I'd have updated yesterday, but it was Mum's birthday, so there were celebrations. Then there was the helping my brother and sister-in-law cleaning their rental house because they're moving to Melbourne (two states away) on Tuesday. And on top of that, it was incredibly incredilby hot. So we all pretty much died of the heat when we got home and I couldn't bring myself to drag my laptop closer to type something out.

Chapter 16

The boys were banging around in the bathroom, supposedly brushing their teeth and washing their faces in preparation for bed, though I doubted that was all they were doing. Carlos and I sat on the sofa in the living room, my legs drawn up across his lap as he gave me a much needed massage. His fingers kneaded gently into the muscles, relacing me more with each touch so that I had to wonder how I had possibly survived three entire months without him there to soothe me each night. Phone calls – which were a nightly staple, provided he wasn't on a job – could only do so much. Sometimes I just needed his presence there, as innocent as his fingers entwined in mine, to feel that everything was right in the world.

I relaxed back into the arm of the sofa, leaning my head back and closing my eyes, the familiar sounds of chaos lulling me to sleep the way nothing else could. Mat cried out from the other end of the house and I stiffened briefly with concern, but giggles soon followed. Just boys being boys.

"I should probably go make sure they're getting ready for bed," I murmured, sluggishly attempting to pull my legs out of his grasp. Carlos tightened his grip on my ankles, preventing me from moving even if I did have my former strength back in my legs.

"They're fine, Babe," he assured me. "It doesn't matter if they're a little later to bed tonight. Let them have their fun." When I nodded in agreement, he quietly asked, "Did I mention how proud of you I am?"

I cracked an eye open to peer at my husband, slightly amused. "I think you might have," I allowed.

"I never should have allowed them to shuffle you off to that rehab centre," he said solemnly. "You've made so much more progress working with Bobby in the last week than you ever did with them. You could be running that marathon by now if I'd insisted on bringing you home like I wanted to."

Using my recently located abdominal muscles, I hauled myself into a seated position. "Why didn't you?" I asked, curiosity stealing me. I knew it didn't matter either way, but this was something that had played on my mind for the first few weeks of my rehab stay.

Carlos wrapped one of my curls around his finger, using it to pull me closer. As he pressed his nose to the strands, inhaling my scent, he muttered, "Bobby convinced me that we should follow doctor's orders."

"And who eventually convinced you to spring me from that joint?" I asked.

He smiled at me now, the strand of my hair still positioned over under his nose, but looking more like a curly moustache. "Bobby," he admitted. "He was sick of me complaining that the doctors at the facility wouldn't know if their asses were alight. And you." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "You were so miserable in there without the boys and me and your band of Merry Men."

"Well, I'm glad you let them shuffle me off for a time," I informed him, receiving a dubious look as he raised a single eyebrow, dropping my curl. I rolled my eyes. "I don't think I would have been able to be this independent in my condition if I didn't have that time away where I was made to do things for myself. You'd have coddled me."

"I would never have-."

"When you see me struggling to get my pants on in the morning, what do you want to do?" I interrupted.

"Do it for you," he replied instinctively. "But, Babe, it's only because I love you."

I leaned into his side, swivelling so that my feet were on the ground. "I know. And I love that you were willing to do everything for me if you had to. But we both know I would have gotten frustrated with that. I need room to stretch my wings."

We were silent for a time, listening to the boys fighting in their room. Whether it was a play fight or a real fight, it was hard to tell, but I was happy to be back home, living a somewhat normal life again. I left Carlos while I tucked the boys in and read them a story. They were asleep by the third page of the book, and I made my way as quietly as possible out of their pigsty of a room and back to my husband in the living room. I paused in the doorway at the sight I beheld. Carlos was reclining on the sofa, his feet propped on the coffee table and he'd obviously been attempting to read through a file before he was ambushed.

By the kitten.

Toaster was stood on Carlos's chest, rubbing her face against his chin. In one hand, Carlos held the forgotten file folder, still open, the other, was slowly stroking the small cat's body. The purrs were audible from across the room.

"I think she's smitten," I announced, wheeling myself over. "I'm not going to be replaced by a younger woman, am I?"

Carlos sent me a deadpan look. "You'll always be number one in my life," he said.

