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closer. It had been years—more than a decade—since they’d lost their own mother, but the wound still ached.
    “Laney.” Kara moved closer, squeezed her sister’s hand. “I am so glad you’re home.”
    Elena’s eyes filled at that. Elena had come back to New York for the first time since their mother’s death when Kara was expecting Nadia. Kara hadn’t known it at the time, but her sister felt responsible for Marie Larsen’s death, had been blaming herself for it since 2001. They’d had a huge argument, a loud and bitter fight that ended when a teenaged Elena had spitefully screamed, “I hate you! I hope you drop dead!” to her mother.
    That had happened on September 10th. And on September 11th, Marie Larsen went to work early that morning…and never made it home.
    It had taken a lot of effort to convince Elena that Kara needed her. The day she’d arrived in Manhattan—in fact, merely a minute or so after she’d stepped out of the car in front of Kara’s building, Elena had met Lucas Adair, a man she was convinced her mother had sent to punish her. It took even more effort to convince Elena that Luke wasn’t her penance, but her forgiveness.
    That Christmas had been good to all of the friends in their circle. Sabrina, Cassandra, and Jade—the sisters of her heart. Besides Nadia’s birth just a few days before the holiday, Sabrina reunited with her first love, Jake Killen, her daughter’s father. Cass reunited with her Irish musician, Sean McKinnon. And Jade found love with the boy who had once been her best friend, Ben Stephens and would be marrying him this summer.
    Kara had been happy and excited for them all. And she was thrilled to once again have her sister back in her life. But deep down in a secret corner of her heart, she wondered why her mother hadn’t sent her a good guy.
    And then she gave herself a good swift mental kick for that thought. She had a perfect baby girl.
    Who needed anything more?

Chapter Two
    ‡
    T he night was long.
    Reid woke while it was still dark, scrubbing his nose with his knuckles. He swore he could smell her—baby powder, no-more-tears shampoo, and apple juice all at the same time.
    Erin .
    His entire body shook and trembled with the need to see her, to hold her, to have her alive.
    He sat up in bed, swung his legs to the floor and forced deep breaths in and out of his lungs. His daughter was gone. Dead.
    Dead, dead, dead .
    The word echoed inside his skull, every reverberation a hammer strike to his heart.
    It happened every time he saw a baby that reminded him of Erin. He’d be fine as soon as his cold heart accepted what the brain knew. He got up, padded on bare feet to his bathroom and opened the lid on the toilet—an old habit Lynn had impressed on him. His marriage had crumbled soon after they’d buried Erin, but Lynn had hated the toilet open. Well, at least she’d taken those stupid wooly covers with her when she’d left him.
    He flushed and ran the shower as hot as he could stand it. Slowly, the ache deep inside his core subsided. Oh, it never disappeared completely. But it was bearable once again. He slung a towel around his hips and stumbled to the kitchen to put the coffee on. He hated single-serve cups and let Lynn take the Keurig while he kept the old-fashioned percolator. He’d measured everything out the night before and plugged the pot into the outlet while he returned to the bathroom to finish his morning routine. The slow thrum of the coffee perking helped to steady him and the aroma that quickly filled his small apartment cleared the fog from his brain. Just as he was about to pour a cup, his cell phone vibrated.
    “Bennett,” he answered.
    “Good morning, Sunshine. It’s Carrie.”
    “Yeah, I know. Caller ID. What’s up?” Ordinarily, he liked Carrie, the admin at the fire house. She was a no-nonsense pro who took no crap from anybody. Including him.
    “Tour One is short-handed and you’re next up on the rotation.”
    Reid