His gaze turned so hot, Summer thought her clothes were going to catch fire.

Turning away, she flattened herself against the wall. For long minutes, she listened to Rose and Alexander talk, planning their week and Ivy’s schedule. One that included dance, art lessons, and Daddy’s morning out. Trips for the three of them. In every outing, Ivy was not just included or accommodated, but wanted. They wanted to take her new places and to teach her new things. Ivy wasn’t a burden to them.

Not that she imagined her baby girl was being neglected or even ignored. But she guessed she’d hoped to see that Ivy looked as though she was missing something in her life. She’d hoped to see her daughter missing her.

Hope was a double-edge sword that skewered her heart.

A cat meowed and twined around her legs.

Dropping to her knees, she scooped up Blackbeard and rubbed her nose in his fur. She had missed him while she’d been living with Gabriel, despite his former reluctance to let her pet him. “Have you been keeping an eye on my baby?”

Blackbeard meowed again.

“I’ll get him,” Alexander said through a sigh.

The sound of his chair scraping against the hardwood floor had her gently dropping the family cat to the ground.

“Damned beast still hogs my side of the bed. Yet I’m the one forced to endure his whims.”

Summer took off, managing to get around the corner of the house before the back door opened. She began walking away, thinking she’d come back tomorrow night to spy on them and make doubly sure Ivy was being taken care of by her “parents.”

“Kitty.” Ivy giggled, and Summer’s heart pinched.

“Careful, sweet girl, the mangy cur hasn’t had a bath for weeks.”

Rose gasped. “My sweet kitty is neither a dog nor filthy.”

Ivy giggled again. “Mommy, I want the kitty.”

Summer’s knees gave out, sending her to the ground. She couldn’t catch her breath. Blood pounded in her ears. Tears ran down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands, and then clamped them over her ears.

Mommy. Ivy had called Rose Mommy, not her. Rocking back and forth, she bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood.

The wind picked up. Lightning flashed in the sky, jagged as it struck. The ground vibrated in response.

Mommy.

She was stronger than this, stronger than a word. Rising on unsteady legs, she ran from the house. A house that had been rebuilt to its former glory. A house now filled with love, more love than had been there before.

Summer knew what had to be done. Deep in her heart, where hope had blossomed but the roots had never taken hold. Her daughter was happy, healthy, and loved. She refused to take that from Ivy.

Mommy.

She ran faster, tree branches smacking her in the face and arms. Scraping and bruising her skin. Still she ran, until she came to the infernal spring that had started it all. That had cursed them all, with its supposed abilities.

Falling to her knees, she ripped at the plants and flowers, at anything her hands could grasp. It didn’t matter she was ripping her nails to the quick. It didn’t matter that rain poured down from the sky, soaking her to the bone.

All along, she’d known that taking Ivy back was the absolute wrong thing to do, but had used it as an excuse to come back here.

Which didn’t say much about her. Actually, it said a lot. It said she was selfish and unappreciative of the people who’d helped her in her life. It said that she was forever unfit to be anyone’s mother.

Gabriel had known it all along, yet he’d tried to help her see the truth.

A scream tore from her, until it scraped her throat raw. She fell on her side, sobbing as she pressed down on her abdomen. At the part of her body that had carried Ivy. She was nothing more than a uterus. Nothing more than the woman who’d labored for hours. Scared and helpless, with no one, not even her family, at her side.

The only person who’d been there for her was Gabriel, but he wasn’t family. He was just the boy she used to love. A man who’d apologized. A man who she’d begun to fall for again, and not just because he’d been there for her during her pregnancy.

Naturally, he had been the only person she could think to call. He had been the one who’d driven her to the hospital and had stayed by her side. He’d been the one saying that he’d be there for her and the baby, in whatever way she needed.

His hand was always in hers, his presence comforting, despite the pain and terror. Through it all he’d stayed, even as she screamed at him to go away—though her heart had pleaded with him to stay. To ignore her stupid, ugly mouth.

She had hated being so vulnerable and dependent upon him. Still she had clung to him like a vine on the thick trunk of a strong tree.

So calm he’d been when the doctor told her Ivy was turned the wrong way, that she’d need an emergency caesarean. Her pain-filled mind had heard him tell the nurse that he’d be responsible for the bill, to just help her. To do whatever they could for her.

Summer peered at Gabriel through slitted eyes. Worry lined his handsome face around his eyes and mouth. While they waited for the doctor, he knelt by her hospital bed and prayed.

Wave after painful wave of contractions washed over her, making her body run hot, and then cold. She kicked the sheets off and fumbled for something, anything to help her.

“Here, sweetheart.” Gabriel pressed ice chips to her lips, and she swallowed them. A slew of nurses entered the room, maneuvering him out the way as they helped her to a wheelchair.

She hunched over when another contraction hit. “Gabriel,” she gasped, reaching for his hand.

“Want me to come with you?”

“You can’t,” one of the nurses informed him, and then turned to Summer. “We have to go.”

She began to struggle to get out of the chair, desperate for his comfort and strength. “Not without him.”

Gabriel knelt before her, his large hands covering hers as he stared into her eyes. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be waiting for you.”

