scooped Michael into her lap, and he tucked his head into the hollow of her neck. His dark lashes fluttered on his cheeks and Devon’s heart skipped a beat. Couldn’t Kieran see his mirror image in Michael?
“I don’t know. I asked, but apparently Colin took off with Michelle Girard. Do you remember her? She lived…” She trailed off as Kieran shook his head. “Anyway, they took off for parts unknown.”
Kieran rubbed his knuckles against the black stubble of his beard. “People are going to know me here, aren’t they?”
Devon allowed her mouth to hang open for a few seconds. “Of course. I don’t understand how you’ve avoided detection up until this point.”
“I haven’t been here long and I haven’t been out much. The town’s already clogged with tourists. What’s one more with a baseball cap pulled over his face?”
“You’re one of Coral Cove’s favorite sons, Kieran. High school football star, football scholarship to college, prestigious language institute before joining the Green Berets.” She brushed a hand across Michael’s smooth cheek, taking note of his measured breathing, and whispered, “People think you’re dead.”
His one dark eye glittered, unfathomable beneath a half-mast lid. “I suppose I’d cause a stir if I hit the streets.”
“If you hit the streets? You’re not staying?” Her hands bunched Michael’s T-shirt as she hugged his sleeping form closer to her body. “Y-you need medical treatment. Psychiatric treatment.”
“I can get that at Walter Reed.”
“I thought you didn’t trust the government.”
“Is that what you’re doing here?”
“What?” She wasn’t sure she liked this abrupt-talking stranger with the piercing eyes…eye. Was he blind beneath that patch?
He leveled a finger at Michael. “What’s wrong with your boy?”
Devon hunched over Michael’s body in a protective gesture. Was it so clear that Michael had issues? Or was Kieran extra perceptive because of his half blindness…or because he was Michael’s father?
“What do you mean?”
“He’s what? Five? Six? He’s not very vocal. He’s jumpy. Uneasy. Watchful.”
Like his father.
“He’s four.” Devon held her breath, waiting for Kieran to start calculating the years in his head. Did he even remember the last time they were together? Probably not if he thought Michael could be six years old.
Devon slumped in her chair. “Our downstairs neighbor was murdered last month. Michael hasn’t been the same since.”
“Murder can be tough for a kid to handle. Did he know her well?”
“They were…close. But I never told Michael Mrs. Del Vecchio was murdered, just that she had died.”
“Maybe he found out.”
“I don’t know. He won’t talk about it.” Her nose tingled with tears and she buried her face in Michael’s soft hair.
“Is he in treatment?”
“He was seeing a therapist in the city, but I wanted to get away from our apartment house. The therapist thought it was a good idea, too.”
“And now?”
“This is my hometown, a refuge.” Or at least it was before her dead fiancé showed up with no memory. “There also happens to be a great therapist here, who works with hypnosis. She’s a family friend, too, so I trust her with Michael.”
“Hypnosis, huh?”
“She could probably help you, too, Kieran. She’s a family therapist—sees both kids and adults.” She needed another way to keep him here in Coral Cove besides the obvious. Once she told him about Michael, would he feel obligated to stay and try to work things out? The man already had enough pressure.
“Maybe.” He stretched his long legs in front of him and his arms over his head. “Your little one is out. You should get him to bed.”
She peered at the sun dipping into the ocean, one orange crescent floating on a dark blue ripple. “It’s dinner time. He’s going to have to wake up to eat.”
Kieran pushed up from his chair and crossed to hers in two long steps. He held out his arms. “Do you want me to carry him back to your car?”
“I have a better idea. Your parents’ place is just down the street, and I know where they keep the key.”
She shifted, and Kieran bent over, arms still outstretched to take Michael.
“Are you sure?”
“Are you sure? Will he freak out if he wakes up and I’m carrying him?”
Devon gulped. Maybe not if he knew you were his father.
“He’s a pretty heavy sleeper. I think he’ll be okay.”
Kieran slid his arms beneath Michael’s body, one under his back and the other behind his knees. Devon released her son to his father for the first time ever.
Straightening, Kieran hoisted Michael in his arms and secured him against his broad chest.
Devon blinked her eyes and dipped her head, allowing her hair to create a veil over her face. She had to tell him. The knowledge might mess with his mind even more, but it might help him, give him something to live for…because she wasn’t enough for him anymore.
“Lead the way.”
The fact that she was guiding Kieran to his parents’ house created another level of unreality to this day. Why had Columbella House imprinted itself on his memory instead of his family home? A tiny flame of hope flickered in her chest. Was it because of her? Because of what they’d shared in that house, in that now burned-out room?
She held the side gate open for Kieran and Michael snug in his arms. “Let’s stop at my car first. I want to grab my purse. You can wait here.”
“I’ll come with you. Michael’s as light as a feather.”
Their feet crunched the gravel as they walked single file on the road around the bend to the lookout. Her car sat all by itself. The other two people hadn’t stayed for the sunset after all.
As she approached her car, she tilted her head. “Why’s my car listing to one side?”
Kieran swore. “Because your tires have been slashed.”
Chapter Three
Hot anger raced across her skin and she clenched her hands. “Are you kidding me?”
“Your back window is broken, too.” Shifting Michael in his arms, Kieran crouched in the broken glass
