Page 92 of Push

It was a valid question. It was officially only day two of working at Cumberland, but some facts were evident. I was convinced Liam didn’t have an off button. He sent snappy emails—“Note” this or “Action” that—at all hours of the night. He never stopped.

Elias dodged the question with a sigh. “Pleasedon’t quit.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “It’ll take more than a late-night email frenzy to scare me off. And based on some of the, uh,colorfulemails I saw zipping around at midnight, I think Liam might be going easy on me. Like you said, his nagging comes from a place of caring, right?”

“That’s what I tell myself, anyway.” Elias laughed. “So, um…” He paused again. He didn’t seem quite used to talking on the phone, but was anyone these days? “How’d your little man settle into his first day?”

“Yeah.” A knot formed in my throat. “Great.”

Noah’s first drop-off at daycare had been easy. I had no idea how Toby had pulled it off—brownie briberies, probably—but the center he’d found across town was incredible. Nothing to see but smiles. The head carer had taken Noah and cooed and coddled him just the way he loved. I could check the center app for updates and photos whenever I wanted.

IknewNoah was safe. So why had I cried the whole drive home after dropping him off? Is this howpropermums felt? Why did I still feelsoshit?

I scrubbed away the fresh tears pricking my eyes and took a breath to lose any emotion from my voice. “Thanks for letting me work flexible hours,” I said. “Avoiding rush hour to drop Noah off was a huge stress reliever this morning.”

“Yeah, of course. Liam said you’d negotiated to work any hours you want from anywhere you want. He also mentioned that possible work locations included the moon.” Elias laughed. “Let me know if you need me to sign off on an expense report before you launch.”

I laughed with him. “Will do.”

“I better get back to it. I assume Liam will push your buttons all day, so I’ll arrange a fruit basket and an apology card now, okay?” I could imagine his crooked smile as he said those words. “Oh, and Gwen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re working with us.”

“Me too.”

And I meant it.

Sitting in my study, my knees tucked up on my old leather chair, my thoughts spun from worrying about Noah to organizing the busy day ahead. My inbox was chaos. My brother, even worse. Yet, somehow, everything felt right.

Still smiling, I turned my attention back to my laptop. After I whipped through a few of Liam’s ridiculous “Action” emails, Ireclined in my chair, my mug of almost-cold coffee in my hand and a file stuffed with paperwork open on my lap.

Dull. I flipped through the pages.Mindless. Nothing like the gory work I used to do. In a way, that was just what I needed. I missed the challenge of work, but life had changed.Ihad changed. As much as I wanted to be Gwen the Kick-Ass Prosecutor again, I just…wasn’t.

I raised my mug to my lips, about to take a sip, when the doorbell rang.

I groaned.

If that’s Liam…

My eyes rolled to the ceiling. Maybe he’d gotten over his fear of the doorbell…

I dropped my mug onto the coaster next to my laptop, grumbled all sorts of curse words as I pushed back my chair, and shuffled out of the study to the front door. If Liam dared to make one comment about my fluffy pink socks, I swear to…

My hand paused on the door handle. I leaned forward and pressed my eye to the peephole.

No one.

I frowned.Weird. I flipped the lock and yanked the door open. Everything looked normal. The white picket gate was closed. Toby’s car was in the driveway. The spray of the sprinklers fanned over the front lawn. My brain glitched. I darted a quick look back to the driveway. Yep, that was Toby’s car.

Something soft curled around my fluffy sock.

My heart slamming against my ribs, I clapped my palm over my mouth, a scream stuck in my throat. My eyes flew down. A big hand with red, broken skin stretched over swelling knuckles wrapped around my ankle.

Toby was silent, hunched over, his head down, knees up, squashed into the corner of the veranda next to the door. Hedidn’t move. His hand stayed wrapped around my sock when I dropped to my knees beside him.

“Toby.” My eyes flitted over him in a panic. He was a mess. Blood—dark and red and almost dry—was streaked over the sleeve of his neatly pressed shirt. “What happened?” I reached for him, but my hand trembled when it landed on his hunched shoulder. “Come inside.”

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