“She does,” I clip.
My son hitches a brow but lets it drop. It’s not his place to comment on how Hallie spends her money. If she chooses to donate most of it away that’s her decision. I admire her for investing in something that means a lot to her. Yet, I can’t shake the uneasiness in my gut when I think of her as a child, shouldering the responsibility of caring for her sister. Every cell in my body is urging me to find a way to support her so she never has to worry again. Spoil her. Give her everything she could ever need or want.
It’s a living, breathing compulsion that I can’t act upon. Because she isn’t mine. And I’m selfish for even hoping there was a way she could be.
I’m shackling her to me. Stealing her future from her, one day at a time. As long as she’s here, she’s stuck. She won’t leave until she completes her job to find me love.
But no matter how hard she looks she won’t find what she’s searching for.
There is no woman she will ever meet who can fill that void.
Because every inch of it is spilling over with thoughts of her.
I’ve fought against it, denied it, told myself it’s ridiculous, that she’s young enough to be my daughter, that I’m a creep for even looking at her.
But it’s still there.
This unexplainable pull.
My pulse races and my blood heats the moment she walks into a room. I want to invent reasons to touch her, to inhale her scent. To look into her eyes, admire their beauty, count the flutters in her neck her pulse makes when I say her name. Hear her talk about vibrations and energy. Watch her place crystals around with that serene smile of hers.
I want to watch everything she does, see every moment her face lights up the way it does when she’s excited.
I want itall.
Everything pales into the background when she’s near me. All I see is her.
I scrub my hands through my hair. Beads of sweat run down my naked torso, through my chest hair.
“Monty, watch your paws!”
I snap my head up.
Sinclair shrieks and swoops down, gathering the dog into her arms before he steps into a puddle of fresh sweat on the floor.
Hallie steps through the door behind her.
My mouth goes dry.
I jump to my feet, turning my back and grabbing my long-sleeved workout top, pulling it on as fast as I can.
Hallie’s eyes bounce up from my naked back as I turn to face her.
“Sorry for showing up without calling. Sinclair said you’d be here,” she says.
“No need to apologize.”
I pick up my towel and rub it around my hairline.
She steps closer with a tray of fresh juices.
She watches me, her lips parting as I lift my chin and dry my neck, before slinging the towel over one shoulder.
“That for us?” Mal asks, tipping his head at the tray.
“Sure is.” She holds it out so he can take one. She hands another to Sullivan, and then offers the final one to me.
“You didn’t need to do that.” I close my hand around the cup, my fingers brushing hers as I take it.
