Courtney stared at Jordan. His bottom lip had jutted out for a quick second, which meant he didn’t want to tell her something.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“That was Zach—”
“You didn’t tell him anything about us, did you?” Dread was a heavy blanket around her shoulders, and panic was a galloping horse in her chest.
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean I like keeping secrets while talking to my family.” He turned away from her. The look on his face, the honest pain in that one sentence, struck her like a physical blow. Was she being selfish?
“I’m sorry for putting you in that position, Jordan. I really am.” Although she knew that announcing a pregnancy before the second trimester was considered bad luck, it was odd to be focused on superstition when she didn’t want to be in this condition in the first place. She glanced down at her stomach and realized that she was touching her belly.
Did part of her—a part tucked deep down inside—secretly wish for a family? A real family and not two people who couldn’t get along, not a mother who cowered and took unimaginable abuse from her husband?
Jordan was right to stop things before they got out of hand last night after that kiss. She needed to remember there was more at stake than an embarrassing morning after if they gave in to passion again. And she wouldn’t risk her child’s emotional stability to satisfy her own desire, no matter how strong her want for Jordan Kent was.
Jordan pushed back from the kitchen table and stood. “Are you hungry? I could fry up a couple of eggs.”
“My stomach is still a little queasy. Do you have any yogurt?” That much she could keep down.
“In the fridge.” He motioned toward it, so she helped herself. “Zach and I talked about the fact that this creep seems focused on women. With the crimes happening on or near Rushing Creek, we’re concerned about him wanting a prize. All women and especially a Kent should take extra precautions until he’s behind bars.”
“That’s good advice. Did he mention anything else?” She took another bite of the creamy vanilla blend.
“His phone at the office is starting to blow up. If someone’s wife or daughter is in the next room and doesn’t answer the first time a person calls out, his office is getting a panicked phone call.” Jordan knew how much that would take away from manpower that could be focused on something more important. Trained volunteers were a good thing to have, and he hoped they’d help more than get in the way.
“Maybe I should go in to work today,” she said.
“It’s your day off. Besides, you won’t do anyone good if you’re sick,” he quickly countered. He was right. She knew it. But she wished it wasn’t true. Sitting on the sidelines was driving her a little crazy.
“The yogurt is helping.” That part was true. She felt useless, and keeping busy was the best way to keep the darkness at bay. She crossed and then uncrossed her legs before tapping her finger on the table.
Bemused, Jordan stared at her.
“What?” She asked but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the question.
“You’re not used to taking a lazy day, are you?” He was spot-on.
“Nope. I tend to pace or clean out a closet or something exciting like that.”
“That why your house was spotless?” He walked to the window over the kitchen sink.
“Probably.” She didn’t want to admit how bad she felt when she slowed down. Keeping busy had always somehow helped her outpace the darkness she feared would consume her one day.
“Makes sense.” He set his palms on the counter. “I’m not one for sticking around in one place too long, either. Especially not here in Jacobstown.”
“Why is that, Jordan Kent?” She had an idea. “You love your family. They all live here. Why is it that you won’t?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Always felt hemmed in here.”
The front door opened, and Courtney felt exposed. Before she could excuse herself, Deacon and Amber walked into the kitchen. Deacon was third born out of the five brothers. Jordan was the closest in age to Amber, her being the baby of the family.
“Welcome home, Jordan,” Deacon and Amber said almost simultaneously.
Jordan greeted his siblings with a hug, and Courtney couldn’t help but admire the closeness of the Kent siblings. Once again, she was reminded what a tight-knit and loving bunch they were. And, again, she realized her hand rested on her stomach.
“You guys remember Courtney Foster, right?” Jordan said to his sister and brother.
“How could I forget one of my own friends?” Amber said with a side glance toward her brother as she walked over and embraced Courtney in a warm hug.
Deacon smiled and cocked one eyebrow as he took in her outfit. “I’d heard you came back to town and went to work for Zach. Welcome home.”
“It’s good to be here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She’d wanted to return to her hometown but coming back to the Jacobstown Hacker hadn’t been her ideal homecoming.
