“She’s Dixie’s mom.”
“And?” I search her eyes and understanding dawns on me. “Princess, Dixie isn’t my daughter.”
Her brows furrow as she processes my words. “But I asked you if you’d ever lost someone you love, and you have photos of the two of them all over your cabin? She’s always texting you and it’s the closest you ever get to smiling when you open one of her messages.”
I ease her a little closer to me so I can wrap my other hand around her opposite hip and look into her eyes. “She’s Rick’s.”
“Your friend in the photo?”
I nod. I’ve mentioned him by name once, yet she remembers.
“The cabin’s his too… or it was. Now it’s mine.”
“Washis?” Sinclair searches my eyes.
“Yeah, was.” I let out a sigh. “He was my best friend. We enlisted together after my grandparents died. He pulled me outof a dark place. I wouldn’t be here without him. Dixie’s his daughter. And Lizzie was his girlfriend. They’re going to visit his grave today.”
“You lost him?” Tenderness swirls in Sinclair’s eyes.
“I did. We all did.”
She parts her lips, then closes them again, all of her fight seeming to evaporate instantly. She’s silent as she gazes into my eyes. And I get it. People don’t know what to say when you’ve lost someone.
“Will you tell me about him?” she asks.
I look back into her understanding eyes. Fuck, this is Sinclair. She knows what this feels like—the suffocating grip of grief. How it wraps around you like a dark, heavy cloak some days, catching you off guard. It’s not the days you expect. You’re ready for those: anniversaries, birthdays. It’s the unexpected ones. Like hearing their favorite song on the radio, or catching a scent that reminds you of them. Or picking up your phone to share something with them, only to remember that no matter how many times you call or text, they won’t answer anymore.
They’ll never answer again.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, softly, reaching up to dust my knuckles across her cheek. My heart somersaults with relief when she leans into my touch instead of moving away.
“Anything. Everything,” she whispers.
“Get in the car,” I say softly.
She nods and climbs inside. I close her door and walk around the hood, climbing into the passenger seat. The moment my ass hits the fabric, Monty scampers from Sinclair’s lap and into mine.
“Hey, Monty,” I say, fussing him until he flops happily inside my arms. He rests his head against my chest, his tongue reaching out to deliver slow licks against my flesh.
Sinclair watches him with shining eyes. “He missed you.”
“I missed him too.”
She bites her lower lip as I rest my head against the headrest, my face turned toward her.
“I love you, Sinclair.”
Her eyes widen.
“Before I say anything else I need to say that. I love you.I’m in love with you.” I smile softly at her, and she stares at my mouth, her voice failing her. “I love you, Princess,” I say again. “I’m so fucking in love with you, it physically hurts me right here when you aren’t close to me.” I tap two fingers against my chest and Monty takes it as an invitation to lick my chest again.
Sinclair’s eyes crease with fondness as she watches him with me.
“You love me?” Her breath falters.
“I do.”
“But—”
