Written in 61 minutes.

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Robin’s Apartment: Bedroom

Robin reached inside her closet and drew out a hanger with a black sweater. She set the hanger into a bag where she kept them until she did her laundry and slid the sweater on, one arm at a time.

Then she slowly buttoned it halfway and went to the mirror to brush her hair and check the circles under her eyes. Maybe she should use some concealer — but why bother to pretend she’d managed more than a handful of hours of sleep since—

Her fingers brushed over her makeup brushes — she never wore much anyway. Just the concealer for occasional blemishes, eyeliner and mascara when she wanted to highlight her eyes for a nigh out —

Robin met those eyes now in the mirror, took a deep breath to brace for the day ahead of her.

Time to go.

Time to say goodbye.

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

Living in Port Charles meant you had more than one black dress, Elizabeth thought idly. She had one for every season now, though they didn’t all fit. She still had the dress she’d worn to Lucky’s memorial service, though that was tucked away in a closet at her grandmother’s house. That had been in the spring, so it had short sleeves and a sweetheart bodice, made a lightweight cotton.

There was the winter dress she’d worn at Alan’s service the year before with long sleeves and heavy material. It was a maternity dress, so it was packed away with all the others. She had another winter dress from the quarantine deaths—one that she’d repeated more than she liked to remember — for Tony, for Courtney, for a nurse on her floor— That dress hung in her closet now.

The sleeveless jersey black dress she’d worn to Kristina’s funeral in August. She’d stood on the pier in that dress with Jason, she thought, and it had remained in her wardrobe. She’d chosen the sleeveless for the hot temperatures and because it didn’t rub against the bandage she wore from the ricochet bullet wound she’d received the night Kristina had died in the warehouse explosion. She’d worn it again to Lila’s funeral two years later.

She didn’t reach for any of those dresses on this occasion — the temperatures weren’t low enough for the wool winter dress, but not hot enough for the sleeveless dress. She pulled out the dress she’d worn to Chloe Morgan’s funeral — it was made of lightweight cotton blend, but the skirt fell to her knees and the sleeves were three-quarter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Elizabeth asked Jason. She set the dress on the bed and went to the dresser to sort through undergarments, plucking out a set in black.

Jason stopped, his hand on the handle, and turned back. “Mac will have a lot of officers there,” he said. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. I’ll be fine with the boys. It’s good you’re going with Spinelli. And your grandmother wanted to go. So—”

She sighed, went into the bathroom to change. It was silly, she thought, but she was still conscious of the fading red scar across her middle. She touched it now. The baby had been in distress and they’d had to perform an emergency C-section. And while she’d lost the baby weight, there was still evidence of the pregnancy—the thin, twisty stretchmarks, the scar—they’d all fade in time, she knew that. But—

There was a knock at the door, and she jerked out of her thoughts, whipping her robe closed. She opened the bathroom door, found Jason there, with a curious look in his eyes. “I’m going to get the boys up,” he told her. “You don’t have to change in here.” Then he tipped his head. “You know, you can have the guest room if—”

“God. No.” Elizabeth sighed, because she was really stupid, wasn’t she? What an insane thing to worry about, as if Jason would be disgusted. “It’s just—” She tugged her robe aside. “The scar from Jake—”

Jason furrowed his brow, pulled the door all the way open so he could see her better. “What about it?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I haven’t—I mean, since he was—I haven’t—in front of anyone.” And her fingers were already itching to pull the robe back over herself, to cover it up. “It’s stupid.”

He said nothing for a long moment, then reached for her hand. Elizabeth let him take it and draw her out of the bathroom, into the softer light of the bedroom. “Is that why you’ve been changing in the bathroom? Or going to bed before me?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks were hot.

Jason was quiet again, just studying her—his eyes on her face. Then he put his hands at her shoulders, sliding one thumb under her robe on either side, gently pushing it back. It pooled at her feet and she fought not to fold her arms.

His fingers brushed over the scar. “I remember that day,” he murmured. “They put this curtain in front of you, so you were blocked from the observation window. I couldn’t see anything but your face. You were so pale. Your eyes closed. And the doctors were behind that curtain. They lifted the baby away and I knew they’d needed to cut you.” He exhaled slowly. “And then there were alarms, and I didn’t know if you were going to wake up again. You nearly died again later.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Jason.”

