“I’m sorry, I knew this was a bad idea but hadn’t really thought about all the reasons why until we got closer.” My belly clenched. “Stormi and I can just jump out and you can be on your way,” I rushed to say.
He had his door open and was getting out. “Don’t be silly. I’ll help you.”
Before I knew it, he was opening the door and motioning for me to get out. “I’ll get her,” he whispered.
I carefully moved toward the opening, gently resting Stormi’s head down on the seat as I went. Bronson reached in, carefully lifting my daughter and cradled her in his strong arms. She stirred slightly, then snuggled closer, burrowing her head against his broad chest, and settling once again.
My stomach flip-flopped at the sight.
We made our way into the house after I unlocked the door and Bronson paused at the threshold, his gaze sweeping around the place.
His eyes widened as he turned to me. “Wow, you’ve done a lot with the place. It looks amazing.” He glanced around again. “Don’t get me wrong, Ed and Ruth kept this place in tip top shape, but the more modern updates you’ve made are remarkable.”
A pang of sadness hit me as it always did when I thought of my parents being gone. It took months to even consider changing a thing after they both had passed. It felt wrong. Losing them at eighteen and being on my own, as well as pregnant, was challenging. Especially when I was fighting through the sorrow.
I had nobody but myself.
“I fucked up, Cupcake.” His gaze flashed down to Stormi in his arms as if realizing what he’d just said. When he saw she was fast asleep and hadn’t heard him, he looked back at me and his eyes bored into mine.
I gasped at the nickname. Then I felt my cheeks heat. The name was so silly. He used to tease me when we got a bit older that I’d always been sweet on him—he was fully aware of my crush—and sweet to him, so I needed an appropriate nickname.
But I wasn’t expecting to hear it ever again.
And that crush turned into so much more.
He went on. “I may have not known about the baby, but regardless, I should have been here for you when they passed away.” Bronson looked down at his feet and then back to me. “When my dad died I just couldn’t bring myself to come back to the lake.”
The regret and sadness in his voice had me reaching out to touch his upper arm. His muscles flexed under my palm and his breath hitched. A tingle rippled up my arm and I yanked it back.
Out of sorts from the jolt touching him caused, I stammered. “I-I’m s-sorry about your dad.”
His father was a big presence in my life and when he died, I was beside myself with grief. Everyone important to me was leaving one way or another.
Bronson stared at me for a second. “Thank you. Where should I lay Stormi?”
Clearly the subject of his father was over before it truly started and realizing he’d been holding my daughter the whole time, I wanted to smack myself for making things awkward.
“Follow me,” I said, heading through the house toward my daughter’s room.
He laid Stormi down on top of her fluffy, purple comforter and then brushed a chunk of hair from her face in the sweetest gesture. My girl’s eyes fluttered open.
“Don’t leave,” she told him sleepily.
“It’s late, sweetheart. You need to go back to sleep.”
“Will you come back?” Stormi asked him.
Bronson looked at me for the answer. That was a hard question.
“Please,” my daughter whispered.
That did it. I couldn’t deny her anything. I nodded.
He turned back to Stormi. “I’ll be back to take your mom to get her car tomorrow for work, so I’ll see you then.”
Her smile was radiant. “Okay.” Then she turned over and curled back up to go to sleep.
I’d have to go back and change her clothes, but first I needed to see Bronson out. I backed out of the room, flipping off the light I had turned on as we walked in and he followed me out. Once at the front door, we stood there in silence.
