Her eyes were a little damp, and I ignored the twist in my chest. This was one of those messy, tangled, emotional topics for both of us. I knew she’d been trying to connect with him for years. She’d done it because I’d told her I had wanted to talk to him when I was little, long ago. And now, she’d found him.
I suspected part of her thought this was the healthy next step for me. That a conversation might help me heal some invisible wound. But I needed space. I didn’t want to hurt her either. The complicated situation looped back into itself.
I reached over for her hand, squeezing this time with reassurance. “I promise, Mom. I will think about it, and I’ll probably talk to him.”
I saw the hopefulness in her gaze and quickly added, “I just need a minute. More than a minute.”
“I love you, Kincaid,” she said somberly.
“And, I love you, Mom. You’re the best parent anyone could’ve asked for.”
I didn’t usually see Tori two nights in a row. We had fallen into a pattern—every other night, maybe every third. No expectations. No pressure. But tonight, I felt an emotional pull to see her.
I needed to lose myself in her. In this unexpected connection that had taken hold and kept strengthening. In the bonds that were tightening between us, even though I had no idea what to do about them.
I knew she was working, so she wouldn’t check her phone until the end of her shift. I headed out to the winery and snagged a table in her section. She was efficient and on-task, like always, when she was working. But her eyes had a warm glint, and her lips teased with a flirty smile when she stopped beside my table, handing me the specials menu and filling my water.
“Well, Mr. Green, what can I get you tonight?” she asked. Her voice was low and throaty, and it slid over my unsettled nerves, soothing me.
“I was actually hoping I could just wait for you until you got off shift tonight.”
Her eyes widened slightly before her brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”
“Is it so wrong that I want to see you tonight?” I countered, ignoring the pinch in my heart. I didn’t even know how to comprehend the way she immediately sensed something was off with me.
“Of course not. I always love to see you, Kincaid,” she said lightly, tapping her notepad with her pencil. “Do you know what you want?”
“I’ll take the salmon burger. What time do you get off tonight?”
Her eyes flicked to the large clock mounted above the bar. “I’m on the early shift. Just another hour.”
“Perfect.”
One hour later
* * *
The glow from Tori’s taillights was a little beacon in the falling darkness. As I followed her back to her house, my pulse ticked along like a metronome—steady and fast—because I knew what lay ahead.
I needed this. I needed her. I needed to lose myself in the fire of our connection, in the intimacy that felt as if it were binding us tighter together. When I turned onto the driveway, the rumble of gravel under my tires spun into the hum inside my body. I parked beside her car, warmth slipping through me as I climbed out.
I knew the routine now. She would let Bella out, and her sweet dog would meander for a few minutes, sniffing the grass and trees before she did her business. When we walked inside, Tori always took a few moments to lavish Bella with pets and murmured affection. Only then would Bella come over to greet me, sitting down slowly in front of me with that patient, expectant look in her warm brown eyes. After that, she’d walk over to her bed, curl up, and fall asleep with complete trust in her world.
Once Bella was settled, Tori hung up her jacket. I followed suit, and we both left our shoes by the door. She tipped her head slightly, her gaze studying me, and it felt like she could read straight into my unsettled thoughts.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, a little raspy.
One shoulder lifted in a shrug as I took a breath, steadying myself inside. “Yeah,” I finally said.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but I added more before she could. I surprised myself. “My mom talked to my dad.”
Tori’s eyes widened slightly, her brows rising. “Oh. Do you want to talk about it?”
She reached for me, her palm curling around mine. Her thumb slid in a slow, soothing stroke over the back of my hand.
I shook my head.
“Okay,” she said simply.