“Courtney stayed over in the guest room last night after practically freezing out on the property. I bumped into her and asked her to stay here instead of driving home.” Jordan was overexplaining, but she appreciated him leaving no room for speculation as to why she was in the house with him so early in the morning wearing her pj’s.
Thankfully, he’d thrown on a T-shirt at some point, which also most likely meant he hadn’t slept.
“We got your message this morning and were hoping to catch you,” Amber said to her brother. She must be talking about the text he’d told Courtney about sending to his siblings earlier to warn them about going out alone.
“I’m happy to see the two of you together and no one walking around by themselves. It’s strange to think we have to be so careful on our own property.” Jordan filled all of them in on his conversation with their cousin.
Courtney expected a few strange looks from Amber and Deacon, but their faces were impossible to read. Courtney and Amber had lost touch after high school. It struck her as odd that she was at the Kent house with Amber’s brother.
A wave of nausea hit fast and hard. “I’m sorry. Please excuse me for one second.”
She didn’t have time to glance at any of them to judge a reaction. All she could think about was getting to the bathroom in time. She barely made it to the washroom before what little she’d had to eat came back up.
A few rounds of dry heaves later, she rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth. She actually felt a little better.
Her stomach gurgled and groaned, but this time for a different reason. Hunger took over.
A knock on the bathroom door startled her.
“Are you okay in there?” Jordan’s deep baritone washed over her, providing more comfort than she wanted to acknowledge.
“Better.” She opened the door to find him leaning against the jamb. “Thanks for checking.”
“I brought a bottle of water just in case.” He held out the offering, and she took it. Their fingers grazed as a jolt of electricity shot through her.
It was probably just hormones causing her body to overreact to his presence. She needed to get a handle on this out-of-control chemistry. She’d thought about that kiss first thing this morning. Knowing it had been a bad idea and still wishing for a repeat meant she was heading down the wrong path.
“Thanks for this.” She took a sip. “I’ll be right out.”
He disappeared, closing the bedroom door behind him.
She dressed in fresh clothes—yoga pants and a pullover sweater. This was one of her most comfortable outfits, and she’d almost forgotten about it being there after all that had gone on so far that morning.
Taking in a fortifying breath, she walked into the next room. A dozen thoughts fought for attention. She couldn’t help but wonder what Amber and Deacon truly thought about her being there. Had she and Jordan given themselves away?
How long had it been since she’d been in this house?
A rogue thought struck. How was Amber going to take the pregnancy news? More panic shot through Courtney. Before Jordan could talk her out of leaving, she had to get out of there.
She moved into the kitchen, rounded up her belongings and gave an awkward wave to the trio.
“I forgot about an appointment I made for this morning. I’m going to be late if I don’t leave right now.”
Jordan shot a look and seemed about to say something when she darted toward the front door and closed it behind her.
THANKFULLY, HER VEHICLE had been brought to the main house for her. Jordan must’ve made the arrangements last night when she was sleeping. Courtney figured she could run a few errands while Jordan gathered his family together to come up with a plan for more patrols along Rushing Creek. She’d slept in this morning, and physically felt better than she had in weeks.
The idea of a pregnancy might not be growing on her, exactly, but she was a little less freaked about it. Although she was a long way from thinking it was a good idea. Seeing Jordan being protective of her and the little bean had warmed her heart.
The first spark of the two of them actually being able to co-parent was starting to ignite. She was beginning to feel like she might not be a complete disaster as a mother or totally mess up the child before he or she got a start in life. Was it weird that she didn’t have becoming a mother as part of her trajectory? Was it strange that she’d never really thought of herself as parent material?
Part of the reason she figured she’d been so attracted to Decks was his aversion to ever getting married again and the fact that he already had a child from his first marriage. Courtney had thought he’d be safe. And she’d loved him, right? Granted, she and Decks had never had the same spark she’d experienced with Jordan, but there was more to a relationship than smoking-hot chemistry.
Courtney drove through her bank’s ATM line, picked up a few supplies at the grocery store and then stopped by her house to check the mail. She ate more yogurt—this time it stayed down—before changing into slacks. She kept her favorite pullover sweater on while she wrangled her hair into a ponytail.
