By the time she got to New London, the car was gone. A stream of trucks passed her, just normal traffic on this stretch of turnpike. Lily reached for her cell phone. Maybe she should let Liam know she was on her way. But it was so late—after midnight. Let him get some sleep—she'd wake him up soon enough.

She was so excited about the idea of seeing the people she loved, she didn't notice the car following her, three or four vehicles behind, about half a mile back. If she had seen it, she wouldn't have known whether it was friend or foe.

She hadn't given her protectors an itinerary.

And they hadn't given her one, either.

Liam had been tossing and turning for hours when he heard the footsteps on the porch. He hiked himself up on his elbow, glanced at the door of the small guesthouse the Stanleys were letting him stay in with Rose. He had turned off the outside light, but he saw a moonlit silhouette pass the window, and he knew—more than even recognizing her, he felt her coming toward him.

He pulled open the door, and Lily stood there on the whitewashed porch, her dark hair blowing in the cool breeze. Without any words they reached for each other and hugged, rocking, in the darkness. Now that she was here, he was home. It didn't matter that they were in a house they'd never been before. Home was where Lily was. He felt her hands on his back, sliding up under his T-shirt, and he kissed the top of her head.

They were new at this. Liam had been in love with her most of the nine years they had known each other, but they had both been so careful, being polite, appropriate, and guarded. That had all ended at the beginning of this summer—on the way to Boston, for Rose to have her last lifesaving operation. Liam had known—there was more than one life that needed to be saved. He and Lily couldn't live without each other. He had felt it for a long time, but he knew it more deeply with every passing day.

“I couldn't stay away from you and Rose,” she said.

“We couldn't stand not being with you,” he said.

She tipped her head back, so that he could kiss her, and she tasted sweet and salty. When he closed the door, she pushed back the curtain, looking into the darkness. Her eyes looked worried.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“I'm sure I'm just being overly careful, but I thought a car was following me when I left the beach.”

“I'll go out and check,” he said, but she caught his wrist and kissed him again. He wanted to carry her to his bed right then. But he looked down at her and smiled and took her hand as he led her through the small house to the yellow bedroom where Rose slept.