When he opened his arms, she leaned into him, returning her arms to his neck. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

He stroked her hair, wishing there were more he could do for her. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s a shock and you need to process your grief the best way you know how.”

She went still. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. I lost someone I loved and it almost killed me.” He remembered the day he’d found Bella’s body. That was twice that he’d thought of her in the last hour, after burying her memory so deep that he’d gone whole months without feeling the crushing grief. He thought about hiding it now, but Mercy deserved his honesty. “And I blamed myself, too. It wasn’t logical or reasonable, but it was my truth.”

One of her hands let go of his neck, sliding down to cup his cheek. “What was her name?”

He flinched, not expecting the question. But he should have. Mercy had seen more than he’d wanted her to in those weeks after the shooting, those weeks that she’d barely left his side. “Bella.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rafe.”

“Thank you. It was about three years ago. I manage not to think about her when I’m awake.” He had no control over his nightmares. They were more frequent than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

“But not when you’re asleep,” she said quietly, with an understanding that broke his heart all over again. He didn’t want to know Mercy’s nightmares, but he’d listen if that was what she needed. “How did she die?”

He hesitated. “She was murdered.”

“Rafe. Oh my God.” She started to say more, then shook her head. “You don’t have to tell me. Unless you need to talk to someone. Then I’m here.”

He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “Not today. Today is about Farrah.”

She shuddered against him. “When is André getting here?”

“Any minute now.” And as if on cue, the doorbell rang. “That’s probably him.”

“Do you need to greet him?” she asked.

“No. Mom knows he’s coming to see Farrah. She knows he needs to give her the news alone. She’ll probably put them in Dad’s office.”

“Maybe you can go anyway,” she murmured. “Tell him that whenever she needs me, I’ll go to her.”

He gave her a light squeeze, then tilted her chin so that he could see her face. “Do you really want time alone for yourself? I can go if you need me to.”

She nodded, wincing guiltily. “Just a little time. I need to pull myself together. Farrah doesn’t need me to be a weepy mess. She needs me strong.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she’ll want to cry it out with someone else who loved her aunt.”

Mercy considered it, then dropped her eyes. But not before he saw her shame. “You’re right. This is one of those moments I wish I had a primer for social situations. I always pick the wrong thing to do or say.”