Some of her best ideas came when she wasn’t overthinking a case. She made a mental note to follow up on what had happened with Lopez’s interview with Gus Stanton. Granted, she hadn’t lived in Jacobstown in years, but her sweet elderly neighbor had. Courtney made another mental note to talk to Mrs. Farmer. Over the years, someone had to have had a foot get caught in a tractor blade or lawn mower. What other incidents could there have been? She thought way back to her earliest memories. Hadn’t there been a kid who got his foot stuck in playground equipment? She remembered something about him—what was his name? John Michael?—ending up with a shattered ankle. Didn’t he walk with a limp afterward? And being in the country, there had to have been a kid who’d pranked another friend with fireworks, and that could’ve easily gotten out of control. A foot could’ve been lost that way. There had to have been a decent list of teen antics that could have led to problems with a left foot.
Within half an hour, she’d charged her phone, logged on to her laptop and paid her electric bill, and freshened up her face with a little makeup. Jordan had texted with an invite to dinner, and she was debating whether or not it was a good idea to go.
On the one hand, it was dinner she didn’t have to cook. That was always a plus. For another, having company to eat with sounded wonderful. She’d told him that she’d text him with an answer. Her finger hovered over the cell’s keypad.
Eating with Jordan wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to her. Besides, it was good for the two of them to practice getting along. A small part of her wished for a real family for her child. But she and Jordan could be the next closest thing. A child could do worse than two parents who got along.
Thinking of her unborn child, Courtney pulled the business card of a counselor that she’d been given by one of her colleagues after the shooting. Officer Ralph Howard had been discreet when he’d slipped the worn business card into her palm during a handshake when she’d returned to work after recovering from being shot. He’d leaned in and said, “I’ve used her when the job got to be too much. She knows her stuff and, more importantly, she knows how to keep private conversations private. She lost her husband to the job. She knows what the pressure is like.”
Maybe it was time to think about setting up a phone appointment. Talking couldn’t hurt. Right? If Courtney didn’t like what she heard in the first five minutes, she could always end the appointment and hang up. She almost laughed out loud. Cops were distrustful by nature. She couldn’t even trust a person whose life’s work was helping people exactly like Courtney. Having an exit plan, though, eased some of the anxiety that came with the thought of opening up to a complete stranger about the intimate details of her mind, of the feeling of being judged for her thoughts.
Panic climbed up her throat like a vine, squeezing, choking out her oxygen. She gasped and brought her hand to her neck as if it was real.
She paced as questions swirled in her mind with the relentless pursuit of a stalker.
Courtney would normally distract herself with an intense workout, but she was concerned that might hurt the baby. Without talking to her doctor, she figured it best to lay off pushing her body to the point of dripping-with-sweat exhaustion. Besides, her stomach was calm for the moment, and she didn’t want to stir up that hornet’s nest again. She had a monthly OB appointment and no reason to push it up. Nausea was the absolute worst. It was a slow drain on the system to feel sick all day long. Courtney didn’t wish the feeling on her worst enemy.
Frustration nipped at just how much her life was changing and just how out of control everything seemed. Coming home to Jacobstown was supposed to provide a respite. It was supposed to nurture her tortured soul but was becoming a mental prison instead. Wow, had she just described her life and her pregnancy as a mental prison?
Deep down, she didn’t feel that way at all. She picked up the business card again and ran her index finger along the embossed name, Dr. Sara Winters.
The call could wait until she ran one more errand. Blue Trunks had been bugging her, and her mind was spinning out. The guy most likely had nothing to do with Jacobstown or the jerk terrorizing its citizens.
There was only one way to try to find him and that was to return to The Mart and wait him out.
THE FRONT DOORKNOB TURNED, catching Jordan off guard. He thought Deacon and Amber had locked it when they left. On instinct, Jordan went for the shotgun tucked above the kitchen cabinet far out of reach of little hands but easy enough to access in an emergency.
Five rapid taps confirmed Lone Star Lonnie was about to walk through the door. Jordan abandoned his attempt to snatch the shotgun and started toward the door. A sheet-white-faced Lonnie stared at Jordan.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Lone Star’s face twisted and he issued a sharp sigh.
“You need to come and take a look at what’s on the porch,” Lone Star said.
“What is it?” Jordan’s pace quickened, making double time.
“A foot.”