“It doesn’t feel real sometimes,” he said, his fingers sliding over her skin, over the stretchmarks she hated so much. “That you carried him all those months. You’re so small. Delicate. Not fragile,” he clarified when she scrunched her nose. “It’s amazing really,” he continued, dipping his head down to kiss her lightly. She sighed, closing her eyes, relaxing against him, his t-shirt rough against her bare skin. “What women can do. What you did. You made both of them out of nothing. And you kept them safe until they were ready to survive without you.”

“Jason—”

“Did you think it would you less beautiful?”

Her eyes fluttered open and her breath caught at the expression in his. “No. But—”

“I love you.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “All of you. Every scar, every stretchmark. Jake and Cameron. They came from you. Why would you want to hide that?”

“I really love you.” Elizabeth wound her arms around his neck, sinking into another long, lingering kiss that slid through her like a warm, bubble bath.

“You need to get dressed,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. “And the boys need breakfast.”

“You let go first then.” But his arms didn’t move from her waist, his long fingers tickling the skin of her lower back. And she didn’t move either.

“Together,” Jason said. “On three.” She grinned, and finally released each other. She stooped down, picked up her robe. He took another long look, shook his head, and left.

PCPD: Squad Room

Lucky scribbled the date October 25 in his notepad. The custody hearing had been merged with Jason’s paternity suit and would be held in just three short weeks. He set aside his pencil, and took another long breath.

Everyone in his life wanted him to drop the fight. To let Elizabeth take the boys and walk away with a clean break. He’d read every word of her revised custody petition in which she rejected visitation for both boys. Not just Jake, but Cameron.

His insane moment of rage had cost him the last modicum of respect she’d held, Lucky knew, and Cameron’s cries still echoed in his head like the relentless beat of a drum. He’d been selfish. He’d wanted more than she was willing to give, but he’d also been arrogant. How many times had she sacrificed what she wanted for herself to give Lucky what he needed? What he wanted?

She hadn’t backed down this time. Nothing had worked, and now Lucky was poised to lose everything.

He dragged his hands down his face. He should just end it. Sign the paperwork that made it go away. Like last year — the quick and easy divorce where they walked away with what they’d brought to the marriage. Maybe they could have salvaged something, a piece of the friendship that had saved both their lives when they’d been teenagers.

That wasn’t possible now. When Lucky Spencer made a mistake, it was never just a simple one with an easy solution. No, he had to make destructive choices that set his whole life on fire.

But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t walk away from the boys he’d loved. He wanted a chance to prove to Elizabeth that he could fix this. That he could be the fatherCam and Jake deserved.

Even if he knew he’d lose —

Lucky set aside the custody papers and reached for the report from a cell phone provider, hoping against all hope that there would be some hint of the mysterious stalker who had left her with dead flowers and mysterious hangups.

But the company had nothing. He could pinpoint the hangups — but the phone numbers were never the same — a series of burners that could only be traced back to a batch of phones sold to a convenience store. He’d follow that lead, but it had probably been cash and they would have recorded over any security tape.

He had nothing. Two girls were dead, brutally murdered, and Lucky had nothing but the faint hope that there would be DNA and a match in the system.

Queen of Angels: Chapel

Patrick slid into a pew next to Elizabeth and Spinelli, both of them sitting in the back. Elizabeth’s grandmother was closer to the front, with Bobbie and other nurses from the hospital.

In the front pew, Georgie’s parents were sitting with Mac. Robin’s parents had made it in te day before, and sat in the opposite pew, grim-faced. Next to them, Dillon Quartermaine was shattered, with Lucas Jones. The chapel was filled with a mixture of cops, doctors and nurses, college students, and others Patrick couldn’t place.

For a girl who’d lived barely long enough to drink, Georgie’s death had left devastation and havoc in its wake. What kind of justice would there be for such a crime? Nothing would even the balance, Patrick thought. Nothing, not even finding the murderer and choking the life out of him would do anything to bring a sense of order back into the world.

Robin was standing in the front — she looked so tired, he thought. So exhausted — he knew she wasn’t sleeping, and he’d checked with others. Emily and Elizabeth hadn’t heard from her, and her other best friend, Brenda, had missed her flight out of Rome because of a storm.

Was there anyone thinking of Robin? Anyone who was making sure she ate and slept and took a minute to breathe? She wouldn’t let it be him, and he understood that. But it didn’t change anything. He wanted to take care of her, to put an arm around her, to make this okay.

It wouldn’t because nothing would.

Robin stepped up behind the podium. “Thank you, Father Coates, for your lovely words of comfort and wisdom at a time like this,” she said to the priest who touched her shoulder, then drew away to fade into the balance. Robin took a deep breath, then looked out over the crowd, her gaze slightly unfocused. She met his eyes, then took a deep breath.

