When I glance back, I catch him still staring at the ceiling, guilt and discomfort all over his features. My stomach squeezes and I wish I could do or say something to make it better.
“I know you offered to keep me warm, but that takes hospitality to a whole new level,” I tease.
His mid-section jerks with a low chuckle as he meets my eyes. “We do take it seriously around here.”
I push to my feet and clear my throat. “Thank you.”
For last night. For keeping me warm and safe. And for letting an older version of Willow dream a little before the new one forced reality back in. “I’ll go—make enough coffee to last all day.” A gentle reminder as to why I’m here. “We’re going to need it.”
The faintest trace of woodsmoke and that familiar cedar scent clings to my clothes hours later. It’s not just in my hoodie this time. It’s in my hair, my skin. And I’m doing my damnedest to keep it from my thoughts. Reminders of being tucked up against Dallas all night are the last thing I need.
Men aren’t on my roster anymore. At least for the next few years. And even then, it’s going to take one hell of a Prince Charming to convince me to trust again. To fall again—into safer arms.
He took a quick shower after I disappeared into the kitchen—a totally normal thing to do when you’ve been sleeping on the floor by the fire. That’s what the right side of my brain tells me. The left is filing her nails in the corner, cracking jokes that he couldn’t wash me off his skin fast enough.
I tried to listen to the right. She’s usually on point. Rational, logical, and unbiased. But every time we pass, his jaw tightens, eyes anywhere but on me. Like I’m a one-night stand he’s pretending never happened.
It’s ridiculous. But Lefty usually is. That’s what Rose calls her when my insecurities start to surface. She also tells me a few ways to push her aside. Send Lefty back to her dark corner where I can no longer hear her. Eventually, she’ll go away.
10
“There’s my girl,” I rasp, pulling her close. Ellie wraps her little arms around me and I don’t let go. “You smell like apple tarts. D’you save me any?”
Ellie bobs her head. “Ginger brought a basket of ’em.”
I look up over her shoulder. Ginger and Dad are still unloading the truck with Ellie’s things from Wilder’s house. She still doesn’t know that I’ve got all her things from her grandparents’ house inside too. I tuck loose strands behind her ears. “You don’t look too mad at me for leaving you a few extra days there.”
She holds my eyes like she knows something good is coming. “I was, but then Uncle Wild and Rose said you had a surprise for me.” She looks over my shoulder, impatiently. “Is it in the house?”
My smile is wide. Wondering if it’ll always be this simple to please my girl. To win back her trust and her forgiveness when I screw up or break a promise. I tug her hands playfully. “It is the house, baby. It’s all ready for you. For us.” I gauge the look on her face. A response that seems too long for her to form. “If you’re all right with that,” I add, reminding her this is a choice.
When she looks at the house again, eyes flickering with hope and wonder, then back at me with a smile in her eyes, the tightness in my chest eases. She nods feverishly and I chuckle with relief, then push to my feet.
“Thanks again, Ginger.” I ruffle Ellie’s hair. “Hope she wasn’t any trouble.”
Ginger swipes at a tear from the corner of her eye. Then waves me off. “Oh, please. We had a blast. Right, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” Ellie giggles. “Especially when we made fun of Grandpa snoring like a bear on the couch.”
My eyebrows lift just as Dad walks up from the truck, arms loaded with Ellie’s bags. Clearing his throat and grumbling at the same time.
Freshly alarmed like I’d never seen her, Ginger starts to usher Ellie inside the house. “Let’s get you all settled, sweets.”
My gaze sharpens on Dad as he lingers behind, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t look at me like that, you heard the girl. It was the couch.”
I narrow my eyes then realize something. I turn toward the porch steps. “Hold on. There’s someone in there you should—”
“Willow,” Ellie cries, racing up the steps. “I thought you left.”
Time seems to freeze as we all watch this strange, beautiful redhead—who’s still wearing my hoodie after sleeping in it all night beside me—embrace my girl, squeezing her like she knows her better than I do.
“I’m so happy I got to see you one last tiiime,” Willow gasps, pulling back and holding her by the shoulders. “Wait. Are you moving in today?”
Ellie nods excitedly.
Dad stands beside me, eyes still on the duo at the top of the steps. Ginger, who is thankfully a lot more subtle—and friendly—than Dad, offers a hand almost immediately.
“Hello, Willow. Ellie was telling us all about you yesterday. I’m glad we got to meet you before you left.”
