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Noah’s voice floated from the laundry room into the kitchen. From where she stood at the stove, Josie could see his profile as he threw a load of wet clothes into the dryer. “Did you talk to your sister?” he called.

“Yes. Did you?”

Noah laughed. “Yes. She can’t keep a secret.”

Josie smiled to herself as she watched the potatoes boil. Trinity had been absolutely giddy when they spoke.

“She told you why your parents wanted to have this family dinner tonight?” Noah said. She heard him twisting dials on the dryer.

“Yeah.” Trinity had, in fact, told Josie the moment she found out the big news. Their parents, Shannon and Christian Payne, were moving to Denton. If they were going to be grandparents—assuming Josie and Noah would be approved to adopt—they wanted to be nearby. Trinity said they were going to announce it at dinner that evening. The prospect filled Josie with joy and a strange sort of nervousness. What if they didn’t get approved to adopt? What if they did, but didn’t match? Or took years to match? Their home study had been rescheduled three weeks from now, but that didn’t make Josie any less nervous.

“We have to act surprised,” Josie called back.

She turned off the burner and carried the pot to the sink where she attempted to empty the water but leave the potatoes using the lid as only a partial cover. A searing pain slashed across the tops of her fingers. With a yelp, she dropped the pot of still boiling water into the sink. Wedges of soft potatoes tumbled out. The glass lid clattered into the basin as well. Sizzling liquid splashed upward. With another cry, Josie jumped back, grateful that none of it was able to reach her. Near the back door, Trout jumped to his feet and started barking. He frequently barked whenever Josie was agitated or hurt or startled. He didn’t know what was happening, he just knew that something with her wasn’t right.

Josie rested her burned fingers in the other palm, wincing at the pain that grew in intensity with every second. “It’s okay, buddy,” she told Trout, but he didn’t believe her. He was still barking when Noah rushed into the kitchen, looking from Josie to Trout and back to Josie.

She held up her hand. “I burned myself.”

“It’s okay, Trout,” he told the dog, who immediately went quiet. But he kept careful watch on Josie, his brown eyes capturing her every move and the points of his ears standing at attention. “Let me see.”

Josie let Noah take her hand in his large palm. The skin across her index and middle fingers was hot pink. “It feels like they’re on fire,” she said through gritted teeth.

He led her back to the sink and turned on the cold water. The pot she’d dropped just seconds ago sizzled under its spray, releasing another cloud of steam. “Be careful,” she said. “That’s how I just did this.”

He let the cold water run, holding her hand gently. “The boiling water splashed across your hand?”

“No. The steam. I was trying to empty the water out of the pot so I could mash the potatoes. I used the lid to try to keep the potatoes in while letting the water out, and I guess I wasn’t holding it right? The steam…it just…” She let out a stream of expletives.

Noah guided her hand under the cold water. Immediately the unbearable sting abated. “Keep it there. At least twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” Josie blurted.

She heard the slide of a drawer and the opening and closing of a cabinet and then Noah started fishing crumbling potatoes out of the sink with a spatula and depositing them into a bowl.

Josie sighed, keeping her fingers under the icy water. “I don’t think we can salvage those.”

Noah smiled at her. “Sure we can. The sink was clean. You didn’t lose any skin in here. None that I can see, anyway.”

She bumped her hip against his. He was trying to lighten the mood but the simple act of ruining what small part of dinner she had agreed to prepare and injuring herself in the process felt like a defeat for the ages. It had been two weeks since he shot Ryan Lee during their rescue of Mira and Rosie. Ryan had survived, barely, but Josie couldn’t stop thinking about him, and for all of Noah’s stoicism and equanimity, she knew he continued to replay the shooting in his head during the quiet moments of each day. Ryan survived, but he would spend the rest of his days in prison. Not that his upbringing excused April’s murder or any of the other crimes he’d committed, but he’d never had a chance at a normal life.

Some cases hit harder than others and lingered long after they were solved.

The only good to come out of the entire thing was that Rebecca and Jon Lee had agreed to take in Rosie. While Josie wasn’t crazy about Jon being one of her guardians, she trusted Rebecca to take good care of the girl. Rosie was lucky she’d have a live-in psychologist to help her wade through all the damage that had been done to her in her young life. Josie had visited Tranquil Trails just yesterday and found Rosie following Rebecca around, glowing with curiosity and her newfound freedom. She’d shown Josie her new room, new clothes, and told her all about the meals that Rebecca and Jon prepared for her in the short time she’d been with them. Then she’d prattled on about all the things that she was going to do in the future now that she lived with Rebecca and Jon.

“I’m so normal now,” Rosie had told her giddily.

It made Josie happy and broke her heart all at the same time.

“Josie,” Noah said. “What’s going on?”

Her voice lowered. “God, Noah. I can’t even handle a pot of boiling water. The only reason Trout didn’t get hurt when I dropped it and it splashed everywhere was because he was over there and not under my feet where he usually is?—”

Abandoning the potato rescue, Noah snaked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a hard kiss. Then he rested his forehead against hers. His free hand reached over and moved her fingers back under the falling water. “I was teasing you the other day,” he whispered. “I’ve seen you handle things that would break most people. The pots will never win.”

Josie laughed, long and hard, drawing her head back from his so she could look into his hazel eyes. It felt good to laugh after the days of digging through the wreckage Seth, Ryan, and Deirdre had left in their sizable wake. “The pots will never win?” she repeated.

A smile spread across his face. One of those heart-stoppers that he saved just for her. He let go of her neck and went back to salvaging the potatoes, adjusting her hand again so that her fingers remained under the icy spray. “They won’t.”

He dug around in the sink for what was left of the mushy potatoes and then replaced her fingers under the spigot once more. “Only a few more minutes,” he said.

Josie couldn’t feel her hand at all. As promised, a few moments later, Noah gently moved it out of the stream. He wet a washcloth, squeezed the excess water from it, and wrapped it around Josie’s fingers. Then he led her over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair so she could sit.

Trout walked over to her, jumping up, his little paws pressing into her thigh. He sniffed at her lap and then nudged her elbow. She swore she could see worry in his brown eyes. With her good hand, she scratched behind his ears. “I’m fine, buddy. Really.” The burn in her fingers was returning but the cool washcloth felt good.

“I thought you’d be happy that your parents were moving to Denton,” said Noah.

“I am. I think. It’s just that they’re uprooting their entire lives for us and a baby we may never get.”

“You’re worried we’ll disappoint them.” It wasn’t a question. “Josie, your dad told me years ago that they couldn’t wait until they were able to retire so they could move here to be closer to you.”

A wave of warmth washed over her. “Really?”

“Yes. Josie, they missed the first thirty years of your life. They just want to spend more time with you. If we give them their first grandchild, they’ll be thrilled—and we’ll be lucky to have more babysitters—but you could never disappoint them.”

She looked down at Trout. He was still watching her intently. “I don’t know about that. They haven’t eaten my cooking yet.”

Noah laughed as he unwrapped her hand, gazing at her fingers. The skin was an angry red. “No blisters,” he said. “I think this is going to hurt like a bitch for a day or two, but you should be fine.”

“Everything hurts like a bitch.” She could still feel the aches, pains, and bruises that lingered everywhere from the Seth Lee case, her ankle most of all. She leaned forward and kissed Noah softly. “But thank you.”

“Always,” he whispered.

She glanced at the abandoned bowl of boiled potatoes. “Should we just order out?”

Noah squeezed her knee. “No. We’ll try again.”

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