“Georgie was sweetness personified,” Robin began, and he heard the slight rustle of a paper—her hands were trembling, and he tensed, leaning forward as if to be ready if she needed him. “Light and good and wonderful. Kind to everyone she met. Compassionate. Fierce.” Her voice trembled just for a moment. “Loyal. She was—”

“I can’t do this.”

Maxie shot up from her place between Mac and Felicia. Her blonde hair shimmered in the light of candles on the altar as she strode towards Robin. She whirled around, her hands at fists. “We can’t do this.”

“Maxie—” Robin went to her, Mac started to rise, but Maxie put up both her hands.

“No! No! You can’t stand here and talk about how amazing my sister is—because you’ll just ask for someone else to speak and they can’t do it!” Maxie turned those determined, furious eyes on her parents. “They have no right. You have no right to be sitting up front with family. With people who loved  Georgie, who actually knew—”

“Maxie,” Mac hissed, getting to his feet. “No—”

“Dillon—” Maxie jabbed a finger at the Quartermaine, who was already half on his feet. “Dillon gets to stand here. He gets to talk about her, and cry for her, and weep. He loved her—” Her voice broke, and she looked at him. “Thank God you did. Thank God she got to have that before—”

“Don’t do this,” Dillon said, his voice rusty. “She wouldn’t want this—”

Robin came up behind Maxie, tried to put her hands on her cousin’s shoulder. “Honey—”

“No!” Maxie shoved her back and Robin stumbled back into the podium. Now Patrick did stand, ready to do something.

“We’ll go.” Felicia Jones got to her feet, her ex-husband along side her. “We’ll go—”

“No—” Mac shook his head. “This isn’t the way—”

“No, because that’s what they do, isn’t it?” Maxie spat. “They leave. They can’t handle the truth—”

Felicia turned away, and even from his space in the back, Patrick could see her ravaged face, the emptiness in Frisco Jones’s expression, the grief in their postures. Frisco swept his eyes over the gathering, put a hand at Felicia’s back and they made their way out of the chapel.

Maxie stood there, tears streaking her face, her breathing heavy, and the strangest look in her eyes — as if she hadn’t actually expected her parents to leave. Despite the horror of the last few minutes, she looked so alone, so devastated that a stirring of sympathy swirled in Patrick.

Robin had recovered and this time, when she put her hand on Maxie’s shoulders, the younger woman let her guide her from the room, taking a back entrance.

Patrick itched to follow, to take care of Robin but he sat down instead as Mac took over the service, attempting to get things back on track.

Elizabeth squeezed his hand, and he cleared his throat. “You’ll call her, won’t you?”

“Yes. Patrick—”

“Good. Someone should.” And she didn’t want it to be him.

Written in 57 minutes.

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PCPD: Squad Room

In the margin of his autopsy report copy, Lucky scribbled a note to himself to investigate just how common the type of cord found around Georgie’s neck was. The cord itself had be a signature, didn’t it? Whoever had murdered the girls had brought with him — the only question was —

“What do you have?”

Lucky clicked back into the room around him and found a red-eyed Mac standing by his desk. He gestured for the commissioner to take a seat. “The preliminary autopsy report is in,” he said. When Mac flinched, Lucky cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to do this, Mac? I can ask the lieutenant—”

“No. No. She was my baby. You understand, don’t you? If this happened to your boys, it wouldn’t matter about blood—”

“No, it wouldn’t. All right. Preliminary autopsy came back for both victims. And I have a prelim from the crime scene tech. I have some more interviews to do with the partygoers, but I have a basic picture. Georgie and Chelsea went to a party at a fraternity. Spinelli met them there. They hung out for a few hours, but Spinelli left early—”

“Did he?” Mac said, his eyes narrowing. “Where did he go?”

“Home. I got complete cooperation from him Mac — and from Jason, including the security tapes from the Towers. Spinelli is logged in hours before the last sighting of the girls. And nothing of him leaving—”

“He’s a computer hacker—”

“I know that. And I’m sending the tapes for more analysis to be sure, but my gut says no. I told him myself, Mac, because I needed to know. And he was shattered. I’m not saying he’s not acting, but I have nothing at this point to say otherwise.” Lucky paused, but Mac said nothing, only clenched his jaw. “While the tox screen is going to take a bit more time to be sure, both girls had alcohol in their bloodstream—”

“What—” Mac swung back, his eyes wide. “My—Georgie never drank.”

