My hands shook as I opened the papers. The words blurred, but I could see enough to get the gist of it. The Abbots were contesting Harriet’s will. Challenging whether she’d been of sound mind when she made the changes. And if they were taking this to court, they were going to do everything in their power to win. They always did.

I slowly slid down onto my front step. If I didn’t sit, I’d fall. I met the stone with a jolt that rattled my spine. All I could remember were the papers I’d been sent before, the ones demanding a paternity test, the one that came next demanding that I keep my mouth shut. A dark part of my mind wondered if the stress of it all, of trying to keep it together amidst my heart breaking and the assault of the demands from the Abbots, had been a part of me losing my baby.

My body shook as I remembered the pain. I saw the bloody sheets in my mind, felt the terror as if it were all happening again. I couldn’t see the gravel drive, the grass that lay beyond that. I couldn’t feel the breeze or smell the sea air. I was back in that dorm room, in the bed where my baby ceased to be.

“Brown Eyes.”

The voice was familiar but so far away, as if I were under water, and he was on the surface, calling out, trying to find me.

“Kenna, you’re scaring the shit out of me right now. Answer me.”

I blinked rapidly, my vision slowly coming into focus, the dorm room slipping away as Crosby appeared in front of me.

“There she is.” His forehead pressed against mine, and I realized he was on his knees in his suit.

“You’re going to ruin your slacks.” There was a rasp to my voice as if I hadn’t used it in days.

“Don’t give a fuck about my suit.” He pulled back, cupping my face, studying me, assessing me for damage. There would be too much for him to catalogue if he knew the truth. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” I handed him the papers. It took a second for my arm to obey the command of my brain. Sluggish, almost as if I were drugged. Crosby let out a colorful string of curses. “I don’t think Harriet would care for that language.” I almost choked on her name. Harriet. I couldn’t let her down. Couldn’t let her greedy family steal The Gables and turn it into something she’d never want, either by filling it with their hate, or selling it to the highest bidder.

Crosby slipped a hand under my fall of hair, squeezing my neck. “They aren’t going to win.”