Christi slipped the too-big garment over her head. “Shall I roll up the sleeves?”

“Uh-huh.” The girl yawned and held out her arms.

Task accomplished, Christi eased back. “Someone’s ready to sleep.”

Jack moved forward. “Jump up and I’ll tuck you in.”

Christi frowned. “Isn’t this your room?”

“He sleeps on the sofa.” Hannah climbed up onto the bed with a boost from Jack.

“Only until her furniture arrives.” He pulled up the covers. “It’s a two-bedroom unit.”

But from what she’d seen earlier in passing, the other bedroom was his office. Where would he work in the small apartment after that space became a little girl’s room?

And if furniture was coming, Hannah’s presence must be permanent.

“Good night, honey.” Jack smoothed out the blanket. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay. Will you leave a light on again?”

“Yep.” He crossed to the bathroom, flipped the switch, and cracked the door.

Christi took Jack’s place beside the bed and gave the girl’s hand a squeeze. “I’m happy I got to meet you, Hannah.”

“Me too. Will I see you again?”

Better not make promises Jack might not want her to keep.

“Hope Harbor is a very small town. Most people who live here see each other on occasion.”

“Maybe you can come visit.”

“Let’s talk about that tomorrow, Hannah.” Jack joined the conversation. “It’s late, and Christi has to go home.”

Did that mean he wasn’t going to explain about Hannah after all?

Disappointment welled up inside her—but if he wanted to keep his secrets, how could she blame him? She had plenty of her own she’d never shared with anyone except Tasha. And even her dear friend didn’t know them all.

“I’ll wait in the living room while you finish up in here.” She slipped through the door and walked back down the hall, the murmur of voices following her.

Less than a minute later, Jack joined her. “Are you in a hurry?”

“No. I’m not working tonight.”

“If you want to stay for a few minutes, I can fill you in on the situation here.”

Lines of fatigue radiated from the corners of his eyes, and faint smudges under his lower lashes spoke of stress and sleepless nights. He seemed a world removed from the confident, in-control cop who’d confronted her at Sea Glass Cottage a mere two weeks ago.

But the curveballs of life could take a toll—as she knew all too well.

“Are you certain you want to?” The question was out before she could stop it—prompted by empathy rather than lack of curiosity.

“Yes.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “I can imagine the questions running through your mind, and it would be easy to jump to wrong conclusions. Would you like a soda or water?”

“No thanks.”