“I don’t think she had more than a beer, Mac. Maybe just to be social. Chelsea was over the legal limit — some of the wits say she was drinking heavily which wasn’t like her. Neither of the girls had a reputation for that. They were well-liked and known for having a good time, but not for being partiers. My sense is that until last night, they were both just social drinkers. But Chelsea drank more.”

“That’s something.”

“It is. The campus hasn’t turned over their security footage yet, but the security doesn’t think there’s an angle that will help us. That corner is a dead spot. Still, we want to pinpoint the time better so I’m waiting on that.”

Mac dragged his head down his cheeks. “What about other injuries?” he asked. “Was it just—”

“No signs of a sexual assault,” Lucky said gently. “Georgie was first — and that makes sense. Chelsea was likely too drunk too realize someone had grabbed her. There were drag marks on the jeans —we think they were both grabbed from the path and dragged into the bushes.”

Mac exhaled slowly. “What else?”

“Georgie had more defensive wounds. She fought hard, Mac. I don’t know if that brings you comfort—but she got a piece of the guy. There’s skin under her nails. We’re sending it away from analysis. Chelsea has some broken nails which means she fought, too, but not as hard.”

“Too drunk,” Mac murmured. “God, maybe it’s a blessing. She might not have even realized. But Georgie—she fought. She knew—” He drew in a sharp breath. “She knew.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that it? Is that all?”

“After four days, yes,” Lucky said. “We need more canvassing. More testing. But a DNA profile is a good sign, Mac—”

“Why haven’t you finished the canvassing?” Mac demanded. “What else do you have to deal with? You should be out doing that now—” He jerked to his feet, his eye catching the corner of some other paperwork. “What is this?”

“Mac—”

The commissioner snatched it up. “A custody petition—you’re working on your damn divorce? What about my daughter?”

“It’s—”

“Are you too distracted?” Mac demanded.

“No.” Lucky took the petition back. “That’s been there since Friday. Since before.” And he’d scarcely given it much thought outside of that tense scene with Jason after interrogating Spinelli. “I’ve done what I can for that — it’s the hands of the lawyers. Georgie and Chelsea have my focus, Mac.”

The older man closed his eyes, the flush of anger fading, leaving him pale and wan. “I want her back. I just—”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And you know I can’t make promises about finding this guy. But I will do everything I can. I knew Georgie, Mac. She was a great kid. And she deserved so much better than this.” He set the papers on his desk. “Go home. Be with your family.”

Queen of Angels: Chapel

“Thank you, Father Coates.” Robin shook the priest’s hand. “I appreciate everything.”

“Of course. My condolences to your family. Everything is arranged for tomorrow.” The priest disappeared into the backroom, and Robin turned to find Patrick in the double doorway separating the main chapel from the anteroom.

“What are you—” She drew her brows together. “What are you doing here?”

“I stopped by the house, and Anna told me you’d be here.” He tipped his head. “When did your parents get in?”

“Late last night.” Robin rubbed her arms. “They didn’t know Georgie very well, but they were close to Frisco and Felicia, and of course, my uncle—” She rubbed her arms. “I still don’t—”

“I wanted to see if you needed anything, but Maxie was fighting with a woman I assume is her mother, and Anna was trying to mediate everything — and then I found out you were here arranging the funeral.” He paused. “Alone.”

“It’s easier this way.” She moved past him, into the anteroom to retrieve her coat and purse. “Maxie grieves wildly, you know. And she’s got a right to be angry with her mother. I love Felicia but she’s barely been around the last few years. And Frisco has never been a factor for her.” She smiled grimly. “I know what that’s like. To have parents who love you and put you at the center, then disappear without a trace.” She sighed when Patrick helped her on with her coat. “Mac went to the police station—and, well, someone has to do this.”

“You could have called me.”

“Patrick—”

“Or Emily. Elizabeth. Lainey or Kelly. Anyone.” With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up so their eyes met. “We broke up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t count on me.”

“I think,” Robin said delicately, stepping back. ‘That’s exactly what breaking up is supposed to mean.” Her voice trembled. “You didn’t want to be counted on, Patrick. Remember?”

“That’s not—”

“I appreciate you being around the last few days, but it’s not fair to make it harder for me. You don’t want forever, Patrick.” Her eyes burned. “And that’s your choice. But I can’t get used to leaning on you. I can’t rely on you. I can’t turn to you to make things okay. One day, you won’t be there. I don’t want to wait for one day. Wasn’t that what we decided?”

“Robin—” He dragged his hand through his dark hair, leaving it disheveled. “I wanted—” He broke off, looked away. “You’re hurting. I can’t stand it.”

