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again.
    “That’s probably best,” he conceded. “Otherwise, that trip to the bathroom might not end the way we’d like it to.”
    Maisey imagined the sweet face of her stepdaughter, who had the same dark hair and golden eyes as Rafe. “What would we do without her? I couldn’t love her any more if she was my own.”
    “For all intents and purposes, she is yours,” he said and leaned forward to peck her lips.
    It wasn’t as if her real mother had ever taken an interest. She’d essentially abandoned her child as soon as she found out the baby was handicapped.
    “Back to your mom,” Rafe said. “I’m not convinced the police and the coroner are wrong, but if there’s any doubt and getting our own pathologist could relieve that doubt, let’s do it. Putting off the funeral for a few days isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
    “True, but getting our own pathologist will mean we have to pay for it.”
    “Won’t be a problem for Keith. He’s Midas these days, right?” he said with a chuckle. “And we’re doing okay. I say we split it.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course.”
    She supposed sharing the cost would be fair. Rafe was doing well with his construction and home repair business—had more work than ever before. They were still managing the vacation bungalows, which took care of their mortgage every month. And Maisey had gone back to writing children’s books, a passion and vocation that was beginning to pay more handsomely now that she was building a bigger readership than she’d had when she’d been married to her first husband and living in New York City. “But there’s more at stake than money.”
    “Like...”
    “What they might find. I could deal with it, no matter what. But I’m worried about Keith.”
    Rafe fell back on the bed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Keith’s come a long way.”
    “Exactly. I’d hate to see him fall apart. Especially now that Mom’s gone. I want what’s left of my family to finally be unified and healthy.”
    “It’s been five years since he was in any trouble. I’m sure he’ll be careful not to head back down that road.”
    “He’s had plenty of relapses in the past,” she pointed out. Far more than she cared to remember. He was the primary reason she’d come back to the island after her divorce. She’d felt he needed her support.
    “But he’s never been clean this long.”
    She wanted to believe he’d be able to hang on, but... “Triggers are funny things. He hasn’t been home in those five years, hasn’t even let me or Rocki talk about Mom. And now, because of what’s happened, here he is.”
    “On Fairham? Really? Already? When did he get in?”
    “Not sure. He didn’t tell me he was coming. But he was at Coldiron House just now, when I spoke to him. He’s staying there and insists on taking charge of everything.”
    “What can we do to stop him—or make things easier?” Rafe asked.
    She curled up against him, resting her head on his broad chest. “Nothing. But it’s not the drugs I’m worried about as much as...”
    He kissed her forehead. “As?”
    “All this talk about suicide. What if Mom really did kill herself? What if he decides the battle he fights every day isn’t worth it and he follows her lead? He’s tried before. I can’t lose my mother and my brother.”
    Rafe sat up, pulling her with him so he could look into her face. “Keith’s changed. He can weather this.”
    She didn’t have the chance to argue. Laney called out, “Mom! He did it! I heard it plop. Come wipe Bry’s bum!”
    Bryson squealed and clapped, obviously as excited by his accomplishment as Laney was.
    “I’ll take this one.” Rafe laughed as he got up, but Maisey hurried to circumvent him.
    “No, I want to be there to praise him.”
    “Maybe we should all stand in the doorway and clap,” Rafe teased.
    She paused long enough to slip her arms around his waist and hold him close. “God, I love you.”
    * * *
    That night