The Return of Connor Mansfield. Beth Cornelison

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      “Absolutely.” He and Hunter fell in step behind them. “What kind of juice are we having?”

      “Gwape!”

      “My favorite.”

      “Mine, too!” Savannah grinned, her eyes sparkling as Darby helped her climb into her booster seat at the table.

      Darby bit her bottom lip, pleased to see how comfortable Savannah seemed around Connor, but also troubled. Her daughter adored Hunter and Grant. If she became as attached to Connor as she was to her uncles, Savannah would be heartbroken when Connor left.

      She paused with her hand on the refrigerator door, a stabbing ache lancing her chest. When Connor left... The cruel truth was, Connor was leaving again, going back into hiding with WitSec. And whether she hated him for his lies and resented him for his desertion, she would still be devastated when he returned to his new life.

      * * *

      While Darby poured juice for them, Connor pulled Hunter into Darby’s mudroom. “Did you sleep with her?”

      Hunter faced him, a startled look lifting his brow. “Did you really just ask me that?”

      Connor firmed his jaw. “Don’t you think I have the right to know?”

      His brother squared his shoulders. “I won’t apologize for being Darby’s friend, for giving her the support and comfort she’s needed the past few years. Or for being a father figure to my niece. Losing you was hell on Darby. Being a single mother, juggling work and a baby has been tough, and now, with Savannah sick—”

      “Answer the question, Hunter.”

      His brother paused, looked away and sighed. “If you were anyone else, and the circumstances were any different, I’d tell you it’s none of your business. But—”

      “Did you sleep with her?” Connor grated impatiently.

      Hunter propped a hand on the washing machine and narrowed a glare on him. “No. We’ve never had that kind of relationship. You know that.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he glanced away for a moment, a telling gesture, before facing Connor again. “But I asked her to marry me.”

      Connor stiffened. “What?”

      “When she told me she was pregnant...” Hunter swiped a hand over his mouth. “We thought you were dead, bro. I didn’t want her to feel she had to face being a mother alone. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

      “What’d she say?” Connor held his breath.

      “I’d think that was obvious. She said she didn’t want me to give up the chance to find my soul mate and spend my life with someone I loved. She said it didn’t feel right to marry me when she was still in love with my brother.”

      Connor drew his shoulders back and scoffed. “Still in love? You could have fooled me.” He glanced back toward the kitchen, remembering Darby’s angry outburst.

      “Can you blame her for being mad?” Hunter jammed his hand on his hip and arched a dark brown eyebrow. “She’s got a right to be hurt. You’ve been lying to her with your absence for more than four years. Where have you been? How could you trick us all into thinking you were dead?”

      Connor sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Long story. I promise you’ll get the details soon, but right now, I need to get back in there and drink juice with my daughter.”

      Hunter huffed. “You mean your niece.” Sarcasm dripped from Hunter’s tone. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

      “That was Darby’s call. I’d love for Savannah to know who I am. I want to hear her call me Daddy more than anything. But I won’t hurt her, either. And when I have to leave again—”

      Hunter straightened, his expression startled. “You’re not staying?”

      Connor sighed, a hollow ache throbbing behind his ribs. “I can’t. If I blow my cover, all of you could be put at risk.” He took a step toward his younger brother. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For the pain I caused you. All of the family. If I’d thought there was another way...”

      Hunter’s expression eased, his brow furrowing. “Mom took it especially hard.”

      Connor dropped his gaze to his feet. “I can imagine.” Then, glancing back up, he met his brother’s eyes. “How are Mom and Dad?”

      “They’re doin’ all right. They look older. First they lost you. Now Savannah is sick. It’s been difficult for them.” Hunter shook his head sorrowfully, then sent him a half grin. “Kaylee’s been a bright spot, though.”

      “Kaylee?” Connor asked, recalling Savannah asking about the girl.

      A wider smile split Hunter’s face. “Kaylee is Grant and Tracy’s new baby. She’s two months old and cute as can be. Savannah adores her.” He shrugged, a sappy grin on his face. “We all do. Peyton dotes on her baby sister, and Grant is over the moon. Tracy miscarried twice in three years before they had Kaylee. So naturally we’re all thrilled for them.”

      Connor smiled, remembering how his older brother had gushed when his first daughter had been born. Geez, he thought, Peyton is six years old now. Almost seven.

      “That’s awesome. No one deserves it more. He’s a great dad.”

      Hunter held Connor’s gaze for a moment, then stepped forward to give Connor another bear hug. “We’ve missed you, Con.”

      Connor had to battle the surge of emotion in his throat before he could respond. “It’s good to be back.” Even if I can’t stay...

      Pulling away, Hunter hitched his head toward the kitchen. “Now get in there and get to know your own daughter.”

      My daughter. His pulse hiccupped in his chest as he stepped back into the kitchen.

      “Sit by me, Uncle Connuh!” Savannah patted the table next to her.

      “I’d be honored.” He pulled out the chair beside his daughter and took a sip of the grape juice Darby had waiting for him. Savannah already had a purple mustache from her juice, and Connor chuckled. “Looks like you’re wearing your juice.”

      “Oops!” She giggled and swiped at her face with her arm.

      His own beard and mustache, prosthetics he’d put on that morning with Raleigh’s help to aid in his disguise, itched. He looked forward to pulling off the faux facial hair at the first chance he got.

      “Napkin,” Darby said from the kitchen.

      Savannah reached for a napkin, her hand flapping against the table when she came up short. Connor handed her one and pulled another for himself. He found himself staring at the fragile little girl he’d helped create, marveling at every freckle, every precocious gesture. And worrying over every obvious sign of her illness. The hair loss, the shadows beneath her gold eyes, the red needle marks and bruising on her arms where she’d obviously been stuck for blood draws and chemotherapy treatment.

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