Aidan’s a mystery. The way he’s all rough edges and abrupt words…until he’s with his daughter, evidently. Then, he softens, like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. It’s in his eyes. In the slight shift in his voice when he speaks to her. In the way she looks up at him, unshaken, certain that he’ll always be there.
There’s a part of me that wants to understand him, to peel back the layers and see what’s underneath. But that doesn’t mean I should.
five
AIDAN
There’s a tug in my chest the second our eyes meet, and I know better than to feed it.
Lucy’s smile is warm and open, as if she’s got all the time in the world for a stranger, and it throws me off. Makes my boots feel heavier on the floor, my body registering the danger before my brain does.
She’s the kind of woman who softens a room just by being in it and makes you forget, for half a second, that life’s not soft at all.
And I don’t like that. Not one bit.
She’s got this comfortable, easy way about her and for one stupid heartbeat, I wonder if she’d try to make space for me, too. I almost laugh at the thought because god knows I don’t belong in places like this.
It was her eyes that caught me yesterday when I stopped in. The most vivid green I’ve ever seen. Big. Barely guarded. Eyes that tell you everything she’s thinking, whether she means to or not. It made me itchy.
Her hair had been a mess, pulled back in some haphazardknot, wisps everywhere, but somehow it worked. When she’d spotted me standing there, her expression shifted. There was a flash of uncertainty before she smiled again, all gentle yet curious, like she wasn’t sure what kind of animal she was dealing with.
She was right to wonder. I’m shit at putting people at ease, and I’m not looking for connections or interested in smooth voices, lingering looks, or hands that reach out when they shouldn’t.
I will say, she’s damn beautiful. Even I’m not blind enough to deny that, but she’s too young for me. Too kind. Too everything I don’t have the time or the heart for.
Besides, the only reason I’m here tonight is Isla. This is our new start, and I owe it to her to make it stick. She’s already been through enough and deserves a place to belong. She deserves friends and laughter and a little softness in a world that can be sharp as hell.
Me? I’ll stand at the edges and watch her world grow from a safe distance.
“Look!” Isla tugs at my sleeve, her voice buzzing with excitement. “It’s a star cookie, but I—” she pauses. “I think it needs more sprinkles.”
I glance down at her, at the way her whole face lights up, and the knot in my chest loosens. She’s so damn happy here. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.
“It looks great, love, “I say. “But you’re right. Definitely needs more sprinkles.”
I look up just in time to catch Lucy observing Isla, that same smile on her face she’s had all night. She watches Isla like it’s second nature, like she genuinely cares. It catches me off guard again, because people don’t just act like that.
A few minutes ago, I’d been standing back, pretending to check my phone, and I’d seen her hand her nieceoff to who I assume is the little girl’s mother. Even from a distance, I couldn’t miss the way her whole body relaxed as she leaned in, the careful tilt of her head, the tiny squeeze of her fingers as she made sure the baby was secure.
I had chastised myself immediately for noticing those little details. It wasn’t my business, and yet, I couldn’t look away.
Isla huffs as if this is the most critical decision of her life, bringing me back to the present. Just then, Lucy moves. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, smooths her hands over her apron, and catches my gaze. There’s a question in her eyes, unspoken but clear.
I give a small nod.
She doesn’t hesitate. Just lifts the container of sprinkles from the far end of the table and makes her way over, rolling her sleeves up as she walks. She stops beside Isla, close enough that I catch the faint scent of vanilla and lavender.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” she says. “Does the little artist need more sprinkles for her masterpiece?”
You’d think Lucy just handed Isla the moon with the way her eyes widen. “Yes, please!” she chirps, thrusting her cookie forward.
Lucy kneels beside her, moving with an effortless kind of grace I catch myself noticing. She hands over the sprinkle shaker, wrapping Isla’s small fingers around it. “There you go. Just a little at a time, like this.”
Isla’s whole body tenses with focus, her tongue peeking out at the corner of her mouth as she carefully shakes out the sprinkles. She’s taking this so seriously, and I know for a fact she thinks the fate of the world rests on getting every sprinkle just right.
Lucy glances up at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Or is it interest? I can’t pin it down, and that alone puts me on edge.
“There,” Lucy says. “Now it’s perfect, don’t you think?”
