“You know I will.”
“It’s just that I didn’t think about…”
“Mila wanting babies someday?”
“Yep.” He twirled her under his arm. “I can’t picture being a dad.”
“I couldn’t picture being a mom.” She spun around again. “This family changes you.”
“What if I turn into our dad?”
“It’ll never happen.” She followed him as he executed a tricky step. “I won’t let you.”
“Good to know.”
“Besides, he wasn’t as bad as Mom. She hit us.”
His veins turned to ice. Stumbling, he almost stepped on her toes.
“Cole?”
“Sorry. Out of practice.”
She gave him a look, clearly not buying it.
He pretended not to notice and concentrated on his footwork. He’d shielded her all his life and wasn’t about to stop now.
“Mila can help you.”
“With my dancing?”
“With your PTSD.”
“I don’t have?—”
“Yes, you do. We both do.”
His jaw tightened. A label would only make it worse.
“Luis is my saving grace. Mila can be yours.”
“She doesn’t need to hear my sob story.”
“She wouldn’t see it like that.”
He begged to differ. Mila wasn’t into guys with sob stories. She’d told him as much.
“I believe we’re meant to be here, with this family.”
“I’m sure you are, sis.”
“You are, too.”
“Hope so.” He’d been more confident earlier, but now he was second-guessing the whole program.
“How’re you doing with Christmas?”
“Okay.” It was sort of true.
