“Mama!” Olive whined. “Tess-Tess!”
Morgan slid Tessa a look, clutching the child. For one long, windy moment, the two of them locked gazes over Olive’s head. A challenge in Morgan’s eyes and, Tessa hoped, a promise in her own.
But what if Morgan didn’t know that?
Clutching Dusty’s shoulder, Tessa leaned in. “I’ll take care of her,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “I will not let anything happen to her.”
Morgan’s face collapsed with another sob and she released her grip. Instantly, Olive shot out of her lap, running so fast, she dropped Wingo.
“Tess-Tess!”
Tessa held her against her chest and the small, wet warmth of her, the smell of baby shampoo and rain wrenched her heart.Scooping her up, Tessa rushed back to the truck, grasping her little girl with every ounce of strength she had.
She scrambled into the front seat with her, smothered her wet curls with kisses. Outside, she could see Dusty helping Morgan stand up. In the way he moved, she sensed he was doing in real time the work he had been doing privately for a long time—keeping a young widow alive long enough for her to choose her own future.
A police cruiser pulled into the gate and rolled down the road to where they were, stopping next to the truck. One officer got out and hustled toward Dusty and Morgan.
Another, a woman draped in a black poncho, came to Tessa’s door and flicked her fingers for her to open the window.
“Are you Tessa Mathers?” the officer asked.
For a second, Tessa blanked at the married name she wasn’t used to. “Yes, uh, I am. And this?—”
“Is Olive Leighton. We’re in touch with child services and we have instructions.”
Instructions to take her? Tessa swayed under the onslaught of rain and fear, clutching Olive tighter. “What are they?”
“She stays with you, but you better have a car seat.”
“Oh!” Tessa nearly collapsed with relief. “Yes, yes, right in the back. She’s always in it. I was just?—”
“Let’s go!” Dusty called, jogging toward the truck. “Thank you, Officer.”
The other cop walked closer, guiding Morgan gently. “We’re taking care of Mrs. Leighton and will get her to the facility expecting her right now,” he told Tessa. “Follow us.”
“You?” Tessa asked. “Do we have to go there, too?”
Under the hood of the black poncho, the other woman smiled. “Mid-Bay Bridge is closed, ma’am. You’ll need an escort to get over it. You keep that child safe, you hear?”
“With my life,” Tessa promised.
Soaking wet, she climbed out as Dusty opened the back door, the two of them getting Olive latched into the car seat.
Back in her seat, Tessa tried to catch her breath when he got behind the wheel, both of them dripping.
“What happened out there? How did you…”
Her voice trailed off as she followed his gaze, locking on something in the cemetery grass.
He turned and glanced at Olive. “Hang on, honey,” he whispered.
With that, he jumped out of the truck and ran full speed, scooped up Wingo, shook off the drenched flamingo, and vaulted back to the truck, slamming the door behind him.
With a smile, he turned to Olive and handed her the soaked stuffed animal. “Here you go, Double O.”
Tessa smiled at the nickname she’d hung on “Olive Oyl” but not as big or bright as the rain-washed child in the back seat. She took the animal and squeezed it to her chest.
“Wingo,” she murmured. “Daddy saved you.”