I laughed and hauled myself into a standing position, to transfer to the couch cushion beside him. He watched intently, probably readying himself to grab me should I lose my balance. "You know what I think, Carlos," I began, settling into the seat and reaching over to lift the kitten off his chest. "I think this little furry princess has you wrapped around her little paw. You loooooove her, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he stated firmly, though I could tell he was covering up his true feelings by being overly gruff.

"Oh, you want to talk ridiculous?" I questioned, cradling the furry bundle in the crook of my arm as I scratched her belly. "You went from Brodie-is-a-serious-threat, to he-seems-fine-but-what's-up-with-this crossword,-why-don't-we-do-some-DNA-testing-on-him in the course of a day." All I received for that was a short nod. After all these years his silence still frustrates me. "What's the testing for?" I asked bluntly.

"DNA," Carlos replied smoothly. "We're just double checking he has some."

I almost nodded my understanding at that statement. He'd said it so calmly that it took a moment for me to realise that he was making a joke. A bad joke, but a joke none the less. I rolled my eyes at him as he let out a bark of laughter. "I'm serious, Carlos. What do you suspect that you need to do a DNA test on him."

A sigh escaped his lips and he went out of his way to meet my gaze when he replied, "We think he may be related to you."

"Related how?" I asked immediately, like I'd somehow known what he was about to say. "Like, in a case or like, related-related."

"Related-related," he confirmed gently. Thoughts were whirling through my head. What if we were related? How closely could we be related? Who was his mother? "It's logical," Carlos continued in my slightly stunned silence. "Why else would his father's crossword point to you?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment, a reply aligning in my brain. "Because I've got experience tracking people down and an entire company at my fingertips to help me do so?" I said hopefully.

"Maybe," Carlos conceded. "And maybe it helps that you're related as well. You can't deny that there are certain traits that you both share," he added. "Your eyes, for example."

"That's where I've seen them before!" I exclaimed, the words bursting unbidden from my mouth. I'd been puzzling over the familiarity of his eye colour since the first time we met. Carlos looked at me curiously and I explained, "His eyes. They were completely stunning when I first saw them, but also familiar. I just couldn't work out where I'd seen them before."

*o*

I awoke slowly the next morning staring into the sweet little face of Toaster, once again sleeping on Carlos's chest with me. As I became aware of my surroundings, noting the hand in my hair massaging my scalp and Carlos's breathing, I tilted my head back to meet his eyes.

"Your phone is ringing," he informed me. And that's when the buzzing sound reached my ears. I rolled onto my back, glaring the offending piece of technology, vibrating and flashing on the bedside table. As I shuffled across the bed to answer it, my gaze slid to the glowing numbers of digital clock beyond the phone. 5.55am. I groaned. Someone had better be dead, I thought.

"'Lo?" I answered, snatching the phone to my ear.

"Stephanie," came a vaguely familiar voice. "I'm sorry I woke ye."

"It's 'kay," I replied automatically. "Who's this?"

"It's Brodie." Oh, right. The Scottish accent should have been a giveaway.

"What's up?" I asked, pulling myself into a seated position leaning against the headboard, recalling that we'd exchanged numbers at lunch the day before.

"I've just solved the last clue left on the crossword," he explained.

I nodded, still waking up. My brain never worked properly before breakfast. "What clue is that?" I asked, before mouthing Brodie to a curious Carlos, still pinned down by Toaster.

"Thirteen down," Brodie recited. "This Latino man is oh so tricky. I was doin' some work early this morning, replying to emails and I came across the answer." He paused as if expecting me to say something. I remained silent. "It's Manoso."

"Manoso?" I asked incredulously, gain Carlos's full attention. "What do you mean?"

"Manoso is Spanish for descriptive similar to tricky," he explained. "Plus the clue contains the words 'man', 'oh,' and 'so.' I'm surprised you husband or one of his men didn't get it."

Carlos was sitting up facing me now, obviously reacting to the look on my face and tone of my voice. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"Thirteen down is Manoso," I murmured. His blank face came slamming down. "You knew, didn't you?"

Instead of confirming or denying, he instructed, "Have him meet us at Rangeman in an hour."

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