And that control—that quiet patience—nearly brings me to my knees.
“You think pulling away hurts you?” I say softly. “It guts me too.”
“Then stop.”
The word is barely audible.
I tilt her chin up.
“Tell me something,” I say.
“What?”
“Are you strong enough to stand beside a man who’s still carrying ghosts?”
Her answer comes without hesitation. “Yes.”
That’s the moment something shifts.
I slide my thumb along her jaw.
“Then don’t mistake distance for indifference,” I murmur. “I pulled back because I think I could see us together if I was reckless enough to let myself.”
Her breath catches. “You… what?”
I close my eyes briefly. There it is. Out loud.
“You heard me,” I repeat, steady this time. “And that terrifies me more than any fire I’ve walked into.”
Her hands tremble where they hold me.
“You don’t get to say that and then act like I’m just the nanny,” she whispers.
“I’m done acting,” I say.
And then I press the softest kiss to her lips. So soft, so quick, it’s almost chaste.
She grips my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I don’t. When I pull back, her eyes are glassy.
“I don’t like when you disappear all day,” she says, voice shaking.
“I won’t then.”
“Don’t promise unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m bracing for impact. I feel anchored.
Chapter 6
Tessa
Lacee falls asleep with glitter in her hair and a smudge of chocolate on her cheek.
We built volcanoes out of papier-mâché tonight. Sawyer pretended not to be impressed when her baking soda lava erupted all over the kitchen island, but I saw the pride in his eyes. He can’t hide it when it comes to her.
He tucks her in first.
