Help me protect her, Lord. Please, don’t make me leave here. She needs me…and I need her.
She continued the hymn, one her mother used to sing to her when she was afraid, repeating it until Charlotte’s breathing settled into the rhythm of sleep.
Delaney rose quietly from the bed and turned toward the doorway.
A tall silhouette filled the frame, and her heart leapt into her throat.
It was Mr. Aylett, still wearing his shirt and tie. His broad shoulders filled the space.
“Sorry.” His voice barely rose above a whisper. “I didn’t want to startle you.” He stepped aside, and she moved into the hallway, pulling Charlotte’s door nearly closed behind her.
“Have you dealt with night terrors before?” he asked.
“A child I watched back in Maine had them. They’re fairly common. I didn’t know you were home.”
“I was just walking in when she cried out. I came to check, but you had it under control. You’ve got a way with her.”
She shrugged. “It’s not too hard to calm kids down when they’re already half asleep. Do you have any idea what might have led to them? I mean, sometimes they seem random. I guess they’re not always the result of an event, or at least not one that they can articulate.”
Mr. Aylett’s expression darkened. “Her early childhood wasn’t…ideal. Before she came to live with me.”
Charlotte’s night terrors weren’t random. They were echoes of trauma, fears that haunted her even in sleep.
His face looked tortured, and she had the urge to reach out and offer him comfort. “I’m sorry she’s going through it.” The words felt inadequate, but she didn’t dare touch him. “And you too.”
“Thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated.
“I’ll ask her counselor about it,” Delaney said. “Maybe she can help.”
“How, if Charlotte doesn’t even remember? I mean, whatever it was must’ve happened a while ago.”
“You’d be amazed at what a good play therapist can learn.”
“That would be…” But his words trailed, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m grateful for you.”
They stood in the dim hallway, the house quiet around them. Delaney suddenly became hyperaware of her state of undress—the thin cotton of her pajama pants, the way her oversized tophung loose on her frame. She crossed her arms. “Is everything okay at your office?”
His jaw tightened. “Someone broke in and did some damage to the equipment. Nothing was stolen, just…destroyed.”
“Why? Who would do that?”
He sighed, the sound long-day weary. “A rival, I think. We just got the system perfect to show Tidewater, and now…” He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”
“Okay. Well, good night, then.” She turned toward her room.
“Miss Wright?” His voice was low and smooth, and though he didn’t touch her, it felt like a caress. She turned back.
The hallway seemed to shrink around them, the space between their bodies suddenly charged with something electric and dangerous.
When he didn’t speak, she asked, “Did you need something else?”
“I wanted to apologize. Again. For how I acted today. At the hospital, and in the car. It was…unprofessional.”
It was. But so was standing in the hallway in the dark wearing pajamas.
“You were worried about Charlotte. I understand.”
“No, you don’t. Seeing you with that doctor made me feel…” His eyes searched hers, vulnerability written across his face.
