“I’ve arranged for a therapist to meet with Lainey,” he informs me.
“That’s good.”
I’ll have to find one as well.
It’s only then that I think about how much it will cost, and I begin to worry that I won’t be able to keep my promise to Rachel.
As if Easton can read my thoughts, he asks, “Would you like to meet with one too?”
Embarrassed to admit the words out loud, I say, “I’ll have to get a job first. Right now, I don’t have money for a therapist.”
He tilts his head. “I’ll pay.” When my lips part, he holds up a hand to stop me from declining. “I want to, Nova. It’s the least I can do to repay you for everything you’ve done for us.”
I’ll be able to keep my promise to Rachel.
Even though I feel uncomfortable, I nod. “Thank you, Easton.”
“I’ll ask Sylvia to find you a good therapist.”
A grateful smile wavers around my mouth while I glance at the fridge where I’ve stuck the piece of paper with all the important phone numbers written in Rachel’s handwriting. I glance over all of them, and when I see she’s listed a number for a therapist right at the bottom, my heart clenches painfully.
“Rachel already found a therapist for me.” I gesture at the list. “Right at the bottom.”
Easton is quiet for a moment, then he whispers, “She thought of everything.”
My throat strains as a wave of tears threatens to overwhelm me, but I blink them away when the microwave beeps. I take the bag out, and finding a bowl in the cupboard, I pour the popped kernels into it before I look at Easton again.
“We should probably talk about how we’ll share responsibilities where Lainey is concerned,” I mention.
“How do you want to do it?” he asks.
I shrug as I carry the bowl to the island and reply, “I can handle everything school-related.” I think for a moment, then add, “I’ll also handle anything where she has to be out in public because you get swarmed, and honestly, it’s a little distressing.”
He lets out a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. At the bake sale, it looked like those women were a second away from tackling you to the ground.”
“For the most part, they keep their distance.”
“For the most part?” My eyebrows pull together as I give him a worried look.
Letting out a sigh, he climbs to his feet. He comes around the island, and taking hold of my arm, he pulls me into a hug that feels both comforting and intimate.
I’ve noticed he’s touching me more and more. The other night, I fell asleep on his lap, and he didn’t move until I woke up much later.
I also don’t tense up around him anymore.
Easton’s body curves around mine, and it feels unbelievably good. Moments like this are what’s getting me through the heartache.
“Don’t worry about me,” he murmurs, his tone so deep it sends tingles rushing through me.
“I’ll always worry,” I whisper.
Because I love you.
Easton pulls back a little, and with our faces only inches apart, his eyes lock on mine.
“I appreciate that you worry about me,” he says, and the way he looks at me makes me feel special.
