He loved Amy dearly.
Jessica took a deep breath, forcing back the sting of tears. “Give her to me.”
Lance hesitated. Earlier, Catherine had tried to give him a break, but the moment she’d reached for Amy, the little girl had started wailing—a desperate, breathless cry that left her face red and her small body gasping for air. After that, he hadn't let anyone else near her.
But now, as he cautiously transferred Amy into Jessica’s arms, their daughter simply let out a small whimper.
Lance’s heart lurched, and he moved to take her back, but Amy just twitched her nose, as if recognizing the familiar, comforting scent of her mother. She settled down and fell back into a restless sleep.
Watching them, Catherine dug her fingers so hard into the towel she was holding that her knuckles turned white.
Jessica sat on the sofa, gently patting Amy’s back and softly humming a lullaby she used to sing to her every night.
Catherine moved to Lance’s side. “Lance, you’ve been up all night. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some rest? I can help Jessica. You look dead on your feet.”
Lance glanced at Amy. “I’ll wait until after the nurse gives her the IV.”
Catherine nodded, then walked over to Jessica. “Jessica, I heard you had some trouble at the bar last night. Are you okay?”
Jessica shot Catherine a cool look. She knew Catherine was behind what happened, but she had no proof. The last time she’d acted on impulse, she’d ended up in a mental institution.
She forced a faint smile. “Of course I’m fine. If I weren’t, would I be sitting here right now? But how did you know it was me?”
Catherine’s smile was practiced. “I didn’t at first. I only realized it was you after hearing people describe what happened.”
“Who did you hear it from?” Jessica pressed.

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