“Yes. And then we had ice cream. But shhh. It’s a secret.”
He smiled and stroked her head. “Okay, I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Good.” Relieved, she snuggled into her pillow. “Dad?”
His heart clenched. The word slipped out sometimes when she was tired or when she wanted to try it out because the kids at kindergarten used it all the time.
“Yes?”
“Did you know that Anna doesn’t have a mom anymore either? She’s like me. So you have to be extra nice to her.”
A lump formed in his throat, which he quickly swallowed. “I’ll try.”
He couldn’t promise more because he felt that sometimes, he simply lost control of his mind and body in Anna’s presence.
She nodded again before her breathing evened out.
He gave her another kiss on the head and laid Lulu in her bed before getting up, quietly closing the door, and going back downstairs to the living room.
Anna hadn’t moved. She was still sleeping like the dead.
He walked slowly around the couch and stared at her face and the dark fringe of eyelashes resting on her cheek. He had often watched Anna sleep, more often than a non-stalker should. But Anna fell asleep faster than a hockey player could sayfuck. So, it’s not like he’d had a choice. And she looked so damn…beautiful when she slept. Naked or clothed. She radiated a calmness he had never possessed even though everyone believed he did. But it was an illusion. When she slept, everything about her was mellow and gentle, the complete opposite of her waking self. And he found both sides fascinating.
I’m getting the feeling that if I’d known you, I wouldn’t have slept with you — and I hate that thought because that means I made a mistake.
He rubbed his chin and closed his eyes. It had been reckless. Impulsive. But…a mistake?
No. He’d always considered it necessary. He’d needed it. He didn’t know how he’d have gotten through the first few monthsafter Laney’s death without that one hour a week where he absolutely didn’t have to think. When he’d just been a man, not suddenly a father or a hockey player who’d just blown the playoffs. Not Moreau orKiller. Just…Lucas.
“Anna?” he said softly, touching her leg.
She didn’t move.
“Anna,” he murmured louder, sitting next to her on the couch and gently squeezing her shoulder.
Her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head from the armrest. “Hmm?” She yawned and glanced around the room, disoriented for a few seconds until her gaze settled on his face. “Oh God.” She winced, then laughed and rubbed her eyes. “Right, I’m at your place. And you’re back. And…” She blinked and yawned again. “Damn, did I fall asleep?”
“Yep.”
“Oh man, sorry, but Melody has so much energy, it’s truly exhausting.”
“Yep.”
“Where is she?”
“Carried her to bed.”
“Good. She was tired.” She slipped the blanket off her legs and yawned. She held her hands above her head and stretched her back so that the fabric of her t-shirt stretched across her chest.
Moreau glanced away out of sheer self-protection. “Was everything okay?”
“Yeah, it was great, though you do have to buy new toilet paper. We made a lot of bandages.”
“Ah, yeah. She said you broke your ankle.”
“Multiple times,” she said seriously. “It was a rather complicated fracture. Good thing a competent doctor like Melody was on hand.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
