Her head snapped up. Shock flickered across her features, followed by fear and something far more fragile, something he could not name. Her lips parted as though she meant to speak, but only a faint sound escaped.
“Is that really you,” he asked softly, not trusting his own voice.
She hesitated, then nodded.
One of the children began coughing, a deep, painful sound that tore through the quiet night. Instinct overrode hesitation. Owen opened the door and stepped into the rain without thinking about the cold soaking into his pressed shirt. He walked toward them slowly, trying not to make the children flinch.
“Tess, what happened,” he asked gently.
Her gaze lowered to the pavement. “Not here,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Come with me. All of you,” he said. “You shouldn’t be out here in this weather.”
She looked torn between accepting help and running from it, but the coughing child forced her to choose. She nodded almost imperceptibly.
Owen guided them to the car. The boys climbed in first, sitting stiffly, unsure of what to expect. Tess hesitated at the door, drops of rain rolling from her hair onto the leather seat.
“You are safe here,” Owen said. “I promise.”
