“No, but I can promise I won’t stop trying.”
She presses a knuckle to the outer corner of one eye, and I have the impression that she won’t let herself cry. Not here.
The snow is starting to thicken, and I should suggest she head out to pick up T.J., but I don’t want her to leave.
“There’s something you should know,” I say.
CHAPTER 22
WESTON
She goes still, and I hurry with the rest when I realize she’s probably imagining the worst. “I’ve been watching over you and T.J. for months, long before any of this.” I wave my hand vaguely to indicate the burned shed and admin building.
Her brows pull together. Not alarmed as much as confused. “What?”
“Not like this.” I force out a breath. “Not surveillance. Protection. Before the fire. Before you knew who I was.”
“Because of Tyler.”
“Because of Tyler,” I echo. “Because he was mine to bring home, and I couldn’t. I found out you were here, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to his family while I stood by and did nothing.”
She’s gone completely still, and I should leave it there, but I don’t. “And somewhere along the line,” I add quietly, “it stopped being only about Tyler.”
The look she gives me tightens every muscle in my chest. She doesn’t seem shocked or even hesitant. In fact, something in her eyes says I’m not the only one who’s been trying to hold back.
“Weston,” she whispers.
I lift a hand to touch the side of her face with the backs of my fingers, tentatively, to give her time to pull away. Her skin is cool from the air, but warm underneath, and so damn soft it loosens something rough in me.
She doesn’t step back. If anything, she leans into it.
I brush a thumb under her eye to catch the tear she doesn’t let fall. “You’re not alone, Elena.”
Her eyes close for a moment, then blink open. “I’m involved with Buck.”
“I know.”
“He told you?” She bites her bottom lip, distracting me from the question for a few seconds.
“We talked. No details.”
This raises a faint color to her cheeks, and the air between us heats.
Elena’s eyes drop to the floor, then meet mine. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I let my hand settle against her jaw. “You don’t need to have all the answers.”
She searches my face, then takes one small step forward, putting us firmly in each other’spersonal space. “I should probably be worried about how good that sounds,” she murmurs.
“You should probably be worried about a lot of things.” Though her hair is pulled back from her face, it’s not in a braid tonight. I find a loose strand and tangle it around my fingers.
“Including you?” Her mouth softens into a playful smile.
“Especially me.”
When I lower my forehead to hers, she reaches for the front of my jacket and tightens a handful in her grip. I’m raising a hand to her chin when the outer door rattles, and my attention flies there on instinct. It’s only the wind, but it reminds me we’re too exposed.
I force myself to step back from her before I start something I won’t stop.
