Her lips press together, and I can’t help but be a little jealous by the guarded look in her eyes. She loves her daughter, that much is clear. Her protectiveness wants to kick me out of her daughter’s room, but when she sees the look on Cecilia’s face, her expression softens. She wants her daughter’s happiness even more.
“We’ll be downstairs if you two need anything,” she tells us.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And leave this door open,” she adds as an afterthought before she leaves.
Cecilia giggles again once her mother is gone. “Oh, my god,” she groans.
“What?” I ask, enjoying the pretty blush on her cheeks.
“What do you mean, what? I’m pretty sure my mom knows exactly what we were doing?”
I shrug. “So. We’re both adults. Save the embarrassment for when she walks in on us.”
Cecilia’s eyes bug out of her face. “When?”
I chuckle and capture her lips in a quick kiss. “Yes, Cecilia. When. Because I very much plan on making you come again and again. As many times as you’ll let me.”
She chews her bottom lip.
“Is that going to be a problem?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Good.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it and looks away. Cupping the side of her face, I turn her gaze back to mine. “What is it?”
She shakes her head, but I’m like a dog with a bone.
“None of that. You don’t have to share everything with me, but… I hate secrets,” I confess. “I’m not saying you have to emo bare your soul to me but just, can we try not to have a mountain of secrets between us?”
“I don’t want to go to your practices. We can hangout,” she rushes to add. “But don’t make me go to your practices.”
I frown, wanting to reject the idea because I realize what she’s really saying.
“He’s on the team?”
She looks away.
“Cecilia—“ I kiss her cheek. Her neck. “Is the person who hurt you on the team?”
Her lack of response isn’t a denial.
“Okay. I won’t ask you to come to my practices.” But already my mind is spinning over the possibilities of who hurt my girl. My girl. Fuck. We made the jump to my girl real fucking quick.
Her body sags against her pillows and I hold her tight, pressing my lips to her temple.
“Thank you.”
I hate that she feels like she has to thank me for something as simple as not forcing her to see her attacker. Is that what prompted the panic attack? Shit. It certainly didn’t help.
“Whatever helps. Whatever makes you happy. We’ll do that, okay? Just don’t shut me out. Don’t push me away.”
“I’ll try.”
It’s enough. For now.
