“Hey.” He waited until she looked at him. “You haven’t said the wrong thing to me. In fact, most of what you’ve said has been pretty damn perfect.”

“No, it hasn’t been, but thanks for saying so.”

“Mercy, don’t tell me what I think. I told you the truth.” Thank you, Gideon. Thank you for reminding me to tell her the truth. “I will always tell you the truth.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth again, but the whimper escaped. He grabbed the tissue box from the nightstand. “I’ll go down to talk to Holmes, but he probably has Farrah in the office already. You got your phone?”

She shook her head. “I left it in the kitchen.”

“I’ll send Gideon back with it. He’ll need to see that you’re okay with his own eyes.”

Her mouth bent in a watery smile. “He will.”

Hoping he wasn’t pushing too hard, Rafe dropped a quick, chaste kiss on her mouth. “Once you get your phone, text me if you need anything, okay? I’ll text you when Farrah needs you.”

She was staring up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted, looking a little kiss-drunk. He smiled down at her because the look on her face was kind of adorable and much easier to witness than the agonized guilt. “Rest. Sleep if you need to.”

“Wait.” She rose gracefully. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she pulled his head down for another kiss, this one deeper, longer. Better. So much better. “Thank you,” she repeated huskily. “I’ll see you later.”

It was Rafe’s turn to be kiss-drunk and he backed out of the bedroom, stumbling and nearly falling on his ass. Luckily Gideon was there to keep him upright.

“You okay, Rafe?” he asked.

Rafe nodded, licking his lips and finding that her taste had lingered. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Holmes is here,” he said. “And Mercy’s phone was ringing so I brought it to her. I think it was John.”

“I told Mercy that I’d text her when Farrah was ready to see her. Go on now. She’s expecting you.”

Rafe made his way back to the kitchen, still dazed by that kiss. Sasha, Daisy, Erin, and his father wore matching looks of devastation and his mother’s face was set firmly as she put together a tea tray. Strangely the sight of his mother’s capable hands arranging teacups soothed his aching heart. He didn’t know how many times in his life he’d watched her doing the same thing when one of them had received bad news. Teen breakups, lost sports tournaments, failing grades, skinned knees. Irina’s answer was always a cup of tea and cake.

Another wave of love bubbled up, making his chest so tight he could barely breathe. She looked up and smiled sadly. “I already made a tray for Farrah and her captain. This one is for Mercy.”

“She . . . she asked for a little quiet time. Gid’s in there with her now.”

Irina lifted a brow. “Thus a tray, Raphael. She can drink all the tea she wants alone, because I am taking her a tray.”