Standing, he slapped a hand on Duke’s shoulder and headed for the front door. “Make sure to lock up when you come inside. See ya tomorrow.”
He ignored his buddy’s shit-eating grin and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He hesitated outside Celine’s door, wishing he could knock and tell her and the baby goodnight. But something told him that wouldn’t be welcomed.
Sighing, he tore himself away from the closed door and stepped into his old room. He’d do some digging of his own until bedtime. Fixing his and Celine’s problems from the past might not be possible tonight, but he could at least try to figure out who was after her before they struck again.
17
Celine stared up at the ceiling fan, willing her brain to shut off so she could go to sleep. Parker slept soundly beside her in his portable crib, oblivious to the turmoil boiling over in her stomach.
Somehow, she’d managed to ignore Lane the rest of the day. But instead of taking pride in the accomplishment, shame heated her cheeks. She wasn’t a child—or hell, even a heartbroken teenager. She was a grown-ass woman who could handle her issues.
Especially for Parker’s sake.
Because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Lane was right. If they wanted to be the best possible parents to Parker, she couldn’t let things get to her so easily. She needed to be a better example for her son on how to deal with emotions and tackle problems head on.
Starting tomorrow.
For now, she needed to close her eyes and get some rest before daylight appeared.
Heaving out a sigh, she turned to her side and pulled the sheet to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut but it did nothing to quiet the frantic thoughts fighting for top billing in her mind.
Screw it. Maybe some warm milk would do the trick. At least it used to when she was a kid. She’d toddle into her mom’s room and Mom would hold her hand and take her to the kitchen. She’d heat up milk on the stove while she told Celine all about her day.
By the time the milk was drunk and her mom all talked out, she’d barely had enough energy to make it back to her bed, her mom tucking her in and kissing her forehead goodnight.
Smiling, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and found her robe. She might not have a ton of wonderful memories of her mom, but looking back, it was clear Lisa tried her best. Something she needed to remember now that she was a mother herself.
She chanced a quick peek at Parker—still sleeping—and grabbed the monitor before stepping into the hallway. The soft runner hugged the bottoms of her feet, and her gaze lingered for a few beats on Lane’s closed bedroom door. Erasing the distance between them would only take a few steps, but she wasn’t ready. Tomorrow would be soon enough to clear the air.
With the memory of her and her mother rooted inside her, she bounded down the stairs and to the kitchen. Strategically placed night lights cast a warm glow on her path and created a comforting mood.
One that wasn’t often associated with the house of horrors where Lane grew up.
For his sake, she hoped he’d create new memories here. Create a real home that was his safe place to land instead of sending him running for his sanity.
If only he’d grabbed her hand and let her run with him.
She shook her head to chase away the wayward thought as she stepped into the kitchen. The hanging lights above the island combined with the brightness pouring from the open fridge.
Lane stood with his back to her, one arm hooked above the open refrigerator door and his focus fixed on what was inside. Muscles rippled across his bare shoulders. The gold necklace he always wore looped around his neck.
She almost swallowed her damn tongue.
Not having the energy to deal with the weird tension between them, she inched her way backward.
“You don’t have to leave.”
The deep rumble of Lane’s voice in the silent room shot her heart up her throat. With her hand pressed to her chest, she jumped. “How’d you know I was here?”
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “I always know when you’re around. You hungry?” He dipped his chin toward the fridge.
“I actually came down for some warm milk.”
Frowning, he pulled out a carton of milk and closed the door. “Can’t sleep?”
Even though her robe was secure around her thin sleep tank and shorts, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “No.”
He pulled a pot out of a cabinet by the stove and set it on the burner. “You still like it with a pinch of sugar?”
