A moment later, the hallway creaks. Oakley’s soft steps, uneven but determined, echo down the wood floor. Aubrey perks up, like a light switching on.
“Morning,” Oakley says, leaning on one crutch, hair pulled into a lopsided ponytail. “Is that coffee I smell or heaven?”
“Both,” I say.
Aubrey slides off her chair and rushes over before Oakley can protest, grabbing her free hand to guide her to the table. “Sit. Doctor’s orders.”
Oakley laughs, tired but real. “Bossy.”
“Runs in the family,” I tell her.
Aubrey’s smile softens as she sets a mug in front of Oakley—extra sugar, the way she’s learned she likes it—as the three of us fall into an easy quiet, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.
Chapter 27
Oakley Kate
Nine days.
That’s how long it’s been since I agreed to stay at Silas’s house “as the patient.”
Nine days of him playing nurse, chauffeur, and warden. Nine days of feeling both cared for and completely smothered. Nine days of going to sleep and waking up in Silas’s guest room…alone. Not that I have any business wanting to be back in his bed, but a girl can dream.
Dang it. I think I’m losing what little sanity I had left.
He’s been the picture-perfect caretaker, but I am over being treated like glass. I had hardware put in my foot as an outpatient procedure. I. Am. Fine.
And yet, Silas panics every time I so much as crutch across the kitchen. Take right now, for instance. I’m trying to make myself a sandwich because he’s running late and I’m more than capable of slathering peanut butter onto toasted bread. I bet if I pretended to tip over, he’d catch me.
As I lean against the counter and open the fridge, I swear I hear a low growl slip through his lips as he starts toward me. I slam the door shut and turn quickly, leaning my back against it.
“If you so much as look at me wrong right now, I’m calling Thorn and demanding he make you do bag skates for the next week.”
His chest rises and falls in that telltale way. Silas has always had a phenomenal poker face. Unless he wants you to read him, you never know what he’s thinking. But his breathing? That’s the tell. Stress and worry always make his shoulders rise too fast, lungs never fully filling on the inhale.
Letting out a slow breath, I soften. “Come here, honey,” I say quietly.
He dips his chin and closes the distance between us, his massive frame dwarfing my five-foot-nine one. When he’s within reach, I grab the front of his shirt and tug him closer until we’re toe-to-toe. My arms go around his waist; his follow a heartbeat later, wrapping around me and holding tight.
Silas Harrison’s hugs are a shield against the outside world. Sweet and unyielding. The kind that should never end.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I melt. Since that night in the theater room, we’ve been tiptoeing around each other, my hospital meltdown notwithstanding. This is the first time either of us has let our guard down.
But he’s right. We can’t chase the past, not when a sweet nine-year-old girl is the center of both our worlds now.
“I’m not going to break, Si,” I murmur into his chest. “I’m being careful and doing everything the doc said. But if you don’t leave right now”—I glance at the stove clock—“you’re going to be late. The whole point of me living here was to keep that from happening.”
“Are you sure you can handle—”
I cut him off with a shove to the chest. It’s like pushing a brick wall. “I can handle Aubrey just fine. She’s self-sufficient. It’s not like I’m bottle-feeding her. Hannah and Jett are coming by, and we’re having a girls’ day.”
I shove him again to get him moving. “Damn, you’re solid,” I mutter under my breath.
That earns me a grin, the tension finally easing from his shoulders.
“I know you’re capable,” he says, voice low. “I’m sorry for being a worrier.”
“Apology accepted. Now go. Seriously. You’ve got less than twenty minutes before you’re late.”