But it wasn’t his face she saw when she came to, teeth chattering and strangely empty. “My baby.” The nurse had told Summer the baby would be brought to her after she had time to recover from surgery. But Summer wanted her now.

Azalea smoothed back the hair on Summer’s forehead and smiled. “How do you feel?”

Too exhausted to be shocked by Azalea’s sudden and unwelcome appearance, she asked, “Wh-where’s G-Gabriel?” Dear God, she was cold. So cold her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. “He s-s-said he’d b-be here.” She tried to rise, but Azalea put a firm hand on her shoulder.

Azalea tsked. “Sugar, it’s like I’ve always told you, the only thing you can count on a man doing is never being there when you need him.” She pulled the covers up. “Now, about the baby’s daddy. Is he planning on coming up here and taking care of y’all?”

Summer stared up into violet colored eyes, hating the woman who’d abandoned her and her little sisters. “He’s d-dead.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to…” The frown that marred her mother’s perfect face eased into a smile. “Well, there are death benefits and pensions. All sorts of things a woman needs to survive. They owe you.”

They owed her nothing. And she would get nothing, since she and Darius hadn’t been married. He’d just been a nice guy who’d treated her like she was worth something. A nice guy who hadn’t deserved to die in a war.

Maybe that was his punishment for being with a Holland. With her. She mentally brushed away the melancholy thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. “N-nothing’s f-for us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Give that baby a paternity test and—”

“Get out,” Summer said through tightly clenched teeth.

Florescent lights flickered in the room, a loud buzzing turned into an even louder pop.

“Don’t get all riled up.” Her mother sniffed. “It’s not healthy, but you never listened to me. Just like you didn’t listen to me when it came to that preacher’s boy. He couldn’t be bothered to stay. Something about not being able to handle the pressure.”

“I don’t believe you,” Summer said through gritted teeth.

A nurse came into the room, saying something to Azalea as she left. She took Summer’s temperature and checked the small sutures. “You’ll be able to see your baby in a little while.” A cool hand patted her shoulder. “Picked out a name yet?”

Summer nodded, her arms aching to hold her. “Ivy.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Wh-where’s G-gabriel?”

The nurse’s brow furrowed. “I was told that he needed to leave, that you only wanted family.”

Azalea’s doing—it had to be. But why had he listened? “Oh, yeah.”

“I’ll be back in an hour to check on you.”

The door clicked closed, making the room seem empty. The emptiness grew, until it reached every toe and finger. Until the longing to hold Ivy was overshadowed by it. All she wanted to do was sleep. To feel nothing ever again.

But her last thoughts as she drifted off were of Gabriel. Why wasn’t he here with her? What had made him leave?

This time things had seemed different.

“I don’t belong here,” she sobbed, breaking free from her memories. But where else did she have to go?

* * *

After a long evening at The Center, Gabriel drove down to one of the local docks, unloaded the canoe he’d strapped in the truck bed into the water, jumped in, and began to row.

He rowed across the Pamlico, the oars slicing through the water with little resistance. When his arms and abs began to burn from the exertion, he braced his legs against the sides and pushed himself harder.

He rowed until his chest ached and his brain cleared, then he rowed even more, until he came to the bridge that led to the little town of Jessamine. The only time he ever rowed this far northeast was when he had excess energy to burn off, or when he had a problem to solve.

Only Summer wasn’t a problem. She was his wife.

With a great sigh, he began to row back to shore.

* * *

Once he showered and changed, he walked into the living room, only to find Summer asleep on the couch.

She was curled up in one corner of it, like a little girl, and every so often, she’d hiccup and sniff. She’d been crying, he realized, and everything he’d rehearsed while he’d been rowing flew out the window

She looked so vulnerable lying there, wearing a pale pink nightgown with butterflies on the hem. Another one of Jemma Leigh’s recommendations, he’d bet, smiling at little.

One of the thin straps slid down her shoulder, and he gently tucked it back in place. “Gabriel,” she murmured, turning to him.

“I’m here.” He leaned down, picking her up as she wrapped her arms around him. “It’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I need you. Now.”

Her words were his undoing. She’d never needed him, at least not in the way he thought she meant it.

He searched the room, zeroing in on the table. Striding to it, he sat her on the edge. “This good?”

“Yes.” She leaned forward and licked a path up his neck. “Please.”

Tugging his shirt up and over his head, he fixed his gaze on her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Take everything off.”

Not sooner than the command had finished being issued, he toed off his shoes, and rid himself of his socks and pants.

Her nightgown went flying across the room and then her very interested gaze locked on him once more. “Those too.”

“These?” He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, edging them down. She licked her lips, and he applied more pressure until the material caught on the tip of his cock.

“Now,” she ordered and he gave her a wicked grin before letting his boxer briefs fall around his ankles.

He barely had enough time to step out of them before she hauled him to her, locking her legs around his waist. The head of his dick brushed her silky thigh. She tackled him, grabbing his face, and kissing him with so much passion, it was like she was desperate. He kissed her back, sliding his hand under her bottom to fit her more fully to him. She moaned, her hands leaving his face to glide down his neck, his chest, over his nipples, and further still to his abs.