2
Henry
I've been lying here for staring at the ceiling, listening to the storm howl outside, and all I can think about is the look on Maren's face when I said goodnight. Those wide hazel eyes. Those parted lips. The way she was breathing like I'd just run my hands all over her body instead of just standing there like an idiot.
I should have kissed her.
No.I shouldn't have. That's the whole problem.
I roll over and punch my pillow, trying to get comfortable, but it's useless. My body's wound tight with want, and my brain won't shut up with all the reasons I can't have what I desperately need.
It started almost as soon as she started the job, when Maren began reading to Lilliana before bed. I'd stood in the hallway listening to her do all the character voices, making my daughter giggle, and something in my chest just... broke open. I realizedshe wasn't just good at her job. She loved Lilliana. Genuinely, completely loved my daughter.
And I fell. Hard and fast and completely.
Since then, it's been cold showers and iron self-control and finding excuses to check on them. It's been lying awake at night knowing she's just across the driveway in that apartment above the garage, wondering if she's thinking about me too.
Tonight was the closest I've come to breaking.
Standing in that kitchen, watching her at the sink with her hair falling out of that bun and her body soft and curved in those leggings... I wanted to cross the room, spin her around, and kiss her until neither of us could breathe. Wanted to lift her onto that marble counter and find out what sounds she makes when I get my mouth on her.
Instead, I said goodnight and walked away like a fucking coward.
Because she's my employee. Because she's fifteen years younger than me. Because of Lilliana.
Always Lilliana.
Lilliana, who was left by her birth mother before she could even lift her head. A woman whose name I can barely remember from a night seven and a half years ago that I'd had too much to drink.
I've raised Lilliana alone. Built my business from home so I could be there for every moment—every middle-of-the-night cry, every first word, every scraped knee. And I've been so careful about who I let into our lives. I haven't seriously dated anyone since she was born because no one was worth the risk of Lilliana getting attached and then losing them.
But Maren's already in our lives. Already so woven into the fabric of our daily existence that the thought of her leaving makes my chest tight with panic.
What happens when she moves on to the next job, the next chapter of her life?
What happens to Lilliana? What happens to me?
I scrub my hands over my face and stare at the ceiling some more. Outside, the wind rattles the windows I installed myself when I converted this barn five years ago, and snow hisses against the triple-pane glass.
The storm.Shit.
Maren's apartment has its own heating unit, and while it was serviced two months ago, it's old. What if it goes out in this weather? What if she's over there freezing and doesn't want to bother me?
It's a thin excuse and I know it. But I'm out of bed and pulling on jeans before I can talk myself out of it.
I need to check on her. That's all. Just making sure she's safe. Making sure my employee, because that's what she is, I remind myself firmly, is comfortable and warm.
That's what I tell myself as I shrug into a hoodie and head out into the storm.
The covered walkway protects me from the worst of it, but snow swirls through the open sides, and the wind is brutal. I climb the stairs to her apartment and raise my hand to knock, but then I see her through the window.
And I freeze.
She's sitting on her bed in an oversized t-shirt that's riding up her thighs, her legs tucked under her, hair down and wild around her shoulders. She's staring at her phone, and she looks... sad. Not crying, but lost. Lonely.
I should knock. That's why I came out here, after all, to check on the heat, to make sure she's okay.
But I can't move. I'm rooted to the spot, watching her like some kind of creep, and all I can think is how badly I want to climb into that bed with her. Want to pull her into my arms andkiss away whatever's making her look so sad. Want to make her laugh, make her gasp, make her scream my name until—
