Except for the one day every month when Holden’s biological father came to the island to visit him, the baby belonged to Owen and Laura, and Owen couldn’t imagine loving a child of his own any more than he loved Holden. He loved the way the baby snuggled into his embrace and squeezed his finger or gnawed on his thumb while teething. He loved how Holden stared up at him as Owen fed him a bottle, and he loved that he was just as good as Laura was at getting him to burp.

He’d even mastered diaper changes and could do them now in the dark when necessary. Since Holden came into his life, Owen had thought more about his own childhood than he had in years, wondering mostly how anyone could harm an innocent child. Soon he would have to testify about his miserable upbringing at his father’s trial.

The thought of seeing Mark Lawry again—for the first time in more than a decade—made Owen feel sick and anxious, so he tried not to think about it. But there was nothing he wouldn’t do to support his mom and her domestic violence case against his dad. His siblings felt the same way. They were willing to walk through fire, literally, to make sure their father could never again hurt anyone else the way he’d hurt them.

Lying on his back in the crib, Holden looked up at him, his chubby legs bicycling the blanket right off. Laughing, Owen put it back over him. “Playtime is over, buddy. Time for some sleep.” He turned on the musical mobile and smoothed a hand over the baby’s soft blond hair. “See you bright and early.”

Owen’s days of sleeping until noon after working a late gig were long over. Getting up with the baby was now one of his two favorite ways to start the day. His other favorite way involved the baby’s mother. With Holden settled for the night, Owen wandered into the bedroom to check on her.

Laura lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Her face was unusually pale, which it had been since the stomach flu hit her the week before. Most of the other islanders who’d had the bug had bounced back a day or two later. After a week, Laura was still flattened, even though she’d insisted on working and taking care of the baby.

“Is he asleep?” she asked.

“On his way.” Owen lay next to her and reached for her hand. After seven months together, it still stopped his heart to realize he could hold her and touch her and make love to her any time he wanted. She was his to keep, and nothing in his life had ever been more precious to him than her and the baby they both loved. “How’re you feeling?”