“And I’ll hurt for the rest of my life. My little cousin, this precious, beautiful girl I watched grow up—she’s gone.” A hot tear streaked down her cheek. “Someone ripped her out of this world, and I don’t know why. There will never be an answer good enough to explain it.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. For thinking of me. But it hurts too much to keep doing this. I need you to leave—”

“So you can keep doing this alone? You won’t call anyone. You won’t lean on anyone.” He scowled at her. “Let me call Lainey or Kelly—”

“There’s no reason. I’m done here. I’m going home to be with my family. You didn’t want to be my family—”

“That’s not true—”

“You didn’t want to make that family bigger, Patrick. And you get to make that choice. You get to not want children.” She pressed a fist against her heart. “It makes this harder, you see. To know that we love each other. To know that you love me but not enough to take a chance—”

“I—”

“And you’re here, worried about me, because you love me. And now all I can think is why can’t you see how much it hurts? You don’t want children with me, Patrick. You don’t want the dream I had for us. I need to do this without you.”

He cleared his throat, then nodded finally—a short jerk of his head. “Fine. Fine. Do it without me. But promise me you won’t do it alone. You’ll call someone. You’ll give yourself space to feel.”

“I promise.”

GH: Nurse’s Station

“How does it feel to be back at work?”  Emily stepped into the nurse’s station, reached for a chart. “I see they have you on scut work.”

“My favorite thing,” Elizabeth murmured, checking off another box for a blood test. “Epiphany said it was just for a few days—the new schedule comes out in a week. And it’s fine — I need to get back into the swing of things.” She tapped her pen against the form. “It was harder than I thought to leave the boys. I barely let Jake out of my sight longer than a few hours.”

“Well, of course not. You could always put them back into daycare downstairs—”

“I will probably at some point—” Elizabeth reached for another form. “But until the custody hearing is resolved, it’s better for them to be at home. I don’t know what magic Jason performed, but Sonny and Carly never call him. He’s basically—” A smile flitted across her face. “He’s basically a stay at home dad.”

“I bet he loves it,” Emily said, propping her elbow on the counter and resting her chin on her first. “You know, my brother was his happiest playing with Michael as a baby. I’m glad he gets to do that for good now.”

“Yeah, me, too. I feel a little less guilty knowing that Jason gets all this time with Jake — it won’t give him back the months he lost—”

“But he was in jail for most of that time, which has nothing to do with you,” Emily reminded her. “So give yourself a break. You made a mistake, and  you’re fixing it.” She hesitated. “But  you’re—things are good? I mean, it’s  been a few days since you moved in—”

“Things are good. Mostly. Um—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “We’re not—I mean, we share a bed. But we’re not—not yet. Which feels stupid, I guess.”

“It doesn’t.” Emily tilted her head. “Are you not ready for that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s also—Kelly wanted me to wait after Jake—after all the complications, you know? I didn’t even get clearance until last month. But—” Elizabeth touched her abdomen. “I guess it’s silly, really. I’ve got a scar—”

“He’s got them, too. And you know Jason is the last person to worry about that.”

“I know he is. It’s just a mental thing. I’ll get past it. But it’s great, you know. Waking up, having breakfast with the boys. When you stop thinking about the custody and the divorce and poor Georgie, there’s a lot to be grateful for. More than I thought I’d ever get.”

“Then concentrate on that.” Emily squeezed her hand. “You got a second chance. Enjoy it.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Jason hadn’t realized how indomitable toddlers were until he’d met Cameron Webber. He’d lost custody of Michael before that, and he hadn’t been around Morgan every day — he hadn’t been responsible for bedtimes and meals and keeping him alive—

Cameron had begged for his motorcycle to be dragged down from his bedroom, and Jason thought it was a simple request. But then Cameron had run over Jason’s toes three times, nearly knocked over the bassinet where Jake fitfully dozen, jarred awake every time — and then he’d taken a turn too sharply and the bike had tilted over, spilling Cameron to the floor — which wouldn’t have been a problem except Cameron hit the side of his face on the wall—

Jason scooped him up as the toddler exploded into tears, crying for his mommy and then his daddy—that last one cut hard. Jason couldn’t deliver on either, of course, but especially on the second. And it killed him to hear Cameron crying for a man who’d walked away.

Lucky regretted it, of course — Jason had seen as much in the other man’s eyes at the PCPD, but Jason didn’t care. Kids didn’t understand adult issues and they didn’t care about your regrets. They just knew how you’d made them felt.

