Rachel shifted her shoulders.
“Finding the answers isn’t for your dad,” he said. “It’s for you. Your life. And your brother’s. Your history.”
“We’ll never be the same.” She let her head drop forward.
“Maybe not. You’ll probably always see your father a little differently. More human. I’m an outsider, who can’t possibly know for sure, but I have to believe he loved you, too. In his own flawed way. Maybe he wasn’t so different from the rest of us.”
At that, she looked up at him, her lips lifting slightly. “You don’t have a packet filled with your own confessions that I should know about, do you?”
He smiled back at her. “Fresh out. But I’m not perfect, either.”
“Pretty darn close to it.”
He was still trying to make sense of her words when she leaned forward and touched her lips to his. Then she moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into him, as close to a surrender as he’d ever seen from her. Ever hoped to. He could feel her heartbeat, her anguish, her grit, all wrapped up in a woman who’d drawn him out of the past and dared him to hope for the future.
This wasn’t the time for him to admit the truth in his heart, but he could no longer deny it, at least to himself. He was in love with her. Despite a situation that put them at odds and placed her and her daughters in the crosshairs, he wanted to be with her.
He stood and took two steps back from her, preparing for a quick trip to brush his teeth and a long night on the sleeping bag he’d thought to throw in his truck. No way would he get any rest when he could hear her breathing in the bed next to his spot on the floor. When his makeshift sleep area would remind him of a pile of quilts and those hours with her in his arms.
When he returned, Rachel was already under the covers, lying on her side facing her sleeping twins. She’d pulled the blankets and coverlet over her but had left the low-lit lamp next to her turned on so he could make his way back. As he stopped at his sleeping bag, unrolled in the aisle in front of the beds and the dresser, Rachel raised a hand to get his attention. Lifting a brow, he waved back, but she lifted up, twisted and patted the mattress behind her.
His gaze flitted to the tiny brunettes in the other bed and then back to her. He lifted a brow in an unspoken question. With a frown, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and then patted the spot behind her a second time. On top of the covers.
“Sure?” he mouthed, and then gestured to the girls.
She settled into her pillow and closed her eyes.
Mick dragged the sleeping bag off the floor and up on the bed. Why he’d bothered hesitating, he didn’t know, when he would have joined her anyway. Once he’d settled next to her on top of the covers, using the sleeping bag as a blanket, she reached out and turned off the light.
“Good night,” she whispered.
She surprised him by rolling to face him in the dark. She reached out to touch his face, hitting his nose before her fingertips settled on his mouth. Then she replaced her hand with her lips. With excruciating gentleness and only once.
When he leaned in, his body responding to hers as it had every time he’d been this close to her, she rolled away from him, her chuckle low and deep. “Sorry. I won’t be able to stop. But give me your hand.” She lifted hers next to him.
Grinning into the darkness, he reached up and entwined his fingers with hers. Always a gentleman, he was happy to help a lady out, so he waited for her to place his hand wherever she needed his touch most. She pulled it with her as she turned away from him and settled into her pillow, spooned against him and with his arm around her.
He snuggled against her, moving his head to her pillow and burying his face in her hair. It felt like the most intimate thing he’d ever done without making love. He was still smiling as he closed his eyes. The situation was far from perfect, but there was nowhere on earth he wanted to be more.
Chapter 23
Rachel pushed open the door to her father’s house late the next morning and flinched at the squeak of the hinges. She shouldn’t have been so jumpy. After not so much as checking on the house the whole time Riley had been hospitalized—her cozy garage visit two days before didn’t count—she would be lucky if she didn’t find something scarier than a noise living inside. Like a whole family of mice.
She yanked off the gloves that stuck to her clammy hands and tossed them on the kitchen counter. After a quick look over her shoulder, she crossed back to the door and bolted it.Jumpydidn’t begin to cover the cold sweat under her coat collar or the way her knees had turned into noodles. She’d already dreaded coming here where she would be cocooned with her memories, but today she might find more proof that some of her fond recollections were based on lies.
Mick was right, too. She shouldn’t have gone on this field trip alone, even if she’d tried to convince him that the threats she’d received had no real teeth. It didn’t feel right to go behind his back, either, after he’d slept so sweetly last night pressed up to her. Even if she hadn’t loved him before, which she had to admit she did, she would have taken the leap right then. But would he ever understand what she was doing there now?
After catching sight of a Mount Isabel police cruiser in the parking lot at drop-off time, she’d realized that yesterday’s incident was more than another warning. She had to call it what it was: an escalation. A sign of urgency. She was running out of time. That left her with no choice but to try to find information that could expose others and possibly shield her father’s memory before those involved in these crimes could hurt anyone else. Even if she had to do it without Mick’s help.
She was there now, anyway, so she had to stop second-guessing. If only she could shake the uneasy sense of being watched as well. She was being ridiculous. The blinds were closed. Only a few cars had even passed her on the drive from town and none since she’d turned on her father’s rural road. No one knew she was there. She needed to search the place quickly and get back to the hotel with whatever she found. Then she would figure out how to tell Mick she’d gone without him.
When her phone buzzed in her coat, she nearly climbed out of her skin. Her hand trembled as she clawed in her pocket for it.
“It’s not from them.” She repeated the words like a mantra, willing it to be so as her heart tapped out a message in Morse code.
At the sight of Mick’s name above the most recent text, she forced her shoulders that had lifted nearly to her ears to relax. She let herself breathe normally again. Of course, he would have texted to check in with her. They were supposed to be working together. She didn’t know what that said about her. Or at least didn’t want to hear it.
She looked back to the phone in her palm and clicked to open the text.
