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A pelican swooped down to scoop up a fish in the waves off the pier, and Savannah imagined how that fish must feel. The same hopelessness swirled in her chest as she fingered the paper Pastor Forrest had given her. Hez hadn’t said much and, even now, sat beside her on the bench with his gaze far away.

She stared at the name. Melissa Morris.

Hez moved closer and slipped his arm around her. “You okay, babe?”

“It’s a lot to take in to realize the divorce was m-my fault.”

“That’s not what Forrest said.”

“It was implied. I’m the one who needs additional counseling for ch-childhood trauma. I never came to terms with what happened to Mom, so I just left when you started down the same path. If I’d handled things right when you started drinking, we wouldn’t be here now.”

His warm lips pressed against her temple. “I doubt I would have listened. I was desperate to numb the guilt. We can’t go back and change things. All we can do is learn from our mistakes and go forward.”

She knew she needed to press the issue about whether he was still drinking, but he’d been so sincere in his denial with Pastor Forrest. Whatever had happened, he clearly didn’t believe he’d emptied that wine bottle, but nothing else made any sense. And her reluctance to bring it up again showed her how much she needed that counseling. “I think I’ll make an appointment.”

The wind caught her hair and blew it into his face, but he didn’t brush it away and only pulled her closer. “It hurts to see you cry like you did in his office. I didn’t realize until then how your mother’s drinking affected you. And then I started that cycle all over again. No wonder you couldn’t deal with it.”

“I should have been stronger.”

“No, I shouldn’t have put you through it in the first place. I’m sorry, babe. More sorry than I can say. You are my whole world, and I let you down. I promise I’ll do better. Just trust me.”

She couldn’t look at him and stared out over the whitecaps. “I do trust you, Hez.”

It was easier to say than to do. That hard kernel of distrust lodged in her chest, and she didn’t know how to dissolve it.

He tipped her chin toward him. “Then why can’t you look at me and say that?”

Her eyes blurred, and she blinked away the moisture. His expression was so earnest, so sincere. Yet so hurt. She desperately wanted to believe him. “I trust you with my life. I always have.”

He gave a slight nod. “I know you want that to be true, and maybe with counseling it will be. That will take time. I’m glad we didn’t get remarried right away. What did you say that night at Billy’s? We need a clean break and a fresh start so we make sure we don’t fall back into the habits that broke us apart. I’ll prove myself to you. I’m not ever giving up on us.”

“I’m not either.”

A hiccupping sob erupted from her throat. “Thank you for sticking with me.”

The pain in his eyes softened. “You had me in the palm of your hand from the first moment we met. I don’t think it’s possible to stop loving you. Even the bottle couldn’t eradicate it.”

She leaned in to kiss him and vowed to fix the damage inside her that childhood trauma had caused. More than anything in the world, she wanted to build a new life with Hez.

* * *

Hez paused to drink in the sight of Savannah as he walked into the president’s office. The morning sun streaming through the mullioned windows brought out gold highlights in her auburn hair and warm tones in the old wood of the library table she used as a desk. She wore a cream blouse and a green blazer that matched her eyes. A picture of a tuxedo-clad younger version of himself on their wedding day grinned at him from the middle of a collection of photos on the credenza. Would a new version of that picture ever take its place?

Doubt clouded Hez’s heart after the counseling session last night. The old helpless despair in her face as she described her mother’s losing battle with addiction made him want to sweep her into his arms and comfort her. But the fear and pain etched deep into her soul were beyond his power to heal.

He would have faced an uphill battle even without the trauma of her childhood. As Jimmy had pointed out, Savannah’s lack of trust was entirely logical. Hez was an alcoholic, most alcoholics relapsed, and she found a wine bottle in his trash. Ergo, the only rational conclusion was that he had relapsed. His denials only meant that he was probably a liar in addition to being a drunk. Rehashing things on the pier hadn’t gotten him very far. Dredging up her feelings had taken everything she had.

He really had only one hope of proving otherwise: catch whoever planted the bottle. His gut told him the same person was at the heart of the corruption threatening TGU. And with luck, the trap he and the Justice Chamber had laid was about to catch them.

“Excuse me,”

Jess said from behind him.

“Sorry.”

He stepped into the office and out of her way. “I was just admiring the view.”

Savannah’s smile was tired but warm. “Are you buttering me up to ask for something? If so, the answer is yes.”

“Nope.”

Hez sat in one of the chairs opposite Savannah and Jess settled in the other. “In fact, I come bearing a gift: the smuggling operation on a silver platter.”

Jess twisted in her seat to look at him. “Smuggling operation? Do we even have proof that’s still going on?”

Hez nodded. “The students in the Justice Chamber have done a really terrific job of connecting the dots. They found smuggled artifacts listed for sale by art galleries, including at least one with a fake TGU provenance letter dated after Beckett’s arrest.”

Jess frowned. “Are you sure? Every time I go down to the beach or out on the bay, I see cops and Coast Guard. How can smugglers possibly get through?”

“They’re using a new route. Instead of bringing in shipments by sea, they’re smuggling them in semitrailers loaded with legitimate cargoes. Drug-sniffing dogs don’t notice anything, of course, and the artifacts are usually small enough that they can be hidden from a visual inspection.”

Jess arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Can you prove any of this? What evidence do you have?”

Hez hesitated for a moment. Jess had zeroed in on his weak point. “We have an anonymous source.”

That didn’t satisfy Jess, of course. “What kind of source? A smuggler? Someone in an art gallery?”

Hez grimaced. Jess would have made a good lawyer. She had a natural gift for cross-examination. “I don’t know. The source talked to one of the Justice Chamber volunteers and insisted on confidentiality.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “This sounds like a college prank.”

Hez smiled. “The DA’s office disagrees. So did Judge Hopkins.”

Jess’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“I presented our evidence to the DA. The source had enough corroborating details to persuade them. They went to the judge and got a warrant.”

Jess stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “If you’re wrong, this will be a huge embarrassment for the university.”

Hez shrugged. “We’ll know tomorrow. The source says a shipment is coming through in the middle of the night. There’s going to be a surprise party waiting for them.”

For the first time in Hez’s memory, Jess was speechless. He savored the moment. And really hoped she was wrong.