Jason stroked a hand down Cameron’s back. “You’re okay, buddy,” he said. “Do you want some ice?”

Cameron sniffled, laid his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Ice?”

“Yeah. Your cheek is red—” Jason touched the soft skin. “It might help.”

“No Mommy?”

“She’s at work.”

“D-Daddy—”

Jason grimaced, went into the kitchen. Said nothing. What could he say? Cameron was a smart kid — he knew he’d had a father, someone who had been there from the start. Just because Jason was ready to throw the asshole off the cliff, Cameron wouldn’t understand that.

He reached into the freezer for a miniature ice pack stuffed inside a covering shaped and colored like a pig’s face — a boo-boo pack, Elizabeth had called them, when she’d stocked the fridge. He pressed it to Cameron’s cheek.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Good.” Jason sat at the kitchen table, holding the pack to the toddler’s cheek. “You know, Mommy says you have to slow down and watch where you’re going.”

“Want Daddy.” Cameron sniffled. “Where’s Daddy?”

Jason exhaled slowly. Tricky, this. And he wished like hell Elizabeth was here. She always knew what to say. “He’s at work,” he said finally, because it was likely true.

“Never see him. Daddy don’t like me no more.” Cameron sniffled, then pressed his nose into the crook of Jason’s shoulder. “Snelli don’t have dad either. He said.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“No mommy, too. Sad. Mommys are good.”

“They are.”

“Snelli said it okay. He got you.” Cameron looked up then, his blue eyes wide, damp, his cheeks stained with tears. “I got you, too?”

“Yeah.” Jason kissed his forehead. “Yeah, you got me, too.”

“Kay.” Cameron snuggled back into Jason’s arms. “I got Jake. I gots Mommy. Snelli, Grams, you. I okay.”

“We’re all okay. Let’s go check on your  brother.”

Written in 60 minutes.

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Scorpio House: Living Room

Robin emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel in her hands, watching as Maxie rocked back and forth on the sofa, her boyfriend Cooper holding as sobs continued. She’d been crying since Robin had arrived, though she’d calm considerably from the wailing—

That was uncharitable, Robin thought grimly as she went to the coffee table, picked up some empty glasses and returned to the kitchen. She dumped them in the sink, switched on the water. Maxie’s sister was dead—

Her chest tickled, tightened, and something crawled up her throat. Robin gripped the edge of the counter, took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes closed. Forced it back down. She’d fallen apart once already. Couldn’t do it again.

Outside the kitchen window, she heard a car engine switch off. Maybe it was Mac, returning from the station with an update. Or Bobbie, who had dropped off food. Or—

Robin went back into the living room just as the door opened, and her brain skittered to a stop. Felicia stood there, her eyes rimmed with red. Just behind her stood Mac and—

Maxie sniffled, focused on the door, and like lightning, her grief and fury had a target. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, lurching to her feet. Beside her, Cooper got to his feet warily.

“Maxie—”

“No. No. Neither of you—” Maxie’s voice trembled.

“Maxie,” Felicia said softly, turning to the quiet man beside her. “Your father and I—”

“That man is no father of mine,” Maxie spat, and Frisco Jones exhaled on a shaky breath.

“Maxie, don’t—” Robin came forward, a hand outstretched.

“No, no, no! You don’t get to come here when it’s over!” Maxie shook off Cooper’s arm. “No! Because if you could come today, where were you yesterday?”

“I—” Frisco opened his mouth, then closed it.

Maxie whirled on Robin. “You know what it’s like! You know! Your father showed up like this—but at least he had the decency to pretend to be dead!”

Robin flinched, and Cooper put a hand on Maxie’s arm. “Babe—”

“No!” Maxie cried. “No! My sister is dead! Her body is barely cold, and they’re here like they have a damn right to be—I can’t—” Her sobs choked off and she whirled away, dashing past Robin. A moment later, the back door banged shut. Cooper flicked an uncomfortable look around, then followed his girlfriend.

Robin briefly considered going after her, but then turned her attention to the trio at the door. “Felicia.” She went to the woman who had partially raised her, and embraced her. Felicia hugged her back, the older woman’s thin body trembling. “And—” Robin looked over at Frisco. She had only a handful of memories of this man. He’d been around during her childhood, a friend to both her parents.

But Maxie wasn’t wrong in her anger, in her fury. Because if her parents could show up the same day her sister’s body was found—

“Robin. You’ve—” Frisco cleared his throat. “You’ve grown up.”

