never forgave you for that blood test.”

He gave a sharp bite of a laugh. “Give me a break. How many lies had I caught you in? You were wild, out of control.”

“And Dean was the one who paid.”

“Yeah, he was the one who paid.”

She rubbed her arms. She was so tired of having her past shape the present. Fake it till you make it. It was time to take her own advice. “Where’s Riley?”

“Asleep.”

She glanced toward the cottage windows. “Inside?”

“No. At the farmhouse.”

“I thought Dean and Blue went out.”

“They did.” He grabbed the kitchen chair to carry it inside.

“You left Riley alone?”

He headed for the back door. “I told you. She was asleep.”

“What if she wakes up?”

He picked up his step. “She won’t.”

“You have no way of knowing that.” She went after him. “Jack, you don’t leave a skittish eleven-year-old alone in a big house like that at night.”

He’d never liked being put on the defensive, and he set the chair down hard in the grass. “Nothing’s going to happen. She’s safer there than in the city.”

“She doesn’t feel that way.”

“I guess I’m a better judge of my own child than you are.”

“You don’t have any idea what to do with her.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said.

“Do it fast. She might only be eleven, but trust me when I tell you time is running out.”

“Now you’re the big expert on motherhood?”

A rush of anger sent another crack into the rocky landscape of her serenity. “Yes, Jack, I am. Nobody’s a better expert than someone who’s made every mistake in the book.”

“You’re right about that.” He grabbed the chair and stalked inside.

The crack split into a chasm. Only one person had the right to condemn her, and that was Dean. She shot after him. “Don’t you dare judge me. You, of all people.”