Almost Dead by Lisa Jackson

the foyer. Her nose was pink, a couple of damned zits daring to erupt on her chin, and her cheekbones more defined than ever. She scrubbed off all remnants of her makeup, dug in the drawer for acne cream she was way too old to be using, then gave up the search when she heard Coco scratching at the door.
    “Hang on for a sec,” she called, then walked through the bedroom.
    She opened the door, half-expecting Jack to be on the other side, his shoulder propped against the doorjamb, an irrepressible grin tugging at his lips, devilment in his eyes.
    But the dog was alone.
    Insanely she felt a little bit of disappointment.
    “Come here,” she whispered to the dog, “let’s go check on Beej.”
    She heard the soft noise from the television in the living room filtering up the stairs and noticed the illumination of a flickering screen playing against the wall of the staircase. Sighing, she found it ridiculously comforting knowing that she wasn’t alone tonight. That Jack was downstairs. In their house.
    Oh man, Cissy, you ARE a basket case!
    She pushed open the door that she always left just slightly ajar. Inside B.J.’s room, her son was sleeping in his crib, and her heart swelled at the sight of him in the one-piece pajamas that covered him head to toe in soft, powder blue cotton. His blond curls had dried from the bath, and his lips were parted as he slept on his back. A mobile of airplanes through the ages, biplanes to Lear jets, hung suspended from a ceiling where she and Jack had painted clouds.
    “Don’t let his angelic demeanor fool you,” Cissy whispered into Coco’s ear as she stared at her son. “He’s been a holy terror all week.” With her free hand, she adjusted Beej’s blankets and watched his small chest rise and fall.
    Satisfied that he was sleeping soundly, she slipped back into the hallway and then nearly screamed when she saw a dark figure near the stairs. Her hand flew to her heart the nanosecond before she recognized Jack. “Holy God, Jack, what’re you doing up here! We had a deal.”
    “I was just going to do what you’ve been doing. Check on my son.”
    “He’s fine!”
    But Jack brushed by her and poked his head into the nursery anyway. She followed and peeked through the open door. Her heart squeezed as she saw Jack smile and place his big hand on B.J.’s tummy.
    Her heart squeezed.
    Don’t let him get to you, do not!
    “You’re right,” Jack said, easing into the hallway again and brushing up against a picture she had yet to take down, an eight-by-ten of their wedding in the stupid little Las Vegas chapel. She was in a short white dress, he in a tux, and no one they knew had been there to witness the event.
    Jack saw her quick glance and looked at the picture, righting it. “You don’t like Detective Paterno much, do you?”
    “He’s not exactly been a champion of my family, but let’s discuss this some other time.”
    She thought he might grab her right then and there, close as they were. But the little dog in her arms growled, causing Jack to curb whatever impulse he might have had. “That dog hates me,” he said, faintly amused.
    “Maybe she has a reason.”
    “Cheap shot, Ciss,” he said, but his amusement didn’t fall away. “You know, I’m getting damned tired of being your whipping boy.”
    “You’re the one who lobbied hard and fast to get back into the house.”
    “My house,” he reminded her. “At least half of it. But listen, I’m not going to argue with you tonight. I know you’ve been through enough today. So for now, good night, Ciss.” He walked the few feet to the stairs and descended, leaving her in the hallway. She glanced at the wedding picture, yanked it from its hook and, once inside the bedroom, tossed it into the trash with enough force that the glass splintered and the frame broke.
    Telling herself she didn’t care two cents about the damned picture, she set the dog on the floor, but the terrier was having none of it. With surprising