“Yes.” Robin took a deep breath. “I made coffee. Come in. Let’s—you must be tired. From the traveling.”  She looked at her uncle who slowly shook his head. No leads then. No progress that could be reported.

She absorbed that hit, then turned to make Georgie’s parents feel welcome — and wished she had the courage to rage at the world as Maxie had.

She knew what it was like to grow up without her parents, to wonder if her father loved her—and if he did—how could he have left her behind?

But Robin wasn’t Maxie. And the time to rage would have to come later.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

“It’s so awful.” Emily embraced Elizabeth, then took Jake into her arms for a cuddle. “How’s Spinelli?”

“He’s—he’s awful,” Elizabeth admitted. She closed the door. “He’s  upstairs with Cameron, watching a movie. Jason—he’s at Sonny’s if you were looking for him—”

“No, I stopped by your grandmother’s but she said you were here.” Emily gave Jake back, then stripped off her jacket, tossing it over the side of the desk. “I guess you’re sticking close—”

“You could say that. Let’s—let’s sit down.” Elizabeth gestured at the sofa. “Um, I’m staying here. With Jason. Me and the boys.”

Emily lifted her brows. “I didn’t realize things had progressed this far—”

“They hadn’t. I mean, they wouldn’t have. But—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Some things happened yesterday, and then this morning—it’s—at the park yesterday. Jason and I were there with the boys. Lucky walked past, and when Cameron tried to hug him, to talk to him—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Lucky shoved him away. He walked away—”

“What?” Emily’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“Cameron was so upset, inconsolable. Screaming for his daddy.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I brought him here because—because he’s happy here. And because I needed to take care of him—we stayed the night. I wanted Cameron to feel safe. And I knew Jason and Spinelli—”

“You don’t have to say anything else. My God, I knew Lucky was pushing things with Cameron, but I never thought—” Emily pressed a fist to her mouth. “My God.”

“It was awful. And I never want Cam to go through this again. He woke up back to his old self, I think, but I can’t risk another scene like that. I’m having Diane revise the custody petition.”

Elizabeth rose to her feet, crossed the room to set Jake down in the bassinet. “I’ve been kind, I think, to Lucky. Understanding. Patient. I knew he was threatening to walk away from Cameron because he saw it as leverage. As a negotiation tactic. The moment you told me what he’d said—or what Georgie overheard—or even after that mediation meeting—I knew I should have walked away then. Rejected any visitation at all. But I didn’t.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I felt guilty. This was all happening because of me. I set all of this into motion years ago when I decided Lucky was my problem to fix. I thought Jason could take care of himself. That it was better to keep choosing Lucky because he needed me, and Jason didn’t.” She rubbed her arms, chilled. “Somehow, I convinced myself that the right thing to do was to lie to Jason, to take away his son—that Lucky needed Jake more. This was my fault, Emily, and I would have kept taking the hits. I would take anything Lucky or Nikolas threw at me. Because I started this a lifetime ago, and I kept going last year—”

She broke off, turned to focus on Emily. “But it stopped being my fault after the trial.  I told the truth when it would have been safer, easier for me to keep lying. To keep demanding more from Jason than I had a right to—to keep protecting Lucky’s world. To make myself unhappy.” Tears burned as they trickled down. “When did I decide Lucky was worth more than me? How could I have done this myself—to Jason—to my boys—” Her breath was shaky as she forced herself to continue. “The things I’ve done will haunt me for the rest of my life. But everything that happens now isn’t my fault. Lucky listened to my little boy screaming for him and still walked away.”

Emily slowly stood, her eyes shimmering. “I can’t believe. I can’t accept it. It’s not right. I—”

“I’ve spent my life begging, cheating, and destroying myself and the people around me so that Lucky Spencer would love me.” She met Emily’s eyes. “Even with the divorce, even with the mediation, and the custody demands, I couldn’t stand to go for broke. To play anything but fair. Because I needed Lucky to love Cameron.”

“And he doesn’t,” Emily said softly.

“He doesn’t. And my son will never have to beg anyone to love him. I won’t allow it.” Elizabeth wrapped her arm around herself. “So whatever happens next, Lucky is out. Cameron doesn’t need a father who puts conditions on his love.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Emily approached, hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry, Liz. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m not—” Elizabeth stepped back, found a smile. “Because he ripped off the blinders I’ve been wearing. The love, the family I want for myself, for my sons—it’s right here. Jason and I were talking before last night—but then Georgie—” Elizabeth paused, as the horror stole over her once more. “Spinelli was shattered, and Cam is good for his spirits. And Jason was shaken, too, I could see that. She was just a baby, Em. Just starting out her life. Just making her own mistakes and choices.”

