She takes a few steps, then pauses and looks back at me.“You’re not leaving?”
The question does something dangerous to my pulse.“Not unless you want me to.”
She stares at me for a second, something soft and uncertain flickering across her face.Then she gives one small nod and heads down the hall.
I stay where I am in the dim little living room, listening to the quiet creak of floorboards and the faint murmur of her voice drifting from Quinn’s room.Gentle.Sweet.Home.
I’ve stood in a lot of houses.Most of them meant nothing.This one matters now.Maybe because a little girl is asleep down the hall.Maybe because her mother looked at me like I was the only solid thing in the room.Maybe because putting a prospect on her felt less like an overstep and more like instinct.Whatever the reason, I know one thing for certain by the time Lucy comes back down that hall with softer eyes and less tension in her shoulders, I’ll move mountains to ease her fears.
Life is about choices.The choice to take a chance or walk away.The choice to push boundaries or build walls.The choice to show my hand early because a man made a move or deny the play.I gave her the truth.My choice is her safety.My choice is her comfort.
And I plan to keep choosing her.Whatever fears she has I’ll overcome them.Whatever choices she makes, I’ll be along for the ride.In the end, I hope her choices circle around to choosing me.
Tonight, I chose to show her a real man can apologize.A real man can see where he fucked up and make amends.I should have told her I had her back.
What’s done is done, though, and now she understands there are men out there humble enough to swallow their pride and make a change.
I’m going to be the man that takes away all of her fears.
NINE
LUCY
The house is quiet again, but inside my mind is still racing.The world around me is back at peace while my body feels at war.
It’s not the usual kind of quiet that comes after something loud and wrong has passed through and left everything just a little off.No, this quiet has life feeling like I’ve done an upheaval again.
I wrap both hands around the mug Tucker pressed into them and stare at the steam curling up toward my face.
Tea.Chamomile, I think.I didn’t even see him make it. One minute I was standing in the middle of my living room trying to remember how to breathe, and the next he was moving through my kitchen like he belonged there—filling the kettle, finding a mug, opening cabinets without asking like he already knew where everything was.I should probably be more concerned about that.How is he so comfortable in my space?
Instead of letting my mind go down that rabbit hole, I take a small sip.
Warm.
Calming.
“You always keep tea on hand?”he asks.
I glance up at him.He’s sitting in the chair across from the couch now, elbows braced on his knees, hands loose, posture relaxed in a way that somehow still feels alert.It’s like he’s ready for battle at a moment’s notice, but leaning into the simplicity of the moment at the same time.It’s like he could go from calm to dangerous in a heartbeat.
“Yeah,” I explain.“Helps me sleep sometimes.Quinn likes to try them too so I keep the multipacks on hand.”
He nods once.“Good.”
Silence settles for a second.Not uncomfortable.Just there.
I shift slightly on the couch, tucking one leg under me.“Thank you,” I say again.
“For the tea?”He wonders.
“For everything.”
His gaze lifts to mine.“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I know.”
He studies me.“But you’re going to anyway.”
