“You might as well say what’s on your mind,” Tom said bitterly. “Everyone else has.”

“Then I don’t need to. Home, Hunter. Rest. Then be ready when we need you.”

So Tom gathered his things and started for home. Luckily, the field office wasn’t far from the duplex. It was one of the reasons Liza had chosen it. It was far from the veterans’ home, though, and even farther from the nursing school. She’d said she hadn’t minded.

She’d set up his life for his convenience and comfort at the expense of her own. He could see that now. He needed to talk to her. He needed to. He needed to make this right. But . . .

I need more than that.

She needed him to back away. But . . .

He’d been about to speed-dial her when his personal cell began to ring through his SUV’s speakers. It was Rafe Sokolov. “Rafe, is there anything wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Nothing new, anyway. I was hoping you could come to my house. I borrowed some tables for Mercy’s party and I’ve been hiding them in the garage. Amos and I could use some help loading them into his truck. Neither of us is operating at full capacity.”

“Of course. I need to stop by my house and walk Pebbles first, though.”

“Bring her with you,” Rafe said warmly. “Abigail will be so happy to see her. Then, after we move the tables, you can have dinner with us. We’re ordering pizzas.”

That sounded more than nice. Not spending the evening alone sounded like heaven.

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

FRIDAY, MAY 26, 7:05 P.M.

“I ordered the pizzas,” Rafe announced as he came through the door to the studio apartment he and Mercy shared. “Double anchovies for everybody, right?”

Liza looked up from where she sat on the floor painting Abigail’s nails to catch him wink.

“What’s anchovies?” Abigail asked.

“Salty little fish,” Liza said.

“Ew!” Abigail cried, scrunching up her face. “That’s gross, Rafe.”

“He’s teasing,” Mercy told her softly. Then she looked uncertain. “Aren’t you, Rafe?”

“He totally is,” Sasha Sokolov said, her hands soaking in a bowl of warm, sudsy water. Rafe’s sister lived upstairs but was hanging with them on the lower floor for girls’ night.

“I totally am,” Rafe assured Abigail, tugging on her braid. “I got liver flavor instead.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “You’re teasing again.”

“He is,” Daisy said firmly. She was painting Mercy’s nails, taking special care because Mercy was going to be guest of honor at her birthday party. Everyone thought it was still a surprise, not knowing that Mercy had figured it out. “We’re eating pepperoni and sausage and all the good things. And you don’t even have to finish your supper to have ice cream.”

Liza perked up. “What kind of ice cream?”

“All the flavors,” Erin Rhee said from the sofa where she sat next to Gideon, who was watching them with silent, semihorrified fascination, as though if he asked them what they were doing, they’d somehow drag him into their little salon.