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Devon pulled her lower lip between her teeth after she spoke—as though she, too, wished to take back the words. She put her right hand on the floor to push herself to her feet.
Miguel closed his fingers around her forearm and held her beside him. “Devon, have you given any thought as to why you ended up in my bed that night?”
.....
“I know. That’s why…”
Hope opened the birthing-room door in time to overhear the last of the exchange. Hope had been a labor and delivery nurse before she returned to Enchantment with her sister. She had recently become a licensed midwife under Lydia’s tutelage. She was newly and happily married to Parker Reynolds, the clinic’s administrator, and helping him raise his son, Dalton. But eleven years earlier, things had been very different. Hope had been a seventeen-year-old runaway from a polygamous religious cult, pregnant and alone. On the night Hope’s baby was born, Devon, only a teenager herself, had overheard her grandmother agreeing to sell the infant on the black market. Paralyzed with shock and betrayal at her adored grandmother’s unethical actions, she had done nothing to save her friend’s baby. Hope had left the area a few days later, and Devon hadn’t heard from her again until Hope had returned about a year ago, apparently reconciled to the loss of her child and ready to move on with her life. It seemed Hope had forgiven Lydia for what had happened, but Devon could not so easily forget what her grandmother had done.
.....
