Lindsey sucks in her bottom lip, the glossiness still there in her eyes, but I can tell it’s for a different reason.
“Thank you,” she mouths, before closing the distance between us and throwing her arms around me and sinking into my chest. My arms close around her naturally, without thought, and by the time I realize that I’m holding her and dropping a soft kiss to the top of her head, it’s too late to do anything but let it ride.
And I do. For the rest of the movie, and well into the hours after she falls asleep in my lap.
EIGHT
LINDSEY
It’s a good dream, despite the fact it’s only a dream. I’m willing to appreciate it for what it is. I rub my eyes until I’m awake enough to understand my surroundings, and it takes me a few more seconds to recognize the couch, this living room, and the strange absence of ghosts from my past.
I’m in the Quinn home. My boys are safe. Ifeelsafe.
I sit up at that realization and glance around the dark space. Brooks was here when I fell asleep. On him.
Oh jeez.
I bury my face in my palms and sigh. At least I wasn’t drinking wine. When I think about how I literally threw myself into him, though—gah!I may as well have been drunk. I drop my hands into my lap and gather up the throw blanket he must have put over me. I bring it to my chest and press my nose into the faux fur, breathing it in. It smells like Brooks—a mix of linen dryer sheets and musky body wash. I shouldn’t pay such close attention to the way he smells.
I push the blanket from my legs, then stand, stretching my arms above my head while I squint to read the time on the microwave oven across the kitchen. It’s too dark to be eight inthe morning, so that must be a three I’m looking at. My mouth contorts with a sudden yawn. Definitely three a.m.
The faint light from upstairs catches my eye, so I cautiously take the steps until I spot movement in Brooks’s room. I pause just outside his doorway and hold my breath so I don’t disturb him. He’s holding Holly against his chest, rubbing circles on her back as he hums softly, his eyes closed. I bet he has a nice singing voice. His lashes flutter as he rotates and sways, and when his gaze catches mine, a soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird . . .”
His whispered song is sweet, and it pushes my smile deeper into my cheeks. I was right. He can sing. At least enough for it to leave a mark. He lays his daughter back in her crib before treading toward me with light steps.
“I’m sorry if she woke you. She needed a change,” he says in a hushed tone as he pulls the door mostly shut.
“I don’t think I heard her. I woke up from a dream.” I run my fingers through my tangled hair and scratch at my head. Brooks reaches forward and helps by tucking one of my locks behind my ear. His fingertips linger near my cheek, and his tongue peeks out of his lips. The sight sends a rush of dopamine deep into my chest, making my heart flutter.
“What was your dream?” he says, his knuckles grazing my jawline as his hand falls away. The touch is faint enough to be accidental, but the way his gaze slides to my throat sends a different message.
“Well, at first, I was in my old house, and my ex was there. He was telling me I wouldn’t want to join him for his conference in the city because I wouldn’t know anyone, and I’d be bored.”
Brooks’s gaze lifts to mine as he rests a shoulder blade against the door frame. His head tilts.
“He say that to you a lot?”
I lift one shoulder and pull my mouth into a crooked, brief smile.
“When we first got married, never. Then I had the boys, and it made sense that I stayed home. I didn’t really have anyone to leave the kids with for a getaway. Still, it’s nice to be asked. To bewooed.” A bashful laugh slips from my lips.
“She likes to bewooed.” He says it with a smirk, amused but also as if he’s taking notes.
“All women like to be wooed, Brooks. Every single one of us.” I step forward and tap a finger on the center of his chest before walking toward my room, hoping he’ll follow while knowing he shouldn’t.
He does.
It’s dangerous territory we’re in, but it feels good to be in the vicinity of affection. It’s been so long since someone looked at me like they wanted me for more than a grocery trip and babysitting. And yeah, technically, the whole reason I’m living in this house is for babysitting. But right now, that’s not how Brooks is treating me. And I’m going to let myself indulge just a little.
“So, what else happened in your dream? After your ex told you not to bother joining him in the city?” Brooks hovers near my doorway while I move toward my bed. My room is barely unpacked—stacks of clothing on the floor, a blanket thrown over my mattress because I never got around to putting on sheets today. It’s still a million times homier than the spare room in my parents’ house.
“Well,” I say, looking up at the ceiling as I spin then flop down on the foot of my bed. “I went to the city anyway, and when I got there, I saw my husband having dinner with one of his former students. A very beautiful former student.”
I drop my gaze to his, and he blinks a few times.
“That part wasn’t in the dream, was it?”
