SIX
CASSIDY
His kiss feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
Kisses with my ex-husband had been less passion, more necessity. A chore, if anything. I had loved him, and maybe in the beginning the kisses had been a mix of puppy love and something else. But never anything more.
Kisses with my children’s father had been sloppy, nonsensical, the kisses of teenagers who were still exploring how their bodies worked and how mouths moved and tongues danced. They’d been messy but full of lust, a need to have more.
But this…this is something else. This is sinful and passionate, and forceful. It’s filled with the knowledge of everything that has happened and everything that could be, a temptation that could lead me right to my doom.
It’s dangerous, and yet it feels too perfect, too right.
And it all comes crashing down at the sound of footsteps on wood.
Caleb is the first to pull away. As he does, he sucks in a deep breath, eyes dark with a hunger I’m surprised to see there. One thing I know for certain is that I’ve never felt desirable. Not even really to my ex-husband. And yet, Caleb looks at me in a way that not only makes me feel that but also reciprocate it.
“Hey, mom?” Arlo asks, coming to a stop by the sofa.
“Yes?” I reply, clearing my throat.
My son looks between us, eyes narrowed like he senses something, though he doesn’t comment on it—even though I might be at the end of a grilling later from both my children.
“Cleo wants to talk to you about something,” he says. “It’s urgent.”
Something in his tone tells me he’s not lying, even though he very well could be to get me away from the mountain man. And I wouldn’t blame him.
I spare Caleb a look, but he shakes his head. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will, thank you,” I murmur as I stand. Quietly, I follow Arlo into the bedroom, which is still tidy, though the bed is rumpled. Cleo isn’t in it, her Switch lying on the comforter, and her diary beside it. But no girl.
I glance at Arlo. “Bathroom?”
“Yeah.” He moves to the bed and sits on the end. “She’s having…girl problems.”
Sighing, I move towards the bathroom door, which is unlocked, and I enter silently. “Hey, baby. What’s wrong?”
Cleo looks up from where she sits on the toilet, her cheeks red and eyes watery, though it doesn’t appear she’s been crying. One look over her tells me everything I need to know, but I hold myself back from taking over.
All the changes happening, all the moving around, has affected her the most. Arlo is protective, always has been. And he’s gotten in more than one fight protecting his twin. Cleo has always been a little more sensitive, though it’s not something I’ve ever needed to worry about—until now.
She was a daddy’s girl until he handed me the divorce papers and told us to get lost. She loved him the most. They’d both called him dad, and even though he hadn’t adopted them, he’dtreated them like his own. Went to Arlo’s soccer games, attended Cleo’s dance recitals when she still went to lessons. Hell, it was him who suggested getting her into piano—which she actually enjoys—and also got her a therapist because she’s always been the quieter of the two.
For a time, he’d been their dad—their only dad—and now Cleo wonders whether any of it was real.
And there’s nothing I can say to make her think otherwise. Because what can I say? The man who raised them both, who was there for most of their lives, gave up the moment the divorce papers were signed. No custody needed, because he hadn’t adopted them. He abandoned them.
That’s two fathers they’ve lost now.
Can I get their hopes up for another man? Caleb’s kiss is still fresh, and although it’s a thought that makes little sense, can I allow another man into my life that might let them down? Their biological father picked football over them and gave up his rights before they were even born. Not to mention their asshole grandparents on his side.
Then they got a father who presumably loved them. He showed up and supported them. Then he walked away without a care in the world, acting like he hadn’t been their parent for nearly six years.
There’s a chance nothing could happen with Caleb. Once the snow clears and we leave, I might never see him again. The kiss was just spur of the moment, and so long as the kids don’t get attached, it might never go further than that.
I swallow hard, shoving those thoughts aside as I close the door behind me. “What happened?”
“My period,” she says, looking down. “I’m pretty sure it started.”
