The desolate country roads were poorly lit but easily navigated. At times, long stretches between darkened fields made visibility clear for miles, and Sawyer took full advantage. The hillier, curvier portions got a good cussing.
He hit the gravel under the carved Hart Ranch sign with a deep crunch and grind. Stones pinged and bounced against the undercarriage of his pickup, flying out in a cloud of dust behind him.
A small silhouette paced the porch. Long hair drifting in the wind around her face, exactly like the ghost from his past that she was. She went still when he started his walk across the lawn.
Sawyer pulled the cowboy hat off his head and pressed it to his aching chest. “Emma.” His lungs seemed to fill fully for the first time since answering her call.
She gave a small nod, running the pads of both thumbs beneath red puffy eyes and brushing shaky palms over flushed cheeks. “Hello, Sawyer.”
He took a step closer, and she wrapped her arms around a new, curvier figure. Sawyer tried not to stare, but the change looked damn good on her. So did the spark of ferocity in her eyes. He didn’t know what had sparked the fire, but whatever it was, the change suited her. And it would help her get through the tough days ahead. Unfortunately, civilian abductions weren’t known for their happy endings.
She appraised him as he climbed the steps. Her smart blue eyes scrutinized the visible scars along his neck and forearms, pausing briefly at the angry, puckered skin above his left eye. Then swiftly moving on to the lines of black ink circling his biceps beneath one shirtsleeve. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
Behind her, the small sound of a crying baby drifted through the open door.
Emma’s chin ticked up. She turned immediately. “Come in. I’ve been through all of Sara’s things, and I have something I want you to look at.”
Sawyer followed. His heart clenched as the baby’s cries grew more fervent. “Sara had a baby?” He tried to imagine it and failed. The willowy blonde had more interest in horses than men when he’d briefly known her.
“No.” Emma grabbed the flashing baby monitor and shut it off as she passed through the dimly lit family room. “You can have a seat. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Are you babysitting?” he asked, ignoring her order and following her down the hall toward the bedrooms, unwilling to let her out of his sight and drawn by a strange tether to the infant’s cry. “Was the baby here when Sara was taken?”
Emma opened her bedroom door and strode inside. A crib stood against the wall across from her bed. “No,” she said, “and yes.”
Sawyer paused at the end of the crib, puzzling over her unnecessary coyness. “You aren’t babysitting?” he asked dumbly, watching as she raised the kicking blue bundle into her arms and slid a pacifier into the baby’s mouth with practiced skill.
“No,” she whispered, rocking the infant gently into sedation. “This is Henry.” She turned a pride-filled smile in Sawyer’s direction. “I named him after my father.”
Sawyer’s gut rolled against his spine. His jaw locked, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. This was what had changed her. The carefree woman he’d known had been made into her own kind of soldier in his absence. Emma was a mother. “He’s yours,” Sawyer said, repeating the fact, trying to make it real for him. The words were bittersweet on his tongue. Any joy he might’ve felt for her was tainted selfishly with feelings of loss for himself. With regret. And thoughts of things that might have been. “You have a son.”
“I do,” she answered as Henry worked the pacifier in his tiny mouth. “And so do you.”
EMMA HELD HER tongue as she waited for a response. She could practically see the wheels turning in Sawyer’s head, adding up time, weeks, months. She ground her teeth against the need for an explanation. She hadn’t been with anyone else since Sawyer. He’d barely left the States before she knew she was pregnant. If Henry’s perfect olive skin and pale blue eyes weren’t enough proof, then maybe Sawyer should look in a mirror.
“Mine?” His gaze jumped continually between her face and Henry’s.
“Yes.” She moved past him toward the hallway. “I need to sit down. You probably should too.”
She led Sawyer back into the living room, giving a wide berth to the freshly bleached floorboards where Sara’s blood had been spilled. She took a seat on the chair farthest from the couch where the monster had pinned her sister. It took effort to force the still-raw images from her mind.
Sawyer squatted on the floor in front of her chair, jeans pulled tight against his strong thighs, big hands dangling between his knees as he balanced, a look of shock and confusion etched on his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emma pursed her lips, culling the desire to scream. “I tried.” She made each word stand on its own, tempted to recite all the one-sided arguments she’d practiced to perfection in the shower all these months since his “eight week” mission ended.
“I got a message from you,” he said. “Did you know you were pregnant when you left the voice mail?”
The accusation in his tone ignited a fire in her belly. “That was why I called. I’d just confirmed with my doctor, and I was happy,” she snapped.
“Then why didn’t you tell me? Why would you keep something like this from me? I’m a father, Emma. A father and I had no idea.”
“You could have returned my call,” she said.
“You could’ve told me in the voice mail.”
“I didn’t want to tell you something this important in a voice mail. I wanted to tell you in person, and you were supposed to be home in two more weeks, and I spent every one of those last fourteen days deciding how I’d deliver the surprise. Maybe with some cutesy sign or a little custom-made onesie.” She shook her head. “I can see it was stupid of me now, but I was thrilled to be having your baby, and you had your phone number changed.”
“I didn’t have my number changed.” Sawyer ground the words through clenched teeth.
“Disconnected then,” she conceded, “without the courtesy of letting me know first. You made it clear you didn’t want to hear from me again, and you didn’t want to call me either, or you would have.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
Emma squinted her eyes, wishing she could scream and yell and lose control, but she refused to frighten Henry or give Sawyer the satisfaction of seeing her so rattled. Instead, she said, “I called your number every month after my prenatal appointment, and I listened to the notification that your number had been disconnected. I forced myself to remember you were done with me, even if my heart wasn’t done with you, and you have no idea what that was like for me.”
His frustrated expression fell slowly into a grimace. “I wasn’t home when you left that voice mail. I didn’t even get it until last month.”
“Then you should have called last month.”
“How
