The tray set up in front of the fire like something out of a damn magazine.
A steaming teapot.
Jar of honey.
Bowl of sugar.
Sliced lemons.
A tiny creamer filled to the brim.
My throat tightens.
Evan is big for his age, tall and strong like his uncle, but ten is still so young.Young enough that the world should feel safe.Young enough that he shouldn’t have to carry fear in his chest the way he clearly does.
And I would never—never—do anything that might hurt my son.
But standing here now, watching the storm of emotions on his face, I can’t help wondering if I’m making a mistake.
Maybe I’m wrong to think I can just step into another relationship and somehow fix the damage Mike left behind.
Maybe I’m wrong to involve J.T.in this at all.
The thought twists in my chest because when I think about the weekend we just spent together… it felt so right.
And I don’t just mean the sex—though, God, that part alone would’ve been enough to make my head spin for a week.
It’s everything else.
The quiet moments.
The way he seemed to know when I wanted to talk and when I just needed to be held.
The way he’d pull me against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world to keep me there.
How he made coffee in the morning before I even climbed out of bed.
How he cooked for me.Brought me drinks.Checked to see if I was warm enough when the mountain air got chilly.
Took care of me.
It’s such a simple thing, but it feels enormous after years of doing everything alone.
After years of being told I was too much.Too emotional.Too needy.
J.T.doesn’t treat me like that.
With him, I feel…Steady.Wanted.Safe.
He’s a really good man.
No,he’s a great one.
And the truth I don’t quite know what to do with is that I care about him.
More than I should.
More than makes sense after such a short time.
