Page 40

40

Heather had taken a screenshot of her phone. She wasn’t stupid. And this definitely wasn’t her first go-around. She had documented every threat she or her family had received since the day they had gotten her sister and Crispin back after Eastman.

Longer than that. Every text Steve had sent her, every incident of him following her. Everything. She had kept it all.

But this threat mentioned things that no one in Texas should have known about. And that meant she had no other option.

Report the threat. To the proper channels.

Starting with Daniel McKellen.

Not something she was exactly looking forward to.

She stopped off in the kitchen. Her family was there. Summer was watching all of the kids—including Miguel’s. Heather hadn’t realized Miguel was there. Again.

He was always there lately. Just patiently waiting. She snickered.

Hope would catch on eventually. Maybe.

They should just move him right in permanently. She suspected Miguel wouldn’t mind one bit. Especially if they just shoved him right on in there with Hope.

Hope definitely would mind, though.

If she even caught on to why he wanted to be in there with her in the first place. Her sister was beyond clueless here.

“Hey,” she just looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I am going to drive your mother and Hope to the doctor this morning. Summer is going to watch my kids. Then I am going in to meet with Marshall about a cold case I’ve been working.”

“Ricky Ahumada case,” Hope said. She was sitting in her chair, looking a bit wimpy. But she was sitting up, and she had obviously showered. She was getting better. Hope was going to be okay.

And there was a beautiful man Heather suspected was waiting for just the right moment to sweep her baby sister right off her ridiculously small feet forever.

Heather couldn’t think of anything more perfect. Hope deserved a man like Miguel. Her baby sister just did.

“Where are you going today?” Hope asked. There was suspicion on her face. Hope was really good at seeing through the front Heather always tried to keep in place.

Not so good at seeing super-hot guys in front of her, though.

“I must go speak with the great Commander Butthead for a while. Then I am going to swing by the speech therapist on Thirty-Sixth’s office. See if I can get a list of their going rates.” She winced, thinking about the cost. With Heather’s medical bills the extra money just wasn’t there.

Well, if she had to, she’d just let the medical bills slide for a while. Even if it meant bankruptcy. Her baby needed speech therapy now . Heather would do what she had to do. Frankie’s needs came far ahead of hospital bills. Period.

“Cookies are ready,” Summer called. Just like that, kids came from everywhere. Even Miguel’s little Emilia came toddling in after the rest of them, Crispin watching her closely. Emilia had only been walking for a few days, that one.

Emilia toddled right over to Heather and reached for her. Heather just scooped her up. Heather had been one of the first to ever hold this baby, and that mattered. So much. “Hi, sweetie. You want a cookie?”

“An-an-an-an.” She babbled and grinned and was just beautiful in every way.

“She’s trying to say aunt,” Hope said. “She’s started calling Joy ‘an’ too. Mom is ‘graa’ now. She is so smart. She’ll probably talk early.”

“I am good with being ‘an.’” Heather kissed the toddler and took the cookie Summer held out to her. Emilia happily chowed down. Gnawed on the cookie. Heather slipped her into the highchair.

And ate a few cookies of her own while she nursed Ember.

Half an hour later, she finished with her daughters and stood. “I have to go. Wish me luck.”

“Grab a sweatshirt. It’s chilly out this morning,” Bonnie told her, sending her that “mother” look Bonnie was so good at. Heather knew not to argue.

She had learned, she had learned. A long time ago. No one ever really won an argument with Bonnie Coleson when that look was in play. They just didn’t.

Heather grabbed a zippered hoodie off the hook by the door and slipped it on. “I’m going.”

“Wait! Mommy! Hug me!” Frankie darted into her arms. Heather leaned down and kissed her baby girl. That rush of love she felt every time she held one of her daughters filled her again. She suspected, and hoped, that it always would. They were her life, her girls. Her girls, and her family, every last one of them.

When she stood up, there was smashed cookie on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Heather brushed it off, then lifted Emilia, and turned to Emilia’s father. Emilia amused herself by chewing on Heather’s shoulder. She was definitely cutting a tooth. Heather was sure of it. Well, she thought Ember was too.

Baby slobber was everywhere lately.

Most of it was on Heather now.

“When you are finished tonight, I have some things I want to discuss with you,” Miguel said.

“I’ll be here.” Where else would she be? This was where Heather belonged. Heather kissed Emilia on her little forehead and passed her over to Crispin, who was already waiting with a wet cloth.

Time to deal with Commander Butthead McKellen.

Damn it. She was on vacation. She would far rather stay home baking cookies with a million adorable Coleson children than spend five minutes with that man. But Heather had learned a long time ago—life wasn’t often what she wanted. Just what she had to make the best of. Somehow.