“It’s brutal,” Emily agreed, winding her arm though Elizabeth’s and walking back to the sofa. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I realized I was just treading water. Staying with my grandmother, only being here for visits. Jason deserves to live with son, and Cam—”

“Cameron deserves my brother,” Emily said. “You don’t have to tell me what I already know. I’ve seen it, haven’t? With my own eyes. I know Jason loves Cameron. They deserve each other.”

“They do. Jason—he offered. Cam’s not there right now, but he will. And I was reminded, terribly, that life is too short to wait until the perfect moment. I’ve waited long enough.”

Greystone: Living Room

Jason should have paid more attention to the car clustered in the front drive, he thought, as he strode past Max, and into the living room to find Carly speaking with her ex-husband.

“Jason!” Carly’s eyes lit up and she came to hug him. “You’ve been impossible to find these days—” Her mouth twisted. “Someone’s keeping you busy—”

“Yeah, my son,” Jason said, and she scowled. “I see him every day,” he added, hoping it would quell her ire, and give her peace a mind. There was part of Carly, he knew, that had been genuinely angry that Jason had been lied to, that he’d had watch Lucky claim Jake. How she handled it—who she blamed—well, that was different.

“See him—you should have him. All the time. At night. Morning.” Carly put hand on her hips. “But you won’t—”

“I do,” Jason repeated. He looked at Sonny. “That’s why I’m here.”

“What? What? Don’t tell me that mealy-mouthed—” Jason snapped his head around, and Carly stumbled. Tried again. “I mean, did Elizabeth give you visitation?”

Jason ignored her question, focused on Sonny. “Elizabeth and the boys are living with me now—”

“I knew it!”

“Shut up, Carly,” Sonny said blandly, then to Jason, he continued, “What kind of protection are you looking for?”

“That manipulative—”

Irritated and beyond his patient, Jason turned, took Carly by the arm and lightly shoved her  back a few feet — into the foyer. Then he closed the door, locking her out.

“Yeah, she’s not going to handle any of this well—” Sonny started, but Jason scowled. “I’m not saying that should be a problem for you—”

“It’s not. And Elizabeth can handle Carly. I don’t care about any of that.”

“No, of course.”

“I need you to sign off on a security upgrade for the Towers,” Jason said. “We haven’t overhauled it since you were living there with the kids. I need—”

“Done. I’ll call our guys. Guards?”

“Do—I didn’t think we had any cause for—” Jason frowned. He was out of loop, had been for months. “Do we—”

“I wasn’t sure if Elizabeth was more anxious after the kidnapping,” Sonny said gently. “Relax. Things are quiet. Everyone is lying low after the publicity from the trial. So, no personal guards. Do you want someone to trail after? Just in the area. Elizabeth could keep driving. Just a presence.”

“Maybe when she has the boys,” Jason said finally. “Thanks. I appreciate—I appreciate all space you’ve been giving me.”

“You’ve earned this,” Sonny said simply. “If I need you, I know how to find you. Take this time for yourself. And for your family.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

For his family. He liked the sound of it, and it put him in a good mood—good enough that he was able to deal with a short Carly confrontation after leaving Sonny. She’d been filled with complaints and worries—but he’d smoothed them over and left without breaking a sweat.

Then he’d gone home, thinking about what they might make for dinner—he didn’t cook much, but he’d liked breakfast that morning. Maybe—

There was laughter coming from the kitchen when Jason arrived at the penthouse. He followed the sound to find Spinelli and Cameron at the kitchen table, Jake in a bouncy sweat, and Elizabeth at the stove. Her hair had been piled on her head, pieces trailing down,  sticking lightly to the side her face, damp from the steam rising from the stove. She held a metal spoon in her hand, traces of red sauce clinging to the edges.

She was turned away from the pot, laughing with a flushed Spinelli covered in dinosaur stickers, Cameron giggling another ready in his hand, and Jake gurgling, his tiny fist wrapped around a cloth rabbit ear.

Elizabeth turned at her entrance, her smile remaining in place. “You’re home!”

“Stone Cold—” Spinelli’s desperate eyes found his. “You must assist the Jackal. He’s under attack from the Little Dude—”

“I think you can take him,” Jason said lightly, crossing the space to press his mouth to Elizabeth’s. Her smile widened under his lips, and she wrapped one arm around his neck. “Hey,” she said softly when he drew back.

“Hey,” he echoed. “I’m home.”