He starts to lean in, but Emma’s cry cracks through the air, louder this time, snapping us both out of it.
Cody steps back with a quiet exhale. “Lungs still sound good,” he jokes, grabbing a sponge and turning on the water to wash a plate.
“They sure do.” I laugh, heading to my room with her. It isn’t until I close the door behind us that I realize how hard my heart is pounding.
I get settled in the chair in the corner; she’s finally quiet, eating, happier. I stare down at her wide-open eyes looking back up at me.
“I get you’re hungry, Emma,” I murmur, “but you couldn’t have held out for fifteen more seconds?”
Because I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be kissed that badly in my life.
Chapter 18
Cody
I almost kissed her again.
It was right there, in the handoff of her daughter and me being too damn close. The desire crawled up my spine. Clawing at me to just do it.
But I fought it. That game’s too dangerous, the stakes too high.
Karissa’s fragile right now. She just had major surgery. She’s feeding a newborn every two hours. Her whole life’s been turned upside down, and the last thing she needs is some idiot adding more to her plate.
So, thankfully, Emma broke the tension before we crossed that line. We didn’t talk about it. She just went to her room, and the air thinned out.
Part of me thinks I need to get out of this house to avoid slipping up, but she still needs help and I’m not gonna bethat guy. I have to push through it.
I’m not even looking to get into a relationship. Haven’t been in a long time. Not after…everything. Too much baggage. Too many scars you can’t see.
But then she walks back out, no Emma in her arms, and moves slowly toward the coffee maker. I’m on the couch and it’s quiet. Way too quiet.
I grab the remote and flip on something, anything. I don’t even care if it’s in Spanish. I just can’t sit here in silence after what almost just happened.
She comes over, eyeing the recliner she’s been favoring since we got home. I stand, taking her coffee without even thinking so she’s got both hands free to sit.
“Thanks.” She breathes through the pain. “You’re a natural,” she says, reaching out for her coffee again.
I lift an eyebrow. “What?”
“With taking care of me. And Emma,” she says. “It’s like you’ve done this before.”
My stomach turns, and just like that, I feel it coming, like a freight train I can’t outrun.
The past. The truth.
I know she doesn’t mean anything by it—she’s just making conversation—but my jaw tightens anyway and my heart thumps quicker. I sit in the other chair and scratch my head. Am I going to do this right now? Am I going to tell her?
“I didn’t but I almost did,” I mumble and she stares at me.
“What?” she asks.
I sigh. “I almost did this before. The whole…dad thing.”
Her eyebrows pinch but it’s clear she doesn’t want to ask; she just wants me to keep talking.
“When Bree and I got engaged, it was fall, hunting season. Busiest time of year for us, so I hardly saw her. She knew that, but…we still fought a lot. She was trying to plan the wedding, and I wasn’t much help. Always working. Always tired. She took it like I didn’t care, like I wasn’t even excited to marry her.”
I shake my head slowly. “I did care. I just didn’t know how to balance it all. Didn’t know how to be what she needed.”
