Mason asked from the bathroom doorway, his toothbrush in hand, “You okay?”

Was I? I smiled at him and didn’t hold anything back. “Hell to the yes. I’m more than okay.”

He lifted up an eyebrow before grinning from the corner of his mouth before he putting away his toothbrush, and coming back to the bed. “You and me, we’re okay?”

We lied to each other. It was wrong. I said I wasn’t going to do it. So had Mason, then we did it, but we were protecting each other. I needed to remember that, and I sat up, pulling the bed sheet against my chest as I reached to touch the side of his face.

He was mine. No one else’s. We weren’t perfect, but we would do whatever it took to protect the other. I didn’t know another couple who could say the same thing. A surge of love filled me, and I nodded, feeling choked in the throat. “We’re good. We’re great.”

He took my hand in his and leaned down, resting his forehead to mine. He murmured, gazing deep into my eyes the entire time, “You’re strong, Samantha. You kick ass. You don’t flinch when someone’s coming at you, and you’ll go back. You’ll always go back, no matter the consequences, if it means protecting someone you love. I am lucky to have you. I am lucky that you love me.”

I was feeling the tears coming. I pulled back, my smile almost taking over my entire face. Holy shit. I didn’t think I could love him more than I did at that moment. “No more lies, right?”

He grinned, laughing softly. “You would’ve thought we had learned, right?”

“Yeah.”

His forehead moved against mine, a gentle brush as he nodded, echoing my word quietly, “Yeah.”

Screwed up or not, I knew we’d be fine. We always would. I was thinking about pulling him down to the bed with me when someone knocked on my door. Mark’s voice sounded through it, slightly hesitant, “Uh…Sam? You have a visitor.”

Mason sat back, still gripping my hand. He asked me, “He’s not talking about Logan?”

That didn’t sound right. Logan didn’t get announced by others. Logan did the announcing. I started to climb out of bed and called out, “I’m coming. I’ll be up in a bit.”

Ten minutes later, still dressed in my pajamas, but refreshed for the day, I stepped into the kitchen, holding Mason’s hand behind me. Malinda looked over, a worry line sticking out from across her forehead.

I frowned. She’d been laughing twenty minutes ago.

I cast Logan a look. He wasn’t paying attention to us. He was standing, staring at whoever was at the front door with a scowl on his face. When he realized we were there, he said, “The code word is strangle. You say it, and I’m there for you. I’m not letting her hurt you again.”

Her? Then I remembered what James said to me after Mason met with the board for Logan’s punishment hearing. He drew me to his vehicle …

I was remembering the conversation, as I was moving in slow motion.

My heart slowed.

Everything stilled.

His words came back to me as I stepped around Logan, and I saw who was waiting just inside the doorway, huddled against the wall with her arms hugging herself.

He had said, “The doctors are pleased with your mother. Her progress has been incredible over the last six months.”

It was her.

His voice droned on, dipping down an octave, “They said she might be able to come home. I’m not sure when that would be, but I wanted to let you know. We’d be coming back, Sam. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

I blocked out what he said.

That was the truth. With Sebastian and knowing we still needed to deal with him, everything James told me went in one ear and out the other. I couldn’t digest it. So I hadn’t.

I just couldn’t deal with it, but here she was.

I took a step toward her. I felt like I was walking through invisible mud, and I said, my own voice sounding muffled and unclear to my ears, “Mom?”

Her head came up. She was huddled in the doorway. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail behind her head. She looked…I couldn’t process it. Natural. Her eyes lifted, clearing from whatever emotion she was feeling, and her entire face became radiant. She had no make-up on and she pulled her sweater even tighter around her frame.

“Samantha.” She beamed at me. Then she said it—the words I didn’t think I ever wanted to hear. “I’m home.”