He locked the door and set the alarm, shaking his head. Like he needed her to remind him.

But that was Erin, showing that she cared. Because she did, of that he was certain.

He dragged his tired ass into the apartment, locked that door, and collapsed onto the sofa. His laptop sat on the table where Mercy had left it before they’d left for his mother’s Sunday dinner, a stack of printouts of Eden-made furniture and crafts ready for the bulletin board.

He was too tired to get up and tack them to the board. He was too tired to get off the sofa and go to bed. But apparently not too tired for his mind to keep buzzing around Mercy.

God, she’d broken his heart tonight. So damn brave. And when Gideon had broken down at the end? Rafe hadn’t been able to hold himself together. Luckily, he wasn’t alone—figuratively or literally. His family had clung to one another in the hall outside the kitchen, wrapping Farrah and André into their group hug. Until Mercy and Gideon had reappeared, both looking awful with red eyes and noses. But both looked equally at peace—and suddenly Rafe had felt at peace, too.

Until just now. Because Mercy didn’t live here. He might believe she belonged here, but she had another life. That she’d stay in Sacramento for Gideon’s sake was a nice wish, but not very likely, no matter how close they got over the upcoming weeks.

In fact, it was highly likely that she’d return to New Orleans with Farrah for her aunt’s funeral and decide to stay there.

His heart was seriously at risk, but he wasn’t sure how he could protect himself. He could walk away now. Let Mercy and Gideon find Burton and put the bastard down. But that would be wrong. He’d promised to help.

He could simply make sure there was always distance between Mercy and himself. But the thought hurt.

Or, he could just be with her and enjoy what time they had, then deal with the fallout when it happened. He’d keep her safer than he’d kept Bella, that was for damn sure. Images of Bella’s body filled his head and he pushed them away, refusing to allow his mind to see Mercy in the same way.

A knock on his door jerked him from the dour thoughts. Fucking hell. He did not want to get up. “Who is it?”

“It’s Mercy.”

Mercy. A tiny pulse of energy spread to his arms and legs, and he pulled himself to the edge of the sofa. “Give me a minute,” he called. “I’m coming.” Don’t go. Please don’t go.

“I have a key, if that’s okay,” she called. “Sasha gave it to me, but I didn’t want to barge in.”

Rafe exhaled heavily, angry with his body. But it had been an eventful two days and he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Better not to push himself any further, he thought, resigned. “Come in.”