I cup his chin, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “You’re impossible to hate, sweetheart.”
He melts into me. That’s the only way to describe it. His head falls back against my shoulder, his body slumping in my hold.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” I whisper. “Let me get us situated better.”
After sitting up, he carefully crawls out of my lap. I move to the headboard, placing pillows behind me. When I get settled, I pat my lap again, and he climbs right back into it. Curling up against me, he buries his face in my throat.
Each of his breaths gusts over my skin as he goes boneless in my arms. I hold him close, toying with the strands of his hair. It’s not until his breathing evens out a few minutes later that I realize he’s fallen asleep.
Good. He could use a little nap. It’s been an emotional day.
Closing my eyes, I soak in the warmth of his body. He’s so damn perfect. So strong. He’s survived so many things that were meant to destroy him. Things that no one should have to experience or live through.
“I love you,” I whisper to him. Maybe if I say the words enough, they’ll sink into his subconscious and make him feel loved even when I’m not around. “I love you,” I say again, letting the strands of his hair slip through my fingers. That’s all I want. For him to know that he’s loved. Unconditionally. “I love you.”
I press a kiss to the top of his head, then lean back against the headboard. A nap sounds like a good idea, and with Theo’s gentle weight against me and the soothing feeling of his breathing, it’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep.
Chapter 37
Theo
I’vejuststoppedpacingand sat down on the couch beside Hunter when there’s a soft knock at the door. My heart jumps into my throat. The entire afternoon and evening have been just like this. Me pacing. Me panicking. Hunter trying to calm me.
Squeezing Hunter’s hand, I whip my head to the door. My heartbeat is echoing so loudly in my ears that it’s making the knocking distorted and strange.
Hunter pulls on my hand, and I look at him. His lips are moving, his brows drawn in clear concern. He’s trying to pullaway from me, and that makes sense. One of us has to open the door, but I’m not sure it can be me.
“Let me get the door, sweetheart,” he says, his words audible to me now.
I drop his hand with a nod. “Okay.”
My voice is croaky and rough, and when Hunter stands, leaving me alone on the couch, my stomach tumbles.
The door opens, its creaking as familiar to me as my own name by now, and a voice—two voices—I thought I’d never hear again carries into the living room.
“Hi, I’m Elaine.” Mom sounds breathless and weak and hopeful and terrified.
“Hunter Lock.”
“Calvin,” my dad says, and my stomach lurches.
I press my hands to my thighs, trying to stay calm, trying to regulate my breathing.
It’s going to be okay. They drove all this way. They’re happy you’re alive. They want to be here.
“Come on in. Theo’s in the living room.”
Three sets of footsteps echo through the entryway, and I push to my feet, my nervous energy begging me to run. To hide.
But even if I could, I wouldn’t know where to go. I’ve been running from this—from them—for over a decade. Longer than I should have. Longer than I wanted to.
I hold my breath as they step through the doorway. Hunter’s leading the charge, but when they’re all three in the living room, he steps back.
They’re older. Of course they are. And God knows I am. But I guess I didn’t think about it. I didn’t consider that my dad’s once-rich chocolate brown hair would be tinged with gray at his temples. That his beard would be more salt than pepper. I never considered that my mom wouldn’t have the bright face of youth but, instead, delicate crow’s feet and smile lines.
They grew older without me.
I missed so much time.
