Page 7 of Until You

“What did Mom have to say?” he asks, wiping his brow on his forearm.

“The usual,” the girl says. A shrug. A shuffle of her feet. A sniffle. “You know.”

His shoulders sag momentarily, and his sigh’s audible before he moves toward her. Clearly, she didn’t get the answer she wanted in regards to whatever she asked her mom.

“Sorry,” he murmurs and squats down in front of her so he’s eye level with her. “You okay?” She nods, but her expression—bottom lip worrying between her teeth and rapid blinking of her eyes as if to push back tears—clearly reflects that she isn’t. “It’ll get better. I promise.” He cups the side of her face with his hand. “Trust fall?”

She gives him a ghost of a smile, the subtlest of nods, and whispers, “Trust fall.”

“That’s my girl.”

Despite the scrunch of her nose when she notices how sweaty he is, the adorable girl lets him pull her into him for a hug.

They make quite the sight. A big, strapping man comforting his tween daughter. If I didn’t already feel like a voyeur, then I most definitely do now as I witness this tender moment between the two.

It’s definitely not the time or place to make my presence known. Without a word, I step back behind the cover of the house and retrace my footsteps home.

Just as I hit my doorstep, I cringe. Crap. The truck with Redemption Falls Security on the side that drove up to the main house the other day . . . what if they installed security cameras on the house already?

If they have, then my new landlord will have recorded footage of me spying on him and his daughter.

Hell of a way to make a first impression, Tenny.

Or get yourself evicted.

No eviction. Please. Anything but that. Credit and background checks still give me pins and needles. And might always.

And I love it here. And not just meaning the town of Redemption Falls, but here, at the cottage. The peace and quiet allows me to work without interruption. It has meandering trails where I can take long walks when I need to clear my head. And I feel safe here when I never knew if I’d ever really feel that again.

So yes, the last thing I need to do is piss off my new landlord with my lease expiring in a few months. Finding a new place to live isn’t on my agenda for some time. It should be fine, Tenny.

I glance back toward the main house when I hear another clang from wood being dropped into the wheelbarrow. The visual of him working stays front and center.

He’s just a man, Tenny. Quit acting like you’ve never seen one before.

Two words: dry spell.

That’s it. That’s why I give one more glance over my shoulder, even though I know I can no longer see him.

Besides, he’s a dad, a husband—taken.

But as I open my front door and am greeted with a lift of Hani’s head in greeting, I know focusing on my thirst trap new landlord is way easier than falling back into the vortex of what-ifs that have been plaguing me recently.

What if Kaleo had turned out to be the man I thought he really was?

What if I had listened that night? Would I still be ignorantly blissful in our house on the rocky coast of Kapalua Bay? Would I still love the life I was living, not knowing the lie that it was?

My sigh mixes with Hani’s purring as he jumps up on my workspace and demands attention.

Those are a lot of what-ifs.

And I don’t deal in what-ifs anymore.

I can’t afford to.

My darkened computer screen calls to me. The story I’m editing even more so.

It’s no wonder I prefer dealing with fiction these days.