I move closer, squatting down beside them, desperate to hide the way those words tear me apart from the inside out. I look at the picture of three stick figures Isla’s holding out. One’s tall with spiky hair—me, I guess. One’s small with pigtails—Isla. The third one is right in the middle, with shoulder-length, chestnut hair.
“That’s Lucy,” Isla says, pointing at the middle one. “I put her there so she can hold both our hands at the same time.”
My heart skips a beat, and I look over at Lucy. Her cheeks are flushed, a little embarrassed, but I catch the way her lips tug up into the smile she’s trying to hide.
“It’s beautiful, love.” I clear my throat, trying to pull myself together. “Why don’t you go wash up for dinner? I’ll help Lucy clean up here.”
She nods, and before I can even blink, she’s up and off, dashing toward the bathroom. The sound of her little feet fades, and it’s just me and Lucy in the room. I glance over at her, and she’s already picking up the mess.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say quietly, reaching for a stray pencil. “The drawing, I mean. I don’t want you to feel?—”
“Don’t,” Lucy interrupts, her hand coming to rest on mine. “Please don’t apologize. It’s… It’s really sweet.”
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. This situation is complicated.”
She shifts closer, her knee brushing against mine. My pulse picks up again, and I have to fight the urge to close the space between us. “I know that, Aidan. I’m not here because I think it’s going to be easy. I’m here because I want to be.” She pauses, her eyes searching mine. “And complicated doesn’t have to mean impossible.”
I find myself leaning in, pulled toward her like I’m caught in a current. Her lips part slightly, eyes flitting to mine, then to my mouth. The air between us crackles with something dangerous.
“I can’t reach the soap!” Isla’s voice calls from the bathroom.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and when I open them, Lucy’s looking at me with a smirk on her lips. “Go,” she says, but there’s a longing in her gaze that holds me for a second longer. “I’ve got this.”
I make my way to the bathroom to find Isla struggling on her tiptoes, her arms stretched up high, but she’s not quite tall enough. I pass the bottle to her, making sure she gets a good lather, watching as her hands work under the water.
I zone out a bit as she scrubs away, humming a tune to herself. Tomorrow, I’ll be back on the rig, and I’ll miss this. I’ll miss her little hands, the sound of her laughter bouncing off the walls, the way she looks at me like I’m everything she needs. I’m already bracing myself for the emptiness that comes with leaving.
I force my jaw to relax, keep my face neutral, but inside, it’s a damn storm. I can’t keep pretending it’s all fine when it’s absolutelyfuckingnot.
“All done,” Isla announces, holding up her dripping hands for inspection.
I grab a towel to dry her hands, focusing on the simple task to distract myself. “Good job, sweetheart. Listen, about tomorrow?—”
“I know, Daddy,” she cuts in, her eyes serious. “You have to go to work on the big boat.”
I pull her into a tight embrace, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. I squeeze her a little tighter. “I’ll miss you. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She hugs me back with all the strength she can muster before pulling away, looking up at me with those wide eyes. “Can I have a hug when you come back?”
I can’t help but laugh, brushing my lips over the top of her head. “Of course. You can have all the hugs you want.”
She grins with a big, goofy smile that makes everything feel a little less heavy.
twenty-four
LUCY
I’ve gotten used to slipping out early when dinner’s over. It’s the polite thing to do, right? Giving Aidan and Isla space before their bedtime routine, not making things weird. But tonight, as my hand reaches for my coat, Aidan calling my name stops me cold. There’s a little tug in my chest, and I know it’s because this will be the last time I see him for three whole weeks. My heart does that little drop thing.
I take a slow breath, trying to keep everything in place and to not show how much I don’t want to go. I turn around, keeping my fingers on the sleeve of my coat, and glance at him.
“You don’t have to go yet.”
My stomach twists a little. I want to stay, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome, either. I pull my coat closer to me and hesitate, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on your last night together before you leave.”
His hand drifts to the back of his neck, fingers catching in his hair in that endearing way he probably doesn’t realize hedoes. I’ve learned the gesture well by now—his nerves are slipping through.
His eyes meet mine for a split second before quickly darting away. “You’re not intruding, lass.” His voice is low, tender. “I’d like you to stay. If you